#...new question however is how the FUCK i'm going to EVER IN MY LIFE get close enough to a mole without dying

[uhhhj13iguess]

isn't that crazy?

peter parker x fem!reader

summary: reader storms into peter's apartment, upset over her last tinder date being a complete tool and refusing to eat her out. peter gets a little... distracted.

wc: ~2.1k

cw: ! MDNI ! not full smut, but descriptions of peter being hard, talking about oral (fem!receiving), dry humping, hints of peter being an absoulte munch, swearing, peter getting so embarassed he makes half-jokes to himself about suicide, friends to lovers sexual tension babyyyyyyyyyy

masterlist and taglist!

he didn't mean it. honestly.

in fact, there's nothing peter wanted more in this moment than not to be painfully hard. but here he was, and he didn't know what the fuck to do.

you had let yourself into his apartment with your spare, angrily marching down his hallway already yelling, up in arms about your latest shitty tinder hook up. his bedroom door slammed open, causing him to jump from where he was working at his desk. he looked to you with wide eyes as you continued the rant you'd started upon entering the threshold of his apartment.

"i mean, seriously? i give you the best head of your life, and you return with saying how 'disgusting' going down on me would be? and then you have the audacity to get mad at me when i don't want to fuck you? what the fuck is wrong with the men of new york?!"

you threw yourself down on his bed, frustrated sighs wracking through your chest as you attempted to calm yourself down, hands rough in your hair. peter stared back with bewilderment, and unfortunately, upon the thought of eating you out, an insane hard-on.

it's not like you hadn't talked about sex in the past five years of knowing peter, the two of you told each other everything. peter had just never seen you so... vulgar about it. so frustrated. he knew he needed to come up with a response — hell, he should've a solid thirty seconds ago — but he was currently willing his blood to stay in the upper half of his body, failing miserably as he couldn't fight off images of you spread for him out of his mind.

"what do you think, pete?" your voice snapped him back to earth.

"w-what?"

you gave a shrug, staring down at your lap and thankfully not seeing peter adjust himself and bring a sweatshirt into his own lap.

"i dunno, maybe i'm being the crazy one here. is it so bad to want head in return?" you stared at him expectantly, like you hadn't just asked him the most insane question he'd ever heard.

he shook his head a little too quickly, mentally cringing at how awkward he was being. parker, pull your shit together!

"no," he responded honestly. "i don't think you're being crazy." i think he's crazy for not wanting to.

you gave another heavy sigh, this time your turn to shake your head. "this is the third guy in a row who was appalled i even dare to bring it up. isn't that fucking crazy?"

peter nodded as though he was in a trance, eyes glossy as he stared at you. his reply fell to a whisper, not trusting the pitch of his own voice right now. "fucking crazy."

he held your gaze for a while as you sat in a comfortable silence. maybe for you, peter, however, was looking for any possible exit strategy that could come his way. his mind was going a million miles per hour, rushing thoughts of having you under him keeping him twitching against his sweatpants. he shifted in his seat, a lapse of judgment on peter's end as the sweatshirt in his lap moved against his groin, a sharp exhale falling from his gaped lips as he did everything in his power to hold back a moan.

if you noticed, you didn't let him know, giving him a soft smile as you stood from his bed to walk closer, gaze now heavy on the physics notes sprawled on the desk. you leaned over his shoulder, a hand on the back of his chair to stabilize yourself as you peered down.

"i'm sorry for complaining about my trashy sex life, this looks a thousand times more important. jesus, what even is all this?"

you leaned down further, your chest now brushing against his shoulder blade as you skimmed the papers, breath hot against his ear. normally, your proximity was no issue for peter — you've been best friends for years, touch wasn't foreign. but with his current circumstances, your touch against him was sending his senses into overdrive, and he was going to combust.

"j-just... physics... i-i guess." he stuttered, not daring to move his head a millimeter as your cheek nearly grazed his own.

you gave a gentle chuckle, the sound earning a groan deep in peter's throat before he knew to stop it. "yeah, i could figure out that much, parker. what's up with you? you're being weird."

you pull back slightly to adjust, immediately turning around to sit on peter's knee. again, it was something you'd done hundreds of times before with no other thoughts or implications, but with the sinful chains around his thoughts right now, it only threw him off more. you went to grab the sweatshirt in his lap, hoping to shift onto him more comfortably. he immediately grabbed your hand to stop you.

"no! i-i mean, i'm fine. i'm not being weird." he let go of your hand, crossing his arms and giving you a shrug, his best attempt at coming off nonchalant. his best wasn't good enough.

"yeah right, peter. what's your prob-" while speaking, you had grabbed for the sweatshirt quicker this time, using the momentum to immediately swing your leg over both his thighs to sit in his lap properly. you sat down fully, cheeks instantly flushing pink, "oh."

there were many times in his life when peter thought about ending it all, but none as much as now. he was going to have to either move countries, or jump from the empire state without his web shooters. those were the only two options circling his head as his wide eyes met yours, a red tint taking over his entire upper body.

"i'm so sorry, h-holy shit," he breathed out, grabbing at your hips to lift you off of him so he could get out of here as quickly as possible. you resisted him, though, doing what you could to fight against him and stay firmly planted on his lap. that made him panic even more. because, of course. he wasn't going to have time to kill himself. you were going to kill him first.

"i-i tried to, i don't... i'm so sorry."

you put your hands on his chest, a genuine look of bewilderment splayed across your features. "is that... is this because of me? what i was talking about?"

not only were you going to kill him, you were going to torment him about it first. and he knew he deserved it.

"pete—"

"i'm so sorry, please let me go, i didn't, i—"

"pete, listen to me."

"this is so embarrassing, i really didn't mean to—"

"peter," you let out his name in a voice he hadn't heard before, something torn between a growl and a moan — all while dragging your hips up against him. he gave a shaky exhale at the pressure, the feeling of you rutting against his cock stopping his guilty rambling.

you found his gaze, his pupils blown and irises dark, a direct correlation to the twitching of his cock as you gave him another soft roll of your hips. his hands found your hips again, holding you firmly in place to stop the teasing movement. his brows knit together, geunine confusion plastered across his face.

"what... what are you doing?" he was breathless, chest heaving as he stared back at you. you hesitantly reached a hand to his hair, palm splaying out on his scalp as your thumb traced circles on his temple. even in his worst possible moments, you were there to calm him down. he had absolutely no idea why you weren't yelling at him, or what you were even still doing here, but he wasn't going to fight it. he melted into your touch, and his breathing hitched as you leaned in closer.

"have you always felt this way?" you whispered, breath against his cheeks sending goosebumps across his body.

"felt... what?" he tried to play dumb, despite the fact that you could also feel how excruciatingly hard he was against you. when he daydreamed about confessing he was in love with you, this was never a scenario in his head.

you let your hand graze slowly down the side of his face, fingers coming to trace his sculpted jawline. his breath didn't just hitch at this point, he was pretty sure his lungs stopped working entirely.

"why haven't you ever said anything?" it wasn't angry, it was a genuine question.

he let out a scoff, a hand leaving your hip to scratch the back of his neck, embarrassment covering his features for the hundredth time this evening. "yeah, well. this isn't exactly how you want to tell your best friend you love her."

your eyes widened, and peter's followed, realization of his words hitting him.

"you love me?"

"holy shit, that's, i didn't, oh my god that's—"

peter's panic was cut off and replaced with awe as he felt your lips crash against his, a feeling he'd been dreaming of since the day he'd met you back in high school. he immediately reciprocated, tilting his head to deepen the kiss and letting a long overdue moan escape from his lips. you smiled against it, both hands interlocking with those brown curls you'd been dying to run your hands through, just like this.

peter nipped at your bottom lip, earning a sharp gasp from you that allowed his tongue much-needed entry into your mouth. the kiss was nothing short of hungry, years of pent-up feelings being released hot and noisily as peter bruised his lips against yours.

he pulled back sharply, out of breath and looking at you as though you weren't real. "wait, i dont... you...?"

you laughed at the lack of his question, though instantly understanding him. you gave a soft nod, a blush creeping over your cheeks as you brought your hands to cup his face. while the kiss was downright sinful, the way you looked at him filled him with nothing but reverence.

"every shitty tinder date happened after i chickened out of telling you how i felt. i just couldn't stand to lose you, peter." you added sadly.

he gave you a knowing look, nodding in agreement. "i know what you mean," he squeezed your hips, a contagious smirk controlling his lips. "wait, you've been going on shitty tinder dates since we moved out for college three years ago."

you returned the smirk, fingers trailing down to ghost the tendons in his neck. "i know."

peter pulled you in again, no longer embarrassed at the desperate noises escaping his throat as he attacked your lips, this kiss somehow hungrier than the last. you grinded down against him again, a raspy "fuck" leaving his swollen lips as he held a firm grip on your hips to keep you moving.

you chuckled at his desperation.

"you're telling me i could've been doing this the whole time instead of shitty jocks thinking its gross to make a woman feel good?" you sighed out as he trailed down your neck, teeth nipping and bruising your soft flesh as he continued to move against your hips, leaving you to soak up the feeling out how hard he was underneath you.

peter groaned in frustration, standing quickly with you still wrapped around his hips. he held you with one arm as though you weighed nothing, lips still attached to the pulse point in your neck. he used the other to catch himself as he threw you down onto his bed. you gasped, your back hitting the soft mattress as you took in peter's frame over you, hands on either side of your head.

he pulled back from his artwork on your neck, his jaw clenched. "i can't believe anyone could ever tell you such nonsense,"

he leaned down again to peck at your lips, hands making their way down to explore your sides. "i can't tell you what an honor it is to even think about how good you taste," he growled in your ear.

you gave a gasp, his words alone enough to have your cunt aching, as if you hadn't been since the second you sat down on his lap. "you... you think about that?"

he let out a chuckle as he sat back, his hands teasingly making their way to the button of your jeans. he ran his fingers under your waistline as his other hand tugged at your zipper, the feeling of your muscles tensing under his touch driving him absolutely crazy.

"more times than you could torture out of me," he pulled your jeans down, nearly finishing in his sweats at the sight of the delicate lace underwear against your burning skin.

"can i show you what i think about, sweetheart?"

[pagesfromthevoid]

I Think He Knows | j.t.

Joaquin Torres x Avenger!reader

There’s always a lingering question between them in these moments. Will they cross that line finally? Who’s going to be the one who does it? But neither of them ever do. Sometimes it’s an interruption, sometimes it’s one of them backing down. 

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: kidnapping, angst, pwp, Joaquin has a pacemaker (his heart literally had to be restarted in BNW, you cannot tell me he doesn’t??), SMUUUUUUT (p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering, cockwarming if you squint).

Author's Note: This came to me in a dream. I don't have much else to say. Also, I'm so sorry if the Spanish in this is...bad. I tried my best. Let me know how to improve it!! Reader's codename is Glimpse.

Talk to Me! | Coffee?

2024

“So…,”

She looks up from adjusting her gear, the roar of the plane’s engines almost drowning him out. 

“What’s it like, y’know, being an OG Avenger?” He asks, leaning against the hull of the plane.

Bucky makes a disgruntled sound beside her while she gives Joaquín a slow, crooked grin and a raised brow –the kind of look that says she’s already figured him out and isn’t sure if she’s impressed or just amused.

“Oh, it’s great,” she says, and the look Bucky gives her is one of warning as he stands up. Then she’s leaning forward some, and clasping her hands together in a snarky little clap. “Everyone I love is either dead or in hiding. My closest friend fucked off to the forties with his ex-girlfriend’s aunt. And, oh, the general public doesn’t particularly like me because I’m the only one in the public eye still, so I’m easy to blame.”

Joaquín stares at her for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Oh.”

“It’s great,” she repeats, giving him a painfully fake smile. “Love it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t –,”

“Give me a ‘chute,” Bucky orders, interrupting the stammering of the officer. 

Joaquín shakes his head. “Oh, no. We’re too low for that –,”

But the soldier doesn’t let Joaquín finish his sentence before he’s tearing off his sleeve and throwing himself out of the plane. Joaquín looks horrified for a moment before he turns to her, frowning deeply.

“Do you…can you jump out of a plane without dying?”

“You wanna find out?” 

“I really don’t,” he practically begs. 

“Too late, flyboy.” And she’s grinning as she falls backwards out of the plane with a salute. 

Joaquín stares down as she falls, bracing for her impact, but it never comes. Actually, she’s nowhere to be seen as he pulls back into the plane and looks up with a hard exhale.

“Dios mío,” he breathes out. “I might be in love.”

2027

For the last week, Sam has been complaining about two things: the New Avengers and her absolute refusal to get involved in the issue. She insists it's because she’s not going to choose a side; she’s known both him and Bucky long enough to be friends with them both. He insists she’s a liar and just likes watching the two of them argue.

She doesn’t deny this.

However, she’s not really sure why Sam is so concerned with whether or not she chooses a side. She literally lives in D.C. and works with him and Joaquín on a regular basis. Less than six months ago, she helped stop Ross and Stern and prior to that, she ran missions with both him and Joaquín overseas.

To be fair, there’s a two part explanation for why she’s stuck around D.C. as long as she has. One, because prior to this New Avengers nonsense, she fully intended to join the team. However, the second reason is much more selfish –though, she’d argue that she deserves to be a little selfish after the hell that has been her life.

And that selfish reason comes down to Sam’s very attractive, very confident partner.

When they met three years ago, she didn’t think much of Joaquín Torres. A little jumpy, way too hyper –but he meant well. Even then, she thought he was cute. And he helped tremendously with the Flag Smasher situation –proved he wasn’t just some fanboy with a hero complex (though he might still be a fanboy, deep down). But as she continued to work with them after Sam officially took up the mantle of Captain America, Joaquín just kept growing on her. 

When she settled into her life in D.C., it was Joaquín that became her closest friend in the capital. He helped find her an apartment that wasn’t the worst, and had given her a list of the best places to eat around the area. Then insisted he take her whenever they got down time. He calls it Team Bonding.

She calls it Not Dating.

“What’s the plan for dinner today, Glimpse?” He asks as she pops into their base of operations. He’s not looking at her when she appears, though he never does anymore. The signature whoosh sound that follows her appearance gives her away, now that he’s trained to hear it. 

“I was thinking that ramen place in Petworth?” She suggests, plopping down on the couch and looking at her phone. “It’s the next on the list, but your list seems to keep getting longer.”

It’s a passive observation; the list he gave her when she first settled in had maybe thirty restaurants and they’d hit about half of them. However, every time she opens the Google sheet he made, somehow there’s always two or three more that weren’t there before. 

He turns around in his chair, leaning back as he looks her over. Feeling his eyes on her, she glances up from her phone with a soft smirk. 

“Gotta find ways for you to keep me around, cariño,” he grins. 

Her eyes are glued to her phone, though she’s not actually looking at anything. Every single time he says something affectionate or flirty in Spanish, her brain sort of short circuits. She took Spanish in high school, but it never really stuck. There’s a handful of phrases she knows, and she’s learned some from working with Joaquín –anything she’s learned from him is either flirty or inappropriate, however. 

“Oh yes,” she chuckles in response, kicking her feet up on the couch. “Because I only keep you around for your food recs.”

“Food recs, good looks, witty banter…,”

“You’re just the whole package, aren’t you, Torres?” 

“Your words, not mine,” he points out, pushing himself out of his chair.

Sitting beside her, he lifts her legs to rest on his lap, one hand lingering just above her knee. They share a look –a knowing one, like they both are aware that they’re playing with fire. It’s always like this when they’re close; hyper aware of how it feels to touch one another in a way that’s nothing short of unprofessional. Sometimes it’s a hand on her knee when they’re seated together. Sometimes it’s her fingers brushing the nape of his neck when he’s at his computer. 

There’s always a lingering question between them in these moments. Will they cross that line finally? Who’s going to be the one who does it? But neither of them ever do. Sometimes it’s an interruption, sometimes it’s one of them backing down. 

But they never make it past the touching. 

“I feel like I’m interruptin’ something in here,” Sam announces as he walks into the room. 

Sam is aware of how she feels, and while he doesn’t necessarily tease her about it –he’s annoying about it. 

While she doesn’t jerk away from Joaquín, she does move her legs away from his touch. His fingers drag across the fabric of her jeans as she pulls away, like he refuses to give up that closeness. But she’s standing up and pocketing her phone. 

“We’re going to that ramen place,” she offers, and Joaquín is throwing his head back against the couch. “You in?”

“No go,” he responds, shaking his head. “We’ve got some intel we need to review –remember what happened last month?”

“Yeah, Bob,” she snickers, recalling the picture of the New Avengers in the papers. “Isn’t he just…a guy? I thought Bucky had that handled?”

“Not Bob,” Sam corrects, rolling his eyes. “Dude isn’t just a guy either. Not that point though –the other thing that happened last month.”

“Krane?” Joaquín asks, frowning deeply, standing now.

She groans, rubbing the hell of her palm into her eye. “Fucking Krane.” 

Dr. Lenora Krane –the reason she has powers and the reason Nick Fury brought her on board in 2015 after just barely being seventeen. While the New Avengers were off handling Bob, Valentina Allegra de Fontaine was bribing the Senate to pardon the doctor in order to put her to work for the U.S. government on a military base in California. However, that lasted as long as anyone could have predicted: last month, the reformed doctor went off the grid and no one has been able to find her since. 

Until today, apparently. 

Joaquín shifts into work mode with ease, sliding back into his chair and opening the files Sam has sent over. She sits on the arm of the chair, reading over the files as they pop up. Grainy photos and half-assed security feeds show her in Manhattan shortly after the Bob incident, but she seems to be making her way down to D.C. again. 

Even in bad photos, seeing the woman who made her life hell for most of her teen years makes the hero’s skin bristle. 

Taken from the children’s home she had grown up, under the guise of being a foster parent, Krane made it seem like her life was going to be great. But then the experiments started and only ended when Maria Hill infiltrated the lab she was kept in. Hill took her under her wing, kept her out of the system, then gave her a place amongst Earth’s mightiest heroes. 

The rest is history –though it seems like it might be repeating itself.

“What’s her deal?” Joaquín asks, looking up at her now as he leans back in his chair. “You think she’s here for you?”

His arm wraps around her from behind, linking his thumb through a belt loop since she’s using his arm rest as a seat. It’s comforting, though, whether he means for it to be or not.

If Sam notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean, I am the reason that she lost all her work and went to jail for nearly ten  years,” she points out, crossing her arms over her chest as she glances down at him. The look on Joaquín’s face is genuine concern, and it makes her heart ache. “She’s had a long time to plot her revenge against me.”

“Which means you are in danger,” Sam concludes, looking down at her with deep concern. “I’ve already talked to Barnes, you’re going to stay with him and his team of assholes. Differences or not, that Tower is the safest place –,”

“I am not going into hiding,” she counters, shooting up from the chair. Joaquín’s fingers are still caught in her belt loop and she yanks him out of his seat as she jumps up. “Joaquín –,”

“Sorry, shit,” he complains, letting her go finally and shaking out his hand. “She’s right though, Sam. We can’t just send her away, she’s an Avenger.”

“More importantly, I don’t want to uproot my shit and go hang out with Bucky. His team is weird. And Walker is there.”

“I thought you didn’t have a preference?” Sam argues, brow raised as he looks between her and Joaquín.

“You know damn well I’d rather be here than there,” she snaps back, pointing at him. “I am more than capable of handling myself, Sam. You know that.”

For a moment, there’s a tense silence in the room. There’s no reason to pick a real fight over this, but she doesn’t like being made to feel small when she’s been doing this since 2015; it’s not her first fight and it most certainly won’t be her last.

But finally, Sam nods in agreement. “You’re right. I can’t bench you –but I can at least make sure you’re not alone. One of us will stay with you.”

She’s about to argue that she doesn’t need a babysitter, but Joaquín is throwing his hand in the air. 

“I volunteer as tribute!”

Sam and her both look at him like he’s lost his damn mind. Joaquín has enough self-awareness to look sheepish as he drops his hand and clears his throat. Then he tries to shrug nonchalantly. 

“I mean –I can stay with her. Not a big deal.” 

Covering her face with her hand, she shakes her head. There’s definitely a blush burning her cheeks, and his excitement doesn’t help the feelings that simmer just below the surface.

“Smooth, kid,” Sam sighs, and she can just hear the eye roll in his voice. “I’ll get a notice sent back to New York –S.A.B.E.R. is working on pinpointing her next location. Until then, you two go grab whatever you need from Torres’s place. Joaquín, when you get to her apartment, set up security protocols.”

“Heard,” he replies, sitting back down to transfer whatever data he may need to his laptop. Sam has disappeared back into his office, already on the phone. Then he grins up at her. “I got you, hermosa.”

Without thinking about it, she lays her hand on his shoulder gently. Their eyes meet, and she squeezes. “I don’t doubt that, flyboy.” 

And she doesn’t. Not for a second. 

It’s her that interrupts the moment this time, though, pulling away with a wave of her hand. “Okay –I used my powers to get here, so we can do that or you can drive.”

“Oh fuck no,” he immediately says, pushing his chair away from his desk to gather his cables. “Last time you quantum jumped us, I threw up.”

“It’s not quantum jumping,” she reminds him, rolling her eyes. “It’s teleporting. And you only threw up because you weren’t ready.”

“Nope. I’m driving.”

“But I’m faster.”

For a second, he stands up and she thinks he’s going to counter her again. Instead, he hands her a rolled up set of cables, and she takes them without question. With a sudden yank though, he’s pulling her closer and resting his free hand on her hip. Her hand immediately hits his chest as a way to keep herself upright, but the sudden closeness makes her heart pound in her fingertips –or maybe that’s his heartbeat. 

“Faster isn’t always better,” he murmurs, leaning down into her space. 

She’s about to respond –something wildly inappropriate, probably, but she’s not 100% sure because all thoughts have scattered the moment he pulled her in –when Sam walks back through the doors. With that distinctive whoosh, she’s on the other side of the room, cables in hand and for once, a blush burning her cheeks. 

Joaquín is trying to hold back a smug grin. 

Sam is unimpressed by them both. 

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

“I always forget how tiny your place is,” Joaquín comments as he drops his bag on her coffee table. 

If she rolls her eyes any harder, she’s certain they’ll get stuck that way. Setting their dinner on the counter –burgers, which she’s bitter about because she really wanted ramen –she takes out their respective meals. 

“I’m gonna go change, feel free to get comfortable.” 

Joaquín is looking around her apartment as if he hasn’t been there before, though she can feel his eyes as she walks into her bedroom. When she comes back out  –an old band t-shirt and sleep shorts replacing her jeans and top –he’s looking over the photos she’s hung up on the wall. She grins and taps his shoulder as she passes by, returning to the kitchen to take out plates for them. 

When he seems to have gotten over his surprise, he’s behind her with a hand on her lower back. The touch is warm, and secure, and she doesn’t flinch away from it. With no real threat of interruptions –no one to walk in on them or alarms to go off –the only thing standing between them is���well, them.

“The couch is a pull out, so you should be relatively comfortable,” she explains, glancing up at him over her shoulder. 

He’s reaching over and stealing a fry, hand still pressed against her back. The whole thing feels a little more domestic than she’s used to, but she’s not going to be the one that pulls away this time. Not as she turns around, and his hand is pulled around to rest on her hip again. 

Joaquín looks down at her, eyes searching, but not in a way that demands answers. It’s quieter than that –curious, cautious, like he’s waiting to see if she’ll bolt. 

She doesn’t.

“Didn’t think you’d hover this much when you volunteered to babysit,” she teases, glancing at him as she grabs another fry, tone light but not pushing him away.

“If it’s not welcome, I can leave you be,” he replies, his voice low, steady. His hand is still on her hip though, anchoring her.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t joke it off.

“It’s welcome,” she says instead.

He studies her for a beat longer, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. But his face breaks out into that boyish grin she thrives on seeing. “Okay,” he says, quieter now. “Good.”

But still, neither of them moves to close the space. The silence hums in the air, in the stillness, in the way his fingers stay at her hip like he doesn’t want to let go. Like he’s waiting for her to make the move.

She doesn’t know why he never does –not when he’s always the one who flirts first, who pushes the edge of that line just enough to make her wonder. And now, with nothing stopping them, it’s somehow harder. Closer. Sharper.

It’s him who pulls away this time, moving through her kitchen with ease as he opens her fridge and pulls out a beer. For a moment, she looks to whatever divine powers might be out there and silently wonders why the hell they keep dancing around this –and why the hell she can’t just man up and do it herself.

Nothing answers, of course.

“So what do you usually do when you’re home, all alone?” He asks as he takes what’s left of his food into the living room and drops onto the couch; he’d eaten half his burger on the way over. “Besides think about me, of course,” he adds for good measure, winking at her.

One more eye roll, then she’s joining him on the couch, sitting with her legs crossed under her. Her knee is brushing his thigh and he makes no move to get away. “Honestly, between watching trashy T.V. or reading trashy romance novels, I’m not the most exciting of people.”

Joaquín scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t believe that for a second. An OG Avenger and you don’t do anything exciting outside of work?”

“Being an Avenger isn’t half as exciting as you think it is,” she reminds him, giving him a pointed look. “You learned that the hard way, remember?”

Even if he pretends it didn’t happen, she can’t. Not when she sat in the hospital with Sam for days, worried that Joaquín wouldn’t wake up. She’s had a lot of close calls in her life, and she’s lost a lot of people in the last ten years. Watching him plummet into the ocean from the security feed of his mask scared the living hell out of her, and that’s most certainly contributed to their dialed up flirting recently. 

She’s not afraid to admit she thought she almost lost him. Truth be told, she told him that in the hospital when he woke up. But then he told them both how he just wants to be like them –to be a hero, to do right by the world. How he wanted to get out of Miami and prove himself worthy –and she couldn’t scold him for being reckless. Couldn’t argue with him that she almost lost him. Because he knew that. He knew the risks he took, and it wasn’t her place to remind him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushes it off. Always does. “When Krane is handled, I’m gonna take you out and show you how to use your down time.”

She raises a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Is this you finally asking me out, Torres?”

For just a beat, maybe two, they stare at each other. She’s crossed the line, finally. Pushed them to confront each other; to act on whatever these feelings they both clearly have are. Their food is long forgotten on the coffee table, and his hand is resting on her bare knee. 

“What if I am?” He asks, leaning in closer. 

“If you are, I’d say it took you long enough.”

A grin breaks out over his face, and Joaquín doesn’t waste any time as he wraps a hand around the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss. He’s pulling her into his lap, and she’s on her knees straddling him. Other hand sliding up her shirt, he groans as his fingers skim below her breasts, realizing she isn’t wearing a bra.

“No sabes cuánto he deseado esto…,” he whispers against her lips, and even though she’s not sure what he’s saying, it sends a shiver down her spine. Taking advantage of his mouth being open, she licks into it, deepening the kiss as her hands trail down to the hem of his shirt. 

Just as she manages to pull his shirt over his head, glass shatters. They yank back from one another, looking at the broken window. It’s a split second –panic, a flash bang rolling into her living room. Joaquín is covering her with his body, just as a whoosh surrounds them. She’s not positive where she’s sent them, but they land with a thud against gravel and roll off one another with a groan. 

From the rooftop of the neighboring apartment building, there’s what’s supposed to be a disorienting bang and a flash of light. Her apartment lights up, and she sits up on her knees as they both watch smoke pour out of the broken window. Joaquín kneels beside her, feeling on the brink of throwing up from the sudden teleportation. He reaches out to touch her shoulder though, making sure she’s okay. 

“Fucking Krane,” she hisses, standing up. He watches her from the corner of his eye before looking back at the apartment. The D.C. air is frigid, and police sirens are echoing in the night as they approach the apartment building. “We need to call Sam –,”

“Both our phones are in the apartment,” he interrupts, reaching out to take his shirt from her. There’s a heavy feeling in his chest; another screw up. Another mistake that could have been avoided, just like when he tried to take down that missile. Only this time, it’s not his life that’s in danger. It’s hers. “Mierda –this is my fault.”

“How is it your fault?” 

“I didn’t set up the security protocols.” He slips on his shirt, then reaches out to take her hand. There’s no hesitation when he does this; just takes her hand and pulls her close as he leads them across the roof of the building. “We need to get outta here. If Krane is nearby, then you’re in danger and I don’t have…anything.”

The realization sinks in that the wings are at base, but his computer –his government issued computer, with thousands of gigs of data and files on it –has been compromised. If Krane gets a hold of that, and he can’t wipe it before she gets into it, then it’s more than just her that’s in trouble.

“Fuck,” he groans, running a hand through his hair. “My laptop –,”

“I can get it,” she quickly reassures but he’s putting his hands up. “Joaquín, that’s my whole job –in and out –,”

“The apartment is compromised,” he counters, shaking his head. “I can’t let you go back in there.”

“In and out,” she argues and he’s caught between not wanting to screw something else up and keeping her safe. He knows she’s good; she’s an OG. She’s been doing this long before he came along. But if something happens to her…

Except, she’s not giving him a chance to argue. She never does, because he’s not usually the one arguing against her. But that sound –that whoosh that has trained his brain to listen for –echoes in the air. And then she’s gone. 

“Dammit,” he hisses, pounding his fist once against the wall. 

He waits, watching from the edge of the building. 

Seconds. That’s all it should take.

She’s done this a thousand times. Disappearing across rooftops, slipping into sealed rooms, snatching intel mid-conversation without a whisper. The police are surrounding her apartment complex, guns drawn. No one has come in or out of the building since she entered, which is…bad. 

So why isn’t she back?

He paces on the rooftop, trying to calm his breathing. One beat. Two. Five. He stares at the spot where she vanished, willing the air to whisper with that tell-tale signal again. His ears are still ringing from the flashbang thrown through the window barely five minutes ago, and it sets his teeth on edge. But…

Nothing.

“She should be back,” he mutters aloud, to no one. “Why aren’t you back?”

His pulse hammers in his ears. She always makes it back. She’s cocky about it. Makes jokes. Teases him that she’s always going to be faster, always going to be a step ahead. Because she is, and he knows she is. In the three years he’s known her, he’s not once thought he’d ever be better than her. Because he’s too amazed by her –how could he want to be better when everything she does is so graceful and damn near perfect? 

All he had to do was protect her, and somehow…he blew it.

Sam’s going to kill him.

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

The guilt has been a slow bleed. Every hour without a lead makes it worse. 

Joaquín hasn’t slept. Not really. A few hours here and there, usually when Sam physically pries him away from the screen or the chair or the growing pile of coffee cups that he’s surviving on. But even when he does sleep, he dreams of her –trapped, bleeding, calling for him. Every time, he wakes up choking on guilt.

She’s been missing for seventy-six hours. Seventy-six hours since she vanished inside that apartment. Since she dove into danger to retrieve his laptop –his responsibility –because he hadn’t done his damn job in the first place. He was too distracted. Too busy being in love with her to remember that she’s not invincible.

Joaquín drags a hand through his curls, fingers catching as he stares at the rows of code on his screen.

“Come on, come on…,” he mutters, cycling through yet another security node.

He’s torn apart every digital trail Krane has ever left –fake aliases, ghosted emails, the occasional off-the-grid bio signature from a black market medical clinic. None of it points to where she’s keeping her. But Joaquín isn’t just looking for Krane anymore.

He’s looking for her. For the woman who scared the hell out of him by jumping out of that plane three years ago. Who teases him about his stupid restaurant spreadsheet; who kisses him like she’s just as wrecked as he is. 

He almost had her. Finally. And now?

Now all he has is silence. And a red blinking cursor on a map overlay.

But then –,

Something pings.

It’s small. Barely a whisper in the code. But Joaquín freezes, eyes narrowing. He backtracks, isolates the data string, and enhances the feed. It’s a signal bounce –from his laptop. A handshake request that shouldn’t exist, buried beneath three layers of dummy networks. Krane must have booted it, just briefly. Just long enough to trigger the dormant emergency protocol he’d hardwired into the system during a long forgotten all-nighter.

He stares at the screen as coordinates materialize. They’re fuzzy. The GPS is spoofed, bouncing between old S.H.I.E.L.D. black sites, but there's a pattern to the chaos.

“She’s not hiding you,” he says under his breath, breath catching in his chest. “She’s parading you. Daring us to come.”

He should feel fear. Hesitation. He doesn’t.

He locks onto the most consistent coordinate. An abandoned logistics warehouse 40 miles outside Richmond. Nothing special. No heat signatures from satellites. But something about it hums wrong. Quiet in a way that feels intentional.

That’s where she is. He knows it. He feels it in his bones.

Sam’s voice breaks the moment. “Any progress?”

Joaquín turns slowly, eyes still lit by the screen. “Yeah. I think I found her.”

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

She’s strapped to a reinforced medical chair, wrists restrained in a way that numbs her fingers. Her powers are suppressed –some kind of electromagnetic field layered into the restraints, maybe nanotech. It doesn’t matter. The result is the same: she can’t phase. Can’t jump. Can’t fight.

It’s like trying to scream with no voice. Like being a kid again.

Krane stands over her, monologuing in that smug, academic cadence that always made her want to tear her own ears off. She’s pacing now, dragging her fingers along the edge of a steel tray holding tools that aren’t exactly designed for healing.

“…quantum stability, neural mapping, synaptic plasticity,” Krane is saying, like she’s checking off items on a list. “You’re a blueprint with legs, nothing more,” the scientist finally concludes, looking over the hero with the same sadistic smile she’s always had. “You think you’re going to save the world again. But you’re just a failed experiment clinging to a label.”

She doesn’t respond. Not because she’s too weak –though Krane’s been dosing her with something, and her limbs feel like sandbags –but because she’s saving her strength. Waiting. Waiting for the moment when the sedatives slip, when the field flickers, when Krane makes a mistake.

Because the doctor always does.

But if she’s being honest, that’s not the only reason she’s quiet. The real reason –the part that burns low in her chest, white-hot and ugly –is this: she let Krane take her.

She didn’t fight back. Not really.

She had a window. A second and a half, maybe two. Enough time to jump. Enough time to leave. But she didn’t. Because the second she started to move, Krane said Joaquín’s name. Said it so calmly, so casually, like she hadn’t been watching them through the drone in his laptop camera.

“You go for this computer and I send a kill switch to your flyboy’s pacemaker,” Krane said, having picked up the laptop. There’s a remote in her hand –small, round, blinking. “You know he has one now, right? After that nasty fall into the ocean? Poor thing –you know, we had to restart his heart.”

“We?” She asked, looking at the doctor in disbelief.

“You should have read the file carefully, Glimpse,” the doctor scolded. “I’m reformed, remember? And before you, I was a very decorated military doctor.”

It was bullshit. It had to be.  But she didn’t know for sure. 

And that split second of hesitation –of imagining Joaquín’s body hitting the floor because she called Krane’s bluff –was enough. Enough for Krane to sedate her. Enough for the world to blur. 

Enough to lose.

And now, here she is. Chained and doped up in some forgotten corner of Virginia, reliving the worst years of her life like it never ended. Except this time, she’s not a little girl. She’s not powerless. And she knows that there’s at least two people looking for her.

And she knows neither of them will stop until they find her.

Her eyes flick to the blinking red light on the wall. A low pulse, like a heartbeat. It wasn’t there five seconds ago. That light isn’t part of the baseline infrastructure. She knows this place. Knows how Krane likes her labs –clinical, sterile, and absolutely under her control. 

That flicker is out of place. 

That flicker means hope.

She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t give Krane the satisfaction of knowing something’s changed.

Across the room, Krane is talking again –some self-righteous, pseudo-academic garbage about neural mapping and genetic anomalies and “weaponized empathy.” Her voice cuts through the silence like a scalpel. Her eyes are wild now, hands moving faster, yanking wires from machines and double-checking restraints that don’t need checking. Because something’s wrong. She can feel it.

And Krane knows it, too.

She tracks the shift in Krane’s energy with careful, weary eyes. There’s a tremor in her hands now. That smug detachment has begun to crack.

Good. Let it crack.

The moment comes in a shudder of metal. A deep, violent boom rattles the concrete walls as the lab door explodes inward in a spray of steel and sparks. The force of it echoes through her chest, more felt than heard. For a second, the light above her sputters out –then returns, flickering.

The first figure through the smoke is Sam. Wings half-folded, shield in hand, eyes like fire. He moves with that signature precision: not so much charging as cleaving through the space, knocking aside a pair of armored guards with brutal efficiency. They hit the wall hard and don’t get back up.

Joaquín follows half a beat later, sliding through the debris like a storm wrapped in a man’s frame. He’s dropped the wings for speed and brute force, shoulder-checking the last guard so hard the man’s body crumples like foil. He doesn’t slow –his eyes are already locked on her.

For a moment, she’s not Glimpse, a former Avenger. She’s just the girl strapped to the chair, covered in bruises and half-drugged, barely upright –but seen. Found.

And Joaquín looks at her like she's the only thing in the damn world worth saving.

He’s at her side in seconds, hands already on the restraints, breath coming fast and shallow.

“Hey,” she says, voice dry, mouth cracking into the ghost of a smile. Like this is just an everyday thing for them.

“Hey,” he breathes, eyes scanning her face like he’s checking for fractures. She’s certain she looks worse for wear; if the bruises on her arms are any indication, she’s certain her face isn’t much better. 

“Jesus, I –,” but he doesn’t finish. Just rips the cuff open with a grunt, tosses it to the floor, and moves to the next.

Her fingers twitch back to life. Painful, sluggish –but working.

Behind them, Krane shrieks. She’s at the far end of the room now, fumbling for something –another syringe, or maybe that damned remote again. Sam crosses the space in two strides and kicks it out of her hand before grabbing her by the collar and slamming her into the wall with controlled force.

“You’re done,” he growls.

Krane gasps for air, blinking like she can’t process how quickly the tables have turned.

Joaquín finishes unfastening the last restraint, and her body sags forward –only for him to catch her, arms steady around her frame. She doesn’t collapse, though. She uses his grip to pull herself upright, standing on legs that shake but hold.

“I’ve got you,” he promises. 

“I know,” she answers, but she’s pulling back some. Steadying her stance. She doesn’t need a full recovery. She just needs a little bit of spite and one shot.

“I can walk,” she adds, looking up at him.

Joaquín looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. Just stays close, hand at her back as she half-limps, half-strides toward the scientist that Sam has pinned to the wall. Half crazed, clawing at Sam’s hands to release her –Krane looks certifiably unhinged. 

Finally, her outsides match her insides.

“You don’t understand! All my work –everything I’ve worked on –it’s her!” The scientist screams, bucking against Sam’s hold. “I can change the world with her!”

And then she hears it: the click of a syringe behind them. Krane kicks Sam away, more force behind the movement than he expected. Still sneering. Still trying. The doctor lunges, chemical cocktail in hand –some desperate move to keep control. The scientist is aiming for Joaquín, but she’s not half as fast as the Avenger. 

Even if the drugs are weighing her down, and every muscle in her body is screaming at her not to, she shifts her weight, ducks under Joaquin’s arm, and slams her fist into Krane’s jaw with everything she has.

It’s not graceful. Not elegant. It's not powered or calculated.

It’s just…personal.

Joaquín lets out a low whistle as she nearly drops to her knees, but he catches her immediately. With ease, he’s lifting her into his arms, and she’s pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck with a wrecked sigh. All the strength she had left was put into that punch, and with Krane down –she’s able to finally drop her guard and give into the exhaustion. 

Vaguely, she’s aware of Sam telling Joaquín to get her out of here. But her body is exhausted, and finally quits on her as Joaquín promises he’s going to get her out of there. 

-><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><--><-

Luckily, she’s only in the hospital two nights. One night to clear her system of whatever drugs Krane had given her, a hook up to an IV to get her body regulated again, and another night for observation. Outside of drawing a little more blood than she should have, Krane didn’t intend to kill the hero –she intended to use the hero as a blueprint for more. 

Her apartment is still out of commission –smoke damaged and a crime scene, naturally –so he takes her back to his place. Sam brings her some clothes, and Joaquín zips her into his hoodie, saying she’s going to stay with him until she’s 100% again. He waits for an argument from her, but it never comes; she just slips herself into the passenger seat of his car and tells him to drive slowly.

The first few days are easy enough; she spends most of them asleep in his room, tucked into his bed like she belongs there. He makes her get up to shower and eat, but otherwise he lets her chill and recover from everything. He tries to leave her be during the day, especially when she’s asleep, but sometimes he just lays in there with her. Letting her curl into his side as he watches whatever is on T.V., holding her through the recovery. Maybe they should have talked about what this is between them, but Joaquín thinks there’s no reason to anymore. 

By the end of the week, she’s up and moving. 

More than that, really. 

Joaquín stepped out to help Sam with the last few details with Krane. He’d been gone maybe an hour –two tops. Left her in bed, sitting up and scrolling through her phone with a kiss to her temple and a promise to get dinner when he got back.

So imagine his surprise when he walks into his apartment and she’s standing in his kitchen, wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing else, cooking dinner. There’s music playing, and she’s singing along as she scrolls through the instructions on her phone. Joaquín can’t help it as he stares, arms crossed over his chest. This is the most awake she’s been in days, and the thought that maybe he has even a little influence on that makes him smile.

Pushing off the doorframe, he slips in behind her and wraps his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “Mírate...mi cielo,” he murmurs against her ear, grinning as he looks over the ingredients on the counter. “Need some help?”

She glances up at him, and the smile she gives him could knock him out if he really wanted it to. “I’m almost done –you can take the pan out of the oven though.”

He hums, debating. “If I do that, I gotta let you go. And I don’t think I wanna do that.”

“At least turn off the oven so it doesn’t burn,” she counters, but she’s reaching over to do it herself.

The motion is innocent enough –but combined with her bare legs and his shirt and her ass brushing against him as she does it…Joaquín’s grip on her waist tightens some, cock twitching in his jeans, before he turns her around and presses her against the nearest clean countertop. She raises a brow up at him, but there’s a smirk on her face as her arms wrap around his neck.

“I take it you’re not hungry,” she teases but she’s cut off as he lifts her onto the counter.

“Oh baby, I’m starving,” he reassures, hands sliding down her waist now to grip her thighs, parting them so he can stand between them; pressing the growing bulge in his jeans against her center. “But I’m gonna need to start with dessert.”

“What are the odds one of us gets kidnapped again?” She jokes, pulling him closer by the back of his neck.

“Let’em try to take you from me again,” he promises, fingers trailing up her bare thighs and over the front of her panties. 

He nearly groans at the wet spot he feels, toying with her carefully through the damp fabric. The sigh she lets out, coupled with how her head tilts back, encourages him to pull her closer to the edge of the counter and kneel down between her legs. Slipping them over his shoulders, he presses open mouth kisses on the inside of her thighs before finally kissing the fabric that’s slick.

Her hands find his hair almost instantly, and he grins against her as he pulls the ruined garment down her legs finally. With how much they’ve teased each other over the years, and how often he’s thought about this exact moment, he wants to take it slow. Wants to drown himself in between her legs. But now that he’s here, all thoughts escape him as he licks a stripe from top to bottom, groaning at the taste. Then it’s entirely useless to consider what he’s going to do next, because all he wants is to feel her cum on his face as he dives in entirely.

The fingers in his hair tug, and the gasps coming from her lips only push him further into her as he sucks on her clit. With two fingers, he spreads her wider, allowing both a better view and more room as his tongue laps up into her entirely, taking in every ounce of her that he can. 

“Fuck,” she breathes out, and her legs are shaking. “Joaquín, please –I need –,”

Mouth still on her, he looks up through his lashes at the mess she is. Then, he pulls away just enough for her hips to chase his mouth but his fingers are what she meets. She writhes under his touch, fingers tightening in his curls as he spreads his spit and her slick all over her.

“What d’you need?” He asks, teasing, barely touching her now as her hips buck off the counter. “Gotta use your words, cariño.”

“Touch me,” she begs, chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath. “Please, I need you to –,”

“Like this?” 

His finger slides inside with ease, and the feeling of her clenching around just the one is enough to spur him on and he pulls her into a messy kiss. Her frantic yes, yes, yes’s are swallowed as he licks into her mouth, letting her taste herself on his tongue. Then, he slips another finger inside and she bites at his bottom lip, causing him to groan in response. Her grip on his hair tightens, hips moving against his hand, a silent plea to keep going. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” He murmurs into the kiss, breaking it only to trail wet kisses down her jaw and over her neck. She’s nodding frantically against him, eyes screwed shut as he picks up his speed and brushes her clit with his thumb. 

That seems to be her undoing as she cries out, clenching around his fingers tight as he feels her drip down his hand. He doesn’t pull away, but slows down his movements, easing her through the orgasm as her body shudders and falls limp against his chest. When she’s finally come down is when he finally slides his fingers from her sensitive core, causing her to shudder at the feeling.

“You good?” He asks softly but she’s dramatically falling back onto the countertop with a sigh. 

“I’m…much more than good,” she manages to say, leaning on her elbows to look up at him. 

Her eyes are trailing over him now –taking in the slick that he’s certain is on his face, down to his hand that’s still wet from her orgasm then to his dick that’s too hard to hide at this point. The gears are turning in her head; he can practically see them as she sits up and reaches for his belt. He’s about to stop her, tell her that she doesn’t need to return the favor, but then he’s swept up in a whoosh and they’re falling back into his bed.

“Fuck, I hate when you do that,” he complains, but there’s no bite in his tone as she reaches out for him. 

“You’ll get used to it,” she promises, tugging his shirt off over his head. 

Joaquín doesn’t hesitate to toss it to the side, fumbling with his belt and jeans next to kick them off. Then she’s throwing the shirt she has on into the pile, and he leans back into the pillows, staring shamelessly up at her. Every curve, every scar, every freckle –he’s staring like he’s trying to memorize every inch of her skin just in case she suddenly changes her mind.

But she doesn’t.

Thank god, she doesn’t as she finds herself straddling his hips with her hands on his chest. Joaquín sits up, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into him, trying to get as close to her as possible. Her hips roll against him as she pulls him in once again, kissing him like her life depends on it. His hands are guiding her hips, dragging her against his cock in order to coat him in the remnants of her first orgasm. 

The head of his cock catches her clit, and she gasps into his mouth. Joaquín grins into the kiss, unable to help himself, as he looks up at her again. His other hand gropes her chest, pinching and twisting at her nipples as he bites at her bottom lip.

“Joaquín, please,” she sighs, breaking the kiss just enough to breathe over his lips. She’s reaching between their bodies now to grasp his hard cock in her hands. “I need you –I need –,”

“What do you need, cariño?” He teases, trying to keep his hips from bucking up into her. “Take what you want, baby. C’mon…,”

She nods frantically, rising up onto her knees above him. Joaquín’s gaze drops to her hand around him, where she’s guiding his cock into her soaked core. As she slowly eases him into her, one of her hands shoots up to grip his arm, digging her nails into the skin to distract from the stretch. Joaquín’s head falls back again as she sinks down on him, his hands dropping to her ass just to hold something. Because if he doesn’t –shit, he’s going to lose any semblance of control he has.

Her grip on his arm tightens as their hips meet again, sinking him entirely inside her as she tries to adjust to his size. Joaquín groans as her walls clenched around him, and his hips involuntarily buck up –causing her to cry out in surprise and lurch forward, her hands gripping his shoulders tight. With her tits in his face, and his hands grasping her ass, Joaquín is done for –fuck control, he needed to ruin her.

Joaquín trails his fingers down her arms before wrapping them back around her hips, holding her tight against him as he pistons up into her. Not expecting that, a surprised cry leaves her lips as he catches her mouth with his again. He pulls her up, and she gets the hint as she rises to meet his thrusts, bouncing on his cock to bring herself closer and closer to the edge.

“Been thinking about you like this for so long,” he admits. He punctuates his last word with a hard thrust up that has the tip of his cock grazing a spot so deep inside her it makes her drop her face into his neck, crying out his name again.

“Fuck, Joaquín –you feel so good– please, god– please, please–,” Her words die in her throat when he yanks her down particularly hard, pressing her hips down to meet him and holding her there in slow, hard grind. She lets out a choked sob of his name, clenching hard around him and stealing a low moan from the back of his throat. 

She moans again, and Joaquín jolts up some as he feels her tongue trailing over the vein in his neck and over his jaw. Her mouth is on his again, and he can feel her tightening around him as her wetness starts to smear between their bodies. The sound of their skin slapping against skin only urges him forward, each thrust becoming messier and harder. It’s almost too much as his one hand dipped between their bodies, fingers fluently toying with her clit.

“Correte por mí,” he manages to breathe against her lips, nipping at her bottom one. “Cum for me again, baby, please –need you to cum on my cock –,”

Between the touch on her clit and the thrusts up into her, Joaquín can tell she’s close and he’d be damned if he came before her. Kissing her harder –all tongue, and teeth, and spit –he speeds up his thrusts in time with his fingers on her clit. She bites his lip for a moment before she gasps, closing her eyes tight as her body tenses up under him, only to spasm around him as she comes undone again. The only sound she makes are airy gasps of his name, begging him to keep going. Joaquín isn’t far behind as he thrusts up into her a few more times before his hips stutter against her. 

“Where –,”

“Inside –god, please,” she insists, holding tight to him as if afraid to lose his touch. “Pill -,”

Joaquín doesn’t think twice as he nods, taking hold of her jaw to kiss her again as he tenses up below her. He rolls his hips once, twice –then groans into her mouth as he fills her deep. She’s grinding against him still, riding out both of their orgasms now, as they both slowly come down. 

Then she drops against him, breathing heavily. Joaquín’s hand drops away from her jaw, pulling her back with him as he collapses on the bed. Her forehead presses against his neck, tucked just under his chin as she tries to catch her breath. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a breath himself, as he savors the moment of her skin against his, holding her close to his chest.

They lay like this for a while –basking in each other’s touch, enjoying the warmth both are feeling. Joaquín is still buried inside her, still half-hard, but he makes no move to pull out. Not when she’s laying on him like this, melting into his touch. Just as he’s about to say something –ask her if she wants to take a bath or something –both their phones ring. The same ringtone, for the same person –texting them both at the same time.

“You think he knows he’s always interrupting?” She asks, but her voice is hoarse. 

“There’s no way he doesn’t,” Joaquín responds, but he doesn’t move from the bed. Instead, he pulls her closer and pulls the blankets up over them both. “He can figure it out without us.”

“You know he’s gonna show up at the door,” she points out, but she’s pressing herself somehow closer to him as his arms tighten around her. 

“I don’t even care –I got my girl in my arms. He’ll understand.”

-------

Taglist: @messrkarmaismygf13 @thecowboyfiles (you asked me to share with the class so here we are)

[moonlight-prose]

angel of the morning

a/n: about a month ago i got an idea for a threesome fic and well it has lived in the back of my head since then. and normally i wouldn't write smut with wade, but this one actually made me feral. thankfully the promptober list this year gave me the perfect opportunity to bring it to life. so i give you a filthy and fun fic brought to you not from the execs at disney, cause let's be honest this would kill them on sight.

logan promptober: day nine - deadpool

summary: wade has a proposition to offer: he will sit quietly (a complete lie) as logan shows him how fucking you properly is done. only it's not up to logan...it's up to you. his sweet angel of the morning.

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI 18+ ONLY!!, threesome activities, voyeurism, bondage, wade wilson breaks the fourth wall, oral (m receiving), gags, coming untouched, p in v sex, fingering, cumplay, squirting, logan is rough with the pussy, gratuitous descriptions of filthy acts, biting, unedited + unbetad.

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME SERIES MASTERLIST

"Think of it as a learning opportunity peanut." A glass shattered on impact - ricocheting off the wall and lodged into Wade's chest. Neither the pain nor the blood could get him to stop talking though. "Possibly a way to work out those Hulk-like anger issues."

"No," Logan snapped, itching to rip the voice box out of Wade's throat. Maybe then he'd get an hour tops of silence as the fucker healed.

"You won't even ask her?" he whined. Truly the entire thing reeked of desperation. Wade knew how pathetic he looked right at this moment; whether he cared was an entirely different story.

"Shut the fuck–"

"Ask me what?"

They looked like two deer caught in headlights mere seconds before death. Wade's lips curled into a smile bright enough to rival the sunlight that poured in through the open window. Logan however looked as if he witnessed a ghost climbing out of the shitty painted walls to your right. You stopped inches away from the shards of glass that lined the floor—your eyebrows raised in disbelief at the sight.

How they both wound up in your apartment still remained a mystery to you. Logan went home before you even fell asleep, promising to return with your usual Sunday breakfast from Rosemary's. You came to the conclusion—given the food on the table—that Wade must have followed him. Intent on being a third wheel. Again.

"N-Nothing," Logan replied, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson.

You grinned, eyes trailing down to his jeans that sat snug on his hips. "Are you sure?"

"Sweet angel of the morning can I proposition you for a moment? Don't worry I'm not selling you a car. Although I could." Wade poured coffee into your new favorite mug—a tiny painting of Wolverine sat neatly on the front. "This is more of a learning experience."

"Learning what exactly?" You took the mug with a smile, entirely aware of Logan's eyes tracking your every step.

He thought you were going to run; you leaned into his side to prove you would stay. Whatever question Wade was intent on asking, it clearly touched a nerve. One you had to fix before another mishap occurred in your relationship. Logan wasn't the greatest at communication, but you could make up for his lack of talking in a language he understood well enough. Physical touch.

"Have you ever studied the art—nay the science—of a threesome?"

You choked on your coffee.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be enough of a warning for Wade to stop speaking. "There's classes dedicated to its research. I'd be a teacher, but have you met your boy toy over there? He's been alive for two hundred years. There's no way he's not danced the twisters tango."

"Twisters...tango?" Logan's hand patted your upper back as you forced the words out through a choked rasp.

"Twice the fun, three times the knot." He smiled, stepping so face you barely had a chance to stand upright before he was looking down, his finger tipping your chin gently. "Something tells me you'd be an expert."

"Get the fuck off her," Logan snapped, silver flashing in your peripheral.

You gripped his wrist in an attempt to stop the bloodshed from going even further. Cleaning broken glass from your floor was one thing. Scrubbing Wade's blood out of the carpet near your couch was another thing entirely.

The air around you grew tense as Logan's hand fell to your hip in a silent claim you felt curl at the base of your spine. Wade's smile never wavered, even as you felt your mouth dry. The offer circled in your head with a quickness that left you dizzy and gasping for breath. A threesome wasn't the most outlandish of propositions—hell your ex boyfriend had even asked at one point in your relationship.

But a threesome with both of them. Men who never faltered, never grew tired. Keeping up with Logan took the majority of your energy some nights—his insatiable need to have you became an overwhelming trait you grew to crave. Yet the thought of Wade joining in on that. The blood rushed to your head at the very concept, your heart ramming against your chest with each breath.

Logan tensed which gave you the answer you were looking for.

He wasn't worried about his own feelings. He merely wanted you to feel safe. There would never be another day you were put in harm's way because of something he caused. This was simply another one of those moments; a time where the choice remained entirely up to you.

"Drop it mouth–"

"How exactly would it happen?"

They froze, mouths gaping and eyes fixed on your inquiring face. What must have started out as a joke - something for Wade to relentlessly tease Logan over—became something else entirely. Before you could laugh it off, push past whatever awkwardness lingered in the air. Wade's smile returned—eyes alight in a type of joy you'd only seen come from him watching The Great British Bake Off.

Or cocaine.

"So glad you asked angel."

"God this feels like a teacher student porno. Except instead of me getting bent over a desk for being a bad boy I get to watch the teachers fuck." Wade practically leapt out of his skin as Logan tied the knot around his wrists. Pulling until a ring of white formed around the skin. He'd lose feeling in his hands, but something told you that remained part of the appeal. "Do I get to ask questions? In case there's a test?"

You smiled, sitting on the chair stuffed in the corner of your room. "I don't think the professor would like that, Wade."

A soft snarl emanated from Logan's chest, his hands chest heaving with each shift as he did his best not to look at you directly. The bulge on his jeans remained evident enough of what he thought of this. How he had to resist tearing through your clothes to get to what lay beneath.

Logan and self control never went hand in hand. Yet he held on by the skin of his teeth in order to help you settle into a familiar state of comfort. You silently thanked him for that - your nerves jumping with every second that passed.

"You're not gonna fuckin' talk," Logan replied gruffly, pulling out a spare leather belt he kept in your drawer for when he stayed over. "You wanted a learnin' experience. So that's what this is."

"But how am I supposed to learn if I can't–"

The belt went into his mouth harshly, yanking his head back as Logan pulled it closed with surprising speed. You began to wonder if he had done this before. Gagged someone with the efficiency of a pro who partook in sexual activities far more adventurous than what you'd been giving him. Maybe that's what this was all about. Dipping your toe in the waters to see if this experience was meant for you.

His thumb smoothing your furrowed brows pulled you from your thoughts. "You can say no honey. Don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"Logan–"

He shook his head, dropping to his knees before you. "If you say no I'll heat up the breakfast and Wade can put on a movie. Yeah?"

"And if I say yes?" you breathed.

"Then we take it as slow as you want."

The answer lay on the tip of your tongue, begging to be put out into the world. So you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers dug into his hair as you licked behind his teeth with a soft moan - the ache from last night building once more in the crevices and curves of your body. Wade echoed your sounds with a few of his own, body writhing to get closer to the edge of the bed. Logan however consumed you entirely.

He rose to his feet, hand cupping your chin to keep you in place. Spit trailed down your chin and for a moment you felt the urge to wipe it away. To clean your body in case that's not what he desired at this time. He cut you off with a growl, licking at the wet smear of spit before letting it fall back on your tongue. His thumb dragging the rest down the length of your throat.

"I want you fuckin' messy honey," he muttered. "Gotta show off my pretty little thing."

A gasp pierced the air, your body jolting at the command. This was familiar to you. Logan leading the dance as you trailed along with the hopes he'd see how good you could be. How much you longed to please him. Somehow the aspect of your relationship flipped when it came to sex. He was no longer tentative or worried there was a chance you might find him repulsive.

When it came to this Logan understood your love for him held no ands, ifs, or buts.

You'd never let him touch you if you didn't love him—that remained clear in his mind. It allowed him the chance to breathe.

"How about we give him a better view."

Whimpering out your unintelligible response, you let him move you with ease. He took the chair, spreading his legs wide for you to prop yourself on his thighs. Tugging at the t-shirt you slept in with a soft grunt he pulled it up and over your head—the softness of your skin on full display. He could practically feel you dripping onto your inner thighs, coating your body in that familiar tangy sweetness.

The thought made him dizzy—his fingers digging sharply into your hips. A stunted groan echoed from the bed, Wade's eyes flicking madly from your breasts to the shiny slick that covered your pussy. His cock strained against his gray sweatpants, a stain leaking into the fabric and turning it a shade darker. If his hands weren't tied Logan had no doubt he'd be fisting his cock to the sight of you naked and wanting.

And what a fucking sight that would be. Seeing this mouthy asshole finally grow quiet just from a mere glimpse at your body.

"What do you think honey? Should we free him?" Logan pointedly looked at Wade's groin—his chin hooking onto your shoulder as his hands slid along your thighs.

You whined, your ass pushing back into his hard cock. "He looks like he needs it, baby."

"Be a good girl and pull it out. Wanna see how wet he is."

"Okay."

Sliding off him, you dropped to your hands and knees, crawling the short distance towards Wade who looked ready to cum right then and there. He sucked in a broken gasp, his hips bucking up into nothing when your hands gripped the edge of his sweats. Your lips dragging along his clothed shoulder—fingers tugging down the waistband until it hung around his knees.

"Oh," you sighed, eyes fixed on the ruddy length of his red and purple cock. It practically dripped like a fucking faucet—spilling onto what sparse hair stuck to the base.

Blistering heat filled your body at the sight of his cock throbbing in your face, the length of it sticky and shiny. Wade never mentioned how much he wanted you. Or perhaps it was the fact that both you and Logan were giving him the show of a lifetime. Indulging him in a fantasy that felt like his imagination came to life.

"Give it a lick," Logan said. "Tell me how he tastes."

Hesitation was nowhere to be found in your body; the thrill of being told what to do shot through your stomach. Wade's eyes rolled back into his head when your mouth closed around the tip, suckling him in between hollowed cheeks—your tongue sliding through the slit.

A choked moan broke free around the belt, spit flying down his throat. You met his noise with one of your own, slick smearing across your thighs, your pussy fluttering at the salty tang of him spread across your tongue.

"That's enough."

You sat back on your heels—eyes meeting Wade's bleary gaze. The both of you were torn to shreds from the inside out. Pieces dispersed in a mess on the floor. Only for Logan to gather what remained—intent on putting you back together.

"C'mere honey," he huffed, gathering you back in his arms.

Logan's touch was relentless. Quick strokes along your bare thighs as you settled in his lap—teeth nipping along the line of your shoulder until pain bloomed beneath the pleasure. Each press of his hands made you melt into his chest, back pressing to his bare chest. The warmth of his arms became something you latched onto.

A constant source of comfort, of a promise to never let you sink below the waters.

You spread your legs over his thighs slowly in a show of revealing your pussy to the man across from you—his eyes practically glued to your pulsing hole. How it fluttered each time Logan sunk his teeth in. How you could feel it leak enough slick to drink down. You wanted to guide his face closer, see if he would like a taste, but Logan had other ideas.

The echo of his belt undoing seared a hole in your chest. Your body vibrated with anticipation—heart hammering a quick timed beat that left you breathless. He pushed you up, the slide of his cock pushing through your glistening lips drew a soft moan to the surface. Your fingers were a tight grip on the sides of the chair, and for a moment you felt a numbing sensation trickle into the palms of your hands.

"She's needy for it huh," Logan boasted, tapping the head against your clit to watch you jump. "So ready to be fucked."

You whined, loud enough to echo off the walls. "P-Please."

"So polite." His hand gripped your hips and in a swift thrust he pushed past your entrance, filling you until your mouth dropped in a pitiful moan. "And fuckin' tight. Don't tell me you like being watched."

A gasp tore from your throat, hips pushing back to take him right down to the base. The burning stretch only helped to drive you even higher. Wade's moans were a muffled chorus in the background, an audience member enjoying his free show. And for a brief moment you opened your eyes to find his gaze.

Tears streamed down his cheeks—agony glistening in his blown out pupils. But it was his cock that grabbed your attention. Purple and strained and aching for someone to touch him. Saliva filled your mouth, a high moan slipping past your parted lips.

"I knew it," Logan grunted, grinding up into you. "My dirty girl. Look at him. He's begging for it."

"L-Logan."

"Give your old man a kiss." He gripped your chin roughly, dragging your lips to his as his tongue invaded your mouth. Sucking the taste of Wade off your tongue with a hoarse moan.

He let you set your own pace, settling back into the chair to give you space and keep you steady. With stunted movements you lifted yourself off his cock and sat back down. A sharp cry bouncing off the walls, each thrust forcing the head of his cock right up against your walls. The slap of skin mixed with Wade's sounds—the wet squelch of your pussy sucking Logan back in echoed filthily in the room.

A sinful euphony of sex that had your toes curling and chest heaving.

Wade's eyes flicked between where the two of you were connected and the bounce of your breasts. The harsh thrusts began to force his cock to jolt—precum pouring into his lap and staining the sheets below. He'd never get tired of this sight. You entirely lost in chasing your pleasure as Logan watched proudly below.

"I-It's hard," you gasped, thighs trembling with each shift.

Logan tutted under his breath. "I know honey. Let me finish for you."

You weren't prepared for the ruthless pace he set. His hands became a vice-like grip on your hips with each pound of his cock into you, the sounds you made nowhere near anything you'd heard before. He fucked you without mercy. Every thrust punctuated with a biting growl—his cock slamming repeatedly into that perfect spot along your walls.

Nails ripped at the chair's arms, your body a shaking mess in his hold, and you could barely see straight in front of you. Wrenching your eyes open, you focused on Wade—your mouth forming a permanent shriek of Logan's name that closer you got to shattering. You watched him struggle to free his hands. His body trembling on the edge of the bed.

"Bet he can't fuck you like this," Logan spit, his teeth bared in a snarl. "Watch and fuckin' learn mouth."

"Logan!" you sobbed, the hot swell of tears spilling rapidly down your cheeks. "I'm gonna. Oh f-fuck–"

"Yeah you are." He yanked you back, his teeth setting into the skin of your shoulder, forming another ringed mark that would serve as a reminder to who you belonged to. A mark of his claim imprinted in your flesh.

The swift slap to your clit wrenched a choked sob from your throat, your eyes rolling back with the second hit. You held onto the edge by the skin of your teeth, your hands moving to grip his wrist. Breath became obsolete with each move and with a harsh third slap you broke with a garbled moan of his name. A wet gush splattered against your thigh, your body shaking viscerally in his tight hold as he came with a broken whine.

The harsh thrusts forced another wave of searing bliss through your body, a second stream of cum spilling onto the hardwood floors. Your eyes were blurred with tears, mouth sucking in sharp gasps, but Wade's pain muffled cry drew your attention back to the present moment.

His hips bucked up into nothing, eyes rolled back and spit drooling down his shirt. The veins of his neck were strained with each shift of his body—for a moment you worried he would choke. Until he came with a muddled shout, cum shooting up to his torso and splashing beneath his chin. The mere sight of it had you clenching down around Logan - your mouth parted in complete awe.

"Shit," Logan gasped, eyes wide and cheeks flushed crimson.

"C-Can I?"

He tapped your thigh. "Go on honey."

On shaky legs you practically fell to the floor and dragged yourself towards Wade. Your mouth immediately swallowing his cock with a hazy sigh—tongue licking up the heady taste of his cum. It slid down your throat, warmed the insides of your body. And Wade looked down at you with eyes full of adoration. A sight you'd never seen him wear in your presence.

Logan shuffled to his feet, quickly moving to undo the restraints. Only for Wade's hands to press against your head—shoving his softened cock down your throat with a soft fuck.

"You guys would make a fucking fortune on Only Fans," he grunted, another spurt of warmth spilling into your mouth.

Logan growled. "Count yourself lucky mouth. She may not want this again."

You grinned, pulling off to press a messy kiss to the still leaking tip. "This was fun." Your voice was hoarse, body covered in a sheen of sweat, yet they regarded you with an emotion you felt weigh heavy at the base of your chest.

A feeling you never believed might occur in your life.

"Logan?" The warmth of his hand spread down to your chest when he cupped your face, swiping at the mess on your lips. "How about that breakfast?"

"Anythin' for you honey," he vowed.

"You guys ever seen the movie Oklahoma?" Wade butted in, his forehead knocking gently against yours before Logan pulled you to your feet.

You laughed, dizzy from the high that still coursed through your veins. A flannel was draped over your shoulders, fingers working to button them up before he got frustrated.

"Might inspire a second round of teacher, teacher, student."

A breathy giggle was muffled against Logan's lips in a swift kiss. "Isn't that musical?"

"It's not just a musical sweet angel. It's a lifestyle. Literally for some people who live in well...Oklahoma."

Logan groaned, dragging you behind him in an attempt to stop the conversation short. You merely called over your shoulder in response. Wade stumbled after you buck naked—his shirt and sweats discarded on the floor in favor of giving the world a view yet to be forgotten. You eyed his chest with a smile, even as Logan palmed your ass to bring you closer.

"Play it." You grinned, hand sliding down to cup Logan through his jeans. "We'll see what happens."

"For fucks sake."

note: i don't even know if this is good. but i hope y'all enjoyed it. drink some water!

[littlegeecko]

Ah! I have so many questions,, gahhh. What I meant by refreshing is that I don't really see people depict Telamon as crazy as he should be! It's morbid in a cool way!!! It's a very new and interesting take

Another question! What kinda relationship does Dusekkar and Telamon have? What dynamic do they have going on? They seem like friends, or at the very least the trust seems to be there

Aww thank you, again i'm happy there's people that like my stuff, sometimes i get a little intense with the stuff i write (mostly why i stick to shitposting and lighter stuff haha) but it's great to see my Telamon and 1x1 stuff got some good first impressions : ]

Also, I've been thinking about it, but here's what i have about them so far! (Could change in the future if it clashes too much with the Forsaken Dusekkar & Shed lore or i feel like changing it)

Dusekkar, or Matthew Dusekkar (Yea, different name for the sake of my mental health haha) was offered to Telamon as a blood sacrifice, and while Telamon kinda laughed at this at first he eventually found out how Different this one was.

May i mention, Matt is NOT a robloxian (equivalent of full-human), the pumpkin heads are a humanoid species of sorts, so Telamon had a lighter hand with him from the start.

He kinda treated him like a court jester for the laughs at the start, getting him to do little tricks for him or show him what he knew about magic, and sometimes like a sand bag to "toughen him up" for a battle, even if Dusekkar is not the type for hand-to-hand combat and swordfighting primarily in comparison to his wizard powers he's still pretty skilled in that regard thanks to Telamon, bro's a twig but built like a titanium rod that could cave your skull in easy (this is relevant)

The thing is, just like Telamon was teaching Matt how to "be of use around here", Matt was also sharing things with Telamon; more especifically books, food, general knowledge about what's Below The Clouds, Music and even a light conversation once in a while, all of this fascinated Telamon bit by bit, becoming more and more prone to indulging in such vanal, mortal things for fun, and slowly but surely Matt was not only some sorta right-hand man for Telamon, but also a confidant, a friend even

---Also is Telamon's fault Matt gets so fucked up on wine nowadays.

Matt was often the link between Telamon and the Below, letting the admins know about his terms and conditions on how the Heights should be handled once the people started rolling in to fight for the funsies or train, eventually, Telamon joined their side officially, and the two were an inseparable duo that everyone on the admins group knew about- they were like two of the most fucking dangerous dogs you've ever seen simply hanging out and laughing at the stupidiest things only they understand, but could easily snap someone's neck in an instant if necessary (or for fun, in Telamon's case)

Telamon spared Matt's life multiple times during sparrings because he talked back to him, even spat at him a few times, bared his teeth and burned him with his head flames, took the blows like a champ too and saying "if you're gonna kill me then just do it" no balls bro, which simply fascinated the bird man, no one EVER yelled back at him, this one had guts huh? funny pumpkin man, i like that!

Mercy however, comes with a price:

Matt has been by Telamon's side for so long, he has seen people come and go, had seen him create and destroy over and over again, and somehow, they understood each other in a way no one else could, their connection became unique, a friendship and trust so strong it changed them both...at the cost of 1x1x1x1 becoming a thing.

But i suppose it was their fate. Written on the stars

How funny, pumpkin man became tough, and bird man became soft, get changed by love idiots!!!!

(may i add, their relationship in my au (both with Shed and Telamon) is exclusively platonic :J idc if some of yall ship em to an extent, but that's my jist, i loooove meaningful non-romantic friendships!!!!)

Anyway ty for reading :3

[cosmic-kid-in-motion]

Better

Old Man! Logan x fem!reader

Masterlist

Pioneer AU prompt from @princessanglophile 's birthday event!

Summary: While preparing to hunker down at his homestead, Logan seeing you out in the cold, and takes mercy. What he doesn't know is you're full of surprises.

Warning: Nothing much. Mention of animal death (horse) and reading being wary of Logan's potential t be dangerous, but he's actually a soft!

A/n: My first fic on this account! Formerly @romanarose and @romana-after-dark, I'm transfering over here! This, however is brand new content!

Dividers by @olenvasynyt

1.3k words

All Logan ever wanted, all he ever fucking asked for was for some peace and quiet. 

He had a good life here, a simple life! A little acreage, some land to farm and a few animals. He was mostly self-sustaining, but sometimes he’d take his extra food and go into town to do some trading. While he had plenty of food and made much of his own clothes, there were things he couldn’t grow. With his body aging, it was growing increasingly beneficial to keep some more medicine around to alive his aches and pains, or fight off an illness he could no longer power through a work day alone. 

He liked it like this. Yes it was long hours in the hot sun, and yes he was completely alone, but that last part was a benefit, not a negative.

Logan was alone, and he liked it that way. 

Then you showed up and threw that whole peaceful existence away.

In your defense, you weren’t TRYING to get stranded, but still. Here you were.

Logan stood on the porch of his small house watching a blizzard roll in when he saw you.

“Jesus fuck’n christ.” He murmured before stubbing out his cigar and grabbing his winter coat. Logan maybe be a cantankerous old fuck, but he wasn’t completely heartless. He saw what he thought was a man trekking in the wildness in a blizzard, and took off to guide him to his home, knowing full well he’d be stuck with them for a few days.

Imagine his surprise when he took hold of you in the biting wind, only to find a sweet young face looking at him. You couldn’t be more than 25, eyes weary, but alight with fear and a determination to survive. You didn’t ask questions when he yelled “FOLLOW ME” above the wind, and yanked you along the path to his homestead.

Cold, wet, and wrapped in a blanket, you sit shivering by the fire.

Logan stood with his arms crossed above you. “You’re gonna get pneumonia if you stay in this wet clothes, darl’n.”

Your response was surprising, but so were most things about you. The fact you were a woman, for one. “Like hell I’m getting undressed in front of a man I don’t know!”

“Ha!” His tone was blatantly a mockery. “Ma’am, respectfully, if I had wanted to do the things you are thinking of, I could do them right now. I don’t need you to undress yourself.” But then he saw your brave face falter, fear flashing in your eyes. He sighed, grabbing some clean, warm clothes from the dresser in the one room. When he came back, his tone was more gentle. “Listen, I ain’t gonna hurt yuh, I promise. I’ll step out and have a smoke, you get dressed.

Part of him expected you to say it’s okay, just go to the bathroom, but it seems you were willing to let him sit outside in a blizzard while you changed. Logan hadn’t been able to get much out of you, but honestly he hadn’t tried much either. Still, when the two of you were settled in the warmth of the fire, he couldn’t help his curiosity.

“You gonna tell me what a nice young lady like you is doing out traveling by herself?”

You look up to glare at him. “How do you know I’m nice?”

Logan smiled at that, he liked a girl with some wit about her. “Fine, what’s a stupid young girl-”

“I’m not stupid!” You were indignant, and he was laughing. Heat grew under your skin.

“Then just fucking tell me how you ended up in a damn blizzard walking.”

If you were shocked by his swearing, you didn’t show it. Your anger settled into frustration. “My horse died maybe two miles back. I got lost.”

His eyebrows raised at that. “You’re tell’n me you walked two miles in this weather!? What was your plan?”

“My plan was to keep moving and not die with my HORSE!” Your shout took Logan by surprise, and he decided to not poke the bear.

There was silence as your words hung in the air, but you didn’t back down from glaring at him.

“That’s might impressive, darl’n if I do say so myself.”

And just like that, he swore he saw you melt. “Thank you.”

“You wanna tell me what you’re running from that’s got you out in this weather, or will that earn me a verbal lashing too.” But this time, there was a bit more play to his voice.

You held up your chin like a challenge. “My parents insisted I marry a man twice my age, I thought he was gross, so I simply left.”

Logan burst out a laugh at that, raising an eyebrow. “Scared of old men, are you?”

But it was the way you didn’t immediately say no that got Logan wondering if there was more to you than he thought.

You didn’t blink when you replied, a small smile on your lips. “Not always...”

*

The evening passed with much less tension, laughing with each other as you shared the details of the “gross old man” and the subsequent running away. Logan admired your preparedness. You didn’t just take off on the stolen horse; you packed bags secretly over the course of weeks, taking what you needed from your parents before riding off one night. When the snow thawed, he’d take you to your dead horse to retrieve the items before taking you to town.

The problem was going to be the nighttime.

“No!” 

“I can’t give you half my blankets, darl’n, we’ll both freeze!”

“I’m not sharing a bed with a man! What sort of lady do you think I am!”

“I don’t give a shit!” Logan huffed, getting under the covers. “Make your damn choice. I don’t care.”

You mumbled some choice words, then grabbed a book off the bookcase. “I’ll just read by the fire!”

“Whatever you say, dear.” And he went to sleep. Or tried to. When he woke up an hour later, you were curled up in the chair shivering and shaking on the chair. He sighed. Logan took half his blankets and laid them on you. The bed was damn cold.

*

The second night, you stood above the bed he laid in, considering. “That chair is uncomfortable.”

“Yeah. I’m aware. Comfortable in here. Warm too.”

“... And you aren’t going to try anything?”

“Not unless you beg me to.” He says with a smile. “I don’t go where I’m not wanted.”

Hesitant still, you crawl under where Logan lifts the blankets. You sleep tight.

*

“I’m fucking cold!” The way you picked up on the swearing was a bit of a shock, but a fun one. You and Logan lay under the sheets, trying to sleep.

“Yeah no shit. Whose idea was it to start a snowball fight? Not mine.”

“I didn’t start it!”

“You did too! Now you’re complaining because you lost.”

“You threw me into the snow!”

“That was your own fault.”

Honestly, he could’ve taken you to town today. But the two of you decided it was ‘just so cold out’ and ‘the poor horses!’ so you decided to wait another day or two for it to melt and warm up. Logan felt like you were stalling, but he was too. He liked having you here.

You scooch back on the bed, closer to him.

“That better?” Logan asks you, resisting the urge to pull you up against him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted you, but he wasn’t an animal.

You pout. “No.” You move again, body pressed against him, and Logan represses a shiver. You were so warm, even under the layers of clothing.

“Better?” His voice is lower now… testing the waters.

You, in turn, are quiet. A shuddering breath. “No.”

He’s tentative, moving slow as his arms wrapped around you. Logan’s face nuzzles against your cheek, beard scratching against your soft skin.

“Better?”

He feels you smile against him. “Yes, much better.”

Thank you to everyone whose followed me from my other accounts, and to everyone new here!

tagging those who may be interested, ill get a tag list going at some point after i move everything over from ym old stuff!

@old-logan-and-old-joels-slut @my-secret-shame

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Hey Derin, can I ask you a question or two about publishing? (If no, close your eyes for the next bit and click near where you remember the delete button was.)

I'm writing something with the dream of publishing it one day and I'm considering all avenues at this stage. What led you to publishing serially online? What are the pros of your experience doing that?

Asking you because I was looking over your site earlier today and thinking about how comfortable a place the internet feels - less of a big step than traditional publishing, or even putting out a whole story at once for self-publishing.

I've never pursued trad publishing and have no plans to ever do so, it was immediately obvious that it wasn't for me, so I can't give you like, comparisons. I only even got into indie publishing because my readers were demanding ebooks and paperbacks so I just shrugged and got them made. Sometimes I get asked trad vs. indie publishing questions that I do not have the experience to answer.

This question, though, I can answer. I didn't sit down and go "how should I publish these? Online, or through a trad publisher, or what?" I approached web serial writing directly as a career without considering publishing my writing as books at all; that was never on the radar until the readers wanted them. And the reason I started writing a web serial was simple -- it was a hobby that suited my lifestyle.

I'd written serial fiction before; fanfiction, some r/hfy stuff, just whatever I felt like, and I had a serious problem experienced by many casual writers -- I tended not to finish stuff. The stuff that had never made it to the web was even worse; I had so many novels in progress on my hard drive that I'd gotten to the end of the first act of, before moving onto a new idea. I needed something to do with my time (I'd moved back to my hometown to spend time with my dying grandfather and was unemployed) and posting a web serial with a strict schedule and a patreon seemed like the best way to force myself to actually finish my stories. If a handful of people were giving me a couple of buck a month, I wouldn't be able to just drift off to something else; I'd have to finish the story.

And it worked. I got a new job and wrote Curse Words on my off weeks, then that job ended and my Patreon was paying my new mortgage and suddenly this was just kind of my job now. And then enough people were asking for ebooks and paperbacks that I had to figure out how to make those happen. And this is kind of my life now I guess.

In terms of pros I would say:

Low barrier to entry/small steps of progression: You can just start publishing on a website for free whenever you want. You can make your own website for free and publish on that (I did). It takes five minutes or less to learn how to do and you don't need to buy anything. Your time commitment is mostly Writing The Story, which is presumably what you want to be spending your time on anyway. If you do it for 2 months and decide you hate it? You can stop. No harm, no foul.

No boss: You're beholden to your patrons and nobody else. You can write whatever the fuck you want, wherever the fuck you want, however often you want. The only deadline is the schedule that you yourself set, and you can set it to suit your lifestyle.

Payment model: The patreon/ko-fi sponsorship model is vastly superior, in my opinion, to making money via book sales. There's too many factors involved to really say if you make more or less money on Patreon, but what it has is predictability. Patrons come and go, but slowly. I can predict my monthly income from my supporters to within a hundred dollars or so. This is a massive advantage when you have bills to pay. Book sales surge unpredictably, and while you can bank on things like advances if you go the trad publishing route, these are few and far between.

Time: There are minimal delays in web serial publishing. No waiting months or years at a time for your book to chew through the machinery of a publisher, no long delays as your agent works or contracts are negotiated. Indie publishing is faster but still has far more delays than web serial publishing; most notably, you have to write the entire book first, often with little idea of how well it's going to perform. I don't do well with waiting periods or having to coordinate timing with others, so web serial publishing works best for me.

Marketability: Web serials have a far smaller audience than books, but they're also easier to market to that audience. For one thing, they're usually free, and it's a lot easier to convince someone to try a free story instead of buying one. For another, their one-chapter-at-a-time nature feels like less of a commitment and less intimidating to some people, even though they are traditionally much longer than books tend to be. Also, their chapter-by-chapter nature allows speculation and jokes and fanart and stuff to be spread while the story is still going, which is great marketing, especially when readers end up talking about it far longer than they would talk about a book (because they're reading it chapter-by-chapter for far longer).

But the biggest advantage in marketability is what I call 'rolling weight enthusiasm'.

When you're pushing a cart or something, it takes a lot of effort to get started, but once you're cruising at a consistent speed, you can rely on momentum to do half the work for you. You can build more and more speed with the same effort, because a rolling weight is maintaining that momentum. Writing a web serial is a lot like that; the consistent release schedule means that if you can get people invested, it's much easier to keep them invested, because they're waiting a very short period of time (a few days to a week, depending on your release schedule) to get more of the story. If you're releasing books, there might be more than a year between releases; you can keep a dedicated audience interested for that long, but it's much harder to hold onto the casual readers. There are so, so many book series that I've only read half of because at some point a new book was released and I didn't notice. If you write and publish books, you have to do a big part of the marketing all over again to let people know that the next one is out. Web serials don't have this problem. When's the next chapter out? soon enough that the previous chapter is still fresh in your mind. soon enough that you probably don't have time to finish the fanart this one made you think of.

Immediate feedback: Another great thing about web serials is that you can watch the audience reaction in real time. Not only that but, unlike with a book that people read all at once, you get very detailed feedback specific to each chapter. I don't mean people telling you about the story; reader suggestions and 'constructive criticism' is almost universally useless and can generally be thrown out. If you trust somebody's writing and editing skills enough to take feedback from them, you should ask that person directly; random readers are unlikely to be experts and unlikely to have accurate advice.

Instead, watch them discuss it amongst themselves. What did they get right away, and what are they confused about? what did they react most strongly to; is the dominant emotional reaction to the various characters vaguely in line with what you intended? Check the theories; how well are they predicting future events? (If everyone is guessing the Big Twist, then you need to put more effort into selling it so that it's not a let down; the less surprising a twist is, the better the writing has to be to pull it off. But if nobody is guessing the Big Twist, then you have insufficiently foreshadowed it. You're looking for a very high population of readers being accurate about the information they're expected to have gleaned, and a small population being accurate about twists and stuff, and you want that small population to grow as they get closer to the twist.) Checking these reactions can give you a better idea of what you need to emphasise, clarify, or foreshadow in the text.

[drdemonprince]

i recently joined a discord server for a kink ive held my entire life and repressed out of shame, something i thought i would ever do in my life. initially it was really great, the reception was awesome and i had a lot of euphoria being in that space! but literally for the first time in my life, i stopped being aroused by that kink. i have had waves of sex repulsion come and go but this was not it, it was like nothing. which scared me a little bit, because i did not want to feel that way. i sort of had to retrain myself to be aroused by it but it doesn’t feel like to the same degree, and was wondering if there is possibly any explanation for this kind of occurrence bc it was very new to me

Is it possible you are getting "the ick" because the reality of your long-buried shame-filled fantasy is a lot more mundane and, frankly, unsexy than the forbidden and impossible seeming stuff that plays in between your ears when you're jerking off?

I think that sometimes our shame and the intense emotional charge of our inner erotic lives can lead us to romanticize what we are into (even if half of the romance is a dark sorrow over how our kinks are forbidden). And then, once we're in an actual kink community talking to guys in utility kilts with crumbs in their beards about manga and shit in between scenes, things suddenly don't seem so scary or alluring anymore, and our desire dries right up. You might even think to yourself something like: this is it? And wonder why you spend so much goddamned time agonizing over your kinks, if realizing them was just going to look like attending a grungy potluck and making out with someone who tastes like cigarettes and Mr Pibb.

At times, a similar revulsion has happened to me, Anon. I spent so many years cooking up a gauzy, illicit fantasy of hypnotically surrendering to an owner who would take hold of my entire body and mind (all while beating myself up for wanting such a dark thing) that then I was turned off when I finally got to venture into the real-life hypnokink community and mostly saw a bunch of novelty party-tricks being exchanged noncommittally between perfectly nice, tame, safe, unvillainous people. I wasn't going to get kidnapped, drugged, and brainwashed by Hannibal Lecter like I'd always hoped/feared; to realize my hypnotic fantasies I'd have to fucking network with a bunch of normal-ass people, and hopefully find some nurse's assistant from aurora illinois with three kids and an asthmatic dog who wanted to play around with me for like an hour before getting back to their regular life with all their regular problems. It sometimes felt like so much goddamned work to negotiate a scene that didn't remotely touch the edges of my intense fantasies, and it was all so coated in the material of everyday life that it no longer felt like an escape. The disappointing nature of mundane reality meant that sometimes I wanted to give up and stop trying to realize my fantasies at all.

I'm not sure if this is precisely what is happening for you, Anon, but I do think that after fighting back waves and waves of shame for years and finally succeeding and conquering it, there can be a kind of crash where you're not ashamed of what you wanted anymore, but you are a little ashamed of how much goddamned effort it all was and how much you made it into a Big Deal mentally when it really wasn't a big deal at all. It can feel like a let down, especially if the shame is part of what made the kinky fantasy seem so darkly compelling.

The only way to get over it is to give yourself some time to feel however it is you're going to feel, and maybe take a break from the kink community in question if that's what you'd truly like to do, and then return to it again with more tempered, mundane expectations when you're ready to let the kink just be a silly collaborative improv activity that some humans do together. Or you can go back to furtively writing smut about it, if it's the idea of the fantasy you like more than the reality.

[kingkat12]

i dare you (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: foul language, mentions of sex, slight coercion, mentions of alcohol and tobacco, partying, and roman is too hot for your own good

summary: you have quite the introduction to Roman Godfrey at your first party in Hemlock Grove

word count: 1,902

"I dare you," Letha said with a laugh, having to talk rather loudly to be heard over the stupidly noisy music at the party. 

"Dare me to what?" I wasn't liking the sound of this.

Letha gave me a teasing nudge; "Walk up to the first guy you see, point at his lap and ask if that seat is taken,"

I grimaced as she continued to laugh— this was definitely not a good idea. "Oh, Letha, come on,"

Having only just moved to Hemlock Grove, I had managed to make one good friend before the end of the first week of school. And me being lucky, Letha seemed to be a well-connected, sweet girl who somehow got us into the senior's party. However, this was definitely not what I had imagined I would be doing here.

"Just keep yourself busy!" Letha giggled, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. "I want to go see Peter, I haven't seen him in weeks!" 

I nodded, waving her off as she disappeared into the crowd, her blonde, perfect hair flowing behind her. 

With a slight huff, I decided to accept Letha's dare and just go for it. Fuck it. Closing my eyes, I spun around on my heel, stopping with my body turned towards the sofa in the living-room. As I slowly pried my eyes open again, a little anxious about who I would lay my eyes on first, I felt my worry melt away at the sight of one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen in my life. 

I had no idea how I mustered up the courage to make my way over, but I suddenly found myself standing right before him. I blamed it all on the alcohol. 

The guy slowly turned to me, his big, green eyes meeting mine. I scanned him the same second he scanned me— I revelled in the sight; all from the white shirt to the styled hair, to the way he had spread out comfortably on the couch as he spoke to his friends, oozing with confidence and charm. He put away the beer in his hand, his eyes shimmering with interest. 

I had to go for it. Even if it went to shit, at least Letha would hopefully think I was cool or something. I nodded towards his lap; "Is this seat taken?"

Immediately, his eyes rounded out with a mix of both shock and fascination; I doubted that girls were usually this blunt with him. Not with the amount of sex he exuded, definitely not. However, a rather cocky smirk quickly formed across his plush, pink lips as he shifted in his seat; "Not at all,"

I sat myself down in his lap, beaming with pride. I couldn't believe I had dared to do this. My heart beat hard in my chest as I met the eyes of a few girls passing by, feeling their seething jealousy drill into my system. However, this only gave me more fuel, turning to the stranger I was sitting on top of with a smug smile; "So, what's your name?"

"I'm Roman," he said, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. It was clear that Roman was no stranger to advances from girls, his arm snaking itself around my waist, already taking liberties. "And you are...?"

"New here," I said, trying not think about how massive his hand was against my waist. "It's my first week."

"Ah, makes sense," Roman's smirk only grew, cocking his head to the side as his green eyes sparkled with excitement. "I would've remembered you somehow. And you're a senior?"

I shook my head, giggling; I was getting more drunk on this guy than the tequila Letha had given me. "Definitely not. I just know the right people,"

"I see," Further intrigued, Roman nodded, clearly amused. 

I felt the need to add something; "Is that bad?"

"... Pardon?"

I shrugged, hoping to seem a little nonchalant despite the nature of the question; "That I'm not a senior?"

Roman couldn't help but chuckle, probably sensing I'd had a little much to drink. He took the opportunity to pull me closer, his other hand now resting comfortably on my thigh. I felt his hot breath against my ear; "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone,"

I felt my cheeks flush at the sound of his low, husky voice, once again visiting the question of what-the-hell-has-gotten-into-me. "Thanks," I breathed, hoping not to sound too taken with him. 

"Won't tell a soul," Roman continued, voice warm like syrup, his fingers now rubbing small circles into my thigh. "Your dirty little secret is safe with me."

My body gave in to a slight shiver— how had I managed to find the smoothest talker at this party and planted myself right in his lap? "I suppose I owe you, then,"

This only seemed to delight him further, emitting another warm chuckle. But despite Roman's charming presence and how easy he was to talk to, I couldn't help but notice the twinge of something darker in his eyes, an inkling of danger poking through his exterior. And maybe it was the fact that his cologne had a subtle hint of tobacco and spice, adding an extra layer to the dangerous allure that surrounded him, but I knew it was too late nonetheless. "I suppose you do," he said, my body now pressed flush against him. "Would you care if I cash in my debt right away?"

"And what would that entail?" I hoped I didn't sound too excited.

"Oh, nothing crazy," Roman said, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear like it was the most casual thing in the world. "Just a little something that will have you begging for us to find a room."

My eyes widened with intrigue, letting out a laugh. "You seem awfully sure about that last part," My smile widened as he now ran his fingers through my hair, despite his hands being cold to the touch.

Roman bit back a smirk, his hand tightening in my hair as if to keep me in place. "What, you don't believe me, or something?"

I suppressed another laugh, his confidence humouring me. "A little kiss has never been enough to unravel my morals, that's all--" My words came to a halt as Roman dipped down to press a soft kiss on my neck, making my breath hitch. Feeling my pulse quicken, my eyes darted down to the hand he had on my thigh, realizing it had inched further up. This was definitely not going to end well for me. 

"Oh, really?" He seemed to be rather humoured as well, smiling against my neck as he went in for another kiss, leaving behind a wet mark which set my skin on fire. Roman kissed up my jawline, leaving me breathless; he gently pressed his lips against my cheek before using the hand in my hair to turn me to him. "Let's put that to the test, shall we?" 

I didn't have time to ponder if I'd gone crazy, letting out a shaky breath as I met his green gaze. Had this been any other guy, I would've never even considered it. But damn it, his lips looked so, so soft... I watched as his cocky smirk returned, how his eyes darkened with lust, and suddenly, I didn't even have time to give him an answer; he nudged his nose against mine, and our lips came together, soft and open. 

Somehow, no one had ever kissed me like this before. The previous guys I had kissed made it feel like getting pushed squarely on the mouth and pushing back, but Roman was so insistent-- this was heaven. His lips were soft, almost silken, against my own, but there was still a hint of desire which had me hooked. I let out a small sigh of relief against him, feeling a familiar warmth spread in my chest all the way to my fingertips, aching to be closer in any way possible. 

Roman's kisses were all taking. Like he was drawing something out of me which I didn't know could be stolen. I brought my fingers up to his hair, feeling my brain shut down at the hint of cigarettes and alcohol I felt against my tongue. 

And there was something about him which had me genuinely considering if I should ask to find a damn room-- I wanted to be tangled up in him for as long as I could. I wanted to feel his hand further up my thigh, between my legs, his long fingers inside of me, tending to the need which was building in my body. 

Judging by the way he was kissing me, I had an inkling he wanted that as well. Wanted to be closer, inseparable, to melt together and be as one, no matter where we were. At this point, I didn't really care that we were in a rather crowded room at a huge party. I didn't care that I had met him just a few minutes ago, that I hadn't even told him my name yet, that I knew nothing more about him than the fact that his name was Roman and that he had the biggest pair of hands I had ever felt against my body.

I was about to pull away and sink as far down as to ask, when I heard a familiar voice call my name with outrage. Sort of jumping out of my delirium, I turned to Letha who stood over me with parted lips of shock; "What the-- No, no," She grabbed my arm, getting me up on my feet before she looked over my shoulder, giving Roman a harsh glare. "Roman, for fuck's sake! Not this again!"

He let out a satisfied sigh, sliding a little further down the couch as he laughed; "Hey, Letha," 

I was getting dizzy. Did they know each other? 

Letha turned back to me, steadying my wobbling knees. "I see you've met my cousin," she mumbled, rolling her eyes. "When I dared you to sit down on someone, I should've probably specified not to do it on him."

Roman let out another chuckle, clearly amused as he looked back and forth at the both of us. "Come on, I'm not so bad?" He turned to one of his friends, reaching for something the other guy was holding. 

He was definitely not bad. Not at all. It was almost as though I could still feel his lips ghosting over mine, the soft pressure of his tongue in my mouth-- I did my best to shake it off. I wasn't brought back to the situation until I suddenly felt a tingling feeling against my hand. I glanced down, catching Roman in the act of writing something down on the inside of my wrist, making Letha groan; "Roman!" she hissed, tugging on my other hand. "We're leaving!" 

"Fine," Roman looked up at me with a rather mischievous look before he slowly let go of my hand, leaving me with a pleasant burning sensation on my skin. 

Before I could even protest, I was pulled away from the couch, feeling my heart sink. It was only when I turned around, meeting his gaze one last time, that I felt my mood shoot right up through the roof; call me, he mouthed.

I immediately brought my wrist up to my face when we left the living room, a beaming smile spreading across my lips when I realized he had written his number on me. 

Fuck, yes. 

[slater-baby]

Texas Red Update!!

Okay guys let's FINALLY address the elephant in the room. First of all, I wanna get your most burning question out of the way: I HAVE BEEN WRITING IT THIS WHOLE TIME LMAO Like I said, I don't abandon works. I might let them sit for a while, but I have never thought of abandoning Texas Red, nor will I ever. That being said, however, I have some relatively important reasons for not having released the next chapter yet. Here they are so that you guys understand!!!

Okay so, in terms of story creation, we've gotten through the first arc. We're entering the second (which will have some important changes to the first). However, for those of you that aren't aware, I've written Texas red entirely without any planning. Everything you've read thus far? Made it up as I went along lmao. Usually, it can work out pretty well. However, we've reached a part of the story where there actually needs to be concrete plans and resolutions, and I hit a goddamn wall on that front.

I changed the ending of the book (and, yes, it's literally novel length already--my estimates place the final word count somewhere between 250-350K words in total). My original thoughts about what the ending were had to change given what was already written, so.....basically had to refigure how I'm gonna get us from point A to point B in the story. NOTHING ABOUT WHATS ALREADY WRITTEN HAS CHANGED!! It's only future events that I've had to reconsider.

Idk if any of you have picked up on the messaging I'm trying to convey through the characters just yet, but in the second act, the theme of the story is a BIG, BIG thing!! Like, it's both fun, exciting, adventurous, and complicated. On one hand, it's going to be a lot of action, but on the other, it requires creating caricatures I've never considered before--mostly in reference to moral concepts.

My real life is HELLA complicated. Writing isn't what I do for a living, and sometimes, finding the time to be online is pretty difficult. Basically, I'm busy as fuck, this year is crazy for me, and I've been dealing with helllaaaaaa writer's block.

So there you have it folks!! There is good news though. Why, you might ask yourself, did I wait so long to make this post? Why didn't I make this post like a month ago? Well, I have an answer for you.

Chapter 20 will be released VERY soon!

I've rewritten it several times over, still don't exactly like where it is right now, but this chapter has been a huge work in progress. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to things like this, and I'm not going to release a story/chapter to all of you people if I don't believe in it. Your passion and support guys are my biggest motivation for writing, and to do that enthusiasm justice, I won't lie to you if I think my own story craft isn't up to par.

So, in short, I'm sorry for making y'all wait this long, but!!!

We are back!!

[pro-depresanti]

Hi ;-) may i Request a OS with Val x female reader when reader gets jealous of the attention he pays to his fav toy while lunch break?

Again, I'm so sorry this took so long, this has been sitting in the drafts almost finished, I genuinely forgot it existed. Hope it was worth the wait!

Tags: fem!Reader, possessive behavior (kinda), fear kink (kinda???), mirror smut, fingering, size kink (but that's a given lol), roofies (NOT used on the Reader)

___

It's a well known fact Valentino isn't the type to settle down in any sense of the word. He's always looking for something new, whether that be substances, whores, or kinks. You're used to it, there's no other option but to accept that that's just who Val is.

You are no whore, however. It's evident in the way he doesn't let anyone as much as glance your way with hungry eyes and live to tell the tale. You're his, and that's final. That's why you aren't one of his actors. The only reason you come into the studio is to keep Valentino entertained during boring sessions and for an honest second opinion, nothing else. The thought of you participating in a shoot doesn't enter neither yours, nor Val's mind.

And, you know how Val recruites new workers. Charm, charisma, flirting, empty promises, poured to the brim glasses, vulgar words and touches, you know all of his tricks.

The film scenario for the day is pretty straight forward – a naive and innocent princess gets lost in the woods and gets destroyed by the big and scary forest monster.

The princess is a brand new actress, and has much to learn, fumbles over words, trips, flails around ungracefully, is dramatic even by porn's standards. You find it odd how understanding and patient Val is with her, but hey, that's just his tactic sometimes, trying not to scare her off from the get go. The illusion of glamour has to stay for at least a bit.

The woman in question is some kind of aquatic demon. Big expressive eyes, scales that blend into the bridge of her nose and cheeks like freckles, long wavy hair, small hands with webs between the fingers. She's more cute than sexy, perfect for the role. She still has that spark in her eyes, the promise of fame and glory fresh on her mind, thinking that she will be the new star of Hell, that Val will fall in love with her and they will live happily ever after.

Today just isn't a good shooting day. The other actor, a bear demon that's almost as tall as Val and with forearms as thick as your waist has no idea how to remove the corset the actress is wearing. Tearing the ribbon that's tying it proves just as difficult.

Eventually, Val is so pissed off he calls another actor for replacement. While waiting for the other guy to show up, Valentino calls for a lunch break, which is an oddity even in itself. Ugh, you'd have to deal with pissed off Val the whole evening once the shooting is wrapped up for the day.

"Did I do something wrong?" The actress asks. She actually looks nervous, poor thing. She'll learn soon enough to shut the fuck up if Val isn't in the mood.

"Oh no no, baby, you're doing just amazing," Valentino replies sweetly.

He's really pushing his good guy act on this one. He even bends down to fix up her corset that's now unsymmetrically tied from all the pulling and yanking. The woman giggles like a damn schoolgirl getting the first compliment in her life.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow when Val leads her over and gestures for her to sit in his chair. He then crouches down in front of her, resting his top set of forearms on her knees and looking up at her far too lovingly for your liking.

"Let's get you something to eat while we wait, yeah? Or a drink, to loosen up those nerves?"

She smiles back. "A Manhattan would be nice."

Valentino nods. "Right on it."

He actually goes to get her a damn cocktail. Valentino, the Overlord of Lust and Depravity, goes to get a cocktail for some wannabe–

"He's so nice, isn't he?" She tells you, kicking her legs happily. "All my friends were like 'don't sell your soul, he's going to use and abuse you', yadda yadda, but he's not like that! He just puts on a scary persona so people respect him more!"

You nod along. Sure, sure, Val is just a misunderstood guy with a heart of gold that he keeps locked up and saved just for her. Two weeks before her dreams shatter, tops.

"I can't believe I'm actually here! I've always wanted to be on TV! It's all so fancy, and the guy who did my makeup was super nice too! Look at that winged eyeliner! I actually feel like a princess!"

Mm-hmm, a real princess would totally wear a dress that's so short it barely covers half of her ass. Whatever, she can dream all she wants, it's none of your business. You won't be the one to ruin her hope, it will happen naturally.

You've heard it all before. The new recruits, especially the women, usually gravitate towards you during the breaks, since you're the only one here not fussing over equipment or high out of your mind. You make yourself approachable, adding yet another layer to the illusion. It's the same song and dance every time, and you're used to playing along with whatever lies Valentino has personally crafted for each one.

"But enough about me, what about you? You've been sitting here the entire time, don't you have work to do?"

You freeze up. Who the fuck does she thinks she is??? But, apparently she takes your flabbergasted silence for an invitation to continue blabbering.

"I mean, when I saw you I assumed you'd be part of the crew, setting up the lights or something. You don't strike me as one of the actors, you know? It's just a gut feeling, you don't look the part. Val wants only the prettiest girls for his projects, right? The men can be the ugliest creatures imaginable and no one would care, it's all about the women being top of the line. Val's been telling me everything about his work, I know a thing or two. I just figured you'd be... working on something behind the camera? So, what's your job?"

She is high on something, right? There's no way she just said that to the demon who's spent the entire time sitting right besides Val. Obviously she wouldn't be this stupid, right?!

You plaster on a smile. Now who isn't fit for an actor? "Oh, I'm Val's personal assistant. Help him with ideas, review scripts," you squint playfully, lowering your tone, "keep him company at night. It's a lot of work, really, I barely catch a blink of sleep, if you know what I mean." It's cheesey as all hell, but all scripts must be adjusted to the likes of the audience.

She laughs forcefully. "Funny, I haven't heard anything about you." Obviously, Val has to make every new bitch think they're the cream of the crop, he wouldn't be boasting around that the position is taken.

Speak of the Devil, Val finally reappears. He hands the actress the glass, and you don't comment on the ever so slight pink hue of the alcohol. It's on her to accept a drink from a pimp.

Val looks at you. "Oh, you two met? Say, what do you think? She's a natural, isn't she?" You've heard that tone before, the drawn out words, the fake smile and the ever so slight squint of his eyes.

"Yeah. You've gotten yourself a catch."

The woman smiles, her perfect teeth contasting with her lipstick. She sips on her cocktail, completely oblivious that in five minutes she won't be able to think straight. "Thanks for the drink."

"Only the best for my future stars." If he doesn't stop soon this woman's ego is going to get bigger than Vox's, which says a lot. "I have so many plans for you, just you wait."

With how behind schedule they are this movie better break some records to compensate. The opening section taking the entire morning was entirely on her.

"Speaking of plans," Val continues, "we should go out tonight, to celebrate your debut. There's this new restaurant I've been meaning to visit. You can come to my room after the shooting to freshen up."

The actress squeaks. Literally squeaks like a dog chew toy. You mentally scream. Val hasn't taken you on a date in a long while because he's so busy. But he has time for her?! She's already signed the contract, no need being this extra. "Yeah– yes, of course, Val! I'll be flattered!"

"And when are we going on a date?" You throw in, phrasing it as a joke as best as you can through the agitation.

"No one is talking to you, darling," the actress scoffs. Sheesh, high school bully much?

You're left speechless. You glance at Valentino, then at the new whore, then back at him, expecting some sort of reaction. Val has killed for less disrespect towards you before, what the hell?!

"Good," Val coos, as if he hasn't heard anything. "Wait." He grabs her chin. "Your lipstick is smudged."

She gasps dramatically. "Where, I didn't–" she's pulled into a kiss before she can finish the sentence. And, you stare. Val gives kisses sparingly, he has to keep some things actually intimate after all, so the gesture feels extra special. You blink, dumbfounded as they exchange tongues and spit. You haven't seen him kiss anyone, besides you and Vox, in ages. What the actual fuck has gotten into him?!

"There," Val says innocently when he pulls back, caressing her face. "Better get that fix it." He stands up and shouts for the makeup artist.

She nods and skips, fucking skips to the dressing rooms.

Once out of sight, Valentino stares you dead in the eyes, fake smile dropping. "What's with that look on your face?"

"Nothing?"

"You think I'm blind?!" He snaps. Well, he would be considered legally blind, but you aren't stupid enough to voice that out.

"No– no, just, I don't know what you're talking about."

Val nods slowly. "Mm-hmm, you're not looking at her like you're about to drag her by the hair through the entire floor."

"I'm not–" you say sharply. Val just grabs you by the arm and pulls you to one of the empty dressing rooms. The door shuts with a bang behind you, the giant mirror rattling as you're thrown onto the floor.

Val stares you down, expression neutral, which is his equivalent of 'five seconds away from tearing someone apart'. "Stand up," he commands, voice leveled.

You scramble to your feet, fighting every instinct not to curl in to yourself. It will do you no good. Your gaze stays locked to the ground.

"My eyes are up here, amorcito."

You bring your head up to look at him, clenching your fists by your sides.

"Now," he says slowly, "let's try this again. What is your problem?"

"Nothing!"

He cups your cheek. "I can't let you run your mouth in public. You sit, you smile, you look pretty. That's your job. So, pray tell," claws dig dangerously close to your eye, "what has gotten into you today?"

"I–" you try to take a deep breath to calm down, "I– it's nothing, really, I swear!"

He bends down, squinting at you like he's trying to read your thoughts. You gulp, heart racing, not daring to even blink.

You don't know what's the right answer he expects, and knowing him, anything you say could be turned against you if he's in the mood to take his anger out. You settle on the safest option, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, it won't happen again."

He tilts his head, frowning. "But you did nothing wrong, why are you apologizing?" His tone drips like honey, thick and slow and overly sweet.

You swallow the dryness in your throat. "I– I shouldn't have said anything, and, I shouldn't have looked at her like that. It won't happen again."

He clicks his tongue, and that's the moment you realize you're absolutely screwed. He chuckles under his breath. "Are you... are you jealous?" He grins, satisfied like you've been caught right in the act. "Bebita can't handle the attention being on someone else?"

"I, um..."

"It's an easy question, 'yes' or 'no'?" He coos softly, and it just makes your head spiral with fear further.

You take in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "No– no, it's not like that!"

Valentino's gentle expression melts away. "You can't lie for shit," he says, stone cold.

You can, it's part of your job, but not to him. Never him. He knows your tells better than even yourself. Apologizing would just dig your grave deeper. You clench your jaw in some attempt to stop yourself from trembling. Today just isn't a productive day, and now that frustration will be let out on you, nothing can get you out of the situation. You just have to take it.

He waits for a response for what feels like eternity, one of the longest five seconds of your afterlife. He then straightens himself to his full height, glances around the room, then turns his back on you.

"Step up," he orders, low and measured, as he nods towards the makeup chair set in front of the vanity.

You wordlessly obey, your legs shaking as you balance yourself to stand straight and not topple over.

Even with the added height, the top of your head doesn't quite reach up to his chest. He stalks behind you, slowly, gracefully, sizing up both of your reflections. He leans against your back, almost enough to rest his chin on your shoulder, his wings fully open to frame you in. Your cheeks get gripped harshly, but not as harshy as he could, just enough to keep your head in place. The force causes your lips to pucker up ever so slightly.

Your eyes meet their reflexion, the fright evident in them, the tension in your shouders just as visible.

"You think she's prettier than you, is that it?" A palm settles on your lower stomach, goes up slowly underneath your shirt, purposefully lifting the fabric up, the cold air pricking the exposed skin. "You think I would settle for anything but the best?"

You shake your head as much as you can, sucking in air as he gropes your chest. "No, of course not," you manage to get out so quickly it's barely intelligible.

He hums to himself, another hand snaking down your pants, beneath the band of your panties. "Maybe that– oh! Would you look at that!"

Your breathing hitched as two fingers caress you, gathering up the wetness and bringing it up in one smooth stroke. You could lie to yourself all you want, that it's the smoke permanently soaked into the walls of the studio, that Valentino has long conditioned into you that fear and arousal are things that go together, that the shear proximity of him promises pleasure, but at the end of the day there's no excuse as to why you're even slightly turned on.

"Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this," he mocks as he sinks his fingers into you, claws just a threat of pain but oh so careful not to actually harm. He angles the heel of his hand just right against your clit.

Your knees buckle, your whole body jerks and you pitifully try to brace yourself on the vanity to keep your balance.

There's no time for that, Valentino lays his palm flat on your sternum and pushes you back. "You lean on me," he says sharply, before his voice softens, "there, there, I've got you."

You blink quickly, vision unfocused.

"You think she sounds hotter than you, maybe? Mind giving a demonstration?" He angles his fingers up with precision, claws glazing you just enough to make themselves known, and you whimper, no pretence or exaggeration. The pitch of your voice makes your cheeks heat up, only half in embarrassment.

He kisses your jaw, lingers there for a moment. You can feel the smug expression against your skin. "Perfect. And again." He repeats the motion, harder, and your whine goes up in volume.

At last, he leans his head against your shoulder, captures your gaze in the reflection. "And pray tell, would I be getting any whore off while running behind schedule?"

"No," you breathe out. "No–" you cut yourself off with a whine.

"Good. And what do we say when someone is doing something nice for us?"

"Thank you," you suck in air. "Thank you, thank you– Val–"

He brings your face up, squeezing your cheeks enough for his claws to leave indents. "Remember that only I get to see you like this. Only I get to make you feel good."

You try to nod, your breathing quick and shallow. You don't get the time to ask for permission before you cum, sharp and sudden. He doesn't let you ride it out, his pace doesn't falter until you're shaking so much you actually worry about toppling over. Luckily, he pulls back, letting you catch your breath.

He turns your head to look at you properly, studying your expression. "There. Now, are you going to calm down?"

You force yourself to reply. "Yes, yes, I'll be good."

He croons, caressing your cheek. "Was that so hard? Seriously, comparing yourself to that whore? Please." He nods to something in the back, you follow with your eyes, catching a glimpse of the blue camera in the corner, nothing how Val's wings are fully shielding you from its view. "She gets to be drooled over by the entire Ring. You are for my eyes only, got it?"

You nod hastily.

He offers a hand to help you get down from the chair, which you take without hesitation. "Be nice, I'm taking you somewhere on Sunday if you behave."

"I will, promise."

"Let's get back to this mess." He throws one last glance at you. "Chin up, bebita. You aren't a whore, fucking act like you actually belong next to me."

You grin and you don't care how ridiculously you look. "Yes, Val."

He walks out first, or rather, stomps, back to his agitated director self. "Is the replacement here already?! We're behind, pronto!"

The actress is sitting straight on the floor, swaying. You walk past her on purpose, give her a wink. "Come on, darling. Don't just sit there, you have a job to do!"

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 11, Unsure - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Pocket not knowing how to navigate her emotions

Word Count: 1.9k

Previously On...: Jade just had to rub it in that she not only hears you and Bucky fighting about her, but that it brings her joy. So, you had to make sure you fucked your boyfriend extra loud.

A/N: My mom is coming up to visit after I get out of work today, so obviously, I cannot post while she is around (the contents of this story would stop her super-Catholic heart or, at the very least, have her send me out for an exorcism), so I'm scheduling this update.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @jupiter-107 @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @crist1216 @vicmc624 @sashaisready @j23r23 @wintercrows

Over the next few weeks, things between you and Bucky were technically better, in the sense that you hadn’t argued again, and he didn’t mention Jade to you, or answer her calls or texts in your presence, but they were so much worse in that she was taking up more of his time than ever before, and you saw each other less and less. You tried to rationalize it by telling yourself that the amount of time the two of you had spent together at the beginning of your relationship had been abnormal– nearly constant– and that the current situation was more on par with what regular couples experienced, but the truth of the matter was that you felt yourself pulling away from him, building a wall around your heart to protect yourself from what you saw as the inevitable heartache Bucky was going to inflict upon you.

He’d been right– you had been going around in circles, and every time you thought you’d made some progress, another event would transpire that would just end up leaving you feeling worse. Yes, he always had the sweetest words to say to you to bring you down from your anger, but at what point did they go from being the actual truth to just being something said just to placate you? More and more, you found yourself questioning the difference between the two, and as a result, your walls were going back up with a vengeance. 

If he noticed, though, he didn’t say anything. He was preoccupied with preparing Jade for her first mission. She’d be going off to Malaysia with Sam and Rhodey (you may have begged Tony to ensure she was never partnered with either you or Bucky, and bless that man and his affection for you, he’d been more than willing to comply), and Bucky was working overtime to make sure she was ready. 

And perhaps a small part of you was hoping she’d go MIA in the jungle. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud to anyone but FRIDAY.

The day before she was scheduled to depart, you were lounging on your couch, working on your laptop. Your crisis prediction algorithm project was finally ready, and you were putting the finishing touches on the presentation you were scheduled to give to the board in less than two weeks time. You were just adding some graphics when Bucky came in the door.

“You haven’t started getting ready yet?” he asked, kissing the crown of your head by way of greeting. He looked exceptionally handsome in a pair of tight black jeans and black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. 

You looked up at him in confusion. “Ready for what?” you asked, taking off your glasses and rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Gino’s,” he said, as if that would clear it up. At your blank look, he prompted: “Vix’s first mission is tomorrow. We’re all going down to Gino’s for drinks. Come on, Pocket. I told you about this days ago.”

You scoffed at him. “You most certainly did not. I would have remembered because I would have laughed at you and said ‘hard pass.’”

Bucky rubbed his eyes. “Okay, maybe it slipped my mind, and I’m sorry for that, but you should have known. It’s tradition.”

“Tradition?” you asked him, surprised to find that the anger you had expected to feel, that you should have felt, just wasn’t coming. Instead, you were just sad. “There’s no tradition.”

“What are you talking about? We all went before my first mission.”

You closed your laptop and put it down on the coffee table before standing up to face him with a sigh. “Buck, that was something I did, just for you, because I wanted to. Because you were my best friend. I wanted you to have a night of fun before you went out, because I didn’t know what sort of shit you were going to see, or have to do, on that mission. I wanted to give you something good to hold on to.”

Bucky’s face softened at your words and he embraced you, holding you close. “God,” he said, rubbing his nose into your hair, “I had no idea. I’m the fucking luckiest man alive, you know that? To have a girl as special as you care so much about me. You’re more than I deserve, doll.”

A tiny voice in the back of your mind couldn’t help but think Maybe I am. You crushed the thought as soon as it came. You loved him, you truly did. He just… frustrated you a lot recently. Jade’s probationary period was going to be over soon, and you were hopeful that she wouldn’t get the votes to stay in. You knew that, despite the initial warm reception she’d received, she’d ended up rubbing almost everyone the wrong way with her attitude. You’d even heard Sam and Clint complaining about Jade refusing to participate when it was her turn for training room clean-up because ‘shouldn’t Stark have people for that?’.

It seemed like everyone was finally seeing what kind of person she really was. Well, everyone except for Bucky, anyway. 

“So,” he said after a moment, “you gonna come?”

You thought about it for a second. A part of you was completely against the idea, not wanting the gesture you’d made for Bucky all those months ago to be tainted knowing he was making it now for her, but the prevailing part of you wasn’t about to offer Jade the opportunity of a night of drinking with Bucky, outside of your presence, on a silver platter. It concerned you that you were more motivated by thwarting any designs Jade might have than you were with spending time with your boyfriend, though. You tried to push your petty thoughts aside.

“Yeah,” you said, looking up into his eyes and allowing yourself to fall into them. God, they were beautiful. He was beautiful, inside and out. You needed to keep reminding yourself of that, of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place, and there were so, so many. “How much time do I have?” you asked.

Bucky pulled out his phone and glanced at the time. “About fifteen minutes,” he said.

“Fifteen minutes!” you shrieked, pulling away from him and heading over to your vanity. “Jesus, Buck! Give a girl some warning! It’s gonna take me twice that long just to do my hair and makeup!” You began pulling out all the accouterments you were going to need to prepare yourself.

Bucky came to stand behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist as he looked at you in the mirror. “You don’t need any of that stuff, doll,” he said, kissing your cheek. “You’re already going to be the sexiest girl there, but I’m not gonna complain about sitting around if you want to get even sexier.”

You smiled at Bucky through the mirror, and it felt like the first genuine smile you’d given him in ages. “That’s sweet of you, baby,” you said as you started putting on your moisturizer, “but I don’t want to make you late on my account.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing you for any trace of annoyance or anger in your words. Not finding any, he asked: “Are you sure, sweets? I don’t mind waiting for you.”

You nodded, moving on to fill in your eyebrows. “It’s fine, Buck. Go. I’ll meet up with you as soon as I’m ready.” 

He lingered for several long moments, watching as you continued your makeup routine. You noticed him staring and paused contouring to turn to him. “What?” you asked with a small smile, expecting him to make some kind of comment about modern girls and all their makeup.

“Nothing,” he said, though there was a hint of sadness in his gaze. “You just seem… different, that’s all.”

You laughed. “You’ve seen me contour my face plenty of times, Buck. I swear, it’ll look great once I blend it out.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head, “that’s not what I meant. You just seem… nevermind, it’s nothing.”

Shit. He could feel the distance you’d been building between the two of you. You didn’t want it to be there; you truly didn’t. You simply didn’t know how else to protect yourself. Closing yourself off had been your tried and true defense mechanism since you were eleven years old. 

Making a vow to yourself to get back to where you once were, back to him, you turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Hey,” you said, kissing him softly, “I love you. So much.” You needed to reassure him, to reassure both of you, of the truth of it. 

“Love you, too, sweets,” he said warmly, not letting go of you. You let him hold you, relishing in the feel of him in a way you hadn’t let yourself experience in a bit. Unfortunately, the moment was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, indicating he had a text. You pulled away and turned back to the mirror. 

“What’s Jade need now?” you asked, feeling the wall building itself back up. There was no anger in your voice, just a kind of resigned acceptance. You glanced up from blending your contour as Bucky checked the screen, a look of annoyance crossing his face as he read her text. 

“She wants to know if I can drive her to Gino’s on my bike,” he said. The way he looked back at you in the mirror almost made you feel ill, as though he were preparing for you to blow up at him. You felt the walls go higher around your heart.

“Well, you better head out then,” you said, focusing on your makeup. “Don’t want her being late for her own party.”

Bucky opened his mouth and then closed it again, as though not sure how to respond to you. Eventually, he said “It’s fine. Tony’s providing cars; she can hitch a ride with everyone else.”

“And deprive her the opportunity to wrap her arms around you?” you laughed. “Come on, Buck, you’re supposed to be giving her a night of good memories here. Don’t disappoint the girl.”

His brow furrowed at your words. In a single step, he was beside you, taking the contouring brush from your hand and turning your shoulders so you were facing him. “Pocket,” he said, licking his lips, “are we… are we okay?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “Of course,” you said, taking the brush back from him and moving on to your bronzer and blush. “Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

“You’re just… you seem to be awfully relaxed about the idea of her being on the back of my bike.”

You arched a brow and looked over at him. “Should I not be?” you asked. “Is there a reason for me to be bothered by it?”

Bucky spluttered. “No! Of course not! It’s just…”

“Then I don’t understand what the problem is, Bucky,” you said, getting back to work on your face. His phone buzzed again. “You better go. Sounds like your ‘work wife’ is getting impatient.”

“My work wife? Doll, I don’t… I can’t…” he stammered, at a loss for words.

“Buck,” you said, patting his arm before applying your lip gloss, “it’s fine. Go give Jade a ride. I don’t care, honestly.”

“You… don’t care?” he asked slowly.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ with your lips. “I really don’t.”

Bucky muttered his goodbyes, promising to see you at the party. As soon as he closed the door behind him, you closed your eyes, gripping the backrest of your vanity chair until your knuckles were white, your fingernails digging crescents into the palms of your hands.

You might have been able to lie to Bucky, but you couldn’t lie to yourself. You did care. You still cared very, very much.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[gotham-daydreams]

Well that took a dark turn-

ANYWAYS what if reader escapes their first kidnapped Attemp from batfam and just dissappears, like go into hiding, and they can't be tracked down for a few weeks, what will batfam do?? Do you think the reader will be able to do that? 👀 👀 (I love this series and the ideas anons are giving ıts amazing<33)

What can I say? With yanderes there are only dark corners that progressively get darker the further you go.

(Also I'm glad! And I agree!! The ideas the anons are giving are amazing and I love them to bits!)

As for your question, in the series I don't believe that the reader will be able to fully achieve that. Since with what actually happens- well, it's kind of complicated, though they could try!

In a hypothetical scenario (that, once again, doesn't involve what'll happen in the series), the Batfam, in short, would freak the fuck out all over again.

Granted, they do have more information about the reader this time around, compared to when they first started looking for them. However, that doesn't seem to help, as they aren't able to locate the reader anywhere. Having even more trouble than the first night they tried looking for them, which is kind of saying something.

As you've said, it takes them a few weeks. Though by the first week they're already on the brink of insanity.

The Batfam finally had a taste of what life could've been with the reader in it. Of what life is like with the reader in it. Only for that to get taken away from them... and maybe it is deserved. Maybe that's just karma finally biting back, and showing the Batfam the one good thing that's ever happened to them, only to take it away. Only to steal it away again, to pour more pounds of salt on their aching wounds. Maybe it's what they deserve for ignoring the reader, and neglecting them for so long.

But they don't care.

They had the reader. They finally managed to bring them back home- and this happens? The reader ends up disappearing all over again? They leave again? But why? Didn't they want this too? Didn't they want to be a part of the family? What happened to that? Why can't they have it anymore? Why does the reader keep running away?

Y'know how I said in that one post where an anon asked "what would happen if the reader moved to a different country, instead of staying in Gotham?" (Or something around those lines-), that the Batfam would not only lose their minds, but be on the very brink the moment they find the reader, and thus, don't even have to think before kidnapping them? Well, this is very similar to that, except during those few weeks, at least a few of them absolutely tip over.

The moment they find the reader they don't even wait. No more slow approaches or mind games, they need the reader- now.

Nothing is going to change that. Nothing is going to get in the way of that. Not anymore. Not ever.

The reader wouldn't even get a chance to react or even make the smallest sound. All they know is that they were just suddenly minding their own buisness, albeit very paranoid and trying to be the most cautious they could, and then they saw black. By the time they wake up? They're back in their room in the manor. Maybe with a few... things missing if you catch my drift.

Since, now, well-

The Batfam will prioritize having the reader with them over any song or tune they'll ever hear them play.

The reader is what matters most to them, and they're never letting go. Never.

Even if it means taking away thing that'll limit them further. The Batfam is always there to help, so surely there isn't a problem, right? If anything, this just unlocks new bonding opportunities! Isn't that great! Are you happy?

Now the reader nees them more than ever, and they wouldn't have it any other way. :]

Regardless, when I do finally manage to get part 3 out and also part 4 (whenever that'll be-), maybe why I think that the reader in the "Not [ ]" series won't be able to fully accomplish this will be more clear! Since it is a little intense what happens, and will screw the reader over enough. Though it also may further encourage to escape somehow, we'll see!

Anyway, I hope this answered your questions!!

[wakeup01]

Hey! I hear you'll might be able to help me. I've always been attracted to muscled bodies. I think they are so manly and attractive. Recently I even got a membership at the gym with the hopes to finally get the body of my dreams. but after a year of training, I don't see any results. Do you think you could help me? I'm willing to give anyting only ot reach my body goal.

The Tradeoff

Sigh. See, It’s not a question of can I help. It’s a question of why should I help? Luckily, you said those magic, oft-regretted words: ‘I’ll give anything’. Anything? How about giving everything?

Having second thoughts? Too late. I’ll make you a muscled beast, sure. And then some. But in return you’re going to be my pet. My grunting, drooling moron that I walk around on a leash. Like a faithful dog. With an equally low IQ. You’ll have all the muscles and bulk you could ever ask for, and all it’s gonna cost is your free will. Your intelligence. Your personality.

Just marvel at that expanding physique - even if it is mostly a facade, those popping veins. That layer of sweat leaking profusely from every single pore. Tendons and shoulder blades stretching against your tight skin. Frankly dummy, you look ridiculous, your arms hang far apart from your juiced up chest; standing there mimicking a default posed video game character. Stomach vacuumed flat. Tiny waist. Square head. Your bulbous biceps inflating as if I’m pumping them with air. And your cock? Well, your cock is barely worthy of mention at all now. All that new blood coursing through you had to come from somewhere. And yet, despite all that, you feel the primal need to show off. ‘Look at me, look at how stupid I look. How proud I am of it.’

Your comically proportioned body is like a life-sized action figure, and trust me, I plan to play with you however I wish. But hey, it’s what YOU wanted. Now for what I want, my pay.

*click*

The leash is a little tight on your thick, meat filled neck, but it’ll do. You feel it right? I can see it in your panicking eyes. The sensation of your brain being squeezed, like it’s in a vice. But the vice, the vice is my hand. That’s right pet, smile as I juice your brain like an ripe orange, draining everything into your hulking body and fuelling your throbbing muscles. Squint while struggling to read these words. Chuckle like an utter blockhead as I enslave you. Haha. Good dumb fucking idiot.

Come along, pet. I want to show you off to the whole gym before we shave your head and fit you with a harness. More importantly, I’m looking forward to getting you on all fours and locking you in your cage. What fun! You’ll be eating your protein on the floor from a metal dish from now on. It’s the only thing befitting a dumb muscle beast like you.

I hope your new life is everything you wanted. If not, well, tough shit. I don’t give a fuck. I own you.

[dirtylittlefairytales]

Don't play with fire | - Part 1 - |

Authors Note: Hey. This is my first try ever writing in English, since it's not my first language. I read it over several times, hopefully to correct all mistakes. Also this is the first try of fanfiction since 2016. Sooo I appreciate feedback and let me know what you think.. Please be kind. 🙏🥹

Originally I wanted to write a short backstory, but I think it’s just going to be multiple parts if you want to read it. So see this as a kind of introduction. In further chapters I wanted to try myself to write my smut fantasies out. I'm also going to upload this later to Ao3 under the username Lorily96.

-> Writing in 'italic' is supposed to be the your thoughts

Warnings: Describing of a Panic attack, Age Gap (Legal)

Word count: 8k

Tagging: @a-movie-that-youve-never-seen, @amethystblackkchaos, @hereforthehitsbaby

Some people say life is a cruel joke. Unexpected twists and pain waiting around every corner. Some people say the glass is never empty and everything happens for a reason. You can learn from anything.  Everyone you meet is either there for a reason, for a season or... for ever. However the world is not black and white, sometimes there is no reason at all. You know how you sometimes laugh when something bad happens to a stranger or friend. Like their ice cream falling to the ground, seeing a cop writing a ticket for somebody else. I think ‘Life’ itself is bored just like us. That's why sometimes you feel like it’s only getting worse. Doesn’t matter what you do, there is no luck to be found. That's exactly how you felt that day. Just strings of bad luck and to this day you still question yourself. Why? Why didn’t you say something? Why did you do it? Why didn’t you walk away? How did all of this happen in the first place? The events of that day living rent-free in your head, keeping you up at night.

~ Sometimes Life has a dark and twisted humor. ~

All those overprotective dads, who only want the best for their daughter. Your dad was one of them. He always told you: "Be wary of strangers", "Never tell someone your name if you feel something is off", “Go with your gut feeling” and "don't go near the car of a stranger". Seriously, he had good points.

Unfortunately, he didn’t tell you what to do, when you suspect someone is a serial killer. Maybe running or keeping your nose out of the situation would have been a great option. Well, since daddy had been out of the picture since you were 12, maybe he would have some kind of advice for that. Your mom had found out he was cheating, and after the divorce, he cared more about his new girlfriend and son than you. Why care about the daughter you raised for 12 years, your beloved wife, when you can just throw it away and play happy family with the next woman you find.

At times, you wonder if that's the reason you had some kind of daddy issues. Perhaps you liked older men like him because of that. Even today, his face still haunts and excites you at the same time. Remembering how drawn you were to him. He was so charming and devilishly handsome. You felt sick and appalled at yourself for feeling this way. Everything he did, seemed to play into his hands. Who would suspect the nice and charming dad next door? How many times did you lay awake in bed at night, the events of that day replaying themselves over and over. Like a continuous loop with no escape… 

It felt like yesterday. The only reason you were at the concert in the first place was because one of the other guys quit a week before. You couldn’t even blame him, since your boss was a total dick. Ever since you started working in the company a year ago he was just looking for a reason to fire you. Always criticizing you, commenting when your bathroom break was too long. Wore a skirt? Too provocative. Wore a sweater? Be more professional. You could make a whole list of the things he pulled off. You fucking hated working in that place and even more to work outside or around many people. You chose to work in IT because you could work alone and in peace. 

Outside of work, you were a relatively social person. Many friends and people seemed to like you. Despite preferring to rather stay home alone, with your cat and books, you were surprisingly good at making conversations. It felt strange, kind of ironic. Life had a stupid sense of humor. Sometimes you even felt like you were good at reading people. Your mom called it your sixth sense.

Working at the arena for the concert was a real hassle. It was so stressful. Over a week before the actual concert there was already a meeting. Everybody working in the stadium that night was there. They didn’t reveal too much that day. Apparently the whole concert was also a trap for this serial killer? 

They called him - The Butcher 

You remember hearing and reading about him in the news. He had killed 12 people till now and the FBI was sure he was going to show up there. Everything was top secret, everyone had an extra card for controls during that day and a code word. On the day of the concert you arrived extra early to get the last directions for the day. They even told you what he potentially could look like.

Work was boring. The company you were working for was responsible for ensuring that all the screens, cameras were working, both on the outside and on the stage, that the wifi was stable and so on… not the hardest task. There also were others who ensured the overall technology and speakers worked, but that wasn’t your job. Most of the time you and your colleague were sitting backstage, talking shit about your boss and listening to the show, at least you were, because lovely colleague Eric would do most of the stuff alone. What a sweetheart, right?

It felt a bit bad taking advantage of him. You knew he had a big crush on you, he wasn’t exactly hiding it. Relaxing backstage appealed more to you. Therefore it was totally fine with your conscience. This job was a pain in the ass and you already started applying for new jobs. You just had to hang on for a few more weeks. Hoping you could quit soon and work in a non toxic environment.

The first half of the concert remained uneventful. Fortunately, because your room was in the backstage area, you even talked to Lady Raven for a bit on her break. She was so nice and friendly. On and off stage, her whole personality was the same. Which you found truly great, a person like that was hard to find nowadays. The thinker for example seemed like a total dick from what you saw. Lady Raven and you also had some similar interests, it was so easy to talk to her.After asking about it, she told you that they hadn’t found the Butcher yet. She even told you a few more details on how the police got the information of him being there. Before she left you wished her good luck with the rest of her show and went back to work for a bit. 

Later on during the second half of the show, you stepped near the stage. The atmosphere felt incredible. The lights, the performance on stage and the fans screaming and singing the songs of Lady Raven. How you wished to be standing in the crowd just vibing and dancing to the music instead of working. If it weren’t for all the extra police and security in the arena, it would be a normal concert. 

Slowly you started making your way backstage as you saw people approaching from the audience room. Honestly you weren’t keen on talking to many people. Lady Raven started talking and announcing her dreamer girl, Riley. That must be why the people came in from the audience. At the end of the stage you turned around again. On your former spot stood a man. He was tall, with a nice backside, no doubt the father of the dreamer girl, looking at the stage.  Though he seemed to take a quick look around every now and then. Looking at him, he didn’t look like he was having much fun being here. He looked rather stiff. As you started walking back in his direction to get a better look, Eric called you. Sighing, you turned around. As you were making your way backstage, you felt like someone was watching you. 

“Hey, somewhere outside, a monitor has a bluescreen. I'll quickly go fix it. The show is nearly over. After that, we can start with cleaning things up.” Eric told you, as you walked down the stairs towards him.

“Okay, do you need my help?” You asked him, pushing a blonde strand of hair behind your ear, batting your eyes at him, hoping he would say no. 

“No of course not! I can do it alone. The problem is not that hard.” he answered, trying to show off.

You smiled. “Okay great! Then, see you later.” 

You walked past him into the backstage area. It wasn't that you disliked him, he was nice for a work colleague. However, nothing more. For one you had not much in common besides work, and he was a pushover. You could not imagine being with a man who had no opinion and just waited for you say anything until he stated his opinion. 

‘Like have an opinion, Boy?’ Rolling your eyes at the mere thought of his personality, you grabbed yourself a drink and went back to your little break room.

There you waited for the concert to finish, which you knew shouldn’t take too long now. When you heard the last song finished you decided to grab your purse and go into the hallway. Considering it was too good of an opportunity to pass by. When would you ever see celebrities up so close again? Maybe you could ask Lady Raven for a selfie? Or an autograph? You weren’t the biggest fan, but there was a possibility you could sell that autograph later on.

Uncertain where to go, you stood in the hallway. Dancers ran past you. Nobody seemed to take much notice of you. Coming from the left, you saw the thinker walking towards you, and kind of flirting with someone behind him. ‘Spicy.’ A light chuckle escaped you. Curiosity filled your brain and you decided to head in the direction he came from.

In the middle of the hallway, where several corridors met, stood Riley, the dreamer girl and her dad. If you remembered her name correctly that is. You stopped walking and observed them quietly from a little further away. 

‘Did the Thinker flirt with him?’ Now that you got a better view of him, you found that theory pretty reasonable. It felt almost unfair how attractive he looked. 

‘Was he married? Presumably.’ Not that you would consider making a move, besides his daughter was standing right next to him. That would be so awkward. Also remembering, the last time you let someone in, things unraveled in ways that left you a bit guarded. Despite your people skills, your mom and you apparently both had a thing for cheaters. After a year of being single, you told yourself it was for the best. Except for your job, life was good– At least that's what you tried to tell yourself.

Nevertheless you would never have considered being attracted to older men. He was at least 10 years older than you, maybe more. You were 25, and he could easily be in his 30s or even early 40s. All of a sudden the profiler’s description came back into your head: tall, strong, dark hair... 

Even though you've never been overly spiritual, you did believe in a sixth sense. The longer you thought about it, him standing in that hallway backstage. The way he subtly kept looking around for a second. Nobody noticed. ‘Wait… Did he notice you watching them?’ 

Pulling out your phone, you started swiping and typing randomly. Trying to look busy. Your thoughts were racing. He matched the description perfectly, and here he was, casually joking with his daughter like he didn’t have a care in the world. Despite his friendly smile and demeanor, there was something unsettling about him—a bit too friendly, almost fake? 

After looking at him a bit more, it just clicked into place. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that that may be him, the Butcher. Until now they hadn't found him, not that you knew of. So they were still searching for him. People backstage were rarely searched, except when they wanted to leave the arena.

‘God, you should think rationally. Could that really be him? Still he seemed normal…’

Except the look in his eyes. That look gave you unpleasant goosebumps. You grew anxious, you knew where the camera room was. Police officers were definitely going to be there and maybe the profiler was there. Then you could ask her if the man had been checked by security or talk to her about your uneasy feeling. 

Unfortunately you would have to pass him to get to the camera office. If he hadn't noticed you before, he certainly would then. Could you keep your cool? It didn’t matter. You knew you would overthink it in the evening, you had to do it. Your heart was starting to pound audibly in your chest. 

‘Deep breaths–

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and go. Don't panic.’ Grabbing your phone tightly in your hand, you started walking. 

As you approached them, Lady Raven emerged from her dressing room and started talking to Riley. She was so happy, grinning from ear to ear. As they chatted happily, the dad leaned forward and whispered something to Lady Raven that you couldn't make out. 

As soon as you heard her tell his daughter that they would talk shortly, alarm bells were going off in your head. Your brain stopped working, and your legs and mouth moved on their own. You felt a certain hero complex activating within you. ‘What if he was the Butcher? There was a possibility’

You felt uncomfortable leaving her alone with him. Something felt off. Before they could leave, you sprinted the last few meters towards them. Trying to cry on arrival. 

“Lady Raven, hay… I eh.. I.. I don't... Could I.. could I talk to you for a second? Please, I don't know what to do.. I–” you sniffled. You tried your best to cry. ‘Come one, you could lie better than that’, you thought angrily at yourself. ‘Who would believe you like this?’ This wasn’t going to be the first lie you ever told. You even lied on your last résumé. 

She immediately turned around her face full of concern and worry. For a second you thought you saw his jaw tensing and left eye twitch. ‘Did you imagine it? ‘

“Oh no. Hey, what's going on? You’re Y/N, right? We met earlier.” You nodded your head, keeping the hand over your lower face, while trying to remain in tears. For once, you were glad that you chose to wear your hair open today. Your long blond locks shielded your face even more from the prying eyes around you. 

“What's going on? Are you alright? Did something happen?” She asked more and more questions, putting her hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“There was an accident, I...“ You just kept mumbling incomprehensible nonsense. Still shaking, sobbing, trying not to look up. You didn't even know what to do, what to say. 

“Hay, ehm… I’m so sorry. Could you give us a second? I will be right back. It won’t take long.." she said, apologizing to the two of them. 

“Of course, no problem. This seems serious! Take your time.”, said the man, his voice laced with concern.

‘Why did he sound so genuine, like he is truly concerned? Maybe I judged him too fast?‘

Gently Lady Raven took one of your hands and started to lead you away. It didn’t matter anyway, there was no going back. Now you need to play your outburst to the end and come up with a plausible story. While she brought you into her dressing room, it felt as if someone was staring holes into your back. 

After the door closed, you immediately felt more at ease. Bit by bit you tried to calm yourself. At least that was what it seemed on the outside. You don’t remember much of what you told her, some kind of sob story. The first idea that came into your mind. About your dad having a car accident. The whole car crashed... With your car being parked further away from the arena and you were so afraid your dad could die. That you at worst wouldn't make it to the hospital in time with all the police controls going on in and outside the arena. 

You cried, trying to think your story would be about your mom and not your dad. Which did the trick and made you sad. Being the kind person she is, Lady Raven suggested that you could drive with her in her limo, so you didn't have to go through the queues or security, and she would take you to the hospital or your car. You thanked her over and over again, as you wiped your tears away. 

How high was the possibility that the dad would like to briefly speak to Lady Raven again, when you went in the hallway again? Then everything would have been in vain. However you could’t pressure her. Something came over you, so you suggested that perhaps the other two could join them. Maybe they could also drive in the car? You tried explaining your suggestion somewhat rationally. That way she can still talk with the dad,

you would feel extremely bad if you kept her from talking to her fans. You didn’t want to cause any more trouble. 

Surprisingly, that seemed to work? No further persuasion was necessary. Which left you very surprised and perplexed. Was she truly such a kind person? Who was so trusting? Especially with everything that was going on here today. ‘Did she have such a shielded and good life, that she blindly believed you?’ You wondered.

‘Unimaginable…that could not be the case. You didn’t believe there were any truly good people left in this world.’

After another minute of collecting yourself, you went after Lady Raven. She had already gone ahead and had already told them the short version of what was going on, when you arrived. Asking them if they wanted to come too, so she and the dad could have their talk. She was way too kind and somewhat naive to even suspect you’d be lying. You almost felt ashamed of yourself, even stupid. What were you even doing?

The daughter gasped and tried not to jump up and down in joy, the way she gripped her dad's arm. She seemed to be torn between worrying about you and happiness. By being asked to drive with Lady Raven, her seemingly favorite artist in the world. She was honored and extremely happy for a few seconds, then she stopped and looked at you sympathetically. 

“I’m so sorry about the thing with your dad...” Nodding weakly at her, trying to keep your act up, you gave her a half smile. Unknowingly to you, you had started twisting the ring on your middle finger. A Tic. Something you always did when you're stressed out or nervous. 

The ring was nothing special. A plain black ring with some Greek numbers on it. A gift from your mom; from the only holiday you ever had taken outside the USA and since you were eighteen, there was hardly a day you didn’t wear it. 

“Why don’t we lead the way? That way, we can talk.” said Lady Raven and gestured to the man. 

“Yes of course... I mean, the circumstances are not the best, but thank you for considering Riley and me. We appreciate it.” He replied, looking concerned but with something unreadable in his eyes that made you want to look anywhere but at him. 

“It is no problem at all. Actually it was Y/N here suggesting it. She would have felt bad if we hadn't been able to have our conversation because of her.”

He raised a brow at you. “That is so thoughtful and kind of you to still think of others. Something really rare these days”

As he walked past you, he briefly touched your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “And I’m really sorry about your dad. I hope he pulls through. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help” he smiled kindly at you.. 

“Yes, I hope so too. Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know his name. 

“Oh I didn’t even introduce myself. I'm Cooper, just call me Cooper.” holding out his hand.

“Well, thank you Cooper. Also, for your offer, maybe I will come back to that." you shook his hand. He had a firm, but not to strong grip. 'so he was married'

"Let’s get going, please.” Somewhere in between Cooper coming close to you, you almost forgot that you had a mission to get to the hospital fast. Daddy dearest was waiting.

He nodded and as he passed you, walking ahead, you suddenly realized just how big that man was. You hadn't even noticed it before. However, standing right next to him you realized it. He was at least 6′2″, not overly muscular, but also not skinny either. Lady Raven seemed tiny next to him, and you weren’t tall yourself—maybe around 5′5″ on a good day. 

Still, something about his vibe felt off. He seemed caring, yet on the other hand, almost relieved—or amused? 

Riley and you walked a bit behind the two to the cat, nobody had to go through any controls. Riley was such a sweet girl, asking you questions or talking about the concert to ‘take your mind off of your situation’. She was so nice. You kind of wish that you had a little sister like her, but no, you only had a half brother. The only reason he ever contacted you was for money from our grandparents' inheritance.

It was only when you reached the end of the corridor, you noticed Cooper looking over his shoulder. One corner of his mouth pulled upwards and his expression changed. Something sinister in his eyes for a split second. So fast that you were doubting yourself again.

Near the limousine, you felt your phone vibrating, probably Eric wanting to ask where you were. You had no time for that now. Shaking your head, you declined the call and started to write to him, saying that an emergency had come up and you would be back later. You didn’t notice that you arrived at the car until someone cleared their throat in front of you.  

Fuck, you almost ran directly into Cooper. Lady Raven and Riley had already gone inside. He looked at me expectantly, a small smile at his lips. You quickly locked your phone and held it up. “Sorry, my… Sister. She gave me the latest updates on our dad.." you explained, the lies just kept rolling off your tongue, and you just hoped they sounded believable. With that you went straight to the car, without waiting for a response. 

Maybe you should have started an acting career… 

You quickly sat down in the car, with Cooper following shortly after you. Keeping your phone in your hand to secretly keep twisting your ring behind it.

This guy was making you so nervous, not only him but also the lies. You even thought you heard a small deep chuckle from behind you, maybe it was just your nerves? The car started moving. You wondered what they talked about… What did he want to talk about to her? 

Lady Raven's voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Y/N, where should I let you out? You remember where you parked your car? Or should we drive directly to the hospital?” 

Car yeah… you almost laughed. You knew exactly where your car was, a few miles away at the mechanic, because your lights weren’t working. Why hadn’t you thought of that. 

“Eh no, no! Just let me know where my car is. It’s a few blocks away. At this free parking space. There’s my car; let me look up the street real quick…” That wasn't a complete lie. Normally, you would park your car there, because it was just cheaper than parking near or in the stadium. Now just your bike was parked there, well, if nobody had stolen it.

You started to unlock your phone to look up the address. A large hand grabbed your hand with your phone to stop you. Before you could even protest or say something, Cooper started talking in his chipper, happy voice. 

“Really? What a coincidence! I think that should be the same parking lot where Riley and I parked my car earlier. I do know the address, it’s just around the corner.  You don't have to look it up.” Lady Raven pressed a button and Cooper told the chauffeur where to go. The address did sound somewhat familiar. You pulled your phone and hand out of his grip. There wasn't much resistance and he put his hands back into his lap. 

You looked back at Riley and Lady Raven, they were deeply engaged in a conversation with each other. Noticing nothing around the. The phone in your hand started ringing again, and you quickly looked at the screen. This time, it was your boss; should you just accept the call? You did not get much time to think about it. 

“Have you heard anything yet?”, came Riley’s question towards you. 

You started twisting your ring again. 

“Ah yes, yes… My brother texted me..” your breath caught in your throat. Realizing you messed up. ‘Didn’t you just say to Cooper that it was your sister? Maybe he didn't notice. Good thing you hadn’t pursued your acting career…‘

“...and the doctor said it doesn’t look critical. Our dad seems stable at the moment… but he needs to be operated on quickly.. I'm sure I will get more information as soon as…” 

All of a sudden the whole car jolted to a stop, followed by wild car honking. You tried to find your footing, unintentionally gripping onto Cooper's thigh. Right before you could fall off your seat a hand pressed against your shoulder and pushed you back into the seat. You dug your nails even more into his thigh. Riley's bags tipped forward and many of the contents scattered a little on the floor. “Sorry, Lady Raven. The car in front of us braked abruptly." The driver apologized. 

“Everyone alright?” Cooper asked, concern dripping in his voice. 

“All good” said Riley and Lady Raven nodded. 

“Yes, I think so..” you  breathed. He came closer pushing a loose strand behind your ear. A blush crept on your face. After another second, you noticed your hand was still on his thigh, and you blushed even more. 

“Oh I’m sorry!” You exclaimed in a panic. He smiled kindly. 

“No problem. I’m glad nobody got hurt.” Then he got up from his seat to help Riley pick her things back up and put them back into the bags. 

Your phone began to ring again. ‘It’s now or never; it would only get worse.’

With a sigh, you picked up the phone and immediately held the phone as far away as possible from your ear. A loud voice screaming through the speaker. Seemed like your boss just started screaming at you at the top of his lungs. 

You mouthed a quick ‘Sorry’ to the others in front of you. He kept on screaming, ranting about how you were not at work and how he always knew you were a lazy piece of shit. He should have fired me months ago… The list goes on.

As Cooper sat back down. You tried to move your body back in the direction of your phone. Seeing as you didn't want to be too close to Cooper. He didn't seem to mind and put a calming hand on your knee this time. Your mind seemed to go fuzzy when you got near him.

Overall this was not your day, your nerves were all over the place. Your feelings felt like they were on a rollercoaster. You still weren't sure if your gut feeling was right… but you also didn't want to find out. All the lies you told today and now your boss is screaming at you? It was just too much. Clenching your fist and putting the phone near your ear again. 

“I quit.” were the only words you said, dry of any emotion. 

“What did you say?” came the angry reply. 

“I quit” Hot tears were forming in your eyes, Cooper gently started to caress your knee. “i’m so fucking done. You don't know what I am going through right now! Someone could die, and you don't even let me explain myself. So go to hell, and I fucking quit.” Enraged, you ended the call and immediately blocked his number. 

You put your head in your hands and sigh. 

“I'm sorry… Sorry, you had to hear that. Everything goes wrong…” And with that, a sob escapes you. 

‘Nobody can see my face, right? So maybe act even more sad? ‘

This whole day was a curse, why were you even here? Because you felt bad vibes from the dilf next to you? You just wanted to laugh over the whole situation. 

‘You were fucking stupid and now jobless. Great work. Just because you wanted to play the hero, because of a stupid gut feeling. He was a normal dad. Not the Butcher. ‘ 

“Don't think like that. You said it yourself; your dad is stable, so that's a good thing. Maybe I can help you get a new job!” Lady Raven is really trying to cheer you up. 

Someone rubbed your back gently, and there was only one person who could do that. You tried your hardest to ignore his comforting touch. 

“Hay Y/N, I know you just met us, and you don't know me. But I bet a girl like you will easily find a new job. You seem like a good person. If you tell me in which field you work, I'm sure I could help. See if someone I know is hiring. How does that sound?” Cooper really tried to comfort you. He was so sympathetic and strangely charming. 

A small laugh escapes you. "Yes, I probably will..” You wipe away your angry tears’. 

“I mean… I already sent out job applications. I wanted to leave anyway, maybe I will get a job here in Philly or maybe where my mom lives. She lives more in the suburbs, like an hour away I think…” you paused. 

‘Why did you suddenly decide to tell him so much about yourself? Didn't you want to keep a low profile and not give too much real information?‘

This guy certainly knew how to make people talk. About everything, even things they may not want to share and then do without even realizing it. ‘Fuck’

“See! Now you're even smiling again. You just need to see the positive things.” With that, he squeezed your shoulder lightly and withdrew his hand from your back. Making you almost miss the comfort and warmth they had brought you. 

Stop crushing on the hot dad next to you! You tried to remind yourself and also remember all the things you thought were off with him.

“We're here,” the chauffeur announced. Great, finally. This car ride felt like an eternity. 

Cooper and Riley got out of the car first, and they said their goodbyes. Riley, of course, needed one last hug, and Cooper simply thanked her again for what she did for Riley. Before you got out of the car, Lady Raven pulled you in for a hug. 

“Please keep me updated on how things are at the hospital and if you need something. Just text me.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up Instagram. 

“Just search for your username, and I'll add you. That way, we can keep in touch.” 

You nodded and put in your name, and handed the phone back to her. 

“Thank you.. so much. Again. I'm so sorry for any inconvenience I caused. I won't forget this. Thank you! Next time, I’ll be in the front row singing your songs.” 

She laughed at that and nodded. While stepping outside the car, you crossed both fingers that the other two were gone.

Unfortunately, Cooper and his daughter waited for you. You had thought that by staying longer in the car, they would be gone already. No lucky day for you

You scanned the parking lot, and of course, your bike was stolen. The universe was just being cruel now. 

“So let us walk you to your car!” Cooper was way too happy, waving the limousine of Lady Raven goodbye. “Sure..” You started walking towards the cars. 

You were clueless on how to get out of this situation. Abruptly stopping, you looked around. 

“I don't see my car..” you say while looking around again. You sigh extra loudly. 

“Fuck me..”

“Your car got towed?” Cooper 

“Maybe” a dry laugh escapes you. 

“Or maybe with everything going on and all the things that were going on at the concert, I… just forgot where I parked my car.” You ran your fingers through your hair. 

"Well, if you tell me which hospital you need to go to, I'm certain Riley and I can make a little detour on our way home. Right Riley?” Riley nodded. 

“Of course, I’d be happy if we could help you out” she said, hopeful.

Right… the hospital. You should get better at remembering your lies. You were torn between keeping your lie up or simply turning around and walking away. 

You didn’t know what to do. Cooper seemed a bit strange at times, but he could not be the Butcher, right? Still while looking at him you felt like something didn't add up. Sometimes… you didn’t know how to describe it… He felt too perfect, too caring or too sweet. Maybe that was just who he was? You were lost in thought.. The look in his eyes was making you feel a bit uneasy. 

All of a sudden, Cooper's hand was behind your back, and he slowly pushed you forward. “If you can't decide, I will decide for you. Going to the hospital should be the most important thing. So we'll drive you and then you can worry about your car later. Okay?” 

You nodded your head at his idea, simply because you didn't trust your words at the moment. His hand wandered up to your shoulder, where he kept a firm grip and pushed you in the direction of his car. 

Riley was already running in front of you. You winced under his touch, did he know his own strength? You wondered. He certainly didn't look that strong. He opened the car a few meters away so Riley could already put her bags in the trunk. 

A black van

You suddenly remembered what Eric told you about the profiler, she suspected the Butcher to drive a car like this? 

Your body tensed up, and you felt like the pressure on your shoulder increased, which was almost painful. Surely that was going to bruise . Cooper opened the back door for you like you were a child being escorted home. You tried to muster your best friendly face before you sat down inside. 

“Thank you... Have you had this car for a long time?” You asked before you could stop yourself. Cooper raised an eyebrow, clearly pondering the question before answering. 

“Yes, I have had it for quite a few years now. Why are you asking?” Should you just tell him? 

It was just the trip to the hospital.. then you would never have to see them again. You could not fuck up even more than you already had, and until now, it was just an uneasy gut feeling. Also, you were trying to move back to your mom, who was at least an hour away. 

“No real reason.. Just that profiler from the concert. She talked so much, about everything and also about cars... especially mentioning a car like this, which could potentially be the car of a-… killer.” 

He only stared at you. 

‘Did you say something wrong? Maybe you’re the weird one now.’ Nervously rubbing your neck, you tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. 

Thankfully, Riley was just on her way to the passenger seat. She didn't hear her, no need to scare her. You didn’t think she knew about what was going on behind the scenes of the concert. 

“So maybe you should switch it up? But maybe she was just talking nonsense..” you tried to diffuse the situation, massaging your sore shoulder. 

Cooper smiled and laughed softly. "Well, thanks for the tip. I thought about getting a new car. Maybe I should finally get one. More family friendly, any ‘smart’ suggestions perhaps?” - 

“Hmm..maybe just something smaller, maybe in white, silver, or another color? Definitiv not black..” you smile. 

“Great. I will keep that in mind when I buy a new car.” he smiled back at you and closed the door, and got in the driver's seat. He seemed like he wanted to ask more questions, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. 

Quickly, you got your phone out and searched for a hospital near you. You found one which was 15 minutes away. When Cooper started the car you leaned forward, so much that your head nearly reached his shoulder and you could smell his aftershave. ‘He even smelled good.’ You showed him your phone. 

“Here, that's the hospital where I need to go.” He slightly turned around to get a better look at the screen. 

“Can I?” He gestured to the phone. “Just to get a better look.” 

You gulped, a nervous feeling growing in your stomach. “Yeah sure..” 

He didn’t even wait for your reply and grabbed the phone. 

“You got some kind of privacy screen on here?” he asked with a raised brow. 

Oh yeah, how could you forget, and here you thought he wanted to take your phone from you. When he couldn’t even see the screen. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I totally forgot. My boss had cameras everywhere in the building, I got a bit paranoid, so I bought one of those..” you laughed. 

“He doesn’t sound very nice. Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have to work there anymore!” replied Riley. 

“Yeah.. maybe”

“You could just work at my school, our teacher for IT sucks..” 

Cooper glanced at her disapprovingly, slowly shaking his head.  “Riley…”- 

"Sorry, dad, it's the truth. He lives in the past. No one uses Windows XP anymore." Riley grumbled. 

Cooper started the car, and Lady Raven's music was playing loudly over the speakers before he turned the volume down. After a few minutes of driving and Riley vibing to the music, Cooper cleared his throat. 

"Here, you can have your phone back. Oh and I took the liberty of saving my number on your phone. That way, if you ever need anything or some help finding your car later, you can just give me a quick call.” 

What the fuck. He did what now?

He smiled at you through the rearview mirror, his eyes watching you closely. Carefully, you grabbed your phone out of his hands. 

“That's so… thoughtful. Thank you” You tried to put a smile on your face. 

"So, Riley, how did you like the concert?” You tried changing the topic. Oh boy, that worked. Riley started rambling about everything, including how cool it was to be on stage with Lady Raven. Unconsciously, you found yourself smiling a real smile, she was just so cute. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror every so often, and as soon as you met Cooper's eyes, you looked back at Riley. Let’s not get lost because of his good looks. You still felt uneasy.  

You tried telling yourself in your head. Somehow, you felt like a prey being watched by his predator. Once in a while you felt like his expression would flicker for a split second, his eyes becoming way darker, but it was gone so soon. You weren’t even sure if you saw it correctly or if it was your imagination. Even though the feeling was only there for a split second, He looked so friendly, encouraging Riley to talk more. 

Finally, you could make out the hospital in the distance. About time, you thought. 

“Hey Y/N?” Riley asked. 

“Yes?”- 

“Maybe when your dad is better again, you can visit us? I feel so bad for you. Today should have been a great day. _You seem really cool… I mean, your dad and family can come too..Right dad?” Cooper smiled and nodded. 

“Great, Like a family dinner, my mom is a great cook.” So he was married. “I just would like to do something nice for you.” Oh god, the world didn’t deserve her kindness. 

“Of course, you don't have to feel compelled to do so. Think about it, you don’t have to decide now..” Cooper interjected. 

“The two of you are too kind. I can't,” more like won't, “give you an answer right now, but I promise to think about it. Okay?” You fake-gushed at the two, your face hurting from keeping the smile on your face. 

Both Cooper and Riley seemed satisfied with the answer. You felt like you were in the wrong movie, was there a hidden camera somewhere? You arrived within the next minute. Cooper parked his car near the emergency exit. One moment away from freedom, away from this lie. 

“I can’t really thank you enough. Thanks for driving me here. I hope you had a great day. Have a safe drive home.” You tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Oh, child safety must be on. I’m sorry, I forgot.” apologized to Copper and exited the van to open your door. You didn’t believe him, it just matched too well. 

“I hope you get good news inside. Dad acted really strange today, but I’m happy everything is normal again.” she smiled, before you could answer, and your door opened. 

Daddy is acting strange today. You don’t say…  

“Well, bye, Riley.” You waved at her and got out and barely got your hand out of the doof before Cooper shut it close. 

“I’m so glad we could help you.” he said with that charming voice of his. He started to walk with you towards the building. “With all the extra police force, because of the Butcher, it could have taken you at least an hour to get here.”

“That's true. Well maybe next time he shouldn't let his recipes laying around in his hideouts. What does he even want at a pop concert?” you snorted. 

“Did he now?” Cooper asked intrigued.

“At least that's what I overheard from a few higher up people today.”, no way you were saying that it was Lady Raven who told you.

“Seems like he needs to be cleaner and more careful.”

“If not, they might just catch him next time,” you joked.

“I don't think that will happen, sweetheart.” His mouth twitched in amusement.

That was a weird response. He must have seen the frown on your face, as he quickly started to explain himself.

“I mean if they didn't catch him today, while they knew he was going to be there. I think the chances of the police finding him again are relatively close to zero.” His reply sounded reasonable. 

“Well yes, but he fucked up once. Maybe he is getting sloppy with time. Nobody knows.” 

His jaw clenched. “You think so? Maybe you're misinterpreting the situation. I would imagine someone like him to be very calculated.  Otherwise the police would have found him already, if he was being sloppy.”

“True…” You shrugged your shoulders. Maybe you were wrong, but why did he sound somewhat angry at your statement?

He was honestly acting strange now. 

“Well I think this is where I leave you.” Cooper announced after a few seconds of silence. His behavior over the last meters made you feel unsettled again. He seemed strange. ‘Why was he like that?’ 

“Okay…”, should you with your gut feeling, you wondered? Fuck it, it was just a guess, a wild guess. You always knew your big mouth would get you into trouble someday. Maybe he was just a normal dad and you were overthinking the situation. If that was the case, he wouldn’t think anything of it.

“By the way B-...Cooper” you began, and Cooper turned around in a second, looking at you expectantly, one of his brows raised. His face was unreadable. “You're welcome.. You know that? For getting to drive with Lady Raven"—for  getting out of there without the security controls - was what you wanted to say. Even if he were the Butcher his facial expressions and body language didn't betray him. He smiled and stepped back toward you. Every bone in your body wanted to run. ‘Fuck, did this creep you out.’ You felt like you were pushing your luck today 

“Yes.. of course. I am very grateful for that…” Before he could say anymore, Riley pulled down the window. 

“Dad! Let's go home! Y/N needs to go to the hospital! And I want to tell mom all about the concert!” 

“She's right. I don't want to keep you from your father any longer. I bet your sister is waiting for you. Better go inside.” ‘He knew, he knew you lied when you fucked up with the sister and brother thing.’ Panic started to set in, you swallowed hard, your throat dry.

He came even closer and engulfed you in a tight hug. You stood there, frozen in place. He leaned his head down to your ear, his hands holding you even tighter. One of them slowly wandered to your lower back while he talked.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You sure made it easier. I’m sure Spencer will be soo grateful. I’ll let you know…” a dark chuckle escaped him.

“It's a small world. I'm sure we will see each other again.” His deep voice whispered in your ear, which sent shivers down your spine. You felt trapped. Like a tiny mouse next to him, holding your breath unintentionally. He patted you on the back. Smiling, he stepped away. 

‘Breathe– mask your emotions. Get a grip.’ Many different thoughts running through your head.

Tilting your head to your side you looked at him. Moreover you were confused. Even a tiny bit scared.

‘Please don’t let him notice. Who was Spencer? Did you know Spencer?’

Furrowing your brows you asked “Spencer?” your voice slightly quivering.

He grinned even more— it looked unnerving. It was replaced by a much friendlier smile after another second. “Don’t worry about it.” 

‘Were you imagining things? Now you knew why people said “don't play with fire.” Why had you said anything at all...’

His voice became louder, having that charming undertone again “and make sure to call sweetheart. Riley would be very happy if you came over.” Winking at you he turned around and walked back to his car. 

You felt like your chest was about to explode.

“Yes! Once your dad's out of the hospital and things settle down, Make sure to call my dad. Then we can have a fun dinner.” giggling Riley's voice went even higher. She was practically shifting in her seat, unable to sit still. 

‘Fun dinner? Yeah.. sureeee kid..’

You mustered your best smile and gave her a thumbs up. 

“I will kiddo. See you around.” trying to steady your voice. You needed to get away fast. turned around and walked towards the hospital, near the end you were almost running. 

Once inside, you had the feeling that it was getting harder and harder to breathe. As if you weren't getting enough air. Your breathing became more and more rapid. Your vision was blurred. 

‘Was this hyperventilation? What was going on? Was he really the Butcher? Were you right? Would you die next? Maybe he would keep you alive because you unintentionally helped him?’

Anxiety welled up inside you. You barely noticed the loud voices around you. 

‘Did you hear someone calling for help?’

You had the feeling that the world was spinning around you. ‘Were you still walking?’ It felt like your legs were made out of jelly.

Someone was talking to you, holding you by the shoulders. Shaking you. Waving something in front of your face. However, you couldn’t make out the words. You couldn't recognise the face in front of you. Everything sounded dull, like it was far far away. The world became increasingly blurred before your eyes, spinning more and more– 

until you finally gave in and everything went dark. 

[drdemonprince]

I think think about your piece How to Go Places Alone And Not Feel Like A Freak Looser (or something to that affect) quite often.

While it is uncomfortable, tiring, nerve wracking, to feel like or be the odd one out, I am at least used to the feeling. It takes nerve but (especially as a kid/teen) have always gone to things alone and, once I get over myself, enjoy not caring what anyone thinks about my presence.

As an (ever transsexualizing >:) adult, I am getting back into doing & dressing however I want in public (embarrassing yourself is inevitable, might as well enjoy life!). This is a funner, freer, outlook, but I hoped being more myself would help me find my people.

I’m used to the awful feeling of being an alien freak looser (real or imagined) so I can hype myself up to be in my own world when I’m out. But I wonder if doing this, and choosing events based on interest instead of demographics or friendship, reinforces my felling of disconnect with people. It’s easier to accept, and dress like, I’ll always stick out (be alone) than it is to imagine mimicking those around me.

I went to an explicitly cruisey new years night and instead of studying the crowd intensely trying to fit in, wore my shiny platforms, smiled at people, and danced just for the fun of it. Feeling good about myself and enjoying my experience requires an ‘eh fuck ‘em’ attitude. I can enjoy being in public seeing all my fellow earthlings but it does not feel social. And I realize, my time there felt anything but sexy. I wasn’t about to walz into the darkroom (let’s walk before we run), but I hate that I couldn’t feel comfortable in this place I’ve always wanted to be.

I return to the same questions everywhere I go: I can exist, but how am I supposed to learn the codes of a space when I can’t study (ruminate) from afar?

How could I ever be social when (even joyous and embodied) I can’t get out of my own head?

How do you know when it’s time to listen to your gut and when to play into a social game?

I understand what you mean about the duality between doing your own thing in your own little alien bubble and actively placing effort into connecting with the people around you (which often feels like it requires masking).

But, from my perspective, both of those are strategies for dealing with social overwhelm -- one is more dissociative, and the other's more compensatory. Both of them reflect a discomfort with the people in the space. And they're both perfectly reasonable ways to deal with such feelings! But the way to move forward, at least in my experience, is to continue attending events until you attain enough familiarity with them that you actually start feeling more comfortable.

You said you didn't feel sexy at this cruisy party, and certainly weren't ready to venture into the dark room. That's fine! You can work your way up in whatever order of activities is least intimidating to most intimidating to you.

The first few times that I go to a club, I need anywhere from a few minutes to an hour to get warmed up enough to really dance on the floor and take up a ton of space and make weird gestures. I spend a lot of time lurking in the corner or reading a book at the bar at first. After I've been there a number of times, I know the deal of the space better, recognize a few people, maybe have developed a rapport with the door guy or a regular, and it gets easier to branch out and feel more at ease in my skin. People intuit this and approach me more often when I'm feeling more comfortable, and my reactions have fewer exit ramps built into them (one of my protective instincts is to throw out a lot of conversation-enders that make people feel rejected, lmaoo good one me).

The same general principles I've described here can apply to any new social challenge, including a bar with a backroom where people are fucking. Show up again. Do your thing. Maybe find a spot to post up and observe, since you mentioned an interest in doing that. Bring a book or some knitting if you want, and wear whatever outfit helps you feel comfortable and good with yourself. The first few times you do all this, people may get strong "I'm Doing My Own Thing Leave Me Alone" vibes from you, as they often do from Autistics, and that's fine. You're still learning and acclimating from being there. After a couple of tries, head into that back room. It's not as exciting as you think it's gonna be. You might get to watch some fucking or you might just see a bunch of guys pacing around who are just as awkward as you feel that you are. But then you'll know what it's like. And then you just keep showing up, and observing and participating in small ways (watching is participation in a sex club!), and you'll get steadily more involved in the space and connected to the people each time that you do.

I've been going to pet patrol nights for a long time and I've only just now gotten to the point where I can chat up random people and get into hookups relatively easily, instead of just standing around mutely hoping someone will approach me. Bringing friends has helped a ton to relax me and make me seem more approachable to others, too, so you could try that!

for anyone wondering here's the full piece

[jacqcrisis]

Have you had any inspiration for Zeke and Caleb lately? What would the final chapters cover? I love them so much and I'm so curious about what more you have to share about them. Thanks!!

I'm glad to hear that and I'm sorry for not finishing that story as of yet. I may in the future. I've opened the draft for the next chapter several times but I just... haven't been able to put anything down.

I think about it a lot, I fucking love my characters, I have the outline written out for the last chapters and how its supposed to go, but its the same kind of struggle I've had over the past year and a half with writing. I've got so many WIPs I want to finish, including Left Turn, but I just can't for some reason.

If you want to know the plan for the last chapters of Left Turn, I've detailed them down under the read more. Read if you wish.

The last chapters are meant to showcase Caleb being happier in this new situationship. Magic starts being easier for him. He stops going to the gym so much. He's content even with this clock ticking down in the background and both his mom and the Fae pressuring him about it. He keeps getting pamphlets for matchmakers and dating services that he shoves into a drawer but being annoyingly domestic with his newfound, completely platonic-but-also-with-benefits roommate.

There was going to be a chapter where he goes away on a family trip with his mom and spends the whole time missing Zeke and they're texting constantly and at one point his mom tries to set him up with a woman from another family. Caleb has a momentary crisis over this potential out of his situation as the woman kind of lays out how they both need to get married, and he should at least give dating her a shot because she is similarly desperate, and Caleb rejects her because he can't imagine moving out of Zeke's just yet.

And then he and Zeke were going to go to Jades wedding and oh boy does Caleb just like Zeke in a suit. They have a good time at the wedding, Caleb gets some words of wisdom accidentally from the happy bride about how when she thought about this day, she could never see it 'the way she was supposed to', only ever with herself in a dress with another woman across from her. And that kind of pings around in Caleb's protein packed noggin during the reception as he's drinking and spending most of it with Zeke, looking at Zeke, dancing with Zeke and then going back to the hotel room and getting railed. Also by Zeke, shockingly.

Second to last chapter was him getting final notices about time running out as he's got six months left and he's got more pamphlets for matchmakers stuffed into his dresser drawers that he keeps looking at as he grabs his socks before he slams it back shut again. He bemoans to Ashley that he feels stuck, he doesn't know what to do, everythings gotten so fucked up... And why is this so hard, anyways?

And Ashley's rolling her eyes like yeah, it's really weird that it's hard breaking up with your boyfriend and Caleb makes a face at that because he and Zeke aren't dating, he's not breaking up with anyone- wait why are you looking at me like that- and Ashley smacks some sense to him about the life he's been living for the past however many months, which Caleb denies but definitely has to have a crisis about after they part.

The ending is kind of wibbly, I've never fully decided on it, but Zeke finds those pamphlets, they have some kind of conversation about how much time Caleb has left as its a conversation they've both just been ignoring. And Caleb drops the bombshell of a question of 'are we dating?' which Zeke, God bless him, doesn't immediately strangle him. Heart to hearts are had, loving words are exchanged, pamphlets thrown into the trash.

Epilogue is about a year after Caleb's time comes up. He notes that it was very quiet the day after he failed to meet his deadline. There wasn't any fanfare, there wasn't anyone screaming at the phone at him. His mom blocked his number, he had to change colleges, take on some debt, and has to re-do half his degree for a less magical version. His sister has finally started messaging him again, just pictures of his niece and he is happy for that.

He and Zeke are prepping for a month long road trip to go see Caleb's dad up in Washington, who's never stopped talking to his son during all this and is tentatively okay the changeling coming over. And they're happy. Cute. Life continues on, Caleb's future is open with someone he loves at his side, and he doesn't have any regrets.

It's not very dramatic. Just kind of simple and sweet. But yeah, that's the idea! Thank you for the ask and the enjoyment of my stuff!