#<- you are getting NO further tags than that

[yapperblog]

Red Red Wine

"Handing my boyfriend a spicy polaroid of myself while we are at dinner"

Tags: established relationship, excibitionism, brief choking, oral (m!rec and fem!rec), PinV unprotected, titjob. +18

Explicit RPF below, don't interact if you are not comfortable with that

You stand in front of the mirror, fixing your hair and checking your outfit from different angles. You and Joost are going on a date to a restaurant, there is no special occasion really, you both just wanted a reason to get dressed up and spend time together.

"You look great." you feel a pair of warm hands on your hips, your eyes meet Joost's in the mirror. He leans to kiss your shoulder.

You turn in his arms. "Speaking of looking great, look at you." He is wearing a fitted black suit, thick framed black glasses, his hair is freshly trimmed, and when he smiles at your compliment you notice he put in the grills on two of his teeth. He needed to add more personality to the suit. You fix his tie and smooth down the white shirt moving your hands from his pecs down his torso, stopping at the chunky belt buckle.

You turn back to the mirror checking yourself one last time. You are about to bend down to do the strap on your heels.

"Let me." Joost says and kneels in front of you. His hands gently move from your calf to your ankle, his touch is feather light, but still sends a shiver down your spine. He looks up at you and you move your foot closer to him. He puts his his head down to focus on the task at hand, you see a faint smirk form on his lips in the reflection of the mirror. He buckles the strap around your ankle and motions for you to bring your other foot closer. All of his touches are gentle, his hands so warm on your skin.

When he is finished, he leans in to leave a kiss on your exposed leg, just above knee, you feel your cheeks start to go red.

"Thank you." you say quietly as he stands up in front of you, you have to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.

"My pleasure." he bows his head dramatically. He is joking, and his theatrics make you giggle, but it's true - caring for you is a pleasure to him, he would do just about anything for you.

When you are about to leave, you make sure you have the polaroid photo in your purse and rush out of the door, where Joost is waiting for you.

The restaurant you picked is fancier than the usual places you go on a date to, the reviews are great and the dim lighting with candles on each table is making it very cozy. There is a live band playing soft music on the instruments, which Joost is immediately impressed by. His usual music preference is fast and loud to match his energy and fast-pace thoughts, but he appreciates a good live instrument.

After getting seated and ordering, you feel yourself get more nervous about the surprise you prepared for him. You saw a trend of people getting their partner a spicy polaroid of themselves and decided to treat Joost to one too. You bought a new lingerie set, a lacy see-through bra and matching panties with a delicate bow, but one thing let to another, you started trying out new things and poses, so after looking through the results, you decided on the one where you are completely naked. It is on a riskier side, but the idea of him reacting to it here turns your nerves into excitement. But it is not the time to reveal it yet.

"What's on your mind?" Joost asks. He takes your hand in his, tracing his thumb on your skin. You are sitting in a small booth type table, he is on the opposite side of you.

"This handsome guy I saw, actually" you reply, your tone neutral.

"Really? Who is he? Should I check him out too?" he turns to look around the room.

"I think you might know him. He is wearing a nice suit, it looks expensive. The pants fit around his thighs so nice." you whisper the last part and he turns back to look at you. You are glad that your table is a little further away from others and it feels secluded. "And if you are lucky and get him to smile, you will see those silver grills, which make him even hotter, if that's possible." you see a blush spread on his cheeks, but he quickly regains his composure, matching your eye contact.

"Damn, hope he is taken by the prettiest girl, which caught my eye earlier, in this tight silky dress which challenges his willpower to keep his hands away from her in public and not take it off." he squeezes your hand, which he is still holding. "or else I might ask for his number, he sounds like a treat." he ends the sentence with a wink to you.

You both laugh at each others comments and turn the conversation to talk about what you both did that day, you haven't seen each other since the early morning when you left for work and until he came back from the studio in the evening, when you both got ready and left for the date.

You are discussing the documentary you watched last night together, when the waiter brings the wine. You are glad to finally have a drink, it will help take your mind off the surprise, which lays heavy in the back of your head.

"It's nice here." Joost says lifting the glass to his lips.

"It is. I'm glad we decided to go." you are happy he is enjoying it.

"Me too." he leans back on the chair, his stature seems more relaxed now. You fall back into the conversation again.

The waiter brings the pasta which you both ordered. As much as you would like to hate the overpriced food, you have to admit it's delicious. After the first bite, you close your eyes and a quiet moan slips past your lips. Joost looks at you, finishes chewing, and reaches his hand across the table to your mouth.

"You've got something here." he swipes his thumb across the corner of your lower lip, slowly on purpose. It feels so nice to feel his touch on you. There is a little bit of red sauce, which he brings to his mouth and licks off, maintaining eye contact, and continues eating. You swallow hard.

You are glad he is feeling as flirty as you, it makes you giddy to what the night holds. You continue talking, eating and drinking wine, the giggles start to escape both of you.

An idea pops into your head and you immediately act on it, as you start to move your foot closer to his. The first touch of the tip of the heel you are wearing is very light right above his ankle. You keep it there. He continues telling the story. You nod while listening and move your foot a little higher along his leg, you see a glint in his eyes appear, which are staring intently into yours. You act as if nothing is happening, matching his eye contact, while moving your foot up and down his calf slowly. You bring it higher, just under his knee, which makes him stumble over his words and loose the staring contest, having to look down into his now empty plate. He loves to act like he is in control, and you have fun pushing his buttons seeing how far you can go to make him break his act and show how he is truly wrapped around your finger.

"Having fun, are you?" he says leaning back on the chair, you notice the tips of his ears are red. He puts his hands under the table, finding your leg, holds your ankle, then moves further to message your calf. Your skin soft under his hands, he is just happy to touch you.

"I am." you reply calmly and give your opinion to the story proving you were listening carefully to the story he was telling and are unbothered. You count it as a little win. Making him flustered feels so good, knowing you have that effect on him.

"Do you want to order desert?" you suggest and put your foot down on the ground.

"Yes, I would love some." he agrees.

The dim light, instrumental music playing in the background, murmur of the conversations around you, and the nice buzz from the wine, makes you a little bolder. Everyone around seems to be in their own little bubble, focused on food and their company. You decide it's time.

You are laughing at the story Joost was telling from one of the times he went to Berlin with his friends, when the desert is placed on the table. You have to wipe the tears in the corner of your eyes from laughing so hard. He would tell you stories all night, if that meant he got to hear the beautiful sound of your laughter. Joost hands you one of the two spoons and waits for you to try first, because he knows you love the first bite.

"Actually, I have something else for you." you say and reach into your purse. You carefully take out the polaroid photo, holding it face down and sliding it to him across the table. You lift your hand and leave it front of him. You feel your own face going red at the excitement and nervousness. He looks puzzled, puts down the spoon, tries to read your expression, but you just motion for him to look at it. He takes the photo and flips in his hands to look what it is. His eyes immediately go wide, he quickly presses the polaroid to his chest, looking around to make sure no one around saw. You watch his every move, enjoying his reaction, you can't hold in a laugh that escapes you.

"Fuck." his voice sounds breathy. He looks at you exaggerating the shocked expression with his jaw open, you smile brightly. Not only his cheeks are flushed, but you see his neck slowly turn red.

He lets out a breath and looks at the polaroid, taking his time now. He leans against the back of the booth seat. You hear him swear under his breath as his eyes move across the photo, not even caring anymore if anybody walks by. He wipes the sweat the formed on his brow, trying to regain his composure. He looks at the photo again, the tips of his ears red, you are drinking in his every move.

"You did this for me?" he asks, as a little chuckle escapes him, when he sees how are excited you are.

"No, I did it for the neighbour upstairs. But he didn't answer the call in time, so I gave it to you" you say, your foot playing with his under the table again.

"Great thinking. That actually might have stopped him from complaining about the noise again." he matches your joke.

"Of course I did it for you." you touch the bracelet he got you with his initials. "Yours forever." your words make his heart race faster. He brings your hand with the bracelet on to his lips, kissing it softly.

A playful smile spreads across his face, he shakes his head and looks up at you.

"So that's what's got you so fidgety all night." he leans in placing his elbows on the table, turning the polaroid to you. It even takes your breath away, you look good in that photo.

"I wasn't fidgety." you say, defending yourself.

"Baby, I could see your hands shaking when we sat down." he says, sliding closer to you in the booth. "If I knew I had that on me, I would be nervous too." he is now only a few inches away from you. He looks at the photo again. "That is so fucking hot." he traces his finger along your body on the photo.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he takes one last look at it and puts into his card holder. To him it instantly becomes worth more than any card he owns. As much as he would love to stare at the photo for the rest of his life, he also can't believe you are sitting right in front of him, he is not possessive in a true sense of the word, but the thought that you are his, that you love him as much as he loves you, fills his heart with so much happiness.

"That's what I've been wondering too." you say, placing your elbows on the table, holding your head in your hands and turning to look at him through your lashes.

"So do you want the desert?" you take a spoon, swipe it across the white cream on the top of the piece of cake in front of you. He watches you bring the spoonfull of heavy cream into your mouth and lick it, closing your eyes, enjoying the taste. He knows you are trying to torture him and it's working.

You open your eyes, his eyes which were focused on your mouth meeting yours, his pupils are wide, the candle light reflecting in them. The fire matches his thoughts racing through his head right now.

He moves even closer to you, his lips close to your ear "I would love the desert." he whispers only for you to hear. You turn to face him, your faces only a breath apart. He almost leans in to kiss you, but you turn to the plate again, you dip your finger into the cream and bring it to his mouth this time. He looks into your eyes and takes it in without a second thought. His tongue swirling against the tip of your finger tasting the delicious cream, his tongue feels so wet and warm. You take it out as quickly, lick off the residue and wipe it on the napkin.

He brings a hand to your jaw, his fingers splayed on the side of your face, holding you this time, so you won't move, and kisses you. You let him and lean into him. His lips are soft against yours and you can still taste the desert. The closeness, his hand tight on your jaw, tilting your head the way he wants and the smell of his cologne almost makes you forget you are still in public and you can't do what flashes through your head.

"I'm gonna be right back." you end the kiss quickly and push at his chest, making him lean back. You stand up and head to the bathroom. You turn around the corner, down the hall and reach for the door handle, when you hear footsteps right behind you, a familiar cologne smell enveloping you again. Joost hurries you inside, locks the door, and pushes you against the wall, your chest flush against his.

"What are you doing?" you are breathless from all the sudden movements.

"I couldn't wait." he leans in licking his lips, you feel his breath against your lips. He smiles looking into your eyes for a silent confirmation that you are okay, you nod and catch a glimpse of his grills. He kisses you hungrily as he presses you into the wall with his full weight. You answer the kiss trying to keep up with his pace. You planned on teasing him longer, not letting him have his way, but you are so weak and his strong hold on your hips and warmth feels so good on you. One of his hands moves to grab at the muscle of your ass through the dress, you feel him breath heavily into the kiss.

You are getting dizzy, he seems to be everywhere all at once, it all feels so good. Your hands are around his shoulders, fingers scratching at the nape of his neck. He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, you open your mouth for him, his tongue instantly finding yours, tasting you. He can't get enough of you, can't get close enough. You feel so soft under him, the prettiest needy sounds leaving your mouth in between kisses. He slowly moves his hand from your waist down to your hip, then your thigh, squeezing it, feeling the soft plush skin, earning more sounds. He doesn't have a plan, he just had to come with you here. He is happy with just a makeout session, but somewhere in between the desert and this moment he started to get hard, the pants getting uncomfortably tight. He wraps your leg around his hip to be even closer to you.

"Let me make you feel good." he tries to sound sexy, but it comes out more as a whimper.

You lean your head into the wall trying to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw leaving wet kisses on his path to your neck. With your leg wrapped around his hip, where he is holding it tight still, you can feel him hard close to your core. His other hand sneaks into the top of your dress, you are not wearing a bra, so it is easy for him to feel your chest, which he thought about all night. You moan under him, your nipple getting hard at the touch of his big hand. You feel his other hand leave your thigh and trail down your stomach closer to the slit of your dress.

"Joost." your voice is breathy. "Let's wait till we get home." his kisses on your neck slow down. You feel bad for denying him right now, but you need to stick to your plan.

He peels himself off of you, his soul coming back into his own body after what felt like intertwining with yours. "Okay" he leans in to kiss you on the lips again.

"I'm sorry." your eyes move down his crotch, his bulge visible in his suit pants.

"No, it's fine. We just have to wait here a little." his voice gentle.

"Um, I actually do need to pee." you say. This bathroom is not a big space, a sink with a big mirror and a toilet.

"Okay." he says matter of factly. "I'll turn to face the wall." he adds when he notices you raise an eyebrow. "I can't go out now like that." he points to his crotch. "Also as if I haven't seen you pee before." he says more quiet. He is right, while traveling by car with him from country to country for his concerts, you had to make some questionable stops in the middle of nowhere. Also living together for so long, you both are long past locking the door while showering, so the other can use the bathroom at the same time.

"You did this to yourself by the way." you motion to his dick.

"I know, but can you blame me?" he turns to look at the wall, his eyes closed, you are sure he is trying to think of something to make the boner go away. "Next time I will give you my nude photo at dinner." he jokes, but the idea actually plants in his mind.

You are washing your hands, fixing your hair in the mirror.

"I can't stop thinking about that polaroid. Can't believe you did that for me." his voice soft, full of love. He feels like that photo is burning through the card holder, through the pocket of his pants.

"I'd do anything for you, you know." you look at him through the mirror.

"Don't say that right now." he throws his head back, squeezing his eyes shut, blood rushing back to his dick.

"I have one more, if you will be a good boy, I will give it to you." you turn to him, leaning back against the sink.

He looks into your eyes, a sweet smile on your face, a contrast to the words which just came out of your mouth, makes him close the space between you, his hands on your hips again, slotting so perfectly against your body. He is convinced you were made for him how good you fit on his hands.

"Will you be a good boy?" you look up at him, placing your hands on his chest, trying to feel his pecs through the suit.

He feels like a teenager again, trying not to get hard at every word a girl he likes says.

"You are torturing me, you know?" a potential image of another photo circulating through his mind. He leans in to kiss you again, slow and soft this time. Enjoying your lips on his. He bites your lower lip, not enough to draw blood, but enough to make you gasp in surprise.

You lean back in his embrace, your lipstick all over his lips. You bring your thumb to clean it off.

"Want to go for a smoke?" you offer. "Might help your situation." you trace your nail slowly just under his belt.

He takes your hand in his and leads you outside, a cigarette sounds really good right now.

You go into an alleyway next to the restaurant. It is a warm evening, but you still shiver as soon as you step outside. He shrugs off his jacket, and puts it around your shoulders. He doesn't even need to look at you, already knows you will be shivering, he feels hot all over on the other hand.

He takes out a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket, which hangs from your shoulders. Offers you one, which you take and place it between your lips. He lights your cigarette and then for himself. Joost inhales the smoke slowly, nice feeling spreading across his chest. You watch him roll up the sleeves of his white shirt, as you bring his jacket tighter around your shoulders. It smells just like him.

"So what's the plan?" you ask him.

"I don't know, you tell me." he smiles, now more relaxed, the grills shining back at you from his wide smile. "I'm at your mercy."

"We head back to finish the desert. I hope they are not looking for us by now, thinking we ditched the bill." you say.

"And what if we do ditch it?" he blows the smoke up into the night air. "Run away. Just me and you."

"It's always just me and you." you step closer to him, placing your hand on his exposed forearm, moving further up to play with his tie. He looks so good, the rolled up sleeves revealing his tattoos, which you always had a soft spot for.

He takes a slow drag, blows the smoke away from your face, even though you are also smoking. Then leans in, putting your hair behind your ear and off your shoulder, "Such a tease tonight." his mouth right next to your ear, "Do you want me to bend you over right here and take you against the wall?"

Your eyes go wide, suddenly the night breeze is not enough to regulate your temperature. He straightens up to stand tall in front of you, looking down at you. A surprised chuckle comes out of you. The real answer is: You do, but you will never admit that to him. Not now at least.

"When did you get so bold, mr. Klein?" you are still holding his tie loosely between your fingers. His cocky stage persona taking the light now, you love it.

"Learned from the best." he says and you try to pull him closer to you by the tie.

"You are right. Let's head back for the desert." he doesn't give in to your pull. Both of you playing this cat and mouse game, which makes the end result all the more exciting. You giggle and lead him inside by the tie, dropping it, as soon as you walk in. He still follows you blindly, as if bound by an invisible string.

You finish the desert, he pays the bill and you can't get home soon enough. His hand is trying to trail up further and further up your thigh, you keep swatting it away playfully.

"Be patient." you whisper to him. "We can do anything you want when we are back home." you make a promise to him. He loosens the tie around his neck at your words.

You open the door, he follows right behind, you can feel his heat behind your back. You turn around, facing him, now walking backwards slowly towards the wall, he is following you a few steps behind. You lean forward to take off your heels, kicking them to the side. relieved to finally fully touch the floor. Without the added inches, you are even shorter now, having to look up higher to face him. He is walking you into the wall like he is hunting a prey. You beckon him closer with your finger, as a giggle escapes you, sparkles dancing in your eyes.

Your back hits the wall, as he closes the distance between you, his eyes fixated on yours. You take a good look at him, a smile on his lips reveals the shiny grills, rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt make his shoulders even wider, the pants fit him so nice. He looks incredible, you should go out all dressed up more often. You take his tie in your hands.

"Come here." you bring him closer to you by the tie. He leans in crashing his lips into yours, a groan escapes his lips, which you can feel through your whole body. It excites you even more.

His hand is on your neck, applying a slight pressure, his fingers splayed on your pulse point, under your jaw, which makes you moan into his mouth, a sound so delicious to him, he drinks it all in. His hand feels so big and warm on you, you start to feel a pulse between your legs. You let go of his tie, when he uses the hand on your neck to turn your head the way he wants to deepen the kiss. His other hand grabs a handfull of your ass. Every time he is close to you he feels like it's not enough, wants to envelop you whole, there is so much space for love in him and it is all for you. You make him dizzy with just your presence, your perfume, your soft skin, the rapid pulse he can feel under his hand, it all makes him the happiest man on earth.

You break apart gasping for air, his hair messed up from your hands running through them. His lips are swollen, stained with your lipstick, you try to wipe it off, but end up smearing it even further, he follows your hand pushing his face against it, craving your touch. He kisses your palm, your wrist, your hand so much smaller in his. He takes both your wrists in his one hand and hold them above your head.

"So beautiful." he says quietly. It's just you two in the apartment, but he wants those words to belong just to you. His hand traces from your jaw down your chest, stomach, slowly tracing the curve of your waist, while you can't move, your wrists pinned above your head. He is eating you with his eyes, enjoying the view. He sees you every day, but it is still never enough. You try to wriggle your wrists.

"Joost. Please" you whine, getting impatient.

He leans in closer. "Get on your knees for me, liefje." he lets go of your wrists, you immediately follow his request, your knees hitting the floor, you can't wait to get your hands on him. You lift your eyes, while undoing his belt, slowly moving to the zipper. He is looking down at you, his hands softly petting your hair.

You palm him through his underwear, he is already half hard. He moans a sound of satisfaction finally feeling you close to him. You lean in to kiss his still clothed length.

"Go on, baby." you leave one last kiss right on his tip, before taking off his pants and boxers. His dick springs free, he feels so heavy in your hand. You place your other hand on his thigh, steadying yourself. You move closer placing featherlight kisses along his length, while he makes a makeshift ponytail with your hair to get it out of the way. You lick a long stripe from the base to the tip, spitting on it, mixing it with his pre-cum, now your hand slides so much better along him. You keep moving your hand up and down while looking at him through your lashes, his mouth is open, slight moans escaping his mouth, but you hear him. You cup his balls and his head falls back, you massage them pulling more sounds from him.

You feel him pull your hair tighter. "Open your mouth for me, schat." you oblige, sticking out your tongue. He takes his dick in his hand, slaps it on your tongue and pushes in. He lets you set the pace, but still keeps a strong hold on your head. You try to steady your breathing to take more of him. He feels your nails on his thigh, secretly loves that feeling, it feels grounding when he feels like floating away from the warm and wet feeling of your mouth, bringing him so much pleasure. You keep sucking him, hollowing your mouth, following the pulsing vein with your tongue.

You breathe steadily through your nose, looking up at him, watching the expressions on his face, when he starts to buck his hips into your mouth.

"Fuck, baby. Feels so- good." his voice is low. "Can I-" his words are not coming out properly, he is so lost in you. But you know what he wants, you hum a confirmation around him. He puts one hand on the wall behind you, the other hand on the side of your head as he starts thrusting harder. Tears are forming at the corners of your eyes. Drool coming out down your chin and around his shaft, your nose hits his pubic hair, and he keeps your head there moaning loudly. He is so close suddenly, you feel him twitch in your mouth.

He pulls you off of him, you try to catch your breath, wiping your mouth. You reach out to touch him again already missing the heavy feeling of him in your throat, but he brings you up.

"Let me have a taste of you too." he says quickly pulling up his pants back on not bothering to do the belt properly, when you are face to face with him. He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue, a reminder what you just did. You keep kissing as he walks you into the living room, blindly stumbling towards the couch, but he catches you. His hands steady on you, always holding you and you trust him completely.

He spins you around, bending you over the back of the couch. He presses himself behind you, kissing your shoulder, his hands quickly moving to the top of your dress

"I need you so bad." he kisses along your spine, moving lower and lower. He bunches up your dress along your hips, exposing you to him.

"You have me." you say, turning your head to look at him, holding yourself up on the couch.

He exhales loudly, as he squeezes your ass, only a thong separating you from him. "I've been thinking about this all day" he says kneeling down behind you. He is so impatient, so pent up and so inlove with you, he feels everything at the same time. He touches you through your underwear.

"So wet." you feel his breath in between your legs. You've never been with someone who loves giving head as much as him, he would put your pleasure above his own any day.

After continuing to touch you through the fabric, feeling your folds, hearing your impatient frustrated moans spurs him on, so he finally moved your underwear to the side and dives in immediately. He pushes you further into the couch with a firm hand on your lower back, you arch for him to have better access.

"The prettiest pussy and all for me." He spreads you with his two fingers and licks a long stripe from your clit to the hole, he feels it clench under his tongue. He is obsessed with how sensitive you are, your taste the most delicious to him. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard, you buck your hips into him. You were already getting close by giving him head and all the pretty sounds you were able to pull from him, you feel like you won't last long.

He continues to make out with your cunt, his eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed, listening to every little sound you make, focusing on what makes you twitch the most, moan the loudest. He moves his head from side to side, which makes you arch even further.

"Please, Joost, don't stop. I'm almost there" you plead to him.

You feel him smile against your folds, it is so messy, you feel your thighs are wet when he pulls back and starts do draw fast wide circles around your folds, the sounds your pussy is making would embarrass you, if you weren't so lost in the building climax you feel in your lower stomach, pulsing through your whole body, your mind blurry, you keep repeating his name over and over, which makes him impossibly hard. You see him move his own hand between his legs, palming himself through the pants, groaning into your core.

"I need you inside of me. Please." you manage to say.

He would love nothing more in that moment, he stands up, pulls down his pants and underwear in one movement. His tip an angry shade of red, balls heavy, you turn your head forward, moving your hips closer to him, inviting him in.

"Quickly" you whine.

He is holding your hip with one hand, while he holds his dick in the other hand, slowly moving it through your folds, collecting your slick.

"Can you go again after?" he asks, his voice breathy.

"Can you?" you turn to him, placing your hand over his own on your hip, to feel more of him.

He chuckles. His tip catches your hole, pushing in. You both inhale at the same time. "You are in for a fun time today" he says, as he pushes in further, you are so wet, it is so easy for him. He bends over to be closer to you.

His heart runs like an engine as he bullies his drooling cock up against your soft cunt. His words close to your ear, nothing but filthy praise, about how you are perfect for him, that you were made for him, he loves you. His hips meet yours in a fast pace behind you, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. As soon as he moves his hand to draw circles around your clit, you scream out his name and gush all over him, squeezing him impossibly tight, which makes him lose his pace. It triggers his own release, after a few more pumps, you feel his cum paint your walls, there is so much, it starts to trickle down your thighs. He collapses on top of you, barely able to catch himself putting his hands on either side of you on the couch. His white shirt is sticking to his skin with how sweaty he is.

You feel he is still not fully soft inside of you. The stamina he has today makes you excited, because you are also ready for more.

You wince when he pulls out.

"Was that not too rough? Sorry, we didn't even make it to the bedroom." he asks, while his eyes are trained between your legs, it is so wet and shiny with both of your releases. He is almost hypnotised.

"I can't even catch my breath still. I don't think we could have possibly made it to the bedroom." you say and you both laugh.

He helps you stand up, you stand in front of him, moving your hands behind you undoing the zipper and slipping out of your dress, leaving it on the floor. He watches you intently, your naked figure in front of him. It is dark in the room, only a street light coming from the window and low light from the hall illuminating you.

"You are so beautiful." he repeats the words he says to you every day, no matter if you are in your pyjamas or full make up and expensive dress, if he was a painter he would paint you and only you. He gives you so many compliments, you started to believe them, boosting your self confidence, which you are thankful for.

"It is your turn now." you undo his tie, throwing it on top of your dress. He starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, while you move towards the bedroom.

You are both completely naked when you fall on the bed. You lay on the pillows, he slowly crawls on top of you, kissing your calfs, your thighs, as you spread your legs apart, giving him more space. He continues kissing his way up, your stomach, stopping on your chest, focusing on your tits. He looks into your eyes, when he takes your nipple into his mouth, playing with it with his tongue, sucking in. You arch your back, whining and moving your hands to his head, holding him close. His hand moves to touch your other boob, squeezing it, twisting and pulling the nipple, enjoying your moans. You feel so good in his mouth. He moves to the other nipple, changing hands to play with the shiny wet nipple from his spit.

You start lifting your hips to meet his, his cock lays heavy on your lower stomach. You pull on his hair to get his attention, he moves his hands in between your legs, you are so warm and wet at his touch.

He looks up at you, letting go of your nipple, moving further up closer to your face.

"You ready to go again?" you ask him, placing your hand on the side of his face, wiping the residue of you on his chin.

He kisses you, and you melt under him immediately. His lips ever so soft capturing yours.

"Yes." he says sitting up. "Are you?" he moves his hands from your neck slowly down to your chest, feeling your fast heartbeat, matching his own, down to your lower stomach. His thumb presses on your clit, your hips lift on their own, a whine escaping your lips, still overstimulated, but it feels so good at the same time. He sees you clench around nothing, waiting for him.

"Don't tease, Joost. Put it in." you reach out to touch his cock. You move your hand up and down his shaft, but he takes control again. He holds himself by the base, leaning in closer, he aligns your hips, putting his cock onto your lower stomach, the tip almost reaching your bellybutton, seeing how deep it will go in. The sight makes his breath catch. The tip leaves a wet spot on your skin.

"I love you so much." he says as he finally reaches your hole, sliding in. He moves your thighs further apart, holding them. He watches your face, your expressions helping him set the pace, seeing what makes you moan louder and what movements make you clench around him. He builds the thrusts around your pleasure. Your arms cling to his on your thighs.

"Feels so good" your head falls back on the pillows.

"Look at me, baby" he moves your head back to look at him. "I want to see you when you cum on my dick." each word is followed by a harder thrust. One of his hands moves to touch your nipple, letting go of your thighs. The other hand draws fast circles around your clit. He rolls his hips just the way you like, you feel your climax envelope your entire body, from your toes to the tips of your fingers. He lets you ride out your high, your hips moving on him, his hands moving softly on your sides. His dick keeping you full.

"That's it baby. That's it. So good for me" he praises you.

You come to your senses and feel him pull out. You start to flip on your stomach, thinking he wants to change positions.

"No, wait." he stops you, laying you on your back. His hands come to your chest, squeezing your boobs together. You are confused for a second, following his gaze on your chest, when you realize.

"Do you want to fuck my tits?" you ask. You could tell he wanted to do it for awhile, but he wouldn't bring it up for some reason. You wish he would believe your words, when you say you would let him do anything. You trust him completely.

"Yes. Would that be okay?" he asks meeting your eyes unsure.

"Yes. Come here" you push your boobs together. He can't believe the sight in front of him. He gets even harder than before. He moves his hand to your pussy, covering his hand in your release, when he brings it in the valley between your boobs, making it slippery.

"You are so nasty." you say. He always loves it messy, even prefers to cum on your stomach or chest, spreading it after, but truly you don't mind.

"And you love it." he says and lets his spit fall on your chest, holding your boobs together, making it even more wet. He plays with your nipples, twisting them in between his pointer finger and thumb, as he moves to straddle you closer, making sure not to put his weight on you.

You help him hold your boobs, when he lines himself in the valley of your breasts. He tries to move, his head falling back with a loud groan, it feels so good. You watch his face contorted in pleasure. He keeps moving his hips, as you squeeze your boobs tighter around him.

"Oh fuck, liefje." one of his hands move to the backboard of the bed for leverage. You open your mouth catching his tip when he thrusts in. He moans at that, his mouth agape, looking down at you.

"Do that again." you oblige and keep your mouth open. He keeps thrusting in and out, his tip staying in your mouth. You move your hand to cup his balls, feeling the tender skin. You make sure to place your tongue on his slit on his next thrust.

"Feels so good. So good." his brain is a mush at this point, he starts to chase his high, moving faster. Your neck is getting tired, so he holds you by the back of your head.

"I'm so close, gonna cum." he warns you, in case you want him to move away. But you hum around him, sucking him harder. He shuts his eyes shut, after a few more thrusts he cums in your mouth, but pulls out and also finishes on your chest. His own chest is contracting in shallow breaths, he plops down next to you on the bed, his legs can't hold him anymore. You feel his warm release on your chest, which he can't stop looking at and starts massaging it into your tits.

"Joost." you whine. "You are such a freak." you swat his hands away laughing.

"And what if I did this?" he leans in quickly and puts your nipple into his mouth, feeling it wet with his spit and his own release. You squeal at feeling, pulling his hair.

"The biggest freak ever." a giggle escapes you. "Let's get in the shower."

After you get back all clean, you show him the other polaroids you took, but didn't end up choosing for the final surprise. He inspects every single one, commenting on what he likes about each one and makes you promise you will wear the underwear set you wore for it tomorrow.

He is already planning on giving you a nude polaroid photo of himself to match yours.

[flowersforbucky]

logan howlett x reader

a late night thunderstorm and some questions about what never was and what could be.

a/n: i don't even know what came over me, i just needed to jot this down and get it out of my system. i'm so fond of the "reader being in love with original logan and then meeting worst logan" trope. may or may not expand on this soon!

warnings/tags: not explicit but mdni, tension and longing, minor angst, no use of y/n, 750 words

“How well did you know him, exactly?”

You knew the question would come. Truthfully, you're surprised he hasn't asked already. And yet, you're still not prepared to answer.

You pour yourself another glass of wine, hoping for an ounce of liquid confidence to get you through this conversation.

The oven timer begins to beep, nearly inaudible over the roar of the wind and rain that beats down against your windows. He watches you from his seat across the kitchen island. Not in a way that makes you feel pressured to respond - there's patience and understanding in the way he looks at you in the dim lighting of your small kitchen.

Well enough to know he deserved more than this life ever gave him.

You think these words, but keep your mouth shut, pursing your lips. Instead, you turn to the oven behind you and quiet the incessant beeping before sliding your hand into an oven mitt and pulling out the roast chicken and vegetables that you had thrown together.

“You don't have to answer that,” Logan says into the thick silence. “I'm sorry. Let's talk about someth–”

“No, it's okay,” you stop him, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter. You're still turned away from him, but you can feel his stare on your backside. You reach up to a cabinet above you, pulling out two plates before turning back to face him.

“I want to talk about him. Really, I do. It's just been a long time since I have.”

He watches as you divide up the food and slide a full plate across the island to him. You can't help but feel a sense of deja vu - you've cooked for this face before. You've served these crinkled hazel eyes this exact meal before, what feels like a lifetime ago.

But for the person sitting before you, this is a first.

“We were close,” you finally continue after clearing your throat, your voice rising an octave on the word close. “Close enough for me to miss him very much.”

You don’t elaborate any further. You don’t tell him of all the almosts and what ifs that run through your mind at the mere mention of his name.

“Is it difficult for you?” he asks in a hesitant voice. “To look at me and see him? To be near me?”

You don’t answer right away. You grab your plate of food and walk around to the other side of the counter, to join him where he sits. You pull out the barstool next to him and sit so that your body is angled towards him. He puts his fork down, giving you his full attention.

The air in the room suddenly feels heavy. You’re close enough that his leg brushes against the side of yours and a shiver runs down your spine.

“Yes,” you admit in a whisper. “It is difficult. But at the same time, I can’t help but want it.”

You can’t quite bring yourself to say you.

“I felt guilty for it at first,” you continue. He watches you with more understanding than you feel you deserve. “For wanting to be around you, to get to know you,” you clarify. “It felt like I was just looking for him in you, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

He extends a hand to where your own rests on your knee. He covers yours with his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Your eyes flutter closed at the warmth and familiarity and you selfishly hope that he doesn’t pull away.

“But then I got to know you, and I learned all of the ways that the two of you are similar, but more importantly, I learned all of the ways that you're different. And the differences didn't matter to me. I still wanted to be around you just as much. Even more.”

You take your free hand and place it on top of his. You stare down at where your hands are stacked together, tracing a thick vein from his knuckle to his wrist with the tip of your finger.

“I never told Logan how I felt about him. He and I.. missed our chance to be anything more than what we were. I don't want to make that mistake again.”

He brings his other hand to your face, cupping your jawline in his palm. You can't help but melt into the touch. He tilts your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“You don't have to.”

•••

thanks for reading 💕💕

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[ravenstargames]

Forced mouse movement is not okay. Ever. Uninstalled and unfollowed. Never do that again.

I want to assume this ask was sent to express discomfort over a feature of the game with somewhat of a good intention. However, it doesn't feel that way.

We weren't going to reply to this initially, but after checking this is not an accessibility issue, we want to use this as a way of reminding people that small developers are not faceless corporations with endless patience and no will to respond to rudeness.

I'd like for you all to keep in mind the way you word things. There's a line between "feedback", "expressing discomfort / disagreement" and whatever this is.

No, you don't get to tell a small creator, artist, developer, how to use their tools. You can express your opinion. You can make suggestions. Small developers want to take care of their audience, because their audience is what allows them to keep working on their games. I'd like to believe every indie developer appreciates and values their audience, and wants to listen to their wants and needs.

However, you don't get to have a say in every little aspect happening in the media you consume. You are absolutely free to have your opinions, express them, have a conversation, and move on. This is not what's happening here.

There was absolutely no need to come to our ask box to say using a narrative element, a tool provided by the engine we use, is "never okay" and to "never do that again". You don't get to decide that. We don't know what response or reaction you were expecting. There is obviously no desire for improvement or dialogue here.

Our demo is free, the content warnings are clear, and the "dark fantasy" and "horror" tags are there. If there's a need to add more content warnings, everyone following us knows they are welcome to inform us about it. I think we've made sure everyone feels comfortable reaching out to us with their opinions since we started publicly working on LiL. Our ask box and our DMs are always open for everyone.

But there will be spooky elements. Agency will be taken away from you. You will feel happy, loved, frustrated, angry, and sad. That's the game we want to make. You can try out the demo, find out you are not comfortable with whatever elements are in it, and decide not to engage any further with it. You will always be free to stop supporting us and our game any time and for whatever reason.

The use of this tool, the forced mouse movement, is justified and adds to the storytelling. We didn't use it deliberately just for the funsies. It shows that there's a higher power trying to control you, and it prepares you for the fact that sometimes this power will be greater than you.

Again, you are absolutely free to uninstall and unfollow, but I advise you not to go to another dev with this much entitlement telling them what to do or how to tell their story this way. You don't like it. It is not made for you. You are not the target audience, and that's completely fine. Curate your space and give some love to the small developers of your favorite games.

[minminbunny]

Stalker X Stalker AU - Lurker! Han Jisung/Exhibitionist Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

You furrowed your eyebrows, walking down the stairs to open your front door. The doorbell rang but when you opened it, no one was there. Only a pretty little box sat on your welcome mat. You looked around and picked it up, your name was written on the tag. 'Can't be wrong address then,' you thought, bringing the box in. You tugged on the ribbon and opened it. Your heart sank at the contents, a bloody letter. 

At least what you initially thought was blood, there wasn't a familiar metallic smell, it smelled closer to strawberry jam. You took a whiff and it was indeed strawberry jam. You stifled a chuckle and placed the letter aside, further within the box was a quokka plush, and it smelled like cologne. You brought it to your nose and melted, deep subtle musky, more floral than anything. "This isn't so bad," you murmured, looking deeper within the box, only to find a bracelet, it had a singular charm. It was about time you checked the letter, it wrote:

"To my precious love,

If you're reading this, you received my gift. I may have been eating a jelly sandwich while thinking of what to write. I hope the gifts are to your liking. The bracelet is incomplete, but don't worry. This isn't the only gift. One day it'll be complete with me by your side.

Yours Truly,

J.One"

You stared at the alias, trying to figure out who your secret admirer is. Maybe he's near, maybe he's long distance, you would never know. You held the quokka plush close, "I hope to see you too," you whispered, stroking the fur. Jisung gulped, watching the whole unboxing through a video camera he installed around the house. The cameras were installed during the previous tenant and they didn't tell you. 

It was a surprise to him when he saw you move in. His heart pounded, his pupils dilated, it was love at first sight. Even through a PC screen. Jisung released a shaky breath, relieved that you liked the gift. He already had them planned to send out on specific days "Wait for me, baby. I'll be there at the end of all of this," he whispered, watching you with a lovesick gaze. 

You knew there were cameras but you didn't bother to turn them off. You liked being watched, liked pretending you were in a show like the office where the camera pans to the person. It was fun, and you had access to them too, so it did serve as a security feature. The one in your bedroom was odd but it only spurred on your filthy desires. 

You wanted to be on display but being a cam person or an only fans model might hinder your working experience. It was a risk you weren't willing to take. You plopped yourself onto the bed, quokka plush in arms as you looked into the camera, "I know you're watching me," you feint afraid, clutching the quokka close. "Are you J.One?" you asked, knowing you wouldn't get a response. 

You plopped on the bed, "If you are then you'd know I liked the gifts. Would rather have you here though," you mumbled, feeling touch starved after all these years. "You know, I used to wish that the monster under my bed was real so I could get cuddles. It was desperate but the offer still stands," you said, showing a bit of your true intentions. Jisung gulped, hearing your sweet voice address you directly, "Soon, my love. I'll give you what you need soon," he said, grazing your cheek on the screen.

Day after day a new box arrived at your door. Each day brought a different charm, a guitar, a music note, a knife, a coffee cup. Today was just another day where you unbox your gift,  the bracelet stayed around your wrist like a physical claim. You didn't want to take it off and Jisung loved hearing the click clacks of the charms when you walked around the house. "Pretty," you whispered, tracing the letter in your hands. Jisung got more diligent with his letter decorating after knowing that you kept it in your safekeeping box. The letter read:

"To my darling love,

I hope the day finds you well. You looked absolutely adorable with your little bracelet. Wouldn't you like to imagine me pinning you down while the jingle with each thrust? I fantasize a lot, my dear. The gift today is a bit more mature to say, if you're comfortable. I'll be honored to see you in it.

Your love,

J.One"

You gulped at thought, your breathing getting shallow as you looked deeper into the box. Your breath hitched as you took it up, a skimpy lacy lingerie. A simple slip on lingerie that didn't hide much to the imagination. You looked deeper into the box and found a pair of animal ears and a tail. A soft scoff escaped your lips, "You bastard," you smiled, holding it up to the camera. 

"Kinky aren't you?" you teased, rolling your eyes. You held the outfit in your hands, "I'll wear them, on one condition," you said, crossing your arms. Jisung smirked, willing to do whatever you asked. You bit your bottom lip, "Call me, please. It's scary if I play alone, J.One," you sulked, jutting you lips in attempt to swoon him. Jisung gulped, his cock throbbed at the sight. Your pretty gaze made his mind spin. 

He clicked on your contact, it was already saved to 'My Love'. You flinched when your phone rang, you didn't expect him to comply, "Hello?" you asked, nervousness evident on your face. Jisung chuckled, sending shivers down your spine, "I'm weak to a doll like you. One pity gaze and I'm on my knees, darling. Are you happy to hear my voice?" he asked, loving the way you pressed your thighs together. 

You nodded your head, knowing he's watching, "Yes. You sound great. I'm glad to put a voice to the name," you said, hands trembling from excitement. Jisung cooed, "I'm happy you like my voice, doll. Now, why don't you get changed, hm? Let me see you in that pretty outfit I chose," he encouraged, palming his cock with his other hand. You nodded and did as told, changing into the skimpy lingerie with it's accessories. 

Jisung looked away from the camera, not wanting to ruin his own surprise, "May I look now, love?" he asked, trying to keep his moans subtle. "Take a look," you said, bashfully showing him the outfit. Jisung groaned, squeezing his bulge at the sight, "Fuck, baby. You look stunning. Come on, give me a twirl," he instructed, tugging down his pants. You did as told and bit your bottom lip, "Can we go play now?" you asked, eager to touch yourself. Jisung hissed, letting his cock spring against his abdomen, "Of course, darling. Give me a show," he chuckled, watching you trip over your feet as you scurried up the stairs.

NSFW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"Spread your legs further, that's it," he instructed, watching you thrust your dildo in and out of your tight fluttering cunt. He zoomed the camera in, ensuring a 4K view. You arched your back, thrusting the toy to his commands, the pillow beneath your ass gave him a better view. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you gasped, pumping the toy at a languid pace. You needed more, your body craved more as you listened to Jisung's throaty groans. 

"That's it, take it slow. You're doing so mmh good for me, darling," thrusting his hips within his flashlight in sync with yours. You whimpered at the squelching audio echo within your ears, "Need faster, J. Please," you hiccuped, clenching around the dildo just to feel more. 

Jisung chuckled, "I can't torture my baby doll too long. Pick up the pace, darling. Pound your cunt like you normally would, Show how fucking good that cunt of yours take cock," he growled, hearing your broken whines and moans as you twist and thrust the dildo at a relentless pace. It was raw, needy and desperate. Just the way you loved it. 

Jisung groaned, bucking his hips to match your pace, "Shit, shit, hah. Rub your clit, love. Fuck, hhgh, cum with me," he grits, pounding the fleshight as rough as you were, his eyes glued to the screen when you screamed out his name. "Fuck, fuck, Jisung!" you sobbed, creaming around your dildo. Jisung choked on his breath, cumming into the toy with little to no resistance, "Fuck," he gasped,  filling up the flashlight with his orgasm. 

You whimpered, thrusting the dildo to ease down your high, "Jisung," you mewled, staring into the camera. Jisung gulped, slumping back into his seat, "Tell me, doll. How do you know my name?" he asked, brushing his hair back. You gave him a dopey smile, "I knew since the beginning, Han. I always knew," you said, reaching your hand beneath your pillow to pull out his missing boxers. Jisung chuckled, resting his head on the desk, "Fuck, love. You got me all hard again," he growled, staring at the screen. You bit your bottom lip, "Good, 'cause I'm ready for round 2," you giggled, giving him a flying kiss.

AMAB

"Spread your legs further, that's it," he instructed, watching you thrust your dildo in and out of your tight fluttering hole. He zoomed the camera in, ensuring a 4K view. You arched your back, thrusting the toy to his commands, the pillow beneath your ass gave him a better view. "Hah, hah, hhgh," you gasped, pumping the toy at a languid pace. You needed more, your body craved more as you listened to Jisung's throaty groans. 

"That's it, take it slow. You're doing so mmh good for me, darling," thrusting his hips within his flashlight in sync with yours. You whimpered at the squelching audio echo within your ears, "Need faster, J. Please," you hiccuped, clenching around the dildo just to feel more. 

Jisung chuckled, "I can't torture my baby doll too long. Pick up the pace, darling. Pound your hole like you normally would, Show how fucking good that hole of yours take cock," he growled, hearing your broken whines and moans as you twist and thrust the dildo at a relentless pace. It was raw, needy and desperate. Just the way you loved it. 

Jisung groaned, bucking his hips to match your pace, "Shit, shit, hah. Rub your cockhead, love. Fuck, hhgh, cum with me," he grits, pounding the fleshight as rough as you were, his eyes glued to the screen when you screamed out his name. "Fuck, fuck, Jisung!" you sobbed, creaming onto your torso. Jisung choked on his breath, cumming into the toy with little to no resistance, "Fuck," he gasped,  filling up the flashlight with his orgasm. 

You whimpered, thrusting the dildo to ease down your high, "Jisung," you mewled, staring into the camera. Jisung gulped, slumping back into his seat, "Tell me, doll. How do you know my name?" he asked, brushing his hair back. You gave him a dopey smile, "I knew since the beginning, Han. I always knew," you said, reaching your hand beneath your pillow to pull out his missing boxers. Jisung chuckled, resting his head on the desk, "Fuck, love. You got me all hard again," he growled, staring at the screen. You bit your bottom lip, "Good, 'cause I'm ready for round 2," you giggled, giving him a flying kiss.

[adverbally]

The String to Strike Within Me

Written for the @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts “rough” and “aftercare” | wc: 1,463 | rated: E | cw: | tags: alternate universe - gender changes, female steve harrington, female eddie munson, bdsm, dom steve, sub eddie, rough sex, strap-on, vaginal sex, light degradation, begging, subspace, praise kink | title from “Heaven” by Mitski

Not much of an excerpt here because of the filth after the cut but here ya go:

———

“Anyone ever done this to you before?” Stevie asks teasingly…

as she buries the strap-on in Eddie’s pussy, grinding just a little deeper when her hips meet the back of Eddie’s thighs. “Fucked you with your own toy while you begged for more?”

Eddie’s only response is a whimper, muffled by the bedspread she’s hiding her face in. Stevie threads her fingers in Eddie’s hair, close to the scalp, and pulls her head upward. In Eddie’s current position on her elbows and knees, it forces her neck to crane uncomfortably.

“No,” Eddie gasps, “no, just you.”

“Good girl,” Stevie tells her with a smack! to her ass that makes Eddie clench just as Stevie is thrusting back into her.

She’s never heard this kind of noise from her own mouth before, a high-pitched stuttering cry for more. Eddie’s almost embarrassed for a moment, but then Stevie’s petting her flank like she’s a well-behaved pet and it’s so confusingly sexy that Eddie’s shame melts away like ChapStick in a hot van.

Stevie keeps up her slow and steady pace while her hand on Eddie’s ass rubs in comforting circles. “Okay, sweetheart?”

Eddie honestly doesn’t think she could form the words to explain if she wasn’t okay, but she is. She props one arm up to show Stevie a thumbs up.

Then Stevie’s fingers are digging into Eddie’s hips to pull her back onto the dildo, giving her the leverage to thrust harder. Eddie can hear their skin clapping together with each surge forward, the squelch of her cunt, the unconscious little ah, ah, ah noises pushed out of her with each stroke. The sound of Stevie fucking her might be the most amazing thing she’s ever heard.

“Look at you, being so good for me,” Stevie croons. Her voice jolts with the force of her movements.

Eddie doesn’t even know what else there is, but she’s begging Stevie, “More, please,” hoarse with wanting.

“Of course, baby, thank you for asking so nicely.”

Stevie does something that changes the angle of Eddie’s hips and suddenly the strap-on is hitting deeper than anything that’s ever been inside her. The fullness takes her breath away, especially when Stevie’s fucking her so hard that Eddie has to stick an arm out to keep her head from smashing into the fancy metal headboard of Stevie’s bed. It’s perfect.

“How’s that, sweetheart?”

Eddie sighs into the side of her outstretched arm. Her brain is so tingly with static that she can’t remember how to speak. Instead, she reaches her free hand behind her back as far as she can, waving it until Stevie takes the hint and interlaces their fingers.

“It’s just what you wanted, huh? My little slut, begging me to be rough with you.” Stevie speaks to her softly, squeezes her hand with a gentleness that doesn’t match the brutal movements of her hips. “You just needed me to fuck all those thoughts right out of your brain.”

She did. She had come home and asked for it, needing Stevie to get Eddie out of her head, and it was working. Stevie knows exactly what will drive Eddie into this mindless mess of pleasure: a little pain, a little edge of condescension in her caring words, a little too much stimulation. Rough, hard but slow, leaving Eddie helpless to her inevitable peak. It works every time. It’s working now.

“Why don’t you touch yourself for me, sweet girl?” Stevie leans over her to speak into Eddie’s ear. “Make yourself come on my cock.”

Eddie obeys automatically. She releases her death grip on the headboard, trusting Stevie’s hold on her to keep her from moving further up the bed, and snakes her arm under her body to toy with her clit. Just soft, glancing touches at first, the kind that make her stomach flutter. When she dips her fingers lower, she meets silicone, feels how her pussy stretches around the girth of the dildo.

Her moan comes out like a sob. “Please, please, Stevie.”

“I’ve got you, honey, you’re almost there.” Stevie showers kisses along her shoulders and the back of her neck. “Keep going just like that.”

Gathering the lubricant from around her entrance, Eddie drags her fingertips in clumsy circles around her clit. Oh, it’s good like this, when Eddie can forget everything else and just focus on bringing herself to the edge. She knows Stevie will take care of her, she just has to do this one little thing.

“Gonna come for me, baby? C’mon, I wanna feel you.”

Eddie hopes Stevie can feel her, the way her cunt is squeezing the strap-on, the wetness smearing halfway down Eddie’s thighs, the frantic motion of Eddie’s hand trying to push herself over the edge. Fuck, she’s so close, tightening up like she can’t bear for Stevie to stop, too much and not enough…

The tension snaps when Stevie bites down hard on Eddie’s neck.

She goes quiet when she comes, too strained and breathless for any sound to escape. Her orgasm brings tears to her eyes. She lets them fall onto the bedspread, imagining her stress falling away with each droplet that darkens the fabric. It’s pure relief, physically and mentally.

It’s not until her oversensitivity kicks in that Eddie’s voice comes back. Still without words, just a low groan that drags out while her toes curl in the blankets. It prompts Stevie to let up her merciless thrusts, slowing to a stop with the strap-on still inside Eddie.

“Is that better?” Stevie’s voice loses its faux-sweetness as she checks in. She sounds like the real Stevie now, a little anxious but full of love and genuine questions about Eddie’s wellbeing.

Eddie’s next exhale is a loud sigh. She doesn’t want to talk yet, wants to enjoy the quiet a little longer. But she knows Stevie needs an answer, so she hums, “Mmm-hmm.”

“Does your arm hurt?”

It has been twisted behind her for a while, Eddie has to admit. Reluctantly, she lets go of Stevie’s hand, flexing her fingers and dropping her arm to relax on the mattress next to her. It immediately relieves the pain in her shoulder that she had barely been aware of.

“There you go.” Stevie sits back on her heels, still not pulling out yet. “Anything else hurt?”

Eddie shakes her head. Her pussy is sore but that’s the good kind of hurt, not the bad kind Stevie means. She clenches around the dildo inside her to feel the ache flare again, like pressing on a bruise. It’s not too bad now that Stevie isn’t shoving it in as far as it can go. Eddie wishes it hurt just a little bit more.

“Do you want some water or something?”

No, she wants to lie here and feel Stevie’s warm skin against hers and bask in the love surrounding her and stay in this moment forever. The tears well up again and she shuts her eyes to stop them from overflowing.

“Okay, I’m going to grab a washcloth and clean you up a little—”

Eddie can’t stop the tears any more. “No!” she cries, knowing it’s going to make Stevie worry about her, which makes her cry even more.

Stevie shushes her and runs her hands up and down Eddie’s sides like she’s petting a nervous horse. “Okay, it’s okay. I’ll stay right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She bites her tongue on an apology. Stevie always tells her she doesn’t have to be sorry for how she feels, especially not after a scene. It still feels wrong, making Stevie scramble to appease her. She definitely can’t say she’s sorry for being sorry, so she just sniffles into the bedspread instead.

“Is it okay for me to pull out, sweetheart? Then I can lay down and hold you.”

“Please?”

Stevie does just that, twisting awkwardly to shimmy out of the strap-on harness and settle next to Eddie without disturbing the bed too much. She pulls Eddie close, letting her head rest on her chest and combing her fingers through the sweaty tangle of Eddie’s hair. “How’s that?”

“Better,” Eddie croaks, and it’s not a lie. Her cheek is pillowed on one of Stevie’s fantastic tits, surrounded by strong arms and soft curves and shiny hair and sweet perfume.

“Good.” Stevie presses a kiss to the top of her head. “You were so good for me, baby. Did everything I asked.”

The praise settles into the hollow spaces inside Eddie, the part of her that feels empty without Stevie inside her. The praise fills her like she’s a helium balloon and Stevie’s arms around her are the ribbon tethering her to the ground so she doesn’t fly away.

She floats comfortably into sleep like that, held and loved and lighter than air.

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 7: Keep watching the skies

Wordcount: 6.4k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, Grooming, Implied sexual assault/rape, non-consensual drug use,

Description: You follow up on your own lead, convinced it's the only way, leading the rest of the 141 on a hunt to find you.

A/N: Not sure I got all the typos, let me know if you find any <3

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If Price was ever going to grant any of their wishes, Johnny prayed to the lord that it would be to get better beds. Even if he and the taskforce had slept in worse places than this, on the ground in half fallen buildings, in bundles of hay or random items, it didn't keep Johnny from being grumpy about the lack of space and stiff mattresses.

He wasn't sure why Laswell hadn't accounted for the one missing bed. Sometimes he thought that she expected one of them to take the janky couch, but she couldn't really, could she? It was what Simon did most nights, or at least Johnny was pretty sure he did. He typically didn't come into the room during nights, letting Johnny snore away on the little space there already was. Then again, that man never truly slept much on missions.

Simon got the optimal amount of sleep he needed to function for a day, and not a second longer. It was a habit that was hard to coax him out of when he and Johnny went back home. When they had first bought an apartment together, it even took a few weeks before Johnny managed to get Simon into a somewhat normal sleep rhythm.

One thing he found that worked, was letting Simon listen to his heartbeat. It seemed to calm the man for whatever reason. Johnny supposed he understood, it was something consistent, a lifeline in the most literal sense. It assured someone that the other was still alive, that their heart was still beating and their lungs still breathing.

They had both spend a lot of long nights like that. Nights after missions with too close calls, nights fuelled with terrors and horrid images on their minds, nights where it was as simple as the fact that one of them couldn't fall asleep.

Johnny didn't know when Simon had moved from the couch to laying on top of him and squeezing half the air out of his lungs, but he was sure woken up by it. The first rays of the morning sun peeked through the blinds of the window, and highlighted the dust particles floating around in the room.

Simon was a steady weight on top of him. His breathing the only thing inconsistent from his otherwise still form. He reached out, smoothing his hands over the muscles of Simon's back, feeling him sigh further into his hold.

He was still awake then.

"Mornin' wee lad," Johnny whispered teasingly into Simon's ear, conveniently placed right next to him from how he was hiding his face in his neck.

Simon grumbled something unintelligible against Johnny's skin. "Shut it MacTavish..." was about the only thing he could make out of it. It was enough to incite a round of his personal infectious laughter.

The sheets were jumbled between both of their legs, creating an odd display of tangled limbs probably resembling some deformed eldritch horror from an outsider’s perspective.

"Didn't think ye would actually join me...thought ye didn't want affection when spider's around," Johnny mumbles cheekily yet still pulls the massive man even closer. He closes his eyes again, enjoying the weight on his chest, the comforting assurance he'd been craving for all too long.

"They're not here..."

Groggily, Johnny opens his eyes again to catch a peek of the other bed. Surely enough there was no form occupying it, the bed made with military precision. "Mh...got an early start then..." a way too early start even for his own standard.

"They barely sleep..." Simon grumbles and let's out a long huff, resigning to the fact he isn't falling back asleep anytime soon.

"Ye alright love...?" Johnny reaches up to rub his hand through Simon's short hair. A rare occasion for him to take off his mask, even here. Johnny would enjoy every second of it. With gentle movements he guides Simon's head a bit further up so he can place soft kisses to his face. Over his scars, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

Simon let's out a sigh, lazily kissing him back. "M'fine...jus' exhausted," he did sound it.

Johnny nods quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead. It had been a long time since they'd taken time just for themselves, their apartment was practically just sitting back collecting dust from how little they managed to actually use it.

"We should take a vacation when we're done here," Johnny suggests.

Simon doesn't get any time to reply before the door is thrown open. Johnny shoots an arm over his shoulders, to shield his face with his arm just in case. The both of them relax seeing Kyle's face linger in the doorway, he looked around the room settling on the two in a pile with a sigh.

"Would you two lovebirds get a move on," Kyle huffs and crosses his arms.

Johnny groans dramatically, making a show of how exhausting Kyle's request really is. "You could always just join us Garrick," he suggests instead, wiggling his eyebrows long enough to make both men groan.

"I'm good," Kyle shakes his head but can hardly hide the smile on his face, "any of you seen Spider? We can't find 'em."

"The fuck do ye mean ye can't find 'em, they can't have gotten that far out," Johnny paces around in the kitchen. His usual energy spiking at the odd occurrence of an unpredictable event. The facts were staring him the face. You were nowhere in the house, nowhere around the house, told nobody and left no note. You were just gone.

You wouldn't just have run away, would you?

He looks over at Simon. He'd put his mask back on, his eyes closed behind it. He still seemed half asleep, nursing a cup of hot tea in his hands.

"They could have gone to town, taking a look around and forgot to tell anyone?" Kyle throws one option on the table. He'd prepared breakfast for himself, sitting opposite of Simon munching down on it.

"We need tae go find them," Johnny says and rubs his nose. There's something uneasy settling in his system, not knowing where you are, what you were up to. He was sure you were capable, that you knew what you were doing, but you had told no one. Even if you were fine, there had to be some stern talk to make sure you wouldn't pull a stunt like this again. Not even Price was liking this at all.

And speaking of Price. Johnny's attention sharpens when the captain comes back into the kitchen. "Laswell heard nothing either, but she mentioned they talked of the mountains" Price shakes his head lightly. "They likely went for them, but we have the town to look into as well."

"We'll split up, cover more ground, they are likely fine on their own but I’d like to have a talk with them so bring them back. Ghost, Soap you take the surrounding area, follow the trail towards the foot of the mountains. Me and Gaz will take a visit to the town, sniff around and see what else we can figure out about this community."

Simon is already on the move, abandoning his still steaming tea at the table. Johnny is hot on his heels, refusing to let him go and make some stupid choice in the heat of it. He still didn't fully understand it. The lingering connection between the two of you, but he knew that it was important. He wasn't going to let him down.

"Listen up My Angel, this is one our newest members. My very own brother, Graham," The Father introduces you to the buffer man standing in front of you. He's taller than him, keeps a short buzzcut you've come to expect from anybody here. It didn't take long before it was enforced on both the men and women, didn't matter what anybody said to it.

The collective has grown significantly and fast. Michael even insisted on being called The Father. You didn't quite understand why. He never explained himself, merely enforced it like he enforced the haircuts. You guessed it was to keep a resemblance between him and God, but you found it more creepy than holy.

His connections expanded a lot more over a very short time. People from far and wide was informed about what you all did here, and they travelled all the way to join you. It was a great feeling. You quickly received a lot more responsibilities for the younger sheep, but you found a lot of the exercises were more cathartic than anything.

"It's good to meet you," Graham speaks your name with a cold indifference. He wasn't very interested in anything that wasn't his brother. He crossed his arms over his chest, looked expectantly at The Father.

You're distracted. That much is obvious to both men on either side of you. Despite doing your best to keep your focus, you keep drifting towards different thoughts. Your gaze continuously looking towards the gate where the mail picked up from town would usually come through.

It's been several weeks, almost two months.

Simon still hasn't answered you.

You felt The Fathers hand gently push against your back, guiding you forward. "Graham trains more unorthodox K9's," he explains while making sure to place you between the both of them, "he specialized in dogs and wolves before he transferred here."

"Don't oversell it Michael," Graham grumbles. He looks off to the side, observing the newer recruits running drills around a makeshift obstacle course.

The Father clears his throat. In all the time you've known him, you've never seen him even close to nervous. "Point remaining...he's going to...train you...afterwards you're going to help him train up the rest," he sounds as if he isn't sure. The final details not yet decided.

Your eyebrows furrow at that. You already have the formal training; you're learning rapidly from shadowing The Father and you don't think you're doing half bad. Still, you needed more training? What else did you have to learn?

"Don't worry your pretty head angel," his hand finds a firm grip on the back on your neck, "just be good, follow orders and everything will turn out just fine."

"Good, again."

Your head was spinning from the pain. He'd had you going for hours at a time, didn't let you stop till you lost consciousness. Your thighs ached, your heart pounding out of your chest. The objective was simple. Shoot the targets he'd set up.

You'd finally completed a full round, and Graham's expression hadn't even changed a bit. He didn't care.

It's not like he was making it any easier on you. Whatever medicine he'd shot into your blood at the start was starting to make your head throb. You could still see the broken glass of the syringe laying amidst the sand and dirt. It glinted in the lowering sunlight.

The wooden targets were starting to get this bad habit of taking form, of looking more and more like moving people. People with angry faces, people with hurtful words, people with guns and ill intent. Around them the shadows crept, licking up against the figures and swallowing them hole. You weren't given much time to question as you were flung through the obstacle course another time.

In the beginning he put on a song on a speaker. An older one, slow and rather beautiful, a love song you think.

It's been on loop ever since. He seems obsessed with it, humming along with the tune for the hundred time as you run through the course. You hit your targets with a shake in your arm, making you miss a few a couple of times. It staggers your progress, and it's like you can feel his displeased look in the back of your neck.

You keep going, shooting at the shadowy figures that remain stationary. He's not saying anything you don't think, but still, you can hear his comments in your ears.

Do better

You're better than this

Wrong

Follow my orders

You miss the last target, by a stroke of bad luck. The ground comes closer all too rapidly when your body decides to give out. It refused to remain standing, to continue the strain that could no longer be received properly.

You heave for air, your grip on the gun all too lose. It falls to the ground and you just manage to push it out of the way before you collapse all the way onto your back. The air is too warm for this, your body already drenched in sweat.

He comes to hover above you.

You don't have time to squirm away.

Graham pulls up your shirt, takes his knife and adds another cut next to the other five. Your scream falls on deaf ears. He was ruthless in his violence. He knew exactly where to cut, knew exactly how deep to make it so you'd lose blood without dying. He timed the seconds in your blood loss, he kept an obsessive eye on your movements, your expressions, until he knew your tells better than you did.

He was lethally precise.

Graham hauls you back up to your feet, shoving the gun back in your hand and turns you back to the obstacle course.

"Cull the herd."

Somewhere along the way, the vials became less mandatory. Mr. Graham stopped forcing them on you one random night. It should've relieved you, no longer being woken up before you normally did with violent movements and a syringe pressed into your skin, but the abrupt change dysregulates you.

You still didn't sleep easy, expecting to be unnaturally woken up by either Mr. Graham or The Father with whatever they had decided they needed from you. Not having the altering substance in your system started feeling weird. You began to crave it again, the precision you had with it, the strength and clearness in your mind. You missed how clearly your targets would be highlighted for you.

So, you started injecting it on your own.

Mr. Graham never objected to it. He supplied you whenever you were low with nothing more than a knowing smile and a strong hand on your shoulder. Whether he ever regretted it, he never told you, but he did notice the change in your mental state. The rapid decline like falling down a ladder, you'd grab unto it, try to save yourself, only for it throw you off once again.

At first, he didn't mind it, even gave you an extra length of patience whenever you'd start to space out outside of fighting, or when you'd take longer to process his words when things were too calm for you.

But then you started to get snappy, too eager for the fight your body ached for.

You hadn't even realized it was the wrong thing before you had done it. Maybe the day had been too long, maybe you were overworked, too tired. It didn't matter, it was you that fired the shot. You had taken the injection earlier than usual, double the dose so it would last until training.

As always, Mr. Graham had met you on the field but he wasn't alone this time. The Father, being ever so gracious, decided to observe you both this time. You had stood dutifully next to Mr. Graham, your head bowed, posture straight, your mind a strange mix of muddy and sharp. Shadows crept at the corner of your vision, making you twitch.

You felt unsteady. Your trigger finger twitching with an odd need to hunt, to expel the uncomfortable energy swirling in you, an energy that needed to be used. All the excess adrenaline seemed to even be noticed by The Father.

"Are you alright, My Angel?"

Mr. Graham gives you a look that's hard to discern. Like he's trying to figure out where on the scale you are from collapsing and going rabid. He gets his answer in the worst way he'd have wanted it.

Something too real moves in your vision, rounding the corner of a building. A small shadowed figure, too stark in the contrast of the white wall. It smiled cruelly, moved erratically and it triggered every sensor in your brain. You act without thinking.

A loud squeaking sound comes from the creature. It collapses to the ground like a dying animal. The shadows slink away revealing the silhouette of a dog, laying gasping on the ground, whimpering and clinging to the life you took from it.

None of them react at first.

Three pairs of eyes watching the life drain. One shocked, one calm, one furious.

You don't even hear the angry words coming out of Mr. Graham's mouth. Your world is spinning, your head is buzzing and you still haven't quite recognized what you had just done. Which of them you had just killed.

He grabs your arm, drags you along to no protest from The Father. You don't remember the way, or where he took you. You only remember the pain of being thrown into the dark room of stone walls. There's no window, no light, and nobody else.

"I'll come get you once you've learned to calm the fuck down."

Those words are all he leaves you with before closing the door. Your breathing is unsteady when you lean against the cold wall and slowly lower yourself to the ground. It's unnerving. You know they're there. They're always there. Watching you, taunting you, baiting you into doing something.

They didn't make noise before; they didn't talk before but now in the darkness they still feel the need to make their presence known.

Calm down calm down calm down

You don't know whether it's you or something else that keeps repeating it. Your heart rate elevates, your body starts to shake. You try to scream out for help but your lips don't move. You don't even hear the little whimpers coming from your throat.

They creep around in the dark. They inch closer. They caress your skin. They fester inside your head.

Spider?

You freeze up in your corner at the familiar voice inside your mind. You don't want to look because you know who you'll see.

"No no no no no no."

Your hands clutch around your head, pulling at your hair.

"Go away!"

I brought food

"No go away! Please! Don't- don't do this."

Go on, I could hear your growling stomach from the gate

"Please!"

I made it

"You're not- you're- not- not-"

Did you hurt yourself?

"Leave me alone! You're not real!"

Whenever you're ready, little Spider

The snow has a blinding purity that's always mesmerized you. It stains so easily, the slightest touch disturbs the perfectly laid coat, creating chaos in the pillows of comfort and sanity. You'd spent most of the morning, most of the day, trekking through that purity and soiling it with the dirt underneath your boots.

There had always been a specific kind of thrill in your chest when you defied orders directly given. A small part of you taken back in your own hands, for better or for worse. You used to thrive so well under watch and order. Even if that's not the case anymore, you'd really ought to listen to the words of your betters.

At least then maybe you wouldn't be here. Standing as still as a statue, having a staring contest with a wolf and its red eyes. They're terribly vibrant. Reminiscent of the blood you could spill now.

Your hand clutched around your gun, ready to move at the order of a split-second decision. You're not here to hunt, you have to remind yourself. Never mind the wolf, never mind your thoughts. It doesn't matter that you used to hunt with them, that they used to sniff out your target for you.

It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter It doesn't matter it does-

The thing isn't even full grown. You'd have been more inclined to leave it alone if it wasn't for the bleeding cross running down it's snout. The red mixed with its fur in a beautiful symmetry. It's growling at you, you think. It makes you wonder if this is what your old targets used to feel when the wolves would corner them. Unlikely. They usually kept a face mixed with fear and hopelessness. Runaway members of the collective never lasted long under the knife.

There's a part of you that doesn't dare look away from it. The fatigue in your eyes almost do it for you, the snow around the creature makes it melt into the surroundings. The wolf was too focused, too interested in the way you looked, in the way you smelled.

He's still training them

They were likely right. If Mr. Graham was still alive, still with the collective, he'd be doing what he'd always been doing.

Cull the herd

Be the guide, the cold example

Cull the herd

And if that was the case, it wouldn't only be wolves lurking around out here. You'd need to relay this to Price, or Laswell, without rousing too much suspicion. It was a mere hunch, a feeling in your gut, but one you'd learnt to trust long ago.

You start to slowly move backwards, if you were tactical about it, you could still come out of this unscathed. Something flickers in the corner of your vision. All it takes is a moments distraction and the creature lunges at you.

The gunshot echoes in your ears. Your instincts took over, fired for you, and in a rare moment of luck you actually manage to hit. The wolf falls to the snow, its left eye is half gone and blood oozes out of it. The snow becomes dirty in its blood.

You take a step closer to it, observing the dead creature. The cross is gone. Something else flickers in the corner of your vision, something bigger and a lot faster. Luck doesn't strike twice, favouring others in a moment of misfortune.

Sharp teeth sink into your shin. You cry out, despite the second wolf only managing to hang onto more clothes than skin, it still penetrates. Scalding pain shoots up your leg. A second gunshot sounding out. You're not sure how you managed to hit it properly this close, but the wolf falls to the ground next to its mate.

You sink to the ground next to them, breathing heavily as if you'd run half a marathon. Your brain runs loops around itself trying to understand what had happened, why both of them had attacked like that, and why the bleeding crosses on their heads were no longer there.

Was it a trick from him? A trick of your mind?

It would take a lot for you to even attempt to call yourself sane any longer but this felt out of hand. Despite your own distorted reality, when it came to the cult you could usually rely on the rampant voices in your head. Were you really turning this paranoid?

With groans and sputters, you manage to move yourself around enough to take a look at your leg. It could've been worse; the damage wasn't deep but you wouldn't be making it to the mountains like this. You let out a curse to the heavens. You'd been so close to achieving your goal before somebody came looking for you, and now you'd have to backtrack.

You had the two options, and you knew you had to choose the boring one.

A higher pitched scream in the distance catches your attention, followed along with a loud splash and arguing not that far from you. The snow carried the sound a bit further than normal but it wouldn't be more than a minute’s walk from your location.

And just when you thought you could make your way back with no complications.

You hoist yourself back on your feet, letting out a hiss as your leg protests to the movement with more pain shot up all the way to your thigh. You lean on a nearby tree, perking your ears to listen to the nearby voices.

At first you can't make out what they're saying but...they're familiar.

Simon and Soap.

Your stomach drops.

Price must have sent them out to look for you. Part of you scolds yourself for not leaving some sort of note or message. No matter how elusive. At least then they might not have come out for you. You could've gotten further, if it hadn't been for the sake of those pesky wolves.

You run a hand over your face, the gloves taking some of the fallen snow off your eyebrows. You walk in the direction of their voices, using their argument to steer you in the right direction.

There was safety in numbers now that they were out here. You weren't keen on being mauled over by another pack of wolves.

"For fucks sake Johnny, I told you to watch where you're placing those feet of yours!"

"Not my fault the bloody stones are so slippery in this weather!"

"Bloody hell just get your arse up!"

You peek out between a set of bushes, the thicket giving you enough cover to observe the situation before you approached them. You tilt your head, your eyebrows turning a bit up in surprise at the sight.

Soap, coming out the water from one of the deeper creeks, completely wet.

Your lip twitches, and you feel the urge to bubble up with laughter. You don't know how he fell in, and you don't really need to know to see the entire event as hilarious.

"Bloody river, stupid weather, stupid snow" he grumbles angrily as he tries to dust off the water like it was a simple speck of dirt.

Simon sighs heavily, his entire gear moving along up and down with him. "You need to go back, gonna get hypothermia if you stay out here," he says sternly. There's concern laced in the order, but it's an undeniable order nonetheless.

"No way...am not letting you stay out here alone, Price told us tae look for 'em together," Soap protests.

"Don't need to look much further," you sigh and speak up.

You emerge from the thicket, startling the both of them at the same time. They're drawn guns are trained on you in an instant, and in return your own gun is trained on Soap. Force of habit and all that.

Simon relaxes when he gets a proper look at you. Soap following soon after.

"Good, you're not dead then" he speaks in a relieved manner. Did he really think you'd act that recklessly? Probably.

"You really think I'd let myself get killed over something that idiotic?"

He looks at you for a moment, but not because he needed to give it any thought. No, his eyes aren't displaying a complex need for that, because he knows the answer. He's giving you the chance to take it back, to explain the limp in your walk. You don't.

"No," he says just as sternly in the crass voice of his.

"Ghost is right," you say and turn towards soap and his half assed attempt at squeezing water out of his gear, "we need to get you back home...get you warmed up."

"Aye."

The entirety of the town is already giving Price the creeps. He's seen his fair share of things in his time, the awful, the creepy, the monstrous. But the feeling this town gives him? Unlike most things he's encountered.

There's no hostility, nothing but the purest of hospitality even for mere tourists. There's something wrong with the smiles, their incessant need to accommodate practically anything he asks for.

He opens the door to the car, holding the two coffee cups against his chest. Garrick reaches over, takes them from him when he gets himself comfortable in the front seat. "I think I got your order right...don't kill me if it isn't, got a bit distracted in line," Price grumbles and leans back in his seat.

Garrick takes a sip of his own, then handing back Price's cup to him. "It's just fine cap, thanks" he mumbles and drinks some more. He let's out a satisfied groan and relaxes back into the seat. "Despite how weird this place is, at least they know how to make coffee."

"Hm that we can agree on," Price takes a sip of his. It's not bad, but he's definitely had better. The shop he went to would do better serving tea on the menu as well.

He'd parked the car in one of the open parking lots, not many seemed to come here. Most of the day it remained practically empty except for the few people coming to and from town. They'd spent the last two hours walking through town, posing as the tourists they undeniable were today. They hadn't learnt much, except for the fact the locals remembered faces too well for comfort.

Though it was to be expected, the town wasn't too big.

"Walked by the church..." Price says with a sigh, "struck up conversation with a few of the locals changing up the sign outside."

"Got anything useful out of them?" Garrick asks as if he'd conducted a whole interrogation.

"They've got daily mass...but most people come on Sundays as to be expected," he tells him before taking another sip, "a few of us should attend on Sunday."

Garrick let's out a louder groan, likely already picking up what he's putting down. The man clearly didn't want to, but like anything else they'd do here in this town, it was all work. Just work.

Price takes another long gulp of his coffee. The energy barely ever worked for him these days, the stress getting to his bones. He looks out towards the bustling little market a bit further up the long road. There wasn't many, but most of them would come through the market at least once a day. Garrick had mentioned a few familiar faces he'd spoken to in his other trips to town.

"Captain, do you think they'll...." he goes quiet, hesitating to finish his question.

"They'll find them," Price says assuredly.

"That's not..."

The captain doesn't bother looking at him, gives him a moment to think his question through. "Speak your mind, Garrick," he urges.

"How much do we actually know about them?" he knows why he's asking. Price had his own doubts, his own concerns, when Laswell first presented your file on his desk and insisted this was the only way.

He hadn't fully shed his doubts yet.

"We know enough, sergeant" it's not the answer he wants nor the answer he needs but it's the answer Price has for him. He'd have to do more digging, for the safety of the team, for the prosperity of the mission itself. You were too big a mystery, one where the only thing he could rely on was Laswell's word.

"They've been helpful, they'll continue to be helpful, it'll have to be enough for now." Price adds on shortly after.

 Garrick says nothing in return, simply continues to drink his coffee dissatisfied.

Price starts up the car, intending to have the rest of the way home in silence. And it was, much to his admiration. The sergeant could have a talkative tongue when he got excited about something, he'd think this whole situation would give him a few things to say.

Instead, it leaves him a quiet contemplating mess. Much like the rest of them.

He only ever speaks up in a low grumble when he sees the tip of the house revealing itself in the distance, only to render himself quiet once again.

The silence stretches on until Kyle sees the three figures bickering at the front door. "Isn't that..." he trails out as he realizes they probably don't have the key for the home. He does his best at holding back his laughter. It earns him a side glare from Price.

"Seems like they found 'em."

Price turns the car around and parks it in its usual spot next to the temporary home. "The fuck happened to you?!" Garrick says bemused by the sight of Soap.

Price does raise a questioning brow as he exits the car after Garrick. They were only supposed to go get Spider, why the man was wet as a dog was lost on him.

"Fell in the river..." Soap grumbles.

Garrick fails to hold in his laughter this time around, snorting on the spot. "I know you like water but maybe you should stay away from the literal ice water mate," he claps Soap on the back a few times.

Soap pushes him away annoyed, "agh away n' bile yer heid!"

Price rolls his eyes, pushing past the two to unlock the front door. As soon as it's open, you dart past him to head inside in the warmth with a surprising urgency. He looks to Simon, coming to stand beside him to move inside as well.

"They're fine...mostly fine...we're all fine," he assures him.

He eyes you suspiciously. His boys might've said you were fine, you might've said you were fine to them. Little observation told him that your limping leg wasn't all that fucking fine.

He followed you out back, the rest remaining in the living room to keep MacTavish warm. "Spider, slow it up" he spoke up causing you to freeze in place. He walked with steady steps until he could place himself in front of you.

"Come, I need to talk to you, and we need to take a look at that," he gestures to the leg that has a stained pantleg. He turns back around to walk to his and Garrick's room. He doesn't bother looking back to see if you're following, he has a deep-rooted feeling that you will.

You may be a rulebreaker when you get the confidence, but there's still obedience in you. From where he doesn't understand just yet, but it doesn't take all of his wisdom to gather a lot went down when you were hunting the cult on your own.

He holds the door open for you. Your eyes meet as you make your way inside, there's that stubbornness he's used to seeing in Simon. "Sit," he points to one of the beds pressed into the corner while he closes the door.

You do as he says, your voice stuck in your throat. He rummages through the cabinets, finds the first aid kit he always saved a few of. He didn't even need to tell you to roll up your pantleg, you'd taken the hint way before.

The wounds weren't deep, but whatever you'd been bitten by had been out to be vicious. "You'll need to get a doctor to look at this...lucky for you the town's got a local practice."

You tense up at that, dodge his touch as he tries to keep your leg steady enough to clean. "It's fine..." you say hastily, "It just needs to be cleaned I don't need to see anyone."

"Yes you do and that's an order," Price is stern in his voice.

One thing was to go out of your way to disobey the laid-out deal between the two of you, to run away to look for clues on your own, but this? He wasn't about to let you walk about with an injury that'll make you hurt yourself even more.

You go quiet at that. It's enough for him to grab your calf and put a wet rag against your wound. You flinch but make no sound. Your muscles are tense under his grip and your eyes shut tight.

He allows you the moment of silence, understanding the discomfort of it. He doubted you'd be able to answer anything if he even asked you right now. He cleans off the excess blood, checking the toughness of the teeth punctures. It wasn't as serious as it looked, but you still needed a checkup, he wasn't changing his mind about that.

He removes the rag, and binds the wound. "Did you find anything?" he doesn't look at you as he asks, merely focusing on cleaning up the opened supplies.

"No..." you speak in a low whisper; he wouldn't have heard unless he was this close.

You don't elaborate, and he doesn't find the energy in him to ask.

"Next time you want to go on an adventure like that you take someone with you, or at the very least inform me," he's back to speaking sternly, the voice of a captain that's been carefully crafted over the years in service.

"I can't have rogue soldiers running around, is that understood?" he looks up to catch your eyes.

You hold his stare with an uncomfortable intensity, trying to be as intimidating as he is.

"Yes sir."

He pats your calf, tugging down your pant leg once again. That time you held back your flinch, but it was obvious in your eyes to him. He takes a moment to observe you, trying to dig through your rougher exterior, to see if you were really softer under in it all.

Had you been soft once?

He calls your name in a quiet voice, makes a point to use a softer voice with rounder edges.

"There's parts of your file not even I have access to," he starts slow, careful, then pauses. You're wary of him, more than the others. He chalks it up to his authority over you, the one you can't quite find your place underneath.

"What's haunting you that much...that you won't even let me in on surprise plans...we're all a team here we-"

You rise from your seat with no warning. You're quick to make your way around him, careful to not step on any of the scattered things on the floor. He doesn't stop you nor does he continue what he was about to pry out of you.

He understands in some underhanded way. He'd dealt with Simon a lot longer than he'd dealt with you. There were undeniable similarities yet still something entirely different between the two.

"You'll go to town first thing tomorrow morning, I'll get Ghost to take you" he speaks up from his seat on the floor. You stop somewhere close to the door, listening to his words, his order. You don't answer him, but he knows you heard him, that you'll heed him this once.

You leave the room, closing the door with a care for potential noise.

Likes, Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, love ya! <3

Taglist: @chickennn-soupp @unlikelyaperson @ghostlythots @lilynotdilly @spicyspicyliving @kaoyamamegami @ellabellabunny123 @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @haipasa

[ghibli-love-s]

Tis but a Flesh Wound

Overview: after you get shot on a mission Simon visits you in the infirmary. Through your loose, medicated lips, a few things come to light.

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley

Category: Fluff

Tags: kissing, injuries, getting together, first kiss, soft Simon "Ghost" Riley

Warnings: mentions of injuries, bullet wounds and medical stuff

Words: 1,195

You're lying on an infirmary bed, eyes closed as the beeping of your heart monitor echoes quietly through the room. A few hours ago you had gotten back from a mission, a bullet wound in your side and rapidly losing blood. You had barely touched down in the helicopter when you had been wrenched out of Simon’s arms, quickly wheeled to the infirmary to save your life.

The sound of a door opening and closing softly has you opening your eyes, careful not to move your left arm connected to IVs and other wires. As you squint against the bright lights above you, you make out Simon’s hulking figure sitting in the small chair next to your bed.

Making a move to sit up you’re met with a wince of pain and a gentle hand on your shoulder. The soft, gruff call of your name has you meeting Simon’s dark eyes, the worry barely hidden within them.

“Careful. You were shot bad. Shouldn't be moving in your condition.” His eyes scan over your bandages and your blood stained pants.

“I'm fine Simon. Tis but a flesh wound after all.” You grin cheekily at him, though you can't hide the wince at the painful twinge in your side.

Simon rolls his eyes, thinly veiled affection showing through. “Flesh wound my ass. You got shot with a bullet and lost a lot of blood.”

You shrug, eyes watching his hand as it grips yours firmly. “Still alive aren't I?”

His voice is gruff with a scoff. “Barely made it off the damn helio.”

You give his hand a squeeze, smiling teasingly at him. “But I did. Gonna have to work harder than that to get rid of me Lieutenant.”

He stares at you for a moment before a short, soft laugh falls from his lips. “You are unbelievable, you know that? You get shot, almost die in my arms, and now you're joking about it. I should get a shrink in here just to make sure you're sound of mind, ya know that?”

You grin at him, the usual light back in your eyes as you absentmindedly lace your fingers with his, though you don't miss the way his thumb runs over the back of your knuckles, slowly, deliberately.

“A joke a day keeps the trauma away, don't you know that?”

That earns you a chuckle from him, and which in turn makes your grin even wider.

“You have some nerve getting smart with me while you're laid up from a bullet wound, ya know that mate?” He leans on the bed, shaking his head with disbelief, though by the way his eyes crinkle ever so slightly, you can tell he's smiling under his casual mask.

“That's what you like about me. Deep down that's the only reason you stick around.”

“Is that so? I stick around for your death wishes and your smart ass mouth?”

“Don't forget my pretty face.”

“So I also like you because your’re pretty?” At your cheeky nod he shakes his head, a small huff leaving his lips. His eyes drop to your interlocked hands before locking back with your eyes. “Maybe you're right. But don't let that go to your pretty head. Your ego is big enough without it.”

You laugh, giving his hand another firm squeeze. “Too late. But you know what I think?” You tug him closer, so he's leaning further on the bed, his free arm resting beside your shoulder.

Simon quirks an eyebrow up, studying your smug smile and bright, mischievous eyes. “Enlighten me, oh wise one on a ridiculous amount of pain medication.”

You grin tugging on his hand until he's closer, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “I think…you can't wait to plant one on me.”

His eyes blow wide with surprise as he goes silent. He’s silent for a few minutes, turning your words over in his head before he answers carefully.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is soft, testing the waters.

“I only know because I've been trying myself. But every time you look at me with those damn eyes I lose my ability to think straight and form a coherent thought.” You study his masked face, only a few inches away from yours.

Simon's eyebrows raise teasingly at you, shaking his head amused. “Really? My eyes are what does it in for you,” he says, his voice amused and unbelieving at the same time.

“Yes! Watching my every damn move, following me, studying me. Your eyes are very intense, you know.” You pout playfully, teasing but honest at the same time.

Your name falls off his lips with disbelief. He studies you, quiet. “Does it really rattle you when I look at you like that?”

“It's like you're trying to figure me out, trying to find out what makes me tick. Makes me feel something I've never felt before.”

His eyes lock on yours. “And what do I make you feel…?”

You go quiet, getting lost in his dark eyes, your mouth dry as you're suddenly at a loss for words. “Safe,” you say lamely, your voice soft and nearly breathless.

Simon goes silent, contemplating as his thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand.

“You're something else, you know that?” He says, breaking through the quiet beeping that fills the room.

You tilt your head, meeting his eyes. “How do you mean Si?”

His thumb stutters to a stop at the nickname. He takes a moment, shaking his head as he studies you.

“Most people can't stand me, and here you are, saying you feel safe with me, saying you wanna kiss me.” His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, gentle, as if you're fragile glass that could break with the wrong move. “Worst part of it is…” He trails off, unsure of his next words.

You call his name softly, eyes never leaving his. You nod at him, prompting him to continue.

Swallowing nervously he responds. “Worst part is I feel the same way.”

You release his hand, eyes locked on him as you reach up to his face, undoing his mask slowly, scanning his expressions to make sure this was okay. It wasn't the first time you had seen him without his mask on, but it was only saved for special moments. Moments spent in the early mornings, your heads propped up on each other as you calm down from nightmares. Moments saved for sleepless nights talking in your beds. Moments like right now.

When you both lean in to meet each other, it's perfect. The warm press of his lips against yours. The way he cups your face as if you’re a precious artifact. The way you grip his bicep as his lips slowly move against yours, deepening the kiss. As he pulls away you tangle your fingers in his hair, keeping him close as he presses his face into your neck.

There would be more to talk about later, paperwork to fill out for the mission and your injury. But right now, Simon pressing up against you, gently running his hand up and down your good side, was perfect for you.

[ashbeneviento]

Alkaloids of a Lady

Donna Beneviento x Fem!reader. Slow burn, will contain smut at some point, tags will be updated. Reader is named but only title/Last name! Contains 1st and 2nd chapter. No beta reader, sorry for any grammar mistakes! Thanks for reading :)

Chapter One

As fast as the good of the day came so did the bad. You had been sitting in this chair for so long sweat was making your thighs stick. You squirm at the uncomfortable sensation and refrain from audibly announcing your boredom.

A cough from the other side of the room catches your attention, a cocky and greasy man who gives you a seductive wink the second you make eye contact with him. Feeling the knot twist in your stomach you quickly avert your eyes back to the goddess who still isn’t finished with her speech.

There you were, the only Lady who wasn’t given Mother Miranda’s dark gift, sitting in the middle of all five of them. Six if you counted the little pest supposedly named Angie, all because you needed the cults help. Miranda kept her most devout followers in constant stress with you. They despised their Mother’s grace towards you..to them, you were just as low as a common villager despite your status.

A status that you were born into, not blessed with by a stroke of luck. Miranda promised no harm to your family as long as you respected her status as goddess, and so the village has lived under dual rule for centuries. For whatever reason this caused her lords a piculiar revirily with you, like playing a game that wasn’t done all at once. One that you didn’t know they were playing, too.

It wasn’t unusual that you’d find yourself here either, joining meetings was mandatory and you had to keep up the act. Dissect the cult of the black god, act as a devout follower. Learn their weaknesses. Formulate the plan to eradicate.

But even you were getting restless as Miranda kept up the same spiel. Her plans never change, she never acts out of her facade. It made you antsy. You need to see them all fall in your lifetime. You would make your ancestors proud by being the one to take it all for yourselves.

You saw the perfect opportunity much to your mothers dismay due to your condition. Having any sort of ailment was like a moth to a flame with Miranda you’ve noticed. Once you had convinced her that you were so devoted, so desperate you would sacrifice yourself to her dark gift you had succeeded further than any Acheron before you. No, you mustn’t stop now. Not when you were so clo-….

“Lady Acheron?”

The sound of the goddess’s voice startles you out of your thoughts, causing an eruption of laughter from that same greasy man from earlier. He’s quickly berated by the monolith of a woman Lady Dimitrescu who stares down at you as she does, but not because she cared about you.

“Enough, Karl..” Miranda hisses, siliencing the both of them as she steps down from her stage, walking towards you with a surprisingly feather light step for a predator.

“Wait ails you little bird? Are you feeling alright?” She asks in a sickingly sweet voice that leaves honey on your own. You hated the blatant infantilizion in front of the others. Her sharp nail guards feel like ice as she grips your face awaiting your answer, staring down at you with those equally icey eyes.

“Just feeling more sickly today than usual, Mother” you lie effortlessly to her, making her give in to your plan unknowingly with that practiced tremble in your tone.

“I know little bird..” she whispers, turning your head side to side in her grip, “That will all be over after tonight”

Despite being part of the plan, you were still very nervous. To be truthful you didn’t think this far ahead, only because you really couldn’t if you tried.

The dark gift affected each Lord differently. Many other subjects have fallen to it, dying before they even start mutating. Your chances of survival will be a hit or a miss, but the opportunities you could take if you lived outweighed all of it.

So you give her a shy smile and nod your head, clasping to her forearm in a facade of comfort and gratitude.

It should have stopped there. Your plan had been running smoothly right up until this moment when a huge wall comes crashing down in front of it’s path due to a certain Lord.

“She is not loyal, Mother.”

Everyone in the room turned their heads to the raspy voice rarely heard outside the lips of her rotten doll, who seemed more preoccupied with the strings on her tiny dress instead of conversation.

“I beg your pardon, Donna?” Miranda asks with a hint of annoyance in her tone, angry at her youngest freak for ruining the moment with her new experiment.

The phantom woman doesn’t budge for a moment until she gets the strength to turn her head towards you.

“Lady Acheron has not been truthful with you, Mother. Nor to all of us..our great family” Lady Beneviento says in a ghostly manner, making your skin crawl as your nails dig into the arms of your chair. Was it possible she found evidence on you? You were always so careful…there’s no way. Unless she used those evil mind tricks to-…

“Do you take me for a fool, Donna?” Miranda snaps, making both Donna and yourself scoot backwards into your chairs.

“The Acherons have been devoted to our great family for centuries, Child. They have no reason to stab our backs.” Miranda says as she turns to face you, expecting you to confirm her statement as true. If only you didn’t hesitate..

White eyes widen as her claws dig into your cheeks before pushing you away, catching your suspicious reaction and finding it worthy of investigating.

Much to your dismay however, was the way she planned on carrying it out.

You were to live, indefinitely, with the Lord who just upped herself on your hit list.

Chapter two

Two full weeks had passed since and you have yet to have the opportunity to investigate Lady Beneviento. Not only did this set back your plan of getting the dark gift, but now you were being watched like a..well, a crow. You suspect your family has since declared you dead, still believing you received it and not making it. Not like you could exactly tell them seeing as you had no way to contact them or anyone else here.

You did feel like life has ended however as you wandered down the same hallway you just came from. Realizing you were under a hallucination the third time around this never ending maze, your eyes make contact with the same painting on the wall with a sigh. But you were bored, and unfortunately lonely, so you kept walking regardless of the consequences.

Getting used to Lady Beneviento’s powers was a challenge at first. You were trained for this though, and soon was able to think clearly even in a intoxicated state by the third night. But something was different about this one, you could feel it as you walk towards the new doors along your path, a strange melody coming from behind them.

Pressing your ear up to the dark wood you hear someone who had yet to appear in your hallucinations. The one causing them.

You make the mistake of leaning too hard against the door making it creak from its old age, causing dream Donna to gasp and freeze in her tracks as you fall into the room.

“What are you doing in here?! Get out!” The phantom lady hisses at you, pointing at you as if her finger was a knife.

You stumble a little as you regain your composure, feeling a bit of confidence in knowing she wasn’t really there as you take a deep breath.

“I would if I could, but you won’t let me out of my own head. You should be the one to get. out” you snarl through clenched teeth, tilting your head to the side mockingly as you approach her.

She quickly shuffles around the desk, putting a barrier between the two of you. You squint at that, feeling geniune fear coming from her as you stop walking.

A hallucination wouldn’t do that, they know they can’t actually be harmed..

“You’re really here.. aren’t you?” You ask quietly, feeling an unwelcome feeling in your chest.

She hesitates to nod her head, her shoulders dropping in a form of relief. You’re terrified to be alone with the real her because she could interrogate you, prove herself to Miranda that she was right about you.. a traitor. All your hard work would be for nothing.

But the constant isolation in this house has made you grow wary. The need for companionship gnawed it’s jagged teeth into the back of your neck. And besides, you could turn this in your favor as well if you played the cards right..

“Please don’t make me go under again..” You ask in a practiced breathy tremble, giving her your best heartbroken expression.

Her feet shift against the floor as her chest moves off balance, her hand gripping onto the chair with white knuckles before taking a seat in it.

Why are you so nervous, Lady Beneviento? You note in your head, keeping up the facade by sitting in the chair opposite of her. She fidgets with the end of her veil, an uneasy silence falling between the two of you alone in that room.

It at least gave you time to scan said room, noting that it looked like an office and a workshop. You shiver a little upon seeing the various doll and mannequin parts hanging from the ceiling, and instead refocus on your target.

“I’m sorry..” Her gentle rasp disrupts the quiet, making you flinch in your seat.

“I’m not used to..guests” she finishes, speech being broken from little use.

“You mean you’re not used to guests living” you correct her in a wave of spite, immediately regretting your decision when her veiled head tilts.

“I thought it wasn’t an issue per our family’s contract what I do with my guests, Lady Acheron. I see that it strikes a nerve with you, why is that?” she asks darkly, leaning forward across the desk like a cat ready to pounce. It made your stomach churn but you kept calm despite your slip up.

Instead you opt for the more sympathetic approach, letting the tears flood your eyes and lowering your eyes to your lap so they fall.

“I’m just scared..I don’t understand why you’re doing this when I need help. I devote myself to Mother Miranda since birth, and yet you all still despise me. And now I’m stuck here with you knowing that you hate me and I feel so alone..” you ramble on between sobs, feeling too in character when your own words hurt to speak.

You hadn’t registered her hand had slipped on top of yours until you move it to wipe your eyes, making you both gasp and sit back into your chairs.

Why would she..

“I’m sorry…” she mutters, folding her hands into her lap instead.

“I just.. I do not hate you. I am not like my siblings” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for you to hear.

Surely this was just a mind trick, she was known for them after all. Right?

“You do not hate me, yet you lied to Mother Miranda and ruined my chances of being cured” you say plainly, mimicking her by folding your hands into your lap.

“You knew you didn’t have evidence on me, but you did it anyway. Why?” You ask, noticing all her physical tells of nervousness and she thinks of an answer.

Which card would she pull next in this little game?

“You wouldn’t be cured” The phantom woman rasps under her veil, her voice not matching her nervous body language.

“What?” You snap back at her, but she doesn’t flinch and that worries you. She’s being serious…

“You think you know me, don’t you? You think you have the cult all figured out. You plan on eliminating us” she continues, her tone increasing in volume making sweat dampen your palms. If this is how you’ll get answers then so be it.

“…But you don’t know what you’re really up against. You will die the second you try anything and that is not only a promise it is a warning” Donna growls as she leans closer again. You can almost feel her gaze under that dark fabric.

“The cadou is not stable. It’s unreliable and she knows it. You would either die from it, or you would die for it. Once you survive you will be indebted to it. To her.”

The last of her words crack, and you get the feeling she’s talking about her own experience to solidify her warning. You know you shouldn’t trust her, but you want to. You don’t know why, but you crave to.

She could give you everything you needed to know, but there was another desire in you because of it. The latter shattered a great deal of how you felt about the lords and their ties Mother Miranda..

“So what do you suppose I do, hm? Because either way I will die. My illness is only getting worse, Lady Beneviento. You worship the ground Mother Miranda touches just as we all do, yet you benefit the most from it. I’m starting to wonder if you worry your status will lessen if I join the ranks..” you scoff, egging her on to slip up on accident if she was lying.

“I won’t let her hurt another!” She screams as her hands hit the desk, making you jump back deep into your chair at the sudden outburst.

“W-what..” you gasp but she interrupts,

“We were so close.. so close” she groans to herself, putting her hands up to her head as if it pained her.

“What do you mean?” You ask a little more clearly, watching her pace back and forth behind the desk as you heart beats rapidly in your chest.

“We had it all planned out. She has become too powerful.. she could care less about us..” She rants as she paces.

“The night we planned to kill her was thwarted all because of a baby. Instead of going to the chapel for our meeting, she had flew off to welcome the brat into the world. Bless it or whatever myth you humans believe her to do..” she rasps before pointing a finger down at you.

“You were born sick. She knew you were the perfect vessel for her true daughter. We couldn’t interfere with you..she worried we would let it slip” she continues, letting out a small laugh of disbelief once she realizes she did exactly that, and that made you feel ill.

The Lords wanted Miranda dead. They didn’t want you around because they knew what their leader wanted to do to you, and if she succeeded she would be even more dangerous to them. Harder for them to defeat.

“We want her dead, too..” you whisper, feeling exposed the second her head turns towards you again. An unnerving silence falls back between the two of you before the air shifts into something far worse.

Was she really on your side,

Or was it all a mind trick?

***notes**

I’m not sure if I like how I fleshed the characters out just yet, unfortunately without my meds my work tends to be more scattered :( let me know what you think! Is Donna telling the truth? What’s your theories about readers “illness”?

[afreakingdork]

Soft Spot - Chapter 8

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

Someone's excited and someone isn't in this week's chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Rated: Explicit

Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it, Menstruation, There WILL NOT be any Miscarriages

Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Trigger warning: There is a mention of miscarriage. Reminder that there will be no miscarriages in this story. I apologize to anyone who has suffered that grief and please know that while times may be tough in this story, they will get better.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. leapt into the air. With a swivel of his torso that would have been impossible with mammalian spinal columns, he rotated all the way around to snatch a Frisbee. He then landed with the brunt of his weight denting dead grasses. Doing the same spine breaking spin, he whipped the plastic disc away from him. It shot with lethal accuracy at your mate who caught it without wasting a bit of movement.

The Frisbee was launched again and the game continued on as it had.

It had been going on for some time now.

It seemed like everything had.

This family picnic.

The last few weeks.

The persistent chill in the air.

It was why you were able to be out like this in the first place. For weeks, clouds took root in the sky. They darkened the doors of NYC and filtered out vibrancy. What was left was the usual humdrum of the city’s occupants and the only other entity that marked winter: cold.

Those who braved the elements bundled up, but there was little to see. All color was sucked from the concrete and buildings leaving everything a similar grey casing as the cumulus constellations above. Even a bright colored coat amongst the sea of neutrals seemed a pale comparison to how it appeared on a store rack.

It sent hoards of people indoors where golden tones were meant to encourage circadian rhythm. Bars were packed until condensation clung to the windows and hid them away from the chill. Restaurants buzzed with patrons looking for bowls of comfort and rooftop parties were dotted with the glowing embers of heat lamps instead of fairy lights.

They glowed like fireflies overtop the city, you imagined.

In reality, you hadn’t seen them.

You hadn’t seen much as of late.

Your husband had become a husk.

You had played out the rest of your Valentine’s trip in quiet contemplation. Waking for the multi-course breakfast should have been a treat and to an extent it was. It helped mop up the bitter feelings of the night before and there was love baked into every bite. The couple and other bed and breakfast tenants made for lively conversation and you heard life stories.

Ones that included family.

Ones that turned Donnie further inward.

He had yet to emerge in the time that followed.

When S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. phoned about the parks being empty, Donnie hadn’t challenged him. He agreed to an outing regardless of the conditions. Your son then immediately texted you with complaints of Donnie’s pliancy since he’d had a whole presentation planned to convince him. You offered to listen, but you certainly weren’t going to turn down the offer. In the end, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gave up and you instead ironed out the necessary details that brought you now to the park.

Only a few joggers happened by at an irregular pace and they were so bundled up they didn’t blink an eye at the giant purple humanoid automaton.

To a side glance, S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was nothing more than a colorfully dressed being braving the cold in layers. In reality, your son generated his own warmth and the cold meant his processors were firing at some kind of top optimization. He could finally walk around in his humanoid form without being gawked at and having the park to yourselves was an added bonus. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was living out his dreams of playing catch with his dad, even if said man was less part of the game and currently acting like an automated machine that fired discs.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. nabbed the plastic out of the air in another momentous leap before he ran over to you. “See that one? Did I get higher that time?”

“I think so…” You pondered to play up his excitement.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s legs folded up so he could more closely match your height. “Well!?”

You rolled your eyes over the darkened sky before landing on him. “I bet you can do better.”

“I can!!” He revved to his feet and launched the Frisbee at Donnie. “Throw it high!!”

Your husband complained and the disc then cleared S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s leap by several leagues. “Shoot!”

It disappeared into some dead brush.

Heavy metal footsteps clabbered after it. “I got it!”

You watched the lights on S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s chassis disappear and turned back to Donnie. Your husband’s eyes were both fixed and unfocused after where his son had gone. It had been weeks since you’d seen life shine off his gaze. He fully moved through motions and had never verbally accepted that you were no longer trying. Instead, he let his actions speak louder as you’d gone through your next ovulation cycle without having sex at all.

General intimacy might also have been absent had you not pushed for it. Your mate didn’t deter you, but was a lackluster partner in that regard. You often curled up against him on the couch for the sake of it and it was only after you continued to root stubbornly did he relent with an arm around you. You’d settle as thanks for it, but he no longer churred.

You hadn’t heard the sound since that accursed morning.

There was no helping it.

As Donnie had hypothesized, you became his strength where he lost will. He could easily be led, but he lost the desire to plan. This was his version of burnt out, you thought, as you took over making meal plans and keeping track of household stock. You often left him notes of what needed to be done that day and he always had them complete by the time you got home. It was a little more on your mental load, but his despondency didn’t make the extra work a chore. You wanted to care for him. The only exhaustion you had faced in the last few weeks was the one that struck you every time you opened your calendar. 

The ovulation schedule was still overlaid amongst your daily tasks.

Since Donnie was no longer updating it live, it now ran on the last approximate data. You saw the time when your body supposedly released an egg, but if Donnie’s nose picked up on it, he didn’t betray that information. He was a shell that currently did what he was told, ate what was put in front of him, drank until a glass was empty, and slept when he laid down. You cared for him without a single question as you imagined this was all very new for him.

He had never spoken of burnout before though you imagined that was probably the stemming factor for his big 30s change. Years of scraping by took its toll on him and had manifested in him giving up the will to fight. He carried on for the sake of it after that and history seemed to align with what was happening now. It made you wonder how or if Donnie had ever learned to process grief. 

It didn’t seem like it since his reaction to such was to shut down. While he rarely treated himself like a computer these days, it seemed like an instinct to fall back on those old habits. The moment the chip in his brain couldn’t process one thing, the system kicked in with a failsafe. It robbed him of all other emotions during the reboot. He was in safety mode which glided by on the barest instruction. Sex, to that extent, was out of the question for a multitude of reasons, but the largest reason had to be it was inadvertently the cause of his crash. Doing it again led to that ultimate are you or are you not pregnant scenario that had caused his malfunction in the first place. Until he could handle that exact computation, you would be in stand by with your pocket warmers close, not that you were troubled by the actual cold.

It had been S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. who created the electric blanket you were currently perched on. He was becoming acutely aware that his parents’ flesh bodies were negatively impacted by the cold. You weren’t exactly sure, but you had a feeling he had downloaded data on babies and it had scared him to find out how fragile they were. That was presumably connected to the dangers of motherhood which was why it made sense when your son demanded to take you out shopping for a downier winter coat. You’d picked him out a cute beanie for his worries which he’d clipped onto his head. It flopped around as he jumped which was exactly what it did when he burst from the bushes. “Found it!”

“Where was it?!” You called out to him.

“Tree!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. threw his arms out to mimic branches. “I didn’t cut it down!”

“That’s my boy!” You cheered him on.

He wriggled happily before coming over. “Soup time? I’ve been keeping it toasty!”

“Sure.” You moved to give him room on the blanket if he wanted it and looked toward Donnie. “Come back in!”

Your husband didn’t jostle and walked forward as if a command prompt had been entered.

You pulled up a secondary blanket that was tucked around your legs.

Donnie knelt down on a far edge of the ground cover and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s chest compartment opened up.

Right next to his facsimile of a heart was a large thermos which he extracted and set down. “Don’t touch it yet. Outside temperature reads 93°C.” 

“That’s not toasty; that’s boiling.” You chastised him.

“Nah, it’s totally food safety holding temp!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. scoffed.

“When’d you get your license?”

“I got a part time job!”

“And you didn’t tell me!?” You pinched up the fabric on Donnie’s pants to tug him.

Your mate shuffled only an inch closer.

“I don’t tell you everything, mom.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. took a bitter tone, but his digital eyes wrinkled at the improv.

“My baby, I remember when you were just a microchip…” You feigned sobbing and pulled a seam on Donnie’s pants harder.

He finally came close enough that you could toss some of the blanket over his lap.

There was still a modest distance between you.

“So embarrassing!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. whined.

“Bring someone home so I can show them your baby pictures.” You grinned and grabbed the handle of a soft-sided cooler.

From inside you produced a nice crusty bread you had gotten that morning with S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. as a pre-game outing.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. tugged the cooler to him to get bowls ready and dolled out steaming cups of soup.

“Mom…?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. watched on as you relished tearing into the loaf.

He sounded nervous so you addressed him seriously. “Yes?”

“I… don’t have a job.” His eyes were pricked with pixel tears.

“I know, dear.” You patted his hand.

“And I’m ace!” He burst into a phony sob.

“But your dating profile!” You feigned a gasp.

“I just love a free meal and ice breakers!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. supposed agony had him falling over onto you.

He was metering his weight and you wrapped an arm around him. “We’ll figure this out. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?” He looked up at you and his display blinked away tears.

“Of course. I’m always here for you.”

“And… scene!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shot upright and you were barely able to get out of the way.

You tittered along with him as he passed you a spoon.

You took it and gave it to Donnie along with a bowl and some bread.

He stared down at the mixture before ladling some up and eating it since it was there.

You gave him a forlorn look before S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. passed you some soup of your own.

“Which parts were true?” You took a knowing bite.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. clammed up and picked up some bread for the sake of it.

“Shelly.” You didn’t need to press heat to know your son would crumble.

“The dating profiles and ace part.” He tore a bit of the bread flesh out and worked it between his metal digits into little tight balls.

“You’re… dating!? Like actually?!” You perked up before you got a bite in your mouth.

“Yeah…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gave way to despondent embarrassment and balled up more bread.

“I feel like I want to congratulate you, but you’re acting weird…”

“I kinda sorta… Uh… keep ghosting them…?”

“Oh…” You finally took a bite and found the temperature warmed your throat pleasantly.

“Yeah… I love the first date. Ugh, I could do it a million times over! The talk! The first look where they get that feeling! Each person is totally new and figuring out how to make them laugh that first time! Unf!! That’s what I bet it feels like when you take a good bite of food! Has to be!”

“Sounds like it, but…”

“I know…” He ground out and wilted. “Some of them get real mean when I turn them down after. There’s like expectations. That stuff sucks. Can’t we just hit it off and end it there?”

“Not really how it works… It sounds like these people are looking for a real connection. How much are you telling them beforehand?”

“Mostly the synthetic body stuff as a test. If they can deal with that then it’s all picking a place.”

“I meant about you being ace or that you don’t want anything long term.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was getting close to hollowing out his slice of bread.

“You’re not.” You ventured a guess.

“I’m not.” He agreed with a pout written in his body language instead of on his display.

“You’re feeling guilty about it.”

“The last guy got so sad…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. set the empty crust aside and started building up his bread pellets into a pyramid.

“It hurts. It sucks to think you met someone only for them to just want to stop after one date. Can’t you set the apps so it’s not romantic?”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. knocked over his growing tower.

You waited.

“You can do that?!” Your son’s eyes shot to yours.

“Depends on the app, I think.”

“Show me your profile!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. made an immediate grab for the pocket of your jacket that had your phone.

“Hey! Just because you can hear where it is, doesn’t mean you get to take it before I say yes!”

“Kid rules!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. protested and snagged the flap on your jacket anyway.

You were unable to swat your son away as he got your phone and plugged it into a port in his hand.

“Kids learn certain boundaries.” You grouched and gave up to eat.

“Nah, kids break the rulez. That’s with a ‘z’ by the way.” His eyes blinked at the display. “There’s nothing here!”

“It’s almost like I’ve been in a committed marriage for years!” You dunked your bread into the soup and watched it sop the liquid up.

“But you said you could make friends on it.”

“I have friends.” You chuckled.

“More friends.”

“I’m pretty good with the friends I’ve got.”

“So you just stop!?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. looked at you like the odd one.

“I’m not against it.” You reached out to take your phone back.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s eyes rolled over into binary.

“What are you doing?” You turned wary.

“Found it!” In a blink, he projected a display of a dating profile you had made in your 20s.

You screeched straight through setting your soup safely aside and waved through the pixels to destroy it. “What is that?! Where did you find that?!?”

“Nothing on the internet dies!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. cackled pure malevolence to the cloudy sky.

“Is that active?!” You hissed and started grabbing at S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s form in an attempt to stop the display.

“Nah! It’s an archived page!” He giggled.

“Who archives that!?” You asked rhetorically before switching gears. “Turn it off now, mister.”

He laughed louder and the image dissipated.

You sank back into the blanket with a scowl.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. held out for a few seconds fiddling with his bread again.

“Want advice?” You sighed.

“Yes please.”

“Apologize to whoever will listen. Be honest about how much you feel comfortable with sharing. It’ll help. People can usually sense when someone isn’t honest.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. nodded.

“And ask that last guy to be your friend. He might be up for that. He might not be. It’ll all depend. Just stay safe.”

“Are you warning me about stranger danger?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s eyes sparkled.

“Yes.”

“Will you give me a curfew?!” He cheered.

“You live on your own!”

“Aw!” He whined long. “Can I move back in and get one?”

“Back in?” You got hold of your bowl. “How long has it been since you were living with Don?”

“What was it, dad? Like nine-ish years?” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. turned to Donnie as if he hadn’t been silent all this time.

Donnie didn’t look or respond.

“Nine years, 142 days, and six hours.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. told you.

You gave him a sympatric look for trying to include Donnie.

He took it with an understanding bob. “It’s not like there’ll be room for me soon anyway.”

“Shelly…” You had always had a feeling that S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was insecure about his place since you’d told him you were trying for a baby, but this was the first time he’d voiced it.

He waved his hands to dispel your worries. “Not like that! I want a little dude or dudette sibby!”

You tried to stifle a laugh.

“I do!”

“No, no.” You reached out to take one of his hands. “Not that! ‘Sibby?’”

“I’m gonna teach them all the cool slang!”

“Sure…” You teased.

“I am! I’m gonna be so cool! The coolest bro ever! I’ve been downloading books and everything!”

You softened. “You are.”

“Can I babysit?”

“Only lame big brothers don’t.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. gasped, horrified.

You squeezed his hand, not that he could feel it.

He did notice though and looked up to you. “How’s that going? The data hasn’t been updating like before…”

The way Donnie’s spoon scraped the bottom of his bowl was palpable.

You sent him a nervous look, but he didn’t return it.

When you got back to S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N., you saw your son had done the same.

“Clean.” Donnie spoke his second or third word of the day.

You slurped down the rest of your soup and held the last bit of bread in your mouth before passing him your bowl and utensils.

He got his own and walked off.

“I mean it’s obvious something happened.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. spoke as soon as Donnie trended out of eye line.

You chewed quietly before you spoke. “It really seemed like I was pregnant for a minute…”

“Did something bad…?” He searched you with growing anxiety. 

You shook your head. “No miscarriage, just a late period.”

“Could be late from stress.”

You bobbed your shoulders both agreeing with the possibility, but also not knowing for sure.

“What happened?”

“The emotional toll is… getting to us. It finally caught up with Donnie… I don’t know, Shelly. I asked if we could stop trying for now.”

 S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s red eyes widened.

“He’s not getting back on his birth control or anything, we’re just… I don’t know! We didn’t talk about it. I guess we won’t be obsessed with the schedule? I guess it just happens if it does…?”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. nodded.

“He’s hurting and I can’t help.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. tipped over until he could rest his head on your shoulder.

You set your cheek atop him. “I was hurting and he was there for me, but now it’s reversed and I think I’m doing everything I can, but maybe there’s something more.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shook his head under the guise of snuggling closer.

His body radiated warmth and you leaned into it. “I know… Part of this is him coming to terms with what will or won’t happen.”

“I don’t really get it.” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. spoke softly after you hadn’t for a while. “The urge to reproduce or whatever, but I get family. I love family. I want more to love.”

An arm snuck around to hug you.

You wriggled until you could sling one around him.

He rumbled with what you identified as a digital version of a churr. “When’d you get that?”

“Used a mixing board and messed with the levels a few weeks ago.”

“That’s fun.”

“Makes me feel closer to dad.”

“You’re just like your dad.” You pecked just above the point of S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s triangle.

“Thanks.” He rumbled louder.

You chuckled and rubbed his arm.

He adjusted a bit so he could lay in your lap.

You made sure he was whatever version of comfortable that worked for him before you followed lines in his body with your fingers.

He relaxed there for a while and his eyes closed. “You’ll make good parents.”

“I hope so.”

“You will. Dad’s come a long way. You’ve always been great. Fun to make yell.”

“Goodie.” The corner of your lip quirked sarcastically.

“It could take years.”

“I know…” You murmured.

For a long moment you both existed as parent and child.

“I think… we need to accept that. I think that despite hearing those low odds, we thought we could beat it like we have everything else. I think all this… shit, all these shitty thoughts, this misery, is a weird warning.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. watched you.

You looked down at him. “You can’t strong arm a baby. A baby takes time.” You rubbed the area where his cheek would be. “A baby takes understanding and you can’t force it. You can’t force any kid. Knowing every logical science fact in the universe isn’t going to convince a baby to stop crying. Kids are little nonsensical storms. Maybe all this was showing us that. The sooner we accept it, the better.”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. reached up and took your hand.

“Do you think Donnie will ever make up for how he treated you?”

“No.”

“But you still want him to?”

He thought for a long moment. “No.”

“Are you waiting for something…?”

“Nothing.”

“Why… did you stay? Why do you still bother? You became independent, why didn’t you leave?”

The line of S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s smile was so genuine you felt your very being soothed. “He’s my dad.”

You had to look away.

You looked up at the cloudy sky.

It sat the same way it had for weeks.

Unmoving.

You lost focus as you stared at the diffused light.

You didn’t see anything until a sharp zap of cold nipped your nose.

It almost felt wet, but from what you saw of the sky there was nothing there. 

You had to bring your head lower to see the tiny tufts of snow. 

You patted S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s chest to get his attention.

The flakes weren’t heavy enough to come straight down and instead flittered off with weak will to gravity.

“It’s snowing…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. mooned.

He was soon up from your lap and catching your hand.

You were on your feet in moments and he threw his head back. You watched as his digital tongue appeared from the line on his beak and a snowflake hit him only for it to melt instantly. He cheered for it and you threw out your frame to do the same. The snow tasted sour on your tongue and you gagged a little. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. fussed about acid levels and you returned the concerns by wondering why he hadn’t warned you. He started to respond before he ran for the sake of it and you chased after.

He purposely kept within reach so you could catch him and when you did you caught his wrists. You then threw your weight to one side which spun him, but didn’t knock him over. You kept up momentum, soon running. S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. caught your hands right back and you were twirling until the flurries made for white blurs around you. Increased speed eventually broke you apart and you both fell onto crunching grass with giggles.

Donnie appeared over your head and you looked up at him with warmed cheeks. “It’s snowing, Don!”

He nodded and offered you a hand.

You let him help you up and tried not to look too owlishly as he initiated a secondary action by dusting grass clippings from you.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. was still on his back and watching with glowing eyes.

“Where’s the stuff you rinsed?”

Donnie looked over to the blanket.

You followed his sight and assumed by the open cooler that he had stuffed the tableware in there. “I might have eaten some acid snow.”

Your husband’s face didn’t betray much, but his chin dipped a little to check.

You stuck your tongue out for him to see.  

A snowflake immediately landed on it and you choked as you stumbled away. “Ack!!”

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. hooted with laughter.

“That was dumb!” You coughed and returned to find Donnie with the faintest light in his eyes.

Yours tripled in size.

He did nothing more and only continued to watch you.

You thought about double taking, but instead chewed your lip.

It took some heavy debate before you gave it all up to chance, “Did… you trick me?”

His gaze softened the smallest amount.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You meant to say something, but a flake then touched down on the tip of Donnie’s nose.

His eyes crossed to look at it and you reached up in a great show.

He lowered his head for you thinking you’d wipe it.

You were going to and fisted up your fingers so your thumb was free.

Just before you made contact, you switched grip so your forefinger was extended and used it to swipe down the melting droplet straight into your mate’s mouth.

The acidity hit his heightened taste buds and he reared away from you with the most movement he’d made in almost a month.

Both you and S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. couldn’t contain your giggles.

You both felt the moment Donnie recovered more than saw it.

“RUN! DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. shrieked before kicking up lawn to take off.

You pivoted as quickly as you could to run the other way.

You heard S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. scream out something about Donnie not being able to catch you both before there was an explosion of sod. You turned back, having run a good many feet away to find debris falling with the snow and Donnie hunched over the jangling arms of his son’s body in a crater. You peeped a single time as his head shot toward your direction. You made it exactly three more leg lengths before your husband dropped down in front of you.

You tried to keep from running into him, but your backpedal tripped you.

In a perfect tango maneuver, his hand caught your waist and you were tugged flush with him.

You hadn’t been this close of his violation in a while and butterfly wings beat against your insides as you looked up at him.

His gaze poured over you, still partially withheld, but opening up further by the second.

“You were listening to me and Shelly.” You told him.

“Yes.”  

“Did Shelly know?” You tilted your head.

“One can assume.”

“Did you two set me up?”

“No.” Donnie almost smiled, but caught himself.

“Shelly!” You called out. “Did you!?” 

“No!” You heard some earth shift and assumed he was pulling himself up. 

“You okay?” 

“Yup! Can we do that again?!” He cheered. 

“Later.” Donnie rolled his eyes and didn’t bother raising his pitch.

“You seem to like what I thought. About not rushing kids?”

Donnie evaluated you for a while before he looked off to the side. “Sound rationale.”

You reached up and placed your palm flat to his cheek.

He leaned into you. “I’ve been distant.”

“You needed to be. I always told you. It’s fine as long as you know I’m waiting.”

“Always…?” He turned up the end of his sentence with a raw tear to his chilled gaze.

“Always.” You agreed and tucked your fingers into his mask.

He gave a faint exhale and leaned down.

“You don’t have to force yourself to be okay. Even now.”

Again, his lips twitched like he might smile, but didn’t.

You thought that was enough.

He came closer until he was just shy of kissing you.

His reluctance to marry your lips meant something so you only watched him up close and let your hand slide down to his shoulder.

He liked the maneuver and felt comfortable enough for his eyes to shut as he took in your closeness.

You nosed into his airspace and commingled just like that.

The snow didn’t pick up and stayed little wayward flurries that would sometimes brush your skin.

Long after they dotted and melted against your coat did Donnie’s forehead brush yours and he gave the barest churr.

Your fingers spread out against his collar and you sighed contentedly.

“I’d like to continue our exercise in spontaneity.”

“Oh?” You breathed out and felt the warmth of it bounce back from his skin.

He nuzzled you amongst a slight nod.

“I’d like that. I like being close to you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t stay away.”

“You needed me.”

“I did.” He pulled so there was the pressure of your body against his. “Needed you close. Need you.”

“I’m here.”

This time when he nodded it was to lift his head.

“What’s left from your list? Double penetration?”

That finally got him to smile, but he squashed it.

You chewed on your grin.

“An entire mechanism for such, my present at the lab, and something new I’ve added as punishment.”

“Edging…” You hissed at your kryptonite.

Donnie only sent you a confirming look before he released you.

You took a few steps to give him space.

“Now?!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. chirped as he waited the same distance away.

“Run!” Donnie snarled once before taking off.

S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. squealed delight as he thumped away on bulky limbs. “Wait! This body sucks for this!”

“Too bad!” You heard a clunk of metal before you saw Donnie reach him. “I believe this is called: tag!”

“Tag…” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s mouth line warbled and Donnie turned to run. 

“Tag! Mom! It’s tag!”

“There’s no tag-backs so…” You saw Donnie signal you for which way to go and you ran that direction.

“Tag!!!” S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N. cheered before his plodding footsteps were sent in your direction.

(Check out behind the scenes for this fic and more on my Patreon. You can follow me there, here, or the tag #softspotfic for updates)

@tmntxthings is busy with life changing stuff and @thepinkpanther83 is sick as a dog! Much love to my precious betas in these trying times!

[imustbenuts]

nuts reading trigun in japanese 6 - kaite's foreshadowing. plant synchronization's downside

remember in my part 3 and 5 i was talking about hierarchy? surprisingly, it continues past chapter 8 with kaite. and wolfwood. triangulating nyoom

(to be honest... ive been doing these read and analysis completely blind in a 1st JP read through. so its possible ill find new nuances, get things wrong as the context shifts and changes, so my stuff looks like its scattered all over the place. sorry about that.)

i think ill start explaining names and meanings. kaite's name in japanese is kaito. カイト. this can be a homonym with i think 怪盗 (kaitou) in this case, which means phantom thief. for trying to help Neon with stealing loot from the Stand Steamer.

left bubble next to neon: 道案内は的確だったかね！？ I trust your guide has been giving you clear instructions?

^the headaches with manga translations has always been to keep texts short and reasonable for flow and readability, so these simplifications can and sometimes must happen.

but, add dakutens, the " on 2 of those カイト katakanas and suddenly, kaito turns into. ガイド gaido. Guide.

so Kaite has been playing as a guide to lead vash to his death at the hands of Neon. this page is such a fucking whammy with the wordplay going on. if you just read this in japanese theres a moment of "oh shit, no way, Kaite, vash just told you to stop betraying people! what the hell!"

yet theres a level of trust going on already, so its not as bad as it seems

nightow really likes his worldplay. i really like this page.

kaite redeems himself by later charging into the boiler room and helps turn the valve to stop the sand steamer from running off cliff and killing everyone on board....

hm. a guide. and those sequences

we sure have a lot of guides here. one who appears in the manga later with a kansai dialect. and another in TriStamp, where he is younger than he appears.

when i spoke about hierarchy and the fact that vash is over 150, i was also kind of hinting that all of current humanity are akin to children in the system of JP hierarchy. that takes on extra meaning with a little change of context and language

wolfwood is filling in the shoes of kaito here in tristamp. and within trimax, kaito foreshadows him. incredible.

theres actually more going on with wolfwood and certain design/changes choices i wanna talk about with tristamp but ill save it for another day. maybe when i run into him in this read later

Plant Synchronization downside.

....so theres a bad downside to vash synchronizing with the plant that i didn't catch. which also answers what the fuck was going on in tristamp when that version of him hits the ground

nightow mentions this in an interview, link here posted and transcribed by xoxo-otome (thank you!) that he likes action flicks and has incorporated a lot of action into his work. and its true. there is so much action in the form of sound effects.

reading through the entire manga and paying attention to the sfx peppered around offers a lot more context to whats happening in half of the panels that seemingly doesnt make sense

like this one where the top panel has "DADADADADA" sfx. so they're stomping down the corridor with their guns crossed and facing each other. the "GO OH" in the bottom panel emphasizes the sudden burst into open air. unfortunately, anyone who values their life and sanity in this economy will not want to translate trigun's sfxs 100%.

i should have paid more attention when reading trigun in english. but i didn't so here i am. in the trigunbookclub tag now doing this.

why is it important? here. this. below. when vash does his plant thing with his sister:

see those heart panels? i tried searching real quick but nobody seems to have pointed this out. i havent seen this in EN fanfics. maybe i missed it. maybe im stupid:

thats Dokun, the sound effect of a heart thumping. as vash synchronizes, the heart panels with the same sound effect appear, but they gradually split apart further with ellipses "..." to signify his heart beat slowing down. and down. and down....

Dokun, do kun, do... kun....

then the wings comes out. and the panel below it:

sfx: PIIIIIIIIIII

breathes. a FLAT LINE.

aaaaaaAA?!

何かなんだかわかりません I'm not sure what's going on. とにかくプラントの動きは一切止まっています But the Plant's movement has completely stopped. 同時に男にも呼吸　心音ともに停止してます It's the same with that man. His breathing and heartbeat sounds like it's stopped with the plant too.

AAAAA?!!?! the も means vash is in the same state as the plant?

i.... um. um.,, ANYWAY-

AAAAAAAAAAAA?! HUH?! HUH??? HUH?!

is THIS why he has a metal grate over his heart? something happened and he an an operation on his heart???? by some engineer maybe? what? huh? am i reading this wrong? what? wait, hello? HEY!!!

what the fuck. okAY--?!

and then he just. pretends like nothing's happened. doesnt tell kaito anything. and he leaves the Sand Steamer.

and im going to have to sleep bc its 5 am now and pretend like i didnt just realize something this big right in front of my eyes during the first read.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Oopsie Baby 2

I've been scrounging up spoons as best I can to continue with the Jack accidentally getting Alice pregnant idea. I did a small continuation of it in a reblog replying to some tags, but I figured I'd make another proper post for as long as my spoons last.

Let's touch on a bit of the timeline for how this sort of AU might unfold. Beware of spoilers for Sunshine in Hell.

Content Warning: This post contains some spicy talk about sex and intimacy, both positive and negative experiences. I mean, how else is babby formed? There's also discussions about pregnancy, birth control, chronic illness, sickness, contemplating abortion, manipulative behavior, and a dash of overprotective sketchy yandere spice.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

As you may remember me mentioning from previous posts, Sunshine in Hell is my personal alternate continuity of the Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack story and won't follow the games one-to-one. For example, as I've also mentioned in previous rambles such as this one, the relationship that develops between Alice and Jack is more of a slow burn, and that includes being intimate. Their first kiss isn't going to be the same day or just a couple days before they wind up making love for the first time.

Still, the morning after they go all the way for the first time is the same day Shaun shows up to stay at Alice's place. It's just too hilarious to me to imagine how flustered she'd be about the whole thing, especially after Jack seduces Alice while Shaun is there to mark his territory.

So it'd be even more hilarious that this is when Jack accidentally gets Alice pregnant. She was already mortified and upset after she figures out he intended for Shaun to hear them, so why not have that moment cause further drama later~?

Though I suppose their first time could be when it happened as well. I mean, getting knocked up isn't an instantaneous thing. It takes a while for the sperm to reach the egg and what not, and Jack is definitely going to seduce Alice a fair amount of times before the seed that he planted starts to take root.

Which is more reason why Alice kicks herself for not buying Jack condoms. Maybe the surreal and supernatural aspect of their relationship made such consequences slip her mind. Being with Jack is like living in a happy dream, detached from the regular struggles of reality. There's also the fact that condoms are expensive, and she's barely struggling to keep afloat with her meager paycheck.

It's so easy for Alice to forget such troubling details when Jack is there, whispering sweet words into her ear, caressing and kissing her body so lovingly. He makes her feel so beautiful, desirable, perfect, and irreplaceable. It's so easy for her to get swept up by him. She's never felt so loved before. No relationship has felt so right. It scares her sometimes how naturally they fit together, so effortless in spite of challenges they face. It's nothing like her previous relationship.

Not to mention their connection causes his horny urges to rub off on her, increasing her libido. Sex with Jack is actually a pleasure for Alice, unlike previous experiences, and she's found herself hornier than ever after they start getting intimate. She never thought penetrative sex could feel so good, make her feel so connected to someone without any barriers between them.

Granted, Alice was a lot more cautious when she and Ian were together, and she always made sure he wore a condom when he was going in down south. Despite often losing control of himself when horny, and really, really wanting to do it bare, he was pretty good about making sure he was always wrapped.

Though I wonder if Ian remembered to use a condom when he cheated. I mean, he clearly forgot he was in a relationship at the time, so I'd imagine using protection would slip his mind as well. Hopefully he didn't get his affair partner pregnant. That would make things so much more complicated.

Ian and Alice had discussed having kids before, but as a far, far future thing. Though Ian was terrified about being a father, as he wasn't sure he'd be a good one. He never knew his father. The closest thing he had to a father was Alice's dad, Ambrose, and even then Ian felt guilty even thinking about as Ambrose like that, like he was betraying his mom somehow. Perhaps it was because of all his mom's talk about him being selfish with his desires and how all men are cheating scum...

Alice had yet to talk about kids with Jack.. well, outside of him being a kids TV host and being fond of them in general. Certainly, he imagined having children one day with his sunshine, but Alice was taking things slowly with Jack.

Of course now the topic is at the forefront whether they're ready for it or not.

Alice was so distracted by her new relationship with Jack and all the pleasure and complications that comes with it, pregnancy never crossed her mind. Too much is going on for that to come up.

First there's the relationship itself, then using introducing Jack to Shaun as a trial run before Alice tries to do the same with her family. This comes with the whole embarrassing incident of Shaun overhearing Jack and Alice going at it and having to deal with the awkwardness that follows. There's also helping Shaun move into his own place and getting settled in.

It's only after things settle into a new normal that Alice starts bracing herself for how she's going to introduce Jack to her family, though she's started talking about him to them without yet mentioning his supernatural nature.

It'll probably be sometime after Shaun gets moved into his place that things start seeming amiss. Alice suffers from chronic illness, and sometimes this causes her cramps, exhaustion, nausea and food aversion/sensitivity. As such, when these pregnancy symptoms manifest, she just assumes it's business as usual, more or less, even if the nausea gets pretty intense. She's learned she just has to deal with it by this point.

It's only when Alice realizes that she hasn't had her period for way too long that the thought pops into her head.

One missed period is something to take note of, but not necessarily anything bad. Sometimes a period skips a month. Two though... that's when things get dicey.

Heck, Alice could even be as far as three months in if she mistakes the light bleeding that's common to experience in the early weeks of pregnancy for her period.

It's possible Jack noticed something different about Alice. Being a ghost(?) he might possess more supernatural powers than we've seen thus far in the story. It's possible a part of him picked up on some sort of change in her warm light that he can't quite put his finger on. Maybe to him it's like she's glowing even more radiantly than she used to?

Though Jack is more focused on taking care of his poor sunshine while she's sick. Alice has to work even on days when she's throwing up. It's so unfair. If only he could work in her place. If only he could provide more. He spoils her even more to compensate, and she appreciates how far he goes to take care of her, but he can't take away all of her troubles and woes.

Once Alice has the thought she might be pregnant, that's when the fear sets in. She hesitates to say anything to Jack, at least not until she takes a pregnancy test, but it'll be very hard to hide anything from him. Since she's been sick lately, he's particularly keen on going with her everywhere, especially if she's doing something to exert herself. Still, she does manage to talk him into staying home to cook dinner while she picks up "a couple things" from the corner store, one of which being a tester.

Alice doesn't like keeping secrets from Jack, especially since they've become so intimate, but this fear feels... irrational? Like she shouldn't worry Jack about something that might not even be possible.

Like she shouldn't crush his hopes considering how isolated he is...

It's even possible she had a pregnancy scare in the past with Ian and, well... I have a feeling that would've been a very stressful situation involving a lot of tears and fears.

It's better if Alice is the only one freaking out about what might be nothing at all.

Besides... Alice is on birth control. There's no way it failed... right?

Jack does pick up there's something amiss when Alice starts acting dodgy around him. When she rushes immediately to the bathroom after coming home from the errand, he's willing to chalk it up to being related to her illness, but the feeling of panic he senses from her when she takes a while to come out has him soon knocking on the door asking if she's okay.

When Alice gets the positive result from the pregnancy test, at first all she can do is just stare at it in disbelief. She did buy a second one, just to be sure or in case she somehow messed up the first, but the result is the same.

That's when the panic sets in.

When Jack knocks on the door and Alice hears his sweet, concerned voice, that's when she has a bit of a breakdown. She didn't tell him to come in, but when he heard her sob through the door, he couldn't stop himself from rushing in.

Home pregnancy tests in the 80's weren't an easy to read stick, but a whole miniature chemistry set, so Jack isn't likely to recognize the iconic little device Alice is holding in her hand. As such, he has no idea what's wrong and needs to calm her down so she can tell him.

Needless to say, Jack is floored when Alice tells him through tears that she's pregnant.

At first, Jack stares at her, stunned, then when it's clear that he heard her correctly, he's overcome with emotions - disbelief, joy, and worry being chief among them. The idea of being a dad is terrifying, but at the same time he's elated. A part of him wants to spin her around in the air and shout for joy.

It's her fear and tears that mollifies his excitement.

Jack focuses primarily on reassuring Alice, tucking away his excitement and his own worries for later. His sunshine needs him now... as does their unborn child.

Alice is so angry with herself. She should've thought about this possibility. She should've known better... bought condoms, got better birth control, done something! It's all her fault. After all, it's not like Jack can get his own birth control, and he always dutifully follows her lead. How could she have never even thought about this before? She was so reckless.

Jack remains strong for Alice, talking her down from spiraling while cuddling her close. He gets her off the bedroom floor and onto their bed where where it's comfy. She's not hungry for the dinner he made for them, but that's okay. He can heat it up later. Right now taking care of her comes first.

The situation is complicated. Jack understands full well that this is going to be a huge challenge, but he assures Alice they can both handle it. He promised to always be there for her and take care of her after all. He'll take care of her and their child, no matter what.

Alice worries about the logistics of it. This place is too small even for two fully grown adults, let alone a baby. Her apartment in Sunshine in Hell is much smaller than the one she lived in with Ian, with only one bedroom, one bathroom, and a common room sectioned off into a living room and kitchen/dining room.

Her paycheck is pathetic. Even though Alice always makes sure Barry doesn't stiff her on all the overtime she works, it's still barely above minimum wage. She has student loans to pay off, medical bills she has to pay with chronic illness and the like... plus having meals with Jack so he can feel more like a regular human means she's spending more on grocery money. How can that pitiful paycheck stretch enough to handle a baby on top of all that?

Then of course there's telling her family. Alice hasn't even told them about her situation with Jack yet. How is she supposed to explain this?

How is this even happening?

The rest of the day is spent with Jack comforting Alice and talking her through her panic and anxieties. It worries him how upset she is by this news that overall has made him so happy. He does share with her that he's worried too, but he knows that together they can handle anything. They'll be good parents.

Alice does consider abortion as an option, but the idea is too much for her to handle. She can't even vocalize the thought. She's pro choice, but that means understanding herself and what choice is best for her. As hard as having a baby will be at this point in time, the idea of getting in an abortion... she can't even think about it. It's just too much.

Fortunately, she doesn't have to. Jack does pick up on this line of thought and how hard it hits Alice, so he redirects the conversation away from it gently. He gets her to focus on the things they can do to make things work.

It might be happening a little sooner than Alice expected, but she said she wanted to have kids one day, right? It was something she mentioned while they were still just friends (likely when finally spilling her guts about Ian and lamenting all the dreams that were destroyed there). Even if the situation isn't ideal, she has a partner who loves and supports her. No matter what, Jack will be there for her and their baby. He's taken care of her so far, hasn't he?

After quite a long and emotionally exhausting conversation involving a lot of reassurance and love, Jack does manage to coax Alice into eating a little before she finally passes out. They have a plan of action in place, to see the doctor as soon as possible to get this confirmed and make sure she and the baby are healthy. After that, they'll take things step by step.

Money is the biggest issue in this capitalist society. Jack knows it all too well. Though he runs away from memories of being Joseph, the days when he was a penniless drifter still haunt him. He won't let that happen to Alice and their baby.

It's not a good thing what Jack is considering, but he did promise to take care of their little family, didn't he? What kind of man would he be if he just sat back and let Alice do all the hard work?

Still... Jack can't bring himself to go too far (yet). He's Sunny Day Jack! Sunny Day Jack would never consider doing something underhanded and illegal, even if he really needs the money.

But maybe... a few nudges to her boss might help grease the wheels a bit. Barry is such a bully, constantly forcing Alice to come in, especially when she's sick, pushing her to work long hours, trying to squeeze extra free hours of labor from her where he can. He owes her for all of that, as well as all those days off he yanks away at the last minute and overtime he just expects her to do day in and day out.

Jack always thought Barry was taking advantage of his sunshine. He encouraged Alice to stand up for herself more and make sure she got what was owed. He helped on her end, but clearly it's Barry that truly needed the lesson here.

Besides, it's not like a nightmare ever hurt anyone before, or a few sleepless nights for that matter. Jack is just teaching a naughty boss a lesson about respecting his employees and treating them fairly. A hefty raise and some bonuses are the least Barry can do after all the suffering he put Alice through.

If that's not enough... well, Jack will just have to brainstorm more ideas about ways he can take things into his own hands.

What's for sure is that Jack isn't going to let Barry push more overtime on Alice either. If anything, she needs more time off to rest! Pregnancy is hard on the body - especially a body that's already suffering from chronic illness!

Jack doesn't go too far, at least not right away. Terrorizing Barry is something he can excuse as justified in his mind right now. Outright theft or other highly illegal activities to acquire money? Not so much.

At least... not until Ian comes back into the picture, trying to act like the hero and save Alice from her plight.

Ian doesn't find out about the pregnancy until Alice mentions it on her socials. She joined some online support groups for people unexpectedly expecting for the first time, and Ian stalks every single account and who she follows to snatch up any scrap of info about her that he can.

It crushes him. At first, Ian almost believes that it's his baby Alice is pregnant with. It must be.

But that's just impossible. They've been broken up for over a year now.

Not to mention Alice has talked about a new boyfriend in some posts. Ian was going crazy trying to find more than just some drawings she posted about him, but this "Jack" character is like a ghost, with no footprint online.

Ian isn't even sure Jack is real. After all, that face paint and strange outfit look an awful lot like the part he's been hired to play. He actually convinced himself that Alice was stalking him like he was her (which makes it totally okay!) and found out about the part, which means she's indirectly telling him that she misses him by drawing "him" as his new persona that's going to make him a star.

But Ian doesn't say as such to her. No, not with how Alice is stubbornly distancing herself. She's been vulnerable since they broke up. She nearly accidentally killed herself after finding out he cheated. Anyone could've swept in while she was vulnerable to take advantage of her then dip out when she got knocked up.

It boils Ian's blood to think of such a predator targeting Alice like that, especially after he hurt her so badly already. Now more than ever he needs to step up and help her. He needs to cross the boundaries she put up to keep him out, for both their sakes.

So Ian gets in contact with Alice through a mutual friend. Heck, maybe even gets them to trick her into meeting with him someplace where he's waiting with a bouquet of flowers and a tearful apology.

Which isn't going to go over well. Alice would be freaking out at the ambush, especially since she'd be very visibly pregnant by this point and extra emotional due to hormones.

Ian was prepared for that though. He manages to keep Alice from running away and puts his metaphorical foot in the door. He apologizes. Not only that, but he offers her money, claiming there's no strings attached. He owes her at least this much for all that he's put her through.

It's a very unpleasant conversation for Alice to say the least, but she knows Ian well enough to know he's sincerely sorry. She knows he's in pain. He might have tricked her with this meeting, but he does care... He knows she wouldn't have the heart to abort or give away her baby. She's so kind, and she'll be a wonderful mother. He always knew she would be.

Ian feels sorry for himself for a bit, lamenting his mistakes, but he's going to make it up to Alice. She and the baby need help, and he'll do that for her... It doesn't even have to mean they're back together as a couple. Conceding this point is like a spiky lump in his throat, but he reminds her how they've always been each other's best friends, and he wants to be her friend again now. He won't push anything on her. He just wants to help.

Of course we all know Ian isn't going to be satisfied with just remaining friends, but he's learned over the past year or so since they broke up how to adjust his tactics. He's had to learn the art of the deal and how to make people want you in order to make it anywhere in his model and acting career.

Is it manipulative? Of course not, Ian would insist! How could it be? He's just making things up to Alice and showing her how sorry he is. He's proving it with his actions and not just his words. If he proves it well enough then he'll be able to make amends and make things right between him and Alice.

Ian doesn't even care who the father of her child is. He's not ready to be a father, but he views it as a sacrifice he's willing to take in order to have Alice back. He'll do his best no matter how scared he is, since losing Alice has been far worse than all the what ifs and fears he built up in his head.

If not for the pregnancy, Alice would turn down the money. She left the big apartment, her old job that she enjoyed, and a lot of possessions behind after the breakup just because they were tied to Ian. She willingly threw away all that money just so she wouldn't be reminded.

But Alice has a baby to think about. Her child is far more important than her hurt feelings or how icky she feels about accepting charity from her ex. Sure, Barry has surprisingly given her a pay increase lately, but it costs so much to get baby supplies and rent a bigger apartment. Plus there's the medical bills...

It... it should be fine, right? Ian owes her for all the pain he put her through and this makes them even... right? But how can she tell him not to contact her again after accepting it? He might claim there's no strings attached, and maybe he believes it, but the emotions tied to it can't be so easily severed.

Naturally, Jack is anything but pleased by this whole thing. He can't do much to stop it, save encourage Alice to leave, but Ian keeps drawing her attention away from him with pitiful attempts to gain her sympathy. Alice is so kind. Even after how much Ian has hurt her, even though this meeting itself is painful, she still doesn't want to hurt him.

Jack does help bolster Alice's resolve to turn down the money, at least initially, but Ian is surprisingly insistent. He drops the money into her account before she can stop him. He still has her account details from when they lived together and had started intermingling their finances. Alice forgot about that since he never did anything related to it since the affair.

When Alice sees that amount hit her bank account, she's just stunned. How the hell did Ian get so much money? Sure he looked good, and he was wearing expensive clothes and product, but...

Then again, Ian has that modeling job now. He's popular. He talked about this show he got a starring role in. It's hush-hush right now, but he'll let her in on the details since she's his oldest friend.

Alice isn't interested in details. She keeps trying to avoid letting this situation get more personal... but Ian has become more confident since he moved away. He's so different in a number of ways that it's hard to recognize him... yet he's also the same in ways that are maddening and make it so hard for her to stop caring about the little bullied boy who was her only friend in school.

Jack helps Alice cut the meeting short, or at least shorter than Ian would've liked. Ian accepts her retreat reluctantly, but offers that she can contact him at any time. If she needs more money, help with anything, a shoulder to cry on, or anything else, all she has to do is ask. He's there for her... always.

Oh you bet your butt Jack has a lot to say about that sentiment.

Unfortunately Jack can't tell Ian off, at least not there. Sure, he could expose himself, write a message like he did with Shaun, but that needlessly complicates things.

They'll just need to have a private discussion later.

For now, Jack focuses on Alice, reassuring her that she doesn't need Ian or his money. She doesn't have to deal with feeling hurt or awful like she does whenever she even thinks about Ian. She has Jack, someone who loves for her and their baby and will move heaven and earth for them.

Alice did make it clear right away that she's in a new relationship with someone else. She's happy now. She even mentioned Jack by name, though that resulted in Ian giving her strange look she couldn't quite understand. He didn't seem as crushed as she expected him to be. He even asked about Jack, and Alice declined to answer, not wanting to prolong the conversation.

Ian caught how Alice winced when he asked to meet Jack, maybe get his phone number or photo. Her avoidance of any of these just felt like proof to him that he was right about the identity of this "boyfriend" of hers.

The entire encounter was stressful, and felt far longer than it actually was. Alice was left feeling a bit conflicted and unhappy with herself for letting Ian get to her like this. Fortunately, Jack was with her the entire time. It was reassuring to have him holding onto her while she had to face Ian. He gave her the strength she needed and made dealing with suck an icky situation just a bit easier with his reassurance that it was okay to just leave Ian behind. Jack continues to reassure and comfort her after the meeting, which she needs badly after being so shaken.

Keeping the money is something Alice is the most torn about. She doesn't feel good about it, and Jack says they don't need Ian's help, but... they do need money. She's living paycheck to paycheck, and the baby isn't even here yet! She's barely keeping her head above water.

Can Alice really let something as petty as pride keep her from giving their baby a good life?

Jack has been helpful the entire time. His help has been invaluable. Alice doesn't think she could hold it together without him. This money doesn't take away from how important Jack is to her or how much she loves him. It doesn't change who her baby's father is.

Jack can't do anything his sunshine doesn't want, and that includes returning the money.

So Jack will just have to take matters into his own hands. As long as Alice doesn't need that money, she won't feel pressured to keep it.

Alice also won't have to feel obligated to let Ian back into her life if Ian is the one who decides to leave her alone once and for all.

Alice was right that a parent can't let their pride get in the way of taking care of their child. That includes Jack's pride in being the flawless role model of Sunny Day Jack.

So what if a law or two is broken? It's not like the law applies to someone who doesn't legally exist. Jack might as well take advantage of this almost nonexistent state he's in to get away with things no one else can.

Ian might have a lot of money to throw around, but Jack can do so, so much more than Ian could ever dream.

Jack just has to figure out a way to not get caught by the only person who can see him. It's not that Alice would reject him for what he did for her and the baby, oh no! It's just not good to stress her out more than she already is.

Alice doesn't need to know, just like she doesn't need to know about the person Jack used to be. He's still clean as long as she doesn't know. Jack can stay clean and perfect and everything Alice will ever need.

Things might've gotten a bit out of control, but that's okay. Jack can fix it. He's quite the problem solver. All Alice needs to do is take care of herself and love him with all her heart, just as she's been doing.

Jack has been given a second chance. He'll never let anyone get in the way of that.

I think I'll wrap things up on that fun yandere note, as I'm starting to run out of spoons. Maybe next time I can go into the King family's involvement and how Jack might try to win over his new in-laws despite a lot of obstacles standing in his way. I hope you enjoyed this ramble about the drama that comes with unplanned baby making!

[barn-anon]

Thanks for reminding me I have a third Custodes! This is not a happy story! :D Large hands pluck the umbrella from your hands. You look up but you knew to expect it. Your Custodes, already carrying your bag, now is also carrying your umbrella for you. Trying to take it back is pointless, when he has his mind set on something, you know it's impossible to stop him.

In all fairness, he had pointed out that it's unlikely to rain today but in your defence, it's been raining on and off for the past few days. He walks on ahead, you had to hurry to keep up with his much larger strides. You had tried asking him where he's taking you, but he insisted that it's a surprise. You playfully bump into him, making him look down at you, those cold red lenses staring down at you.

If only he didn't wear that armor of his all the time, what difference does it really make when he himself feels like a brick wall? You sigh. Can you really complain? When you first met your Custodes, he was worse than what most people with Custodes say theirs are. While others' are maybe a little weird or distant, yours had been outright hostile. The number of times you felt like you might be in danger... you didn't want to think about it.

But that suddenly stopped a few months ago. It's like your Custodes had a complete flip. Where he had been hostile before, he's affectionate, attentive and caring. It's jarring at first but why question a good thing? Maybe he just needed time to settle in your house?

Then your Custodes comes to a stop and when you rush to catch up, you find yourself at a idyllic clearing with flowers of all sorts of colours. You want to take your phone from your bag but your Custodes refuses to hand it to you. How weird, m-maybe he wants you to live in the moment? Some Space Marines don't like when their humans spend too much time on phones or computers, maybe your Custodes is like them.

You were looking at a cluster of pink flowers when your Custodes comes over and leads you towards the edge of the clearing. He points at something, his hand at the back of your neck. You squint, trying to see what he's looking at. His hand tightens, you don't notice his fingers closing around your neck as he insists you need to simply look harder.

Tight, can't breathe. You try to tell your Custodes that he needs to loosen his grip, but he ignores you. Trying to pry his fingers open, your eyes are wide. His grip slowly tightens around your neck. You struggle, it tightens further. You should've questioned his change of behavior. You try to hit him only for him to catch your hand. You can't scream out when the bones get shattered.

Tagged: @kit-williams • @egrets-not-regrets • @bleedingichorhearts • @c-u-c-koo-4-40k • @orquidborgo

[usercelestial]

okay but literally what if buck and tommy end up together? like what if we get to see them moving in together or saying i love you for the first time or getting engaged or getting married? what if we get to see buck having a husband? literally what then...

[vela-pulsars]

not enough stonjourner art out there

[lesbianralzarek]

trying to not complain about the discrepancy between how much content fictional women and poc have vs the white dudes in every fucking fandom im in, because no one owes me fanart/fic and i can make shit myself, but holy fuck can any of you name a woman?

[doodlejoltik]

grass knot

[~4.5k words, read it here or on Ao3. tagged with Volo and Lance since they appear as prominent characters; Rei-centric]

Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

Rei, caught in the stirrings of a new arc, tries to rise to its call, but trips over the past at every turn.

A full rewrite of that Mysterious Stones chapter where Volo first shows up, from Rei’s POV, plus a bit more. Written mostly before the Arceus Arc began.

(Setting expectations: a lot of this fic is just Rei Thinking About Stuff haha. Love getting into his head! His characterisation is a little bit different/more nuanced compared to the other Rei oneshot I wrote; hopefully you'll still be along for the ride if you've read that one!)

-

“Show me thy bond.” It echoes inside Rei’s skull, down to the very bone, the same as in his earliest memories. He nearly buckles under its weight, but it's a welcome feeling.

After so long without direction, this is a relief. Arceus has finally spoken.

The words fit perfectly with the half-remembered fragments Rei had received some weeks ago in the middle of the night. Why hadn't they been intelligible then? What makes now different? The sync stones ultimate are one factor, of course. Maybe Arceus draws power from them, which is strange to say of a deity, but from what he knows of the Plates, it might not be so far-fetched.

Prince Lear disperses the murmuring crowd; so, the audience all heard it too, not just those on the arena floor. Professor Bellis congratulates Bettie. Cynthia, Lance and Steven whisper among themselves. And his mind still whirls with new theories as they gather together.

What does Arceus want? 

‘Seek out all Pokemon’ had meant completing the Pokedex. At least, that’s what he’d assumed. Now, this time, Arceus likely means for them to showcase bonds with their Pokemon, given the context. But what does that actually entail?

Cynthia’s words cut above everyone else's. “Rei. Was that voice…?”

All eyes are on him. He breathes deeply, steeling himself, as the familiar weight of it settles in. Things are moving, now. 

“Yes. I'm certain. That was —”

“Indeed! That was a message from Arceus!”

His words catch in his throat. Off-balance, suddenly, as all his thoughts fall away, replaced by a swooping feeling he can't quite identify —

He whirls around.

Volo is here.

He takes a few steps back, an involuntary half-stumble, before remembering himself. 

Those flashes of movement he's been seeing, the feeling of being watched, a Togepi, unattended: they’re all now terrifyingly validated. He'd half thought them a product of his overactive mind.

“Excuse-moi, pardon me… but who are you?” Professor Bellis ventures. 

“I'm Volo — a humble merchant who loves history and mythology!” With that, he flashes a winning smile. Rei could laugh at the sheer audacity of it all, but his thoughts are still strewn across the dusty ground, scattered, and they slip from his grasp as he tries to gather them up. Whatever sense of gravity he’d felt upon hearing Arceus’ voice has completely lifted.

“But more importantly!” Volo continues. “When the arena shone brightly, I also heard that voice.” He brings his hand up to point at the air with enthusiastic emphasis, a gesture still so terribly familiar. Rei clenches his fists, feeling the nails dig into his skin. Not really out of anger. More as a reminder.

The last time he’d seen Volo had been. Well. Memorable. But that isn’t the image that smiles back at him now, tripping him up. He's in Gingko uniform again, complete with ridiculous oversized backpack, which Rei had thought discarded, up there on the peak. Apparently not. Had Volo returned later, still seething, to collect his things? The concept is strangely hilarious.

“I wonder… these sync stones ultimate… might they be some sort of test from Arceus? If we could show him that ‘bond’ he desires —”

“Sorry, test? Arceus?” Cynthia interrupts with a frown, holding a hand out. “What makes you say that?”

“Why, it's quite simple. Arceus' presence was summoned by these stones, in this exhibition, and he requests us to further show our bond. What else could he desire?” Volo says, gesturing widely. 

Rei finally pulls himself upright — scrapes his thoughts together into something resembling coherence. The initial shock has drained away, settling into a distant sort of apprehension. He watches silently. Volo’s not really saying anything too unreasonable, but where is this leading? 

There’s so much he doesn’t know. What has Volo been doing, all this time? How long has he been on Pasio? What does he hope to gain, approaching them like this?

He’ll let Volo continue, then. It's an opportunity for some of those questions to be answered.

(And it gives Rei time to think of what to say.)

“Well, put that way, that does make sense,” Steven nods along. “Should we organise for more trainers to try the stones, then?” 

“Oui, I would love to gather more data!” Professor Bellis answers. “However, the stones are still quite volatile. There is progress on this, yes, but for now, I would like to limit their use, capisci?” 

At this, Bettie speaks up. “Yeah, it was weird.” She runs a hand through her Pikachu’s fur, the mouse curled up lazily in her arms. Nobody in Hisui was quite that affectionate with their Pokemon. Certainly not Akari, though she'd grown closer with her own Pikachu over time. As for himself, Decidueye had been standoffish, averse to being carried even as a baby Rowlet. Well, actually — as his distracted mind digs deeper into memory, he recalls — there had been Volo and his Togepi. 

He casts that errant thought away, buries it deep once again. Bettie is still speaking.

“And it was like nothing was there, at first, and Pikachu and I had to concentrate really hard. And then — whoosh! Wow! Overwhelming,” she shifts Pikachu’s weight to one arm to gesture with emphasis, “and all at once.”

“And this is when Arceus spoke,” Lance asks. 

Bettie nods, now subdued. “It was a rush! I think you guys could handle it, but I dunno if everyone could.”

“If I may,” and all attention returns to Volo. “It seems the stones can currently be used by trainers with particularly powerful convictions, and bonds with their Pokemon,” he gestures with a smile to Bettie. She blushes. 

At the casual flattery, Rei can't help the small frown that twists onto his face. It seems innocent enough, but compliments and niceties can so easily mask true intent. 

Especially with Volo.

Volo continues. “Perhaps we might solve this by way of a tournament, of sorts. Allowing Arceus to witness our talent and dedication, with the victor bestowed the honour of using the stones! Of course, the winner of such a competition would have the fortitude necessary to handle such power.”

Well, taking that to its logical end… Volo wants to win, and be granted this ‘honour’ he so conveniently proposed. But why go to all this trouble? The stones appear out in the streets quite often — apparently, found even by preschoolers. Volo should have no trouble obtaining them.

Does he know something they don't?

“Bettie here led the first winning PML team, did she not?” At this, the girl in question smiles Mareepishly. “And that is why she was the one to demonstrate the stones, I presume,” Volo inclines his head towards the Champions.

Informed guess, or something more? He thinks back on half-seen, furtive movements, and wonders. 

“That's right,” Steven confirms. “Bettie is a shining example to us: a leader of the next generation. We decided there was no better choice.” 

“So you suggest we hold another tournament,” Lance says thoughtfully. “Well, there is precedent. Prince Lear,” he turns to the Prince, whom Rei had honestly half forgotten was there. “What do you think?”

Before Lear can reply, Volo reinserts himself into the conversation. “It would be a grand tournament, truly fitting of Pasio's reputation. Why, perhaps, the deity Arceus might even be compelled to descend —”

Ah. So that’s what he intends. “Aren't you getting ahead of yourself there?” Rei interrupts. He means to sound stern, but it comes out sounding more incredulous. Not at the idea itself, but at how brazenly it’s admitted.

“Perhaps,” Volo says with a careless shrug. He doesn’t acknowledge Rei any differently than the others, still maintaining their inadvertently shared ruse. “It's only speculation, of course, but it is exciting to think about!”

“Hmph! I believe I was the one being addressed,” Prince Lear declares, arms crossed. His red shades flash dangerously, eyes hidden under their glint. Directed at him, it's almost like the full glare of an Alpha Pokemon.

Rei’s face flushes with heat to the tips of his ears. Great time he picked to enter the discussion. He quietly ducks his head down; the Prince is in charge, here, after all. He'd rather not test his patience. 

Meanwhile, Volo just smiles, seemingly unfazed. 

There's a part of him that really wants to know how Volo does that. It's just — he's so confident. How can he be so sure that everything will work out in his favour?

“A grand tournament,” Prince Lear ponders, tapping his foot. “And what could be grander than the second Pokemon Masters League?”

“Indeed!” Volo beams. “I'm sure the audience would love to see the clash between a king and a deity, would they not?”

Lear's tapping stills. His guarded stance loosens; he's taken aback. Volo emphasised king, and oh, Lear's official title is Prince. Hm.

There's something more deliberate about it beyond just casual flattery. 

Lear uncrosses his arms and seems at a loss, for a moment, on where to put them before straightening up with his hands on hips. “Is that so?” He laughs. “I like the sound of that!” A pause, unnecessarily dramatic. Nobody breaks the silence, not even Volo. 

The Prince looks around with some satisfaction and continues. “Very well, then. The winning team of the second PML will be granted the honour of using the sync stones ultimate.” He grins, sharply, red shades flashing once again. “Which will include me, of course. Hahahahaha!”

“You have a real gift for making quick decisions!” Volo says cheerfully. The tension breaks. Chuckles arise from the rest of the group, and Rei can only stare in disbelief. That — that has to be mockery, right? But everyone else seems to take it as light teasing, even the quick-tempered Prince himself. 

Against his better judgement, his gaze catches Volo’s. 

He doesn't know what he expects to see: amusement? Satisfaction? Triumph? And there's some of that, but it's a wry, knowing sort of look, like a joke shared only between the two of them. 

Already the others are starting to animatedly discuss between themselves. Bettie makes a teasing comment to Lear, who scoffs. Professor Bellis says something about checking in on the sync stone technology. Cynthia, Lance and Steven form their own little group again, speaking in low tones, and he can't quite follow their discussion. 

It seems like he's the only one who notices Volo quietly slipping away, and he's got half a mind to do the same. 

Would it be incredibly ill-advised to follow him? Probably. But he still has questions. And it’s possible that Volo will let his guard down when they're alone. 

(Even to him, that seems incredibly optimistic. But there’s things between them that he himself would rather only unearth in private. Maybe Volo feels the same way. And even if not, perhaps he'll gloat, or tease playfully, and let on something of use hidden in the thorned barbs.)

It's not like he has much left to contribute here. Tournaments and competitions and organised displays are foreign to him. The Neo Champion Stadium had felt so different from the kind of battles he’s used to… which, in part, could be why he lost. 

He needs to train. If everything rests on the result of this tournament, he has to be ready. 

The group seems to be naturally dispersing, at least — Professor Bellis just excused herself — so he won't be missed. With some quick words, he, too, turns to leave. They can handle this part, and Rei will do his. 

Prince Lear had mentioned a winning team, and Pasio battles are generally three on three, from what he's seen. Who could he ask? There's Akari, of course. And the clan leaders, but it would feel strange to team up with only one and not the other. A little bit too reminiscent of another time. 

His steps carry him nearly to the edge of the arena.

Besides, he's getting ahead of himself. He still has to… well, he should explain everything to them. About Volo.

Even all these months later, it still aches. He had buried it all, hoping to let it rot away, to be free of that thorny mass of contradictory feelings that arose every time he dwelled on it. 

But the longer he waits, the more impossible it seems to explain — to explain not only the events of that fateful day, but also his own, confusing silence on the matter. Though he’s tried to plough the field, turn it all over and start anew, it still lies just beyond the surface, and a single misstep is all it takes to snarl him all over again. Why is it that even the thought of confiding in Akari, his closest friend, makes something constrict in his chest, choking out the words?

(Akari is unquestionably the one person he's closest to. But there was a time when that singular title wasn't so clear cut.)

There’s a sort of tunnel that leads out of the stadium, a long darkened archway that passes under the audience stands. He's about halfway through when he hears footsteps from behind, swift and purposeful strides. 

His breath catches, for a moment. But Volo left first, and the arena had been flat and wide, with no corners to lurk in. Besides, it's too loud. Clearly telegraphed.

Cynthia, maybe? 

He turns. The face that greets Rei is slightly less familiar. “Lance,” he acknowledges the Champion. 

“Rei,” Lance greets in turn, stopping a few paces away. Arms crossed, silhouetted against the light of the arena and framed by the tunnel’s dark, arching walls, his tall figure is — intimidating. 

He can’t help but wonder whether that's deliberate. 

“You left before I could ask,” Lance says, and there's a pause. “As someone who has prior experience with Arceus, what do you think of all this?”

A fair enough question. But the way it's said… sounds a little too carefully worded. Casual, but purposefully so.

What sort of answer does Lance expect? 

“It sounds reasonable enough,” he decides to say. As much as he hates to lend credence to Volo’s proposal, he can't think of anything better. It somehow seems to suit their needs perfectly, which he's sure is no accident. “Back in Hisui, I was told to seek out all Pokemon, so I helped with the Pokedex. In the same way, I guess this could help fulfil Arceus' new request.”

Lance nods along, but his brows furrow. “You sounded more sceptical, earlier,” he points out. 

Ah. Not really his intent, but… “That was about the more…” he casts about for the right word, “speculative part of it. I don't know if it would really call Arceus down, or anything like that.” Though honestly, he doesn't know that it won't.

“What do you think will happen, then?” Lance asks, with clear curiosity, and, well. He doesn't really have a good answer to that. 

“... I don't know,” he admits. “I never actually completed the Pokedex, so I'm not sure what happens after Arceus’ request is fulfilled.” He had been close, but there had still been so many minor tasks that needed finishing, things to busy himself with, to arrange and get in order before he had to face Giratina again. 

He hadn't been ready, yet. Maybe Arceus had grown impatient, and brought him here to confront his problems directly. Maybe it cared. Maybe it didn't. 

(Seeing Giratina with Cynthia had felt a little like he was the punchline of some divine comedy.)

Lance purses his lips and looks off into the distance, out of the stadium, past Rei. He wishes he could read the man’s expressions better; as it is, the set of his brows calls to mind Kamado, and everything else tangled up with it. 

Finally, Lance’s gaze turns directly to Rei once again, and he speaks. “That Volo… you two know each other.” 

It’s not a question, but even then, the expression of unguarded surprise he can’t hold back might be answer enough.

Lance has one hand on his hip, the other, at rest, is framed by the drape of his cape. He looks down at Rei as he states plainly, “His clothes aren’t of modern make, so the logical assumption would be that he’s from Hisui. Cynthia confirmed my suspicion. And, historically, Hisuian communities were few and quite tightly knit. It’s more likely than not.” 

He tries to keep his expression carefully neutral, as logic digs deeper, dangerously close to things unexplainable. And the earth is already recently disturbed, soft, friable. He can’t offer much resistance. “I've seen him around,” he concedes.

“But why did neither of you acknowledge the other?” Lance looks confused; frustrated, even. “Even a passing acquaintance would be notable, with both of you being here in the future.”

And here — this is familiar. The accusations. The questions he can’t answer. But it’s different; it’s not that he doesn’t know the answers. He just can’t seem to put them in an order that would make sense, to anyone else.

(Does he really understand, himself?)

But eyes are on him, and he needs to explain, in whatever unsatisfactory way he can. “Volo and I… it's complicated,” he laughs weakly, tugging at his scarf. “He genuinely does love history and mythology, you know. I guess I wouldn't be that surprised if he was right about Arceus.” All those times they’d pored over ruins together, Volo excitedly babbling on about whatever legend this one related to — there had to have been the seed of something real, something genuine, in that. 

It’s not really an answer. Lance can obviously tell, because he crosses his arms. 

“Is he bad news?” he asks bluntly. 

There’s no twisting his way out of this one.

Some of the panic he’s feeling must bubble up onto his face, because Lance’s expression softens, just a bit. The man sighs. “Look, Rei, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but us Champions need to have all the relevant information. This tournament, the stones,” he gestures around them, “affect everyone here on Pasio. So I’m sorry about involving myself in your business, but it's necessary. Should we be keeping an eye on Volo?” 

It’s obvious what the correct answer is. And every second he delays responding makes him seem all the more untrustworthy. He questions, a little hysterically, why this of all things is what he stubbornly roots himself for, risking this place he’s made for himself in another unfamiliar land. 

But his jaw works, and all that slips out of his throat, past the thorny tangle, is a “Maybe.” The most ground he can concede. “Volo’s… passionate about Arceus.” Which is perhaps the biggest understatement of both this century and the last. 

There's an expectant pause. He almost leaves it at that, but it seems it's too unfinished a sentiment for Lance. “He wants to be seen by it.”

“The same way you are?” Lance says sharply. Arceus, he picked up on that fast. Rei hopes he leaves it at that. A rivalry fallen apart, twisted into bitterness and jealousy, nothing more.

Nothing world-ending. 

It’s not like he doesn’t trust Cynthia, and by extension the other Champions. It’s just… he can deal with it himself. It’s what he was probably brought here to do, anyway. The thought of someone else turning him over, and finding him lacking — fighting his battles for him — makes him uneasy. 

“Yeah, something like that,” he answers, with a painful swallow. 

Besides, he hopes he can resolve this peacefully. He’d beaten Volo before, even after he’d flipped the rules of battle on their head. And this time Volo can’t upend the script; one good thing about tournaments, he supposes, is that the rules are rigorously upheld. A different sort of battleground.

He wants to laugh at that. Suppositions and wildly optimistic thoughts are his only foundation, and yet it’s enough for him to reject all possibility of outside help.

Then again, if he can’t even bring himself to tell Akari, what chance does he have of breaking that self-imposed silence, here, on less familiar ground?

Lance hums, assessing this. He uncrosses his arms. “If that friend of yours does anything drastic, tell us, alright?” he says. It’s said warmly, but there's something serious to it. An undertone. “Our job is to help out wherever we can, so don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Rei tries for a smile. “Understood.”  

Lance nods, and looks Rei up and down, though it's only a subtle flicker of his eyes. His gaze lingers on the scarf at Rei’s neck, which Rei realises he’s been fidgeting with unconsciously. He lets go with faint embarrassment, feeling caught out. 

The other man sighs. “You can go, you know?” There’s resignation in his voice. Maybe even something apologetic. In that moment, he seems more like Kamado than ever.

Rei doesn’t want to turn his back to him, but he wants to be here even less. So he nods, stiffly, and turns himself around, continuing the dark walk through the tunnel and out the stadium at a steady pace.

He doesn’t run.  

(But his hand hovers by his satchel, where Decidueye's Pokeball rests.)

It’s only when he’s walked for a good while, out into the harsh sunlight, through the town outskirts and to a more forested spot, that the tension drains from him. He sits at the base of a large tree, feeling a little lightheaded.

That was… an interrogation, to put it bluntly. And he can’t really fault Lance for it. To anyone, he's sure, his actions are confusing at best.

Unfortunately, he’s found that he’s less than clear headed when it comes to Volo. He turns over Lance’s final words. That friend of yours. It’s not surprising Lance phrased it that way; everything Rei had said had been carefully woven to lead him to that conclusion.

Except it hadn’t been misdirection, not fully. He does still think of Volo as his friend, despite everything.

He slumps backwards, against the trunk of the tree, feeling the rough bark dig against the base of his skull. 

What is he supposed to do with that?

Apparently, one of the worst days of his life isn’t enough to uproot over a year of growing camaraderie and budding friendship. Too many memories knot together, a stubborn tangle impossible to pick apart. He’s tried not to think about them too hard, but they tighten their hold once again, from where they lay dormant and buried.

Many of them have been forcibly recontextualised. He’s second guessed every helpful gift, every directly admiring word, every coincidental and fortunate appearance, as something deliberate and cultivated. But some of it, it seems, doesn't fit so neatly with that singular goal.

One day, they’d watched Togepi use Metronome for an hour, ostensibly for Rei’s surveying purposes. Important documentation of a seemingly random phenomenon, and all that. In actuality, they laughed the entire time, with no useful or coherent records to speak of, as the results became all the more improbable. 

They’d camped together, those last months, as the search for the Plates got wilder and more exciting. He knows Volo’s favoured way to build a camp-fire, and how he wakes up unreasonably early in the morning, and that he prefers sweet foods over savoury, unlike Rei himself. A hundred mundane familiarities shared, taking root in fallow ground.

Once, Volo had been his only friend in the entire world.

Is it surprising, then, that he can’t lay this friendship to rest so easily?

He wonders what it means, that the hand offered to him at his lowest point was the same one that always meant to drag him back down. And what it means that he still wants to reach for it.

Had any real feelings been sowed there, on Volo’s part? Or was the entire thing a carefully constructed weaving, an intricate field of grass knots laid around Rei, ready to catch him in their snare? 

He can’t quite strangle the hope that something of their friendship still exists, even if neglected and overgrown. And that’s the part that scares him.

He has Akari, and Adaman, and Irida. He has Professor Laventon and the Captain, though they’re far away. Then there’s the Wardens, more friendly faces: Mai, Sabi, Ingo, and all the others; there's Zisu and Pesselle and Beauregard and everyone else in Jubilife. New friends here on Pasio, too. 

He pulls out Decidueye’s Pokeball from his satchel, and rolls it around in his right hand. He has his beloved Starter.

He has friends. He has bonds.

Why can’t that be enough?

The Pokeball he’s holding isn't the original. He'd had to break that well-loved possession in two, and recapture Decidueye in this modern device. It's a distant echo of its predecessor, wooden grooves and clunky iron replaced by smooth metal and near imperceptible seams. The weight of it is all wrong. 

But despite that, it's still his partner, and that's what matters.

(The two broken halves sit in his satchel, too, carried on his person at all times. It's yet another thing he can't bring himself to let go of.)

He sighs, tracing formless shapes in the dirt. His hand finds one of the sparse clumps of grass that grow here, directly under this wide and mighty tree. Deprived of proper sun, it’s a miracle that there’s any at all. 

It seems more and more likely that he’ll end up looking for Volo on his own. To get answers: not only about the stones, and the tournament, and Volo’s intentions with Arceus, but also for his own ends. 

Maybe there’s still something there. A single glimpse of life in this scorched earth between them.

He doesn’t know what he’ll do then.

Where he sits, what little grass there is has grown long and ragged, as their leaves stretch and reach for the sun. He sets Decidueye’s ball down and plucks two long blades. With a few simple loops and twists, they’re deftly woven together into a knot. He considers it, looping it around his fingers; tightens it, pulling on both ends, until he can feel the entire construct threaten to snap from the force. He stops. 

The thing is, no matter if it was never meant to be real, deliberately sowed, intended ultimately for harvest — it’s all the same, to Rei. He wants to keep it alive. He’s hopeful. Naive. Selfish.

For a single, impossible moment, he wonders whether this is what Arceus meant by bonds all along. 

The knot goes in his satchel, where it will turn dry and brittle with time. But kept safe, unbroken, regardless. Maybe his future self will laugh at his sentimentality. Maybe, he won't remember why it’s there. 

Wouldn't that be for the best?

He tucks Decidueye’s ball away, with care, then hauls himself up, both hands braced against the dusty ground. There’s dirt under his fingernails. From under the tree’s darkened canopy, he squints into the afternoon sunlight.

There’s a lot that needs to be done. He needs to train for this tournament, for one. Learn more about modern battling. Pull together a team. With that, ask Akari, and perhaps Adaman or Irida. Confront Volo, somewhere in all of this. 

After that? Only Arceus knows.

One step at a time. 

He finds his footing, around gnarled roots. The grass crunches underfoot. And he steps into the light.

(So maybe I was just snared by the grass knots you laid in my path. But if I wove my own, would you fall for it too?)