#and its all i can think about before i go to sleep

[sunspotpony]

Then I’d apologize that it was stuck with such a poor model, welcome it to the family, and try to figure out how to help it have a place in the world.

I’ve “adopted” a number of folks who felt lost before. What’s one more?

Mind you, I’d probably still be a bit terrified it was going to eat me in my sleep, but, assuming it didn’t do that, I’d probably shave my head to make it easy initially to differentiate between the two — I wouldn’t force them to shave their head on account of convenience; that’s my burden to bear.

Now if they shaved their head after we’d had that conversation, I’d become a bit more concerned about the eating part, but, hey.

The biggest concern would be food and lodging and documentation— it’d become legally sticky if we had to share government ID, if it ended up having my same health problems and needing my meds, for example.

I’d probably get some sort of paternity testing kit — some cheap gel electrophoresis or something — to see if we matched genetically.

That might make it easier in some ways, more difficult in others. It’d make getting documentation probably slightly easier, maybe? Spin up a story that they’re my twin and through some chicanery, were shipped off elsewhere and ended up back here on account of someone thinking they’re me, and now they have no ID. I’ve white privilege and both my parents were citizens so I’d have less of a struggle there than were I another ethnicity—I don’t know. I’d have to research it more. I just know it’d come up at some point.

Now, if they were some sort of weirdly different genetic thing, at least then they’d hopefully be spared my health problems. Hopefully.

That side of thing opens up another weird can of worms — what would a fantastical entity that is identical to me, but not biologically? What would they eat? They’d probably need hidden from the government at all costs.

That’d becomes tricky, fast.

In terms of money, well, I’m sure we could leverage the identicalness for profit somehow.

It’d be hard to trust, but it’s hard to trust anything or anyone these days. And all you can do is be kind.

Tbh though the very VERY first thing I’d do is call my spouse, say only half the special code phrase we have, and that they are to now only trust me if I use the other half of that phrase, and to discard the first half, and then inform them that I’ve picked up a doppleganger— they seem friendly, but to please be very careful, ask them to always ask “me” for the second half of the code phrase, and always pretend the code phrase is maybe right, maybe wrong, no matter what I say, because by a matter of luck, the doppleganger is probably smarter and more observant than I am. But I’d also forewarn that if the doppleganger was at least as smart as I am and knew anything of what I knew, it’d have already reached out to announce that I’m a doppleganger and that I need to be cautiously protected, and so I’d tell my spouse to assume every me is a doppleganger. Assuming it hadn’t already shaved its head to prevent me from having to shave mine and also to therefore prove its authenticity. I’d still probably say that anyway, as my spouse would probably consider that a reasonable suggestion.

It’d be touch and go. I’d probably for a while need to figure out where they’d sleep, in a way that doesn’t TRAP my doppleganger, but also makes it blatantly apparent to everyone in the vicinity if it tried leaving the room it was given the sleep in so that if it did have ill intent I’d at least have a fair warning.

It’d all be very tough initially. Very very scary. Rules of reality suddenly being broken means literally anything could be true. Next thing I know I’d have a Fairy Riding a Walrus knocking on my front door.

Ultimately, as a matter of pure luck, my hope that its wish for love and to be a person were genuine, and acting according to that, would likely to me being killed and replaced. I’d probably attempt to beforehand convince my spouse that if EITHER of “me” ended up disappearing or dying in mysterious circumstances, they need to divorce me immediately and can use my piles of weird porn as justification, and then RUN.

But I’d still probably end up dead. Kindness changes the world, but individual kindness puts one at a great great personal risk.

But, depending on how close it studied me, what of me it copied, or if it was just a thing that looked like me, if it WAS on my side, we might just be able to collaborate to affect real change. Maybe. Who knows.

This was an amusing little speculation. I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Hopefully I wake up in the morning as opposed to the suggestion of the panic attack I’m having is would propose— that I’m not waking up at all. This little exercise ultimately is procrastination at what as far as my psyche and body are telling me, is a one way trip to meet the reaper. So, hopefully that ain’t it.

@sistertenebrae — you might enjoy this weird little paranoid exhausted ramble I’ve written. Tbh By the time you’ve read it I’ve probably already woken up and therefore didn’t die in my sleep, but on the odd chance I did — much love to you.

And, in fact, to everybody. I hope you all stay safe out there. World be spooky, and we’re all in this shit together. 💪✨ Even probably doppelgängers.

what if your doppelgänger wasn’t evil it was just a person. what if your doppelgänger wasn’t trying to replace you it was just trying to learn to be a person and you were the best model it had. what if your doppelgänger looked at you with your eyes and said with your voice that it just wanted to be loved. what then.

[honeytonedhottie]

how to be tea - honey's handbook⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🌟💞

this is a post that talks about all things beauty, wellness and confidence from the experience of a honey toned hottie. everything ik works cuz i do them myself to just be tea, to be raw, to be FABULOUS. im structuring this post with affirmations as the section titles because what u think and affirm is what you'll experience so thats just me tying LOA into this post...💬🎀

"MY SKIN IS ALWAYS SO GLOWY AND FLAWLESS" ;

skin cycling - skin cycling is basically a skincare routine that alternates between using active ingredients and resting the skin. my skin cycling routine goes like this (exfoliate -> brighten -> hydrate) with rest days where i need them.

i've found this to work really really well for me so if ur looking to try something solid def give this a try! remember, everyone is different so feel free to tailor it to ur needs and experiment to find what works for YOU.

subliminals - SUBLIMINALS are the best! i have a subliminal playlist that i play at night and i wake up looking absolutely FLAWLESS. im linking it right here. ik theres a lot of misconceptions and misinformation about subliminals so lemme give u guys a quick rundown...💬🎀

✨ a subliminal is an audio of affirmations layered with music or rain sounds. so you'd hear the rain sounds, white noise, whale noises etc but the affirmations would play and soak into ur subconscious like a sponge.

✨ subliminal work because they impress new beliefs onto your subconscious, and with the law of assumption, your reality shifts to match those beliefs. also because whatever u assume to be true is true so if u assume they work then they do and thats that.

✨ to make a subliminal work u dont have to do anything but assume. assume that it works. if ur listening to a subliminal and it says anything like "drink water to see results, only listen twice!" or anything like that u can just disregard it cuz thats bs.

"MY BODY IS SO TEAAA" ;

🌟 i workout about 3-4 times a week but on days that i dont work out i still stay active. staying active by going for a walk, jump roping, dancing or running and stretching.

🌟 my everyday workout routine ALWAYS starts by stretching. i'll either do a flexibility stretch or a mobility stretch in the morning and a stretch to relieve pain in my back before bed.

🌟 literally every workout that i do is from youtube, youtube WORKS, youtube is TEA. some days i'll do one long pilates workout and some days i'll target each part of my body with an individual workout. honestly it all depends on what i do and dont have time for.

"I HAVE HAIR TO MY ASS" ;

💕 scalp care is SO neglected and it's arguably one of the most important things to take care of. i oil my hair maybe 1-2x a week with rosemary, jamaican black castor oil, and peppermint. i’ll warm it up a little, massage it in with my fingertips (or that cute lil scalp massager thingy), and then slick it back in a loose ponytail with love.

💕 i sleep with a satin bonnet or pillowcase every night. no excuses. even if i’m tired. even if i’m sad. even if i’m sleeping over somewhere and feel awkward. i will protect the inches.

💕 also brush ur hair! its so important to increase blood flow therefore promote growth. i feel like such a princess every time i brush my hair before bed, and im so METICULOUS with this shit its really amazing.

"EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE IS PERFECT" ;

i try to meditate every singe day to kind of ground myself and just immerse myself in the end and it's great! since im not a very visual girlie i just talk to myself while i do this. even if im not consciously manifesting anything at the time just going inward and having a conversation (idk if this makes me sound crazy but it feels nice)

to ensure that everything in my life is perfect i always make sure i have an agenda for the day cuz im a very type A kind of girl so i like to know exactly what im doing when. i have goals to accomplish and things to do! so my time management is very top tier with my agenda. to keep myself on track i implement little things like :

👛 screen free mornings - i WILL get distracted and i'd just rather not

👛 social media detox every other week - lately tiktok has just been a cesspool of brain rot (and when i say brain rot im not referring to tung tung tung sahur) im referring to incessant bad news and im just NOT into that so i take a break for my mental health every other week. and i try to minimize the time i spend on social media platforms in general

"IM SO TALENTED" ;

i take my passions, and talents SO seriously. im a singer so i practice singing everyday. i'd also say im a rly multi-passionate person. i manage my girl blog, my magazine, i play piano, tennis, and i feel like im always working on a project! so i make sure to pour into myself in all aspects of my life, especially as a perfectionist. i wanna make sure every one of my passions has been poured into.

[myth1cs]

Hold On (Hirai Momo x M!Reader)

Smut; count-on-mi asked why no one wrote about Momo in a red dress so I might as well do it.

Word Count: 2,060

"At the end of the event you'll have to give a short speech. After that we can go home."

Momo sighed and took a sip of her alcohol. Her head was buzzing, she put her hands on her forehead before she slumped down on the seat in the limo. "All of this promotion is so tiring."

Being her manager you naturally knew the toll that being an idol had on Momo. You knew that she couldn't care any less about this event and she'd much rather be home relaxing.

"Is there any more alcohol in the fridge?" Momo murmured out. You checked and found there was some alcohol in there. You nodded your head.

"Of course."

She didn't have time to ask for another glass as the limo arrived at the event. She put on her best happy face as she stepped out of the vehicle. You really commended her for her acting skills. Not many people could act happy and lively while running on little sleep.

The event went as normal. People went up to her to take pictures and she took pictures of her holding some of the company's products. As the event went on you noticed a few of the people were eyeing Momo. It was understandable of course she did look attractive in her red dress. A few people tried to get touchy with her but you stopped them.

The time came for a brief break and food was brought out. "About time, I felt like I was going to pass out." Momo groaned. "We're almost done here. Just tough it out for a while longer." A short while passed before alcohol was being passed out. Momo took a few sips hoping it'd be enough to help her get through the event but it wasn't very strong. "Damn it Y/N I need something stronger than this or I'll lose it."

"You want some of mine?" You offered her your drink. "No, it won't be enough." she responded. It seemed like she was thinking of something before she put her glass down "Do you know where the bathrooms are around here?"

"I think I saw them around here."

"Mind taking me to them?"

"Not at all, follow me."

You led her to where you saw the bathrooms and she followed behind you. Once you two arrived she grabbed your arm and pulled you into the bathroom. "Y/N I swear these events are going to be the death of me." You knew where she was going with this. It wasn't the first time - far from it.

Momo locked the door behind you and when you heard the lock click you started to take off your pants while she took off her dress. Quite often when it comes to events you would have to help Momo de-stress. It wasn't the event themselves that tired her out but the fact that she had to take time away from her break day in order to attend them.

Naturally you were more than happy with helping Momo deal with her stress. Your cock entered her warm pussy - almost as tight as the day you first entered it - and you stretched it out as you entered further. Light moans fell out of her mouth that she tried to suppress so people wouldn't hear.

You started to gently massage her boobs that you knew everyone would kill to touch "Relax Momo I'm here for you." you pushed her against the door to the bathroom being careful not to make too much noise.

The intimacy going on wasn't enough for her though. She turned her head towards you and stuck her tongue out. As if it was a natural reflex you swiftly intertwined your tongue with hers both swirling against each other. You pushed forward wanting to be as close as possible to her.

Both of your bodies were pressed against one another. While you were poking around in Momo's mouth with your tongue you started to rub your thumb against her nipples. She squirmed under you and you shoved your cock deeper into her.

She moaned into your mouth and you couldn't help but to deepen the kiss as she did. You squeezed her ass making her jump in shock "You're going to be the death of me Momo. Fuck I'm going to cum."

"Please cum in me." she pleaded. Being an idol did have its benefits. Since she was always on birth control the two of you didn't have to worry about you pulling out.

The break was about to be over so you quickly sped up your thrusting but you weren't about to ejaculate. Momo checked the time on her watch and saw that break was almost over "Let's just leave it at that." she said with a hint of disappointment in her tone. You agreed and pulled out of her. Both of you started to quickly get dressed before leaving the bathroom. Luckily nobody saw the two of you exit the bathroom at the same time.

Everything went as it should. Momo gave her speech at the end and the two of you got back in the limo that was headed back for the dorms. Momo groaned as she sipped her glass of alcohol that she got from the fridge as she entered "Damn I don't get paid enough for this. Can you believe that most of the money goes to the company?! I hardly get any of it."

She was very clearly starting to get drunk. It wasn't too bad as she mostly just complained about things.

As the ride went on you couldn't help but start to get more and more bothered by the fact that you weren't able to cum in Momo. Your cock started to rise as thoughts of the intimacy you cumming in her came into your mind.

You moved over to Momo's side and looked down at her cleavage. "Still feeling horny?" she asked? You didn't respond and started to squeeze her boobs.

Momo got up and sat on your cock and started to grind against it. You continued playing with her boobs continuously squishing them and feeling their softness. You noticed how Momo's hair was just long enough to cover her neck and you got an idea.

You moved her hair out of the way and started to start marking her on her neck. Softly biting into her skin left a pretty noticeable mark on her and you continued to mark her wanting everyone to know that you had what they wished they had. Momo let out a low moan and started to grind against you at a faster rate.

As time went on you got a bit tired of her dress so you pulled her top half of her dress down which made her boobs pop out. Unclasping her bra and setting it to the side you once again started to squeeze her boobs feeling them without any fabric getting in the way.

When the limo arrived back at the dorms Momo quickly got up and fixed herself before stepping out. You got up and helped her make her way in the building as she was still pretty intoxicated.

It seemed like Momo was ready to go to sleep but you still hadn't been able to deal with your erection yet so instead you led her to the kitchen instead. You kept a bottle with aphrodisiac pills for times like these. Every now and then you'd get hard but Momo wasn't in the mood so you'd put a few pills in her drink to "persuade" her to help you.

"I want to go to bed." she said. "How about just one more drink before bed?"

"Fine but make it quick."

With haste you poured her some alcohol and made sure to drop a few extra pills for good measure. Once they dissolved you gave her the glass which she drank pretty quickly. The pills would take some time before they'd take their effect so you tried to think of ways to stall for time. "Let's go ahead and remove your makeup."

"Now? I'll just do it tomorrow morning."

"You'll be hungover tomorrow morning Momo let's just get it out of the way now so you can rest in bed when you are."

She wasn't happy about it but she agreed. You led her back to her room and had her sit on the bed while you grabbed the makeup remover items and slowly started to remove the makeup off her face.

As you were slowly removing her makeup you noticed she had started to slowly rub her thighs together. You were glad that the pills were taking their effect but you still needed to stall for time.

Once you removed all her makeup you told Momo to wash her hair and get changed into her normal clothes.

Momo washed her hair and was about to change out of her dress before she started to feel herself getting so bothered that she didn't care about going to sleep anymore.

"Y/N want to finish what we started back at the event?"

Without replying you pushed her onto the bed and started to undress. Momo rolled up her dress until her panties were exposed and pulled them down for you to see her wet pussy.

You inserted your tongue into her pussy feeling her walls clench around it. When you rubbed your thumb on her clit she bucked her hips towards your mouth.

Her thighs wrapped around your head and her hands were pushing you to her pussy wanting to feel relieved. "Ah! Yes Y/N please keep going, I- I need you to make me cum."

Those words that fell out of her mouth sent a rush to you making you quickly get up and take off your pants so you could enter her warmth. Her pussy was quickly filled with your cock squelching and tightly wrapping around it as if made for it. Your excitement made you thrust at a sloppy pace. But you didn't care all you were after was chasing that feeling that you were denied all night long. "Ah fuck~"

Pretty noises fell out of Momo's mouth making you all the more horny and making your desire fueled further. Your hands reached out and grabbed her breasts as you started to kiss her leave marks along her collarbone. You didn't care that she had practice in a few days all you wanted was to feel her soft skin.

Momo's eyes rolled back and drool fell out of her mouth due to all the stimulation you gave her. "F- f- fuck I'm going to-" your ejaculation came so fast that you didn't get the chance to finish your sentence before your semen filled up Momo's pussy. So much flowed out that it leaked out of her and stained the mattress. But that's tomorrow's problem as far as the two of you were concerned.

Both of you still extremely horny continued going. After the third time you came in Momo you pulled out and shoved your cock down her mouth. It reached her throat making her gag but you couldn't care less. Tears fell down her cheek as she struggled to breathe but she didn't attempt to shove you back. Her tongue kept sliding up and down your length to the best of her abilities.

It felt like hours to Momo but it was likely less than a minute before your semen painted her throat. You pulled out and enjoyed the view of your cock being covered in her hot saliva. Momo coughed up your semen as she gasped for air.

Still you wanted to do one more thing. Ruin her dress.

You started to quickly rub your cock to cum on her dress. Momo was still dizzy due to the lack of oxygen but noticed what you were doing and helped you pump your cock running her finger through it and rubbing the mushroom tip with her thumb.

A big load of cum came out of your cock and stained her red dress. Whether she didn't care or notice you weren't sure of but she fell asleep shortly after you did.

Giving her breasts one last firm squeeze you got yourself dressed again before leaving her room that reeked of sex.

"Goodnight." you whispered out before you closed the door.

-----------

I'm for real real... I'm still alive and kicking!

[streamsofmoon]

vi x gn!reader

a/n: born from me thinking about vi's long hair in season two.

"your hair's gotten long," you murmur, running lazy fingers through vi's hair. it's soft and silky, slipping through your fingers in a way that's oddly calming.

vi hums, her face pressed against your neck as she holds you close. you've been curled up around each other for hours, no place to go, and no things to do. the day has been slow and gentle, wonderfully calm, and it's dulled all your senses. has reduced you both into a content tangle of limbs.

"may cut it," vi murmurs back, the brush of her lips against your skin making you shiver. "i'm not used to it being like this." she shifts, her head coming out of its hiding place so she can stare up at you with sleepy eyes. "i don't know, what do you think?"

"i like it," you tell her honestly, still playing with the silken strands. "it's different. i like how it looks going down your back, the contrast of pink on the black of your tattoos. plus," a mischievous smile curls your lips. "it's fun to pull when you get me all riled up."

the laugh vi gives is deep with sleep, a little hoarse around the edges. it has your stomach doing small flips, butterflies doing their part to flutter wildly in your stomach. it has you pulling vi closer to you, wrapping your legs more firmly around her body because the very idea of letting her go is nonexistent.

vi responds by nuzzling into you, as if she can, somehow, mold the both of you into one person.

"so you just like how sexy it makes me look," vi retorts playfully, making you laugh as she nips at the curve of your jaw. "that all i am to you? a fine piece of ass?"

"yes," you reply without a hint of hesitation, laughing again when vi pinches at your sides. "wait, i'm joking! well, i'm partially joking because you are a very fine piece of ass."

"aw thanks, babe."

"you're welcome, honey, but i like it because it's you," you say easily, as easy as it is to breathe. "whether you cut it short or keep it long or shave all of it off, i'll still like it. because i love you."

vi's quiet for a moment before she says, "that's so cheesy."

you snort, amused. "as if you didn't buy me flowers yesterday because they reminded you of me."

"didn't say i wasn't cheesy," vi replies, her smile wide, and her love for you is palpable here. so loud and obvious in the way she looks at you. and you know you're looking back in the same way. "i'm gonna shave it all off and go bald."

"i had a sex dream where you were bald. it was hot. do it."

"...what did you just say?"

you're laughing so hard you can't breathe as vi rolls you onto your back, settling firm on top. she's laughing too, trying hard to draw details out of you, but no words can pass through your lips.

in the end, vi keeps her hair long because despite it being different, she likes the change. and since you love her no matter what, there's truly nothing to fear.

[h109zone]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!!!

this is a word vomit, and i just woke up, so don’t expect ang coherence, but ever since the trailer, i can’t stop thinking about xavier and his hands, particularly his long, slender fingers.

his fingers that can do wonders for your skin, whether a simple reassurance with caress of your cheeks, or his thumb playing around with your lips.

you stick out your tongue and he would place his pointer and middle finger inside your mouth, urging you to suck on them, which his other beautiful hand wraps itself around his cock, bob it at a desired pace, however just the mere sight of you sucking on his fingers sends him to the edge.

and don’t get me started on how big his hands are. this is not body type specific, but his hands are meant to grab your ass and tits, the perfect bra you may say. his favorite thing to do is for you to lay down your back facing him, and his hands starts to massage your breast. he does it to a point like it’s muscle memory (he especially likes it when you whimper out his name about how good you felt).

speaking of muscle memories, he loves it when you two make out after waking up and doing your morning routine, with you simply adorning a loose-sheer tank top and panties. his hands instantly starts fondling your soft skin of your lower cheeks past your underwear, while his tongue battles with yours.

with the fondle, your panties are urging itself so escape from his hands, so xavier instantly does as told removes them before setting you down by the counter, and spreading your legs (y’know i had to do it, #xavierlegopenersupremacy).

back to fingers, the pacing and rhythm of his digits can depend on the mood, setting, and cause. if it was a “fuck you back to sleep” type of situation, then his fingers can be languid and lazy, however due to its length, it does have a way to make you come easily. however, if you caught xavier at the wrong time, then he knows no mercy and you better start praying.

the usually slow man goes at a flash speed pace that you were sure you were started crying at the overwhelming pleasure and speed. xavier has almost never failed to make you come, and in some cases, he made you squirt all over the bed by just his sheer fingers.

he’s also so obsessed with the sight of his fingers spreading only to see strands of white translucent of your aftermath, before he starts licking it, holding eye contact with you as he moans in delight. you were overstimulated and out of breath, but you still craved the man in front of you.

“you taste delicious…” he hushed as he spreads your legs once again, as he lowers down your body, leaving trail marks of kisses from your collar bone down to your pubic mound. you can only shudder with each kiss, and once he finally reached his destination, your pleas have been voiced.

“lemme have a taste, i need more of you…”

———

WOAH IM GOING INSANE GOOD BYE

🏃‍♀️💨

[kamosaki]

Same Moon

Pairing: Levi x Civilian!Reader

Summary: You always wait for him to come home no matter how late it gets.

Warnings: Making out, fingering, aftercare

It was late, later than usual but you knew he would come regardless. He always came to you when he returned. You provided him with a sense of normality he had never known before. That's why after all these years no matter the circumstances he still manages to come see you. Suddenly a firm, familiar knock pulls you from your thoughts.

You run a hand over your hair and dress before going to the door. He's told you time and time again your appearance isn't what he visits for but you still like to put in some effort. "Who is it?" you jokingly call out. He lets out a small laugh before replying. "You know who it is, brat."

The nickname brings a smile to your face as you open the door. You practically drag him over the threshold once your eyes meet his. Those bright blue eyes you've become so familiar with. His arms wrap around your waist and his head finds its spot in your neck.

You bring your hand up to run through his hair, it's longer than you remember, maybe he'll ask you to cut it again. His grip tightens for a moment before he pulls back. "You hungry? I made your favorite". He smiles "I could eat."

What he really wants to say is he's starving. The slop they give the scouts is nothing compared to your cooking but he doesn't want you worrying. You hurry off to the kitchen where plates and food on the stove. He sits in the seat he always does, admiring you as you mess about.

You set his plate down in front of him and you can tell he's fighting himself not to dig in but he refuses to eat before you. Once you've sat down and taken your first bite is when he starts eating. "What have I missed?" You always love to tell Levi about the happenings of when he's gone.

Whether it's gossip about the neighbors or a cute cat you saw walking down the street, he wants to hear it all. You never ask him about work, if he wants to talk about it he can but you leave that up to him. "You'll never guess who I saw at the market the other day." Your enthusiasm makes him laugh but you were right the story you had to share with him was shocking.

Everything you did interested him. He was completely transfixed by you. He was in love with you, it took him a while to come to terms with that but when he did he made sure that every time you two were together you could feel it.

From the small glances he gives when he knows you're not looking to the gentle tone he only uses when speaking to you to the way he cares for you during and after intimate moments. All of these actions are ways he displays his love and you graciously accept them, knowing how hard the concept of love can be for him.

After dinner, Levi washes up while you wait for him in bed. You admire the moon that shines through your window, illuminating your bedroom. It's hard to believe that it's the same moon you and Levi look at every night. While you're nestled under your covers protected by the walls, he lays in an uncomfortable makeshift camp outside the gates and directly in danger.

Still, regardless of the two vastly different lives the two of you have during the day at night you're able to feel a sense of closeness knowing that you both share the same moon. "You're not already asleep, are you?" You feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against his chest.

"I can't go to sleep before you pay me back for that dinner you just devoured." He laughs into your neck. I wouldn't say I devoured it." You shake your head at his reply. "Really because I could've swore it was you that ate three plates." He pauses, you can tell he's trying to find some sarcastic remark to answer you with.

"I think you were sleeping just now because I'm pretty sure that was a dream you had." You turn your head to look at him. "Wha-" He cuts you off with a sweet kiss. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." He continues kissing you down the side of your neck. A tiny whimper escapes you when he kisses your sweet spot.

He loves listening to you talk but something about the noises you make when he's pleasuring you really drive him crazy. His hand slides up your thigh and underneath your night gown. "Can I?" You don't hesitate to provide him with a "Yes."

He watches your expression shifts into one of pleasure as he begins to rub slow circles on your clit. Your eyes flutter closed and your lips part slightly. His other hand wraps around your neck and pulls your head back. He reconnects your lips while you feel him prodding at your entrance.

You lightly gasp once you feel him slip inside. He pauses before continuing. "You okay?" You nod and meekly reply "Mhm." He begins to slowly move back and forth, creating a gentle rhythm that has you wanting more. Slowly he eases another finger inside which provides the perfect stretch.

He uses his thumb to stimulate your clit while he picks up the pace. You feel him hit the spot inside you thst only he knows how to. Your back arches off the bed and you let out a loud moan. "Right there, baby?" You can't reply as you throw your head back and grip onto Levi's arm.

The way you clench around his fingers tells him that you're close. He maintains his pace and reconnects your lips once more. This time the kiss is much more passionate. His tongue laps at yours as you cry out from the pleasure he's giving you. Then suddenly, it hits you.

You bring your legs together trying to fill the stimulation as you cum around his fingers. He slowly stops his movements, letting you ride out your orgasm. Soon he removes his fingers and lets you come down from your high while he grabs a towel to clean you up.

He's gentle, knowing that you're sensitive after you cum. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your thigh before pulling your nightgown back down and lying down beside you. He lays on his back while you have your head on his chest. Your hand begins to trail down to his waistband but he stops you.

You still struggle to believe you have a partner thats so selfless. He'd do a million things for you and still expect nothing in return. "I love you." you say into his chest not expecting him to answer you. "Love you too, brat." For a moment it felt like your heart stopped.

It's rare when he actually says that he loves you. You know he does so it really doesn't bother you but still when he does say it it's like hearing it for the first time all over again. Not wanting to ruin the moment you don't say anything and simply pull yourself closer against him as the two of you drift off to sleep.

A/n: First aot post!! I js had to do Levi<3

[cylove]

propaganda i am never falling for: the raijinshuu is just a fanclub for laxus

i never ever want to hear people talk about the raijinshuu as though theyre his cheerleaders/worshippers because that's not true! theyre his friends forever and always and im about to talk about it ad nauseam. its honestly going to sound pretty aggressive but idc its so annoying that after a decade theyre still interpreted this way!! also very ramble-y again

debut arc ie battle of fairy tail

first and foremost, its the best way to view them and they were taken seriously. to put it plainly, the raijinshuu were created for laxus. theyre his team and his accomplices to his crimes! laxus at the beginning of the series is nothing short of selfish, arrogant, and rude. these are traits that not a lot of people want to hang around with for good reason! but yet he has 3 people who would hurt their own guild mates for him? even so far as to kill? like in evergreens case SHE lives with many of the girls that were in the Miss Fairy Tail Contest! erza, levy, cana, and bisca all live in fairy hills along with evergreen. she's dedicated to laxus and his cause and was willing to murder women who she slept right next door to!!! (under the assumption she lived there pre-BOFT, if not its still crazy considering theyve known these people since they were teens)

what must you do to garner that sort of support? that mere idea alone should be indication of a deep bond. and it's not manipulation or any threats made by laxus! its not mean to say this because mashima says this too. laxus is not a genius (his intelligence is a 3 from the GMG stats, so average), hes not a master manipulator who tricks them into following his lead. he also never threatens them, its very obvious from the get go that they agree with his idea! because theyre bad people too! so if YOURE an asshole and IM an asshole, then hey! were like 4 peas in a pod! theyre similar to laxus, they seek power, fame, and recognition for their skills (also fun!.. by beating people up). it makes sense laxus would be drawn to them. if they didnt have traits he liked in the beginning, he wouldve never given them the time of day because hes a dick who pushes people away

read more to see me yell about them for 5 miles

laxus is very socially awkward and never got close to the other members of fairy tail. in flashbacks, hes always on the outskirts of social events. laxus was raised in fairy tail, every one else were orphans who came in like as 10yos or something. laxus was alone in terms of children his age since birth until the raijinshuu came around. like obviously he'll end up anti-social, he's surrounded by kids 5 years younger than him or adults (they literally never show kids going to school, maybe laxus did but they definitely didnt stick around!) by ages alone they have a better chance of getting along with him

and they have time!!! so so much time to get close to one another. lisanna referring to them as the raijinshuu at first sight and them welcoming her with familiarity confirms their formation BEFORE her death which is in X782. BOFT is in X784. thats AT LEAST 2 years to get buddy-buddy with each other!! and whats more is that its mage work. not some office job. you can work a job and not know the name of the person right next to you but not in this profession!!! literally you eat, sleep, and fight side by side!! you cant expect laxus to be around them for that long WILLINGLY and think he doesnt form a genuine connection with all of them!! idc if it takes months, he comes around! he couldve broken it off any time he wants, i know he saw strength in them but laxus is so moody he wouldve said fuck it and got rid of them anyways. but he doesnt!!! because he likes them!!

and hey lets just say maybe they barely hung out besides doing jobs Pre-BOFT, i'd say fair! laxus was pretty bad back then, but post-BOFT, they'd become close no matter what. they continue working together and with everyone's more mellowed out personalities, then it all leads back to them to being friends!! stronger than ever too. laxus getting touched by their love and vise versa is inevitable

thats a big thing to note too! he likes them because theyre strong, he doesnt pass that around lightly. he says this about s-class mages of course but he thought the same of them as well! i have touched on in another analysis about his comment on ever v erza. but to reiterate he thought ever could take on erza and is incredibly angry his expectations were not met!! he doesnt even think "maybe she was weak from the very beginning" No!! he thinks its a fall from grace!!! that says so much about him and the respect he has towards her! he glazes them too its a two way street!

idolization allegations

sigh its true in the sense that mashima didnt care about them as much since their initial arc and made jokes creating this narrative and some people just took it and ran. but if you really think about it, theres no way they do. remember that they work together? so they spend numerous days with him and see him act like a regular person.. they met him as a teen boy like ofc the spell breaks the first day. laxus is strong but cmonnnn the image fades fast. theyre teens too, you dont think they find him like nightmarishly annoying some days. they cant be blind fanboys/girl because that would require some parasocial relationship but how does one have that if the person you are a fan of in question is telling you he forgot his sleeping bag when he was packing....? like 2+ years is a long time to get to know a guy

fans are annoying in the sense that THEY DONT KNOW YOU!! but they know laxus!!! the problem is how mashima presents them and ugghhhh i get where people get it from but if you take literally 2 seconds to think about the logistics, its all for show. like pls guys just trust me on this. they've went bar hoping, they've gone to festivals, they throw each other birthday parties, it was never a casual work relationship (disregard this part, im getting into hc territory)

but genuinely if not the raijinshuu, then who else? dont bring up fairy tail team b becaus then why doesnt he want to go on jobs with them (the ones who still do)? why arent they the ones he's drawn with in numerous group official arts? so youre saying he goes on jobs for days, weeks, months with his coworkers and OTHER people are his best friends? what???? sure team b can be his friends, but then you have inner circle friends, which in this case is the raijinshuu

it is hard to see laxus reciprocating this love, i understand, but thats just how he is. he's terrible at emotions, its how he ended up nearly blowing up magnolia!! despite all that he can admit to loving people because he does it in canon. the words are right there. you can hear it too in the anime if you want! like you see him hug them so close to himself the second he wakes up from a coma. he was just as worried as them!!! he thinks lowly of himself because he's not doing enough FOR THEM!!

also patrick seitz (laxus va) says verbatim "you 3 are the world to me. i cant keep you safe" like are you kidding me sure dubs can deviate but it just supports the original even more. its so direct, he loves them! he thinks the world of them!

im gonna get atmospheric on your ass because literally this man's breathe is tickling your face as he says he loves you and he needs to do better for YOU!! he's burying his face in their's!! its sooo sweet and it was fast too! he was overcome with emotions that he had to immediately tell them this and physically let them know. its so so important that he initiates too!! hes not usually touchy like this, hes never hugged except here!! (side hug for jellal during GMG wasnt heartfelt, he was being a tease, also it was nothing like this)

these arent your fans!!! theyre your bestfriends who love you UNCONDITIONALLY even at your worst, accepts you once more because of course they will, and you just nearly lost them!! it was never casual nor professional!!!!! its love all the way down

like the pure rage he felt after what wall did could not be compared!! he wasnt even this angry during his fight with raven tail. and we get another hint at how he views himself. hes changed a ton since BOFT, he used to think of himself as an arrogant god but now he admits hes barely worth his friends' lives. i find it a little much and the raijinshuu would probably say something about that, but it really shows that he feels deeply for them too. he wouldnt do this for "worshippers" or part of the "creed of laxus" (gray watch yourself)

also another point, if they really were mindless meatriders, laxus wouldnt even like that. sure old him probably wouldve sucked up all the attention, but since his exile, his ego has been reign in and wouldnt enjoy people blindly praising him up and down. genuinely think about having 3 people have a fan-idol dynamic with you and you work with them for YEARS in life and death scenarios. that is legitimately an insufferable experience, you'd quit! unless you are an ego maniac (which laxus kinda was before) it does not last long!

they dont do these things because its deeper than that. they tease and poke fun at him! its points to the idea that theyre regular people who joke around with one another! like they know him enough that he gets lost easily? i get intense cuteness aggression from them THIS IS WHAT I WANTED it is the tiniest glimpse of their dynamic when theres no over looming threat or serious job and i love it a lot! seriously what would have happened when laxus just got to come back normally and drop off the groceries?

is that not significant too? it was bickslows idea to do more casual things for cash and laxus goes along with it? that would be boring for him no? he loves fighting yet hes willing to hang around at a restaurant? the people he works with must be enjoyable then no? evergreen says the place is lowkey dead so its not even busy. like they just like experiencing life together its not hard to understand. when fairy tail disbanded for a year they all stuck together and worked in blue pegasus of all places. laxus always had the chance to tell them to go away

more teasing :3 im making this thread with strictly canon moments from the manga to make a point, it's more important to focus on moments mashima made canon in the og series. secondary content (anime only scenes, ft game dialogue, their gaiden volume) could be saved for another day

this has been going on for a while so one last thing and its my favorite thing, theyre physically affectionate!

when they glomp laxus its from pure joy that hes back!! BOFT is in october while tenrou island is in december, its only 2 months theyre apart but they missed him so much!!! its a lighthearted jokey tone but is them hugging him not indicative of a friendlier bond? it implies that BEFORE he got exiled he had a relationship with him that made them think it was okay to hug him. if they know him and he didnt like being touched like that, it doesnt matter how much they miss him, they wouldve respected his boundaries and not hug him. but they did! they mustve been affectionate before these events, they just didnt let anyone see it!! but since he's back they couldnt help themselves! freed's nuzzling his face its all very cute

also hes so harmless all he does is say stawwppp, they never push the joke further by making him push their faces away or anything. he says get off but doesnt really do anything beyond get embarrassed

like this moment is even better since its not played off as a joke as much! evergreen still hugs him and this time he doesnt even say anything!! this is still fresh off exile, so its not like their relationship developed in that time to making physical touches okay. no, it was before exile that this development occurred!! when the raijinshuu began opening up to people, it made them more bold to show that side of their relationship. its again really close too! her cheek is right on his arm and shes hugging him close to her chest!!

shes literally about to throw her arms around him if we had a second panel youd see it ugh AND HE WOULDVE LET IT HAPPEN!! not as intimate but bicks has his arm on him too

i think it misses the messaging of fairy tail, which is an anime about love, friendship, and family if laxus lacks that and the raijinshuu are nothing more than cheerleaders who arent actually that close to him. it makes 0 sense realistically, the existence of a couple one off jokes are that, just jokes. in canon laxus has stated he loves them as much as they love him! i find that laxus' main charm points is the idea that despite having difficulties with connecting to people, he still found love! if him being an asshole didnt scare people off, it was how socially clumsy he is! but the raijinshuu didnt care, they liked that about him because it made him, him

it really diminishes his closest platonic bonds and honestly a fundamental misunderstanding of his character to dismiss his friends like this. he'd hate you for saying shit like that!!

TDLR; the raijinshuu are not "a fanclub", "laxus whorshippers/fanatics/idolizers", "a parasocial relationship" or whatever else people want to say about them them! laxus is grown, he has complete autonomy in who he wants to spend most of his time with, in and out of work, and guess who he picks! its freed, evergreen, and bickslow!

CUTE LAXUS AND RAIJINSHUU IMAGE ATTACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dragonridersandhighlords]

Could I request a Bodhi x Reader fic in which he tells her everything about the Venin although xaden told him he shouldn't?

In the Dead of Night | Bodhi Durran

Summary: When Bodhi arrives late, injured, and unraveling, a quiet night turns into a turning point where secrets are shared, trust is tested, and love proves stronger than fear.

Pairing: Bodhi Durran x reader 

Note: The inspiration of Bloodline, a Bodhi x OC story, coming soon

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury

Word Count: <1k

Masterlist | FW Masterlist

You’ve always known that Bodhi kept parts of himself hidden, but you never held it against him. After all, you weren’t a rider, you didn’t have a rebellion relic. You were just a Scribe in the adept program. 

But tonight, something’s off.

Bodhi's late. Later than usual especially after not showing for the last week.

The hallways are dimly lit and eerily quiet when Bodhi finally appears, but the boy you know is a shadow of himself. His jaw is clenched, his usual smirk replaced by a grimace, and there's a wildness in his eyes that makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re bleeding,” you point out, your heart racing as you notice the gash on his shoulder, even noting the cast on his arm.

He brushes it off with a shrug, but the dismissive gesture doesn’t dim your concern. “Training,” he mutters, though the strain in his voice speaks volumes.

“Bodhi, I’m not stupid,” you insist, stepping closer, searching for the truth behind his bravado. 

He exhales sharply, his gaze darting around the deserted corridors before finally landing on you. There’s a gravity in his expression, a silent warning. “Don’t ask me questions you don’t want answers to.”

“I always want answers,” you say softly, aware of the weight of your words. “Even if it means I won’t sleep at night.”

He hesitates, the vulnerability in his eyes disarming. With a deep breath, he runs a hand through his sweat-damp curls, pacing away only to turn back with an intensity that sends your pulse racing. “Xaden said not to tell anyone.”

Your heart twists, panic rises. “But?”

“I have to,” he murmurs, sitting beside you, his knee brushing against yours. “You’re the only person who makes me feel like I’m not going to lose my mind.”

The rawness of his confession sends a jolt through you. You blink, grappling with the weight of his trust. “What is it, Bod?” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.

“Venin are real,” he confides, his voice low and urgent. “We’ve fought them. Xaden’s been leading operations outside of Basgiath, aiding the fight. Everyone thinks it's just rogue gryphon attacks, but it’s worse.”

Legends and childhood stories twist in your mind, suddenly vivid and terrifying, stories that were only meant to scare kids into listening, right? “But why hide it?” you manage, fear creeping into your voice. “Why would Xaden—why would all of you—keep that secret?” 

Bodhi leans back against the cool stone wall, his expression hardening into something bitter. “Because if the truth comes out, everything changes,” he says, the weight of his words settling heavily in the air between you. “Xaden thinks he’s protecting us. Maybe he is. But I couldn’t keep it from you anymore.”

His voice is rough, stripped of its usual bravado, and it sends a shiver through you. You can see the shadows of conflict and fear etched into his face, and it breaks your heart that he’s had to carry this alone.

You reach for his hand, your fingers brushing against the cool skin. It feels almost unreal, the way he’s come apart at the seams, revealing layers of turmoil you’d never imagined were there.

“I don’t care that I’m not one of you,” you insist, your voice steady despite the wild thrum of your heartbeat. “You never have to hide anything from me.”

For a long moment, he studies you, his stormy gaze searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or a flicker of the unwavering support he desperately needs. Gradually, the tension in his shoulders begins to ease, and a sigh escapes his lips, heavy with relief and gratitude. “I knew I loved you for a reason, Trouble.” he confesses, his voice a whisper that feels like a fragile promise hanging in the air.

“I love you too, hotshot.”

Everything Taglist: @lxnvmvrzx @bodhidurrans @bookwormysblog @nikfigueiredo @fictionalrelapse

Bloodline: @theseinfernalangels @bodhiscurls @violent-little-thing

[yousavorthis]

the obligatory, deliciously necessary, frat boy sam fic, because how could i not?

he starts off shy and reserved, keeping to himself, trying to find a new routine that doesn’t scream outcast-social-reject-backwoods-hillbilly upbringing. he has a roommate his freshman year, another dork who studies more than he sleeps and never misses a class. but then his sophomore year rolls around and he gets a roommate whos outgoing and fun. his name is brady and he’s charming and cocky in a way that makes you crave his approval, and in the late hours when he comes home and tosses his keys on his desk and flops face down onto his bed, sam sees a flash of his older brother in him. it’s fleeting and he squashes it down because it hurts to think about—to remember the last time he saw dean, with that defeated realization on his face that he was losing sam for real this time.

so sam takes a liking to brady and brady to him. for some reason he adores sam, loves pulling him by the wrist out the door to parties because brady’s a social butterfly and has been eyeing up a couple frats to join, says he wants to scope them out and claims he needs sam to wing-man him, whatever that means in the context of frats.

he finds out.

a few weeks go by and don’t ask how it happened but sam’s about to be a new pledge. hazing starts this friday and he’s been bouncing off the walls with anticipation. brady tells him he’ll be fine, that they’ll get through it, that it can’t be that bad, that it’ll be worth it. sam smiles and nods and rolls his pencil up and down his desk because he doesn’t know how to put his anxiety into terms brady will recognize.

then friday comes and sam’s all up in knots, but there’s a little spark of adrenaline he hadn’t expected, some excitement bubbling low in his gut.

it starts when he’s walking back to his dorm. someone comes up from behind and snakes two arms around him, trapping him in a hug, and a bandana gets tied over his eyes. his bag drops to the ground in the struggle and he hopes someone will pick it up because his laptop is in there and that thing costs more than he’s willing to admit. but before he can say anything he gets a mouthful of fabric. he tries to fight a little for dignity’s sake, knows he could get out of this hold real easy real quick if he wanted—could kick his heel back into a shin and wrap an ankle with his foot, use his weight to shift the gravity and throw the guy over his back onto the ground. but he doesnt, he lets himself be taken, thrown into the back of a car, face down on a leather bench seat. there’s a quick flash of restless nights in the impala’s backseat, snuggled up against his big brother’s side with a flashlight and a comic book, but it’s gone before he can really grab onto it.

some rope or twine wraps around his wrists, tied tight digging into bone, hands bound and resting in the small of his back. the car starts moving—the engine never stopped running—and his abductors crank the music. it’s some rap song sam’s never heard, loud and vibrating and he can hear them all singing along.

the drive is four minutes and thirty-six seconds, he knows they’re at the frat house and it makes his stomach settle just a bit. but the peace doesn’t last long because the engine cuts and the door flies open and they’re yanking him out of the backseat by his ankles. he’s sliding on his stomach, thinks he’s gonna fall face first onto the ground and crack his skull in half. he twists a little, tries to wrench his legs free to get them on solid ground, but then two strong arms come up under his chest and he’s being thrown over a shoulder. its crazy uncomfortable, he thinks this guy must be six and a half feet tall with how easy he’s carrying him.

sam’s stiff, core muscles working, hair tickling his forehead. his shoulders are starting to ache. some laughter, a couple words here and there, faint music somewhere distant, and then a door clicks open and the music comes through clearer. there’s some shouts of excitement, claps, someone rustles his hair and another one shoves at his side playful, then someone smacks the back of his thigh hard and he yelps through his gag, tenses, and feels his legs twitch, instinct kicking in.

he’s thrown down on a mattress, can hear the squeak of rusted springs, feels the rumpled sheets under his back, can smell the tinge of sweat-musk and boyhood. he waits, doesnt move to sit up, chest heaving a little with the way he’s sucking in air through his nose.

a minute goes by, some quiet murmurs and whispers, a cackle and a shushing sound, a scrape of wood on wood. then someone pulls the blindfold off and the dim light overhead brings the room into focus. the brothers are there, not all of them, just the main boys, the top dogs, mostly seniors, a couple juniors that were honorary or something. they’re all smirking, grinning, eyeing him up and down like fresh meat and if dean were here he’d make some vulgar joke about porn intros. but with a second glance over the room sam thinks that wouldn’t be too far off.

luke—at least he thinks so—is sitting in a chair, legs spread wide, jeans obscenely taut at the crotch, a pair of scissors in his hand and the blindfold in the other. he drops it to the floor, leans forward.

there’s conversation he can’t quite make out, and sam’s confused until luke proposes to wave him of the pledge fee and the rest of hell week if he agrees to their terms. sam can’t help but ask what those terms entail, and when luke shakes his head, eyes hard, and the rest of the boys start laughing behind their hands, sam starts to get a little worried.

at first he thinks hell fucking no absolutely not no way, because he can guess from one-to-many bad jokes and having a pervert for an older brother what they actually want from him, but then he starts to think. thinks that this is what he’s wanted this whole time, to be one of the guys, to do college things, be part of the scene and fit in. what’s more college than being in a frat?

he wonders if this is what the rest of the pledges have to deal with too, but he doesn’t think that can be right because they wouldn’t wave everyone’s fee. and it occurs to sam that they’re giving him special treatment, that they picked him to offer this exchange too, and that makes his stomach flutter. they wanted him, not any of the others, they thought he was right for this role, and to be sought out like that feels so fucking good.

and so they ask him a couple more things, and in response there’s some attitude from sam to play it up, to seem like he’s still putting up a fight. because he knows by the whole play of getting him here the way they did that they would take nicely to some resistance—that’s what they’re looking for.

that’s what gets them hot.

so he mouths off a bit for show. and then he says yes, and it’s all heat and spit from there. the rest of the guys surge forward, hands roaming as luke starts cutting him out of his clothes. they push him back on the mattress and start splitting his shirt open slowly, teasingly. he’s never known men like this to drag it out, always quick and chasing, eager with lust. but they take their time.

he can hear the rustling of jean, the soft groans as they start bringing themselves into half mast.

luke’s still sliding that metal tip along his chest, peeling his shirt away and licking his lips when sam’s nipples harden with the sudden cold air. sam’s chest is still heaving, lips parted, mouth dry, cock twitching. luke leans over him, braces himself on either side of sam, cocks his head and watches sam with a hunger he hadn’t expected. luke lifts one arm, leans his weight on the other, like he’s idle now, just observing a budding flower.

he’s got the scissors in his hand still, switches his grip, and then cold metal meets skin and lightly drags down from the dip in sam’s throat to his belly button. it circles, traces the line of hair that disappears below sam’s belt, then back up. it catches on a scar, slides over his ribs and then luke’s drawing slow spirals around a nipple, getting closer with each pass.

sam’s breath hitches, stutters in his chest. he arches a little, presses up into the touch and throws his head further back into the sheets, can’t help the little throaty groans that come out. luke angles the scissors and presses the tip of them to the side of that perky bud, draws it round and round until sam whines because fuck he can’t hold it in anymore. it’s embarrassing, the way his voice pitches high and his dick chubs up a little more, trapped in his pants. he’s barely been touched yet.

luke only hums, like he’s cataloging sam’s reactions for another time, and drags the scissors away, back down sam’s stomach. he comments on the scars, and sam responds vaguely, shy and embarrassed and startled by the intrigue—and a little bratty when he scowls at one of the other guys’ jokes. and luke leans in a little, gives sam’s cheek a light smack for it, raises an eyebrow and says he better behave. but he doesn’t elaborate on what would happen if sam didn’t behave, and the possibilities run through his head a mile a minute, guts twisting up.

the scissors drop to the floor and those hands come back, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding the zipper down. luke shimmies them down sam’s hips—leaves his boxers on—and tugs them off and tosses them out of sight on the ground. sam’s nearly naked now, a chill on his skin and arousal burning in his stomach.

some of the boys trade whispers, glances between luke, sam, raking down over sam’s body laid out before them. and then luke grabs a pillow, flips Sam over onto his stomach ontop of it, hips lifted up high, ass in the air. and all at once sam’s red as can be, flushing from ears to toes. he presses his thighs together tight and squeezes his hands into fists where they rest against his back, still tied. he’s got a cheek pressed into the sheets, hair in his eyes, and he’s glad they can barely see his face because of it.

sam’s fully hard now, dripping like a whore in his underwear, thighs writhing back and forth, rubbing together like it just might spur them on. then someone—luke probably—is hooking fingers into the waist of his boxers and starts dragging them down. he lets them snap back against sam’s thighs, bunched up right under the swell of his ass. and holy fuck sam’s never been so turned on, so humiliated.

they start ‘inspecting the goods’ window shopping his body like they can take him apart for their own use. there are hands all over him now, touching feeling smoothing caressing scraping and groping. someone gets a handful of his asscheek, gropes hard and long, gets the other one in hand and spreads him open. he turns his face fully into the mattress, whines and feels the heat flush his chest, neck, cheeks.

those fingers start kneading, closing and opening, and then a thumb presses against that spot right under his balls. sam shouts, presses back into it, and that thumb rubs and circles, then drags up to his asshole. it settles right over the pucker, and after a second, presses down just enough to get sam all worked up, keening back into the touch, arching like a bitch in heat.

he can hear them all laughing, feels them all staring.

someone give him a sharp smack on the ass, and then all the hands are gone.

later he asks brady what happened with him and the other pledges. brady tells him it was some stupid game where they left them all blindfolded in the woods with the instructions to find their way out, and he asks why sam wasn’t there.

sam goes red hot.

[joezworld]

Express Engines

This one is very long, and has Formatting.™ Be aware of that.

The next week

“Oh, that reminds me,” Gordon said one night. “Samarkand, I have been meaning to commend you on your performance with the Northern Belle last week. Three minutes ahead of schedule, with a full train of Pullman coaches? Well done.”

Sam blushed, while James’s brows furrowed. “Three minutes? Her? She’s got wheels the size of pie tins!” 

“And look at how well she does with them!” Caerphilly exclaimed from the other side of the shed. “If we had ten more of her the rest of us could sleep until noon.”

Sam’s blush deepend. “Guys…”

“James,” Gordon said in a faux-whisper. “You are aware that you and Samarkand have identically-sized wheels, correct?”

Aghast spluttering met this, and was ignored with some bemusement. 

“I say,” Caerphilly raised an eyebrow. “How fast did you get, Sam?”

Sam now resembled a tomato, but a pleased expression worked its way across her smokebox. “Faster than I’ve ever been before, is all I’ll say.”   

“Oh that’s hardly scientific, don’t you think?” Caerphilly was all smiles, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes that Gordon and Sam both caught. (James remained clueless) “Don’t you want to know?”

“Know what?” The conversation was interrupted by Delta rumbling into the shed. “And what’s with him?” She asked as the turntable swung past James.

“... My wheels are not small!” James squeaked, red in the face and thoroughly humiliated.

“Well they’re bigger than mine, so you’ve got that going for you. Who said they were small?”

“... I-I did.”

“What? Jamie… how?” 

----

The discussion waned for a while, as the other engines returned to the shed, but eventually it started back up again. 

For the engines on one side of the shed, it was a perfectly normal conversation about the high-speed capabilities of themselves and the other engines. 

For the engines on the other side of the shed, it was a terrifying and mind-bending experience as Gordon and Caerphilly continued to claim that the other was the better express engine. 

“And you’re sure?” Delta whispered to Bear as the clock swung past 11. 

“I’m not sure of anything. Am I even here? Am I real? Is this actually happening? Maybe I’m dead and this is all a test to decide if I go to heaven or not.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic.” Henry rolled his eyes, having been trying (and failing) to sleep for some time.

“Samarkand, I think you’re underselling yourself.” Gordon lectured across the room, voice echoing through the rafters. “With a minimal amount of instruction, you could substitute for Caerphilly and I with no issues.”

“Oh, without question.” Caerphilly chimed in. “And before you try and downplay that idea - just remember that this is not a two-way system. I doubt that either of us could do your work as well as you can. It’s a rare gift you have, being a jack of all trades.”

“You know Caerphilly,” Gordon pondered. “If you are that dead-set on evidence and data, we may have to take a goods turn or two, in order to see how our performance differs.”

Sam laughed out loud at that, and when the two protested, she started explaining exactly what they’d be in for. 

“Maybe we’re all dead.” Henry whispered. “Have we considered that? Maybe we all were killed in a tragic accident, and none of this is actually happening.”

---

The clock ticked past Midnight. 

“Didn’t Pendennis melt his firebars once? I seem to recall that anecdote floating around.”

“Oh yes, Scotsman told me all about it, once he returned from Australia. You weren’t there of course, but in those last years everyone’s state of repair was poor at best. I’m sure that with modern metallurgy there would be no issues.”

-------

1 in the morning came and went. Delta stopped being able to understand them, words blurring together into a mush of syllables.  

“Well, I had thought that it was King’s Cross, but then they sent me to St. Pancras! And goodness me there’s more of them still! Euston, Waterloo, Marylebone, Fenchurch Street…”

“And here I thought Paddington was enough. How many are there now?”

“Oh my, they’ve added so many commuter lines now - or so Pip and Emma tell me. I think there’s 17 or 20!”

----

At half past one, Henry’s eye started twitching again. Bear was asleep, but muttering something about Cannon Street station in between snores. 

“Speaking of Pip and Emma, I feel like they could shave a few minutes off their current timings, but at the cost of running afoul of the Limited, among other trains. Heh. As loath as I am to admit it, the express doesn’t run in a vacuum, and extra space in the pathings can work wonders for unnecessary delays.”

“You don’t think that it would be a better point to simply improve the on-time percentages of the other trains on the network?”

“Hah, wait until you take an all-stops service during the summer bank holidays. I swear the passengers will coordinate ways to delay you.”

“It was never that bad on the Great Western…”

“The Great Western was a service. We are an attraction, and the passengers act accordingly.”

---------

The two distant rings of a church bell bounced around James’s smokebox. 

“You don’t think the old loco tests matter?” 

“I think it’s a matter of mechanical fitness. I’ve been built and rebuilt by Crewe and Crovan’s Gate so many times that I may as well be an entirely different engine. We all are, except you - the one thing that museum did do is preserve you exactly as you had been after your last rebuild. It wouldn’t be so much a test of North Eastern versus Great Western as it would be of Crovan's Gate versus Swindon.”

“When did Crewe rebuild you?”

“Oh, Samarkand, did we wake you? I’m sorry.”

“Nah, I was only dozing, it’s fine.”

“Ah, well, I was rebuilt just before the second world war - what a boon that was for us. Sir Topham was close friends with Mr. Stanier from the LMS, and after he saw the work they did to Henry, he sent me over as well. Of course, I didn’t enjoy the process, being younger and even more prideful, but in hindsight it has served me well.”

“So hang on, wasn’t Stanier at the Great Western before?”

“He was. He was in charge of Swindon works when they built me. As a matter of fact, he was one of the first faces I ever saw.”

“So, he built you, then he re-built you, and then he taught Mr. Riddles everything he knew, and that led to… me.”

“It seems that greatness has a very distinct path through the railway system.”

“That’s a strong word for it.”

“Well, what would you call it?” 

“I couldn’t say. Good engineering? Longevity?”

“Immortality?”

“Now that is a strong word for it indeed…”

----------

Two Thirty. Henry was losing his mind. 

“I feel like it may come down to train composition. Any engine can make a speed record attempt with three coaches. It takes a real powerhouse to do so with six.”

“Route knowledge may also be required - after all, going fast on a downhill straight is something that anyone can do.”

“Well isn’t that sort of the-”

“OH FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!” Henry finally snapped. “You’ve been going on about this for almost five hours! I want to go to sleep! If you don’t know which one of you is faster then organize a time trial or something, but do it in the morning so I can go to bed!”

There was a period of shocked silence that lasted for a few minutes, just long enough for Henry’s eyes to slam shut. The rest of the engines followed suit soon after, and the sound of snoring filled the air. 

Gordon looked contemplative. “You know, a time trial might just work.”

“It could, but on what? The express and the limited change in length on a daily basis.”

“Have either of you taken the Boat Train recently..?”

---------------------

Part two: The Boat Train

The Island of Sodor was not only connected to the outside world by rail; befitting its status as an Island, Sodor was served by a plethora of ferry services, with sailings to locales as near as Barrow-In-Furness, and as far as France and Spain. The three largest ferry companies serving the island were P&O Stena Line, Irish Ferries, and the Isle of Man Steam Packet Company. The 1990s had been a very turbulent time for the ferry industry in Britain and Ireland as a whole, and ferry lines of varying sizes had been purchased and incorporated into the bigger companies. Many of these, like Sealink, B&I Line, European Ferries, and several smaller operators, had served Sodor through ferry terminals at Tidmouth, and their new owners soon found themselves having double or triple the amount of facilities they needed - even worse, not any one terminal was big enough to handle all of the consolidated traffic. As the 1990s wore on, and the new millennium dawned, competition from both the North Western Railway and the airport at Dryaw meant that the ferry companies had to move quickly. 

For some, this wasn’t an issue. Irish Ferries had bought B&I, and their terminals were next door, meaning that it took very little construction to combine the two facilities. Similarly, the Isle of Man Steam Packet Company hadn’t bought anyone, and their cozy but still usable terminal on Tidmouth’s waterfront remained unchanged.

However, P&O Stena was not as lucky. Created as a joint venture of the two largest ferry companies on the Dover-Calais route, both of whom had fallen on hard times after the opening of the Channel Tunnel, it was a massive tangle of international and domestic ferry services operating under five different brand names. Formed just three years ago in 1998, the union was troubled from the start, and there were already rumblings of yet another name change; supposedly P&O wanted to buy out Stena Lines and then rename everything so as to simplify its corporate structure. 

On Sodor, simplifying things was rather complicated. To start, Stena Line had previously bought most of SeaLink - the ferry division of British Rail - and so served four ex-BR routes from Wales and Ireland to the island, none of which terminated in Tidmouth:

Knapford-Dublin (Ireland)

Knapford-Belfast (N. Ireland)

Knapford-Fishguard (Wales) 

Kirk Ronan-Holyhead (Wales)

Additionally, Stena Line had its own services from before it bought Sealink, which all left from Tidmouth:

Tidmouth-Cairnryan (Scotland)

Tidmouth-Cherbourg (France)

Tidmouth-Santander (Spain)

Then, on top of all of this, P&O had its own set of pre-merger services, which left mostly from Tidmouth: 

Tidmouth-Troon (Scotland)

Tidmouth-Holyhead (Wales)

Tidmouth-Belfast (N. Ireland)

Tidmouth-Dublin (Ireland)

Kirk Ronan-Larne (N. Ireland)

Kirk Ronan-Fishguard (Wales)

As one might be able to tell, this web of ferry services was complex and resource intensive. Unlike Irish Ferries/B&I, the P&O and Stena terminals were nowhere near each other in Tidmouth, and even if they had been, Stena’s ex-Sealink facilities had been built cheaply in the 1970s, and were falling apart at the seams. Furthermore, having half the Stena routes in Knapford was undesirable, as P&O wanted to issue connecting tickets, allowing Scottish and Irish travelers a more direct route to France and Spain. If a new terminal was to be built, it would have to involve either the construction of an entire new ferry port, or the total closure and reconstruction of one of the existing ones. Surprisingly, P&O Stena was more than willing to spend money on an entirely new terminal if it meant everything going smoothly, but with the expansion of Tidmouth Docks well underway, no such space was available. They would have to build a new “super terminal” on the spot of one of the existing terminals, big enough to hold all the passengers for all the Tidmouth/Knapford routes under one roof. 

More problems followed. The Stena Terminal was huge, but falling to bits, while the P&O terminal was scarcely big enough for the routes it already had, and was hemmed in on all sides by new industrial developments surrounding the harbour. Worse still, the extra space in Stena’s Knapford terminal was being rented by cruise ship companies, and the local council had made it very clear that this lucrative source of local income was not to be meddled with. It was therefore decided that the Stena terminal at Tidmouth would be demolished, and the new Super Terminal built in its place. 

The complication then became how they would fit all of the Stena traffic into the waterfront shoebox that was the P&O terminal. 

The short answer was that they didn’t. 

The long answer was that the North Western Railway made a lot of money off of P&O Stena between 2000 and 2002. 

The even longer answer was that while there were significant space constraints at Tidmouth, no such thing existed at the ex-Sealink Terminal in Kirk Ronan. Sealink had purposely overbuilt the place in the late 1970s, assuming that the aborted M590 motorway project would bring a six-lane superhighway right to Sodor’s eastern coast, and allow for a much smoother connection to the Irish ferry services. Of course, that never happened, and the only ferries that serve the massive facility are small ones that primarily benefit Sodor’s eastern communities. 

But, in 2000, P&O Stena had an idea. They would re-route most of the Stena sailings to Kirk Ronan, and offer connection tickets to Ireland and Scotland from that point. However, due to ticketing agreements between Stena and The Isle of Man Steam Packet Company, along with some passenger’s rather fervent desire to go to the biggest city on Sodor instead of a sleepy fishing town where seagulls outnumbered people 4 to 1, there would be a connection service between the two ports using the North Western Railway. 

Each morning, a seven-car train would leave Tidmouth Docks after the inbound Irish and Scottish ferries had docked, and run as an express to Kirk Ronan station, before continuing to the coach yards in Barrow as an empty stock working. Later in the day a different engine would then collect the empty coaches from Barrow, and return the train under a similar express working, now carrying passengers from the Spanish, French, and Welsh ferries. 

Known on timetables as “The Kirk Ronan Boat Train”, and on advertising material as “THE P&O STENA EXPLORER”, it was technically a charter train, and stayed at the same fixed length and timing every day for the duration of the service, as P&O Stena’s internal research showed that this would be well-suited for “all but the worst-case scenarios.” 

What this fixed-length, identically timed, charter train was also well suited for… was a time trial.

----  

It took surprisingly little effort to convince the Fat Controller to allow this - since nobody was attempting to break a record (or act unsafely while attempting to break a record), he felt it would be little different from the normal runs, except for the inclusion of very precise timing and speed measurement equipment in the baggage compartment of the lead coach. In order for everything to be done exactly the same, the down-bound service from Kirk Ronan to Tidmouth Docks would be the only one used for the trial. 

The engines were fairly excited for this - Sam was chomping at the bit for her turn, James was trying very hard (and failing) to pretend like he wasn’t interested, Delta outright said that she wanted a go, and Caerphilly was ecstatic that this was proceeding without any major fuss. 

Gordon and Henry were the sole outliers - Henry thought this was idiotic, and wanted no part of it, while Gordon was mercurial about his actual feelings on the subject, saying little but being supportive of everyone. 

James attempted to needle Gordon about being “worried that he’d lose his title,” and the subsequent dressing-down could have stripped the paint off a wall. Those with more than a single brain cell bouncing around their smokebox like an errant bumblebee took it to mean that Gordon was, if nothing else, willing to be a gracious loser no matter how unlikely the chances may be. 

----

A few days later

The timing equipment was placed inside the baggage coach and calibrated just in time for the Thursday run of the Boat Train.  

First to be rostered on the “time trial” trains was Henry, and once he remembered that this was technically his idea, he went from “annoyed” to “incensed.” “I don’t want to do this!” he complained to Caerphilly, as he collected the empty coaches from the yard in Barrow. “This is entirely for your benefit, not mine!”

“Oh, but that’s the thing!” The science museum had really rubbed off on Caerphilly. “You’re the control subject!”

“Control subject? What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re the marker that we measure against. An unmotivated subject, acting without any-”

“UNMOTIVATED?!”

“Not like that!” 

But it was too late. 

“Unmotivated! Is that what this is about? I’m not some layabout! Is that what you think of me?! Just you wait and see, Castle! I’ll put you and Gordon into the dirt!” 

And Henry stormed away, “I’ll show them! I’ll show them!” trailing in his wake. 

“... that is not at all what I meant.” Caerphilly said lamely as the coaches vanished over the bridge. “Well, there goes our control sample.”

-------

Maron Station

🎼 Raucous guitar solo 🎼 

Gordon was not enjoying the stopping train duties today. The passengers seemed to be conspiring with each other today, and there was a massive group of foolish tourists standing on the platform, attempting to make sure that nobody was left on the train. 

🎼 Like the last of the good ol' puffer trains 🎼

“I swear, if they do not know how to disembark from a train at the correct station, they deserve to be sent to Barrow.” The big engine grumbled, but didn’t urge the guard to hurry the process up - he knew from experience this would do the opposite. 

🎼I'm the last of the soot and scum brigade🎼

The only positive to this situation was that the station’s tannoy system was playing Radio 2. Fortunately it wasn’t any of that modern nonsense with the young men singing in harmony, and while Gordon wasn’t entirely fond of groups like the Kinks, this song was perhaps best viewed as a guilty pleasure. 

🎼And all this peaceful living is drivin' me insane 🎼

As the song entered the last few lines, a whistle sounded in the distance, and Henry came into view. His face was red, his cloud of steam was laid flat against his boiler, and he rocked from side to side under force of his own connecting rods. 

With seven coaches behind him, he roared through the station at what seemed to be just under the speed of sound, whistling like a banshee as he went. 

🎼 I'm the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains 🎼 

And then, as quickly as he’d appeared, he’d gone. The song hadn’t even ended, and the marker lamps were already disappearing into the distance. All that was left of its passage was a few windblown newspapers flying off the platform. 

“What was that?” Yelped Gordon’s driver. 

“That,” Gordon remarked. “Is Caerphilly not getting her control sample for the time trial.”

🎼 I'm the last of the good old fashioned steam-powered trains… 🎼 

---

The timetable put the boat train’s run at 1 hour and 2 minutes. Due to traffic on the Kirk Ronan branch line, Kellsthorpe Road station, and the junction leading to the harbour, the time trials only covered the section of the route on the main line - that is, from the junction at Kellsthorpe Road station to the tunnel between Tidmouth and Knapford. This portion of the journey was timetabled at 41 minutes, and Gordon and Caerphilly thought that it would be possible to shave up to five minutes off that time while still obeying the speed limits. 

Henry’s run was actually over the timetable, at 1 hour and 5 minutes. However, this was due to meeting another train on the Kirk Ronan branch, and his time between Kellsthorpe and Knapford was a much more impressive 38 minutes. The train recorded an average speed of 83 miles an hour down the main line, and the top speed was recorded near Cronk station - a whopping 101.34 miles per hour.

“And you thought this was idiotic…” Gordon teased that night in the sheds, as the other engines raised a fuss. 

“I still think it’s idiotic.” Henry said with a hidden smile. “I just happen to be an idiot.”

------------------

Henry’s run sent shockwaves up and down the main line. Aside from scientific-minded passengers with stopwatches (and the odd railway inspector who needed a specific result), nobody had ever bothered to collect detailed data on train speeds before. Gordon had always been “the fastest and the best” based purely off of his ability to, well, be faster, even if nobody knew what faster was. Learning that Henry, who was slightly smaller and ever-so less powerful than Gordon, cracked 100 miles an hour in a fit of pique suddenly made everyone else on the Island wonder exactly what they were capable of.

The Barrow stationmaster was the official “keeper” of the sign-up sheet for the time trials, and over the next few days he watched in amazement as the list of engines got longer and longer…

----

The next day

Up next was… well, it was supposed to be Gordon, but James had kicked up such a fuss that the big engine eventually relented - it was far easier to let James have this small victory than deal with a week’s worth of whinging, pleading, and wheedling. 

Of course, karma was not willing to let James off easy. Leaving the yard in Barrow with the coaches, he was delayed - ironically enough - by a different ferry boat sailing into Barrow harbour. The bridge had some difficulty locking into place afterwards, and Henry saw (and heard) James impatiently yelling at the fitters as they banged on the locking mechanism with sledgehammers.

“It only took twenty minutes to fix it,” he said to Gordon when they met at Knapford some time later. “But you’d think they’d held him three hours!” 

“Yes, well, I suppose better him than me.” Gordon’s amusement was confined to a slight upturn of his lips. “I do hope that his tardiness doesn’t interfere with the results, though. I would hate for him to have to do this again.”

“I didn’t think he’d be that late?” Henry said. “The train sits there for an hour before leaving.” 

“Yes, I am aware,” Gordon said. “But I must note that there are more than a few ferries at the harbour waiting somewhat impatiently for their guaranteed connection.”

“So he hasn’t come through then?” Henry was aghast and on the verge of laughter at the same time. “How?” 

“I’ll tell you how!” Bear rolled into the station with a container train, a smile stretching across his face. “Simon’s train came off in the Rolf’s Castle passing loop. James was there for an hour! I could hear him yelling from the junction!” 

Henry and Gordon were big engines, but not big enough that they were above laughing at James’ misfortune. “Oh heavens,” Gordon chuckled. “Perhaps next time he should take the schedule as intended!” 

“Oh, I feel bad for Delta, she’s going to have to calm him down all night!” Henry chortled, sending misshapen smoke rings into the sky. 

Just then, the signal for the down fast line dropped to clear. “Oh goodness, I bet this is him. Should we be supportive?”

The three engines looked at each other for a second, and then burst out laughing again. The guffaws continued as James rattled through the station, face as red as his boiler. 

-

That night, James refused to talk about it with anyone, and as predicted, Delta was up half the night soothing his ego. Gordon and Henry (and to a lesser extent, Bear) were predictably unhelpful. 

The next morning, Delta was entirely too tired to do anything, and proved this by accidentally backing through a set of buffers and ending up in the station car park. She wasn’t badly damaged, but she still needed to be looked over by the mechanical staff (and spoken to by the Fat Controller), and so didn’t take the Boat Train that day. 

Nobody was quite sure who would end up taking the train, and so it was quite a surprise when a triumphant Wendell rolled into the coach yards a few hours later. “I think I’ve done it!” he crowed. “Certainly the fastest I’ve ever gone, but I think I may have beaten the class record!” 

And he had. 

That night the shed foreman put up a corkboard, and pinned up all the times so far. 

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ WENDELL | 1:01 | 36:42 | 86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  HENRY   | 1:05 | 38:00 | 83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH JAMES   | 2:17 | 40:09 | 78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

--------

The next day, Delta was up for the train. (The Fat Controller had been surprisingly understanding about the whole situation - after all, her driver could have stopped her well before the buffers.)

“Doesn’t your class have a speed limiter?” the lead coach asked as the train pulled out of the yard. 

“I did!” Delta said brightly as the train clattered across the bridge.

“Whatever does that mean?” the coach said quietly, before she was bumped by one of her fellows. 

“You nit!” The coach behind her sniffed. “You think the works is going to care about a speed limiter?”

-

There was a work crew on the lineside by Killdane, clearing weeds and vegetation, and they took a number of steps back to be clear of passing trains. 

Even at that distance, the wind from Delta’s passage was so great that two men fell over and tumbled down the embankment. The foreman turned to look, and felt a thock! against his hard hat as a rock kicked up by the train’s passage bounced off his head! 

--

The train flew down the line towards Maron. A swarm of insects was hovering over the warm rails, and the train plowed through them at speed. 

“It sounds like we’re being shot at!” the second man yelped, as pings and clacks echoed through the cab. 

“It’s only bees!” the driver said, activating the windscreen wipers to clear the gunk. 

“If those are bees then I need to tell my exterminator to get an anti-aircraft gun!”

---

At Wellsworth Station, the train was so early that the signalman had assumed he’d have a few minutes to use the loo. He had to run back to his box and set the signals with his trousers undone and his belt flying in the breeze!

----

Marina recoiled as the train pulled into the docks. “Do I even want to know what happened to you?”

Delta, who was covered from buffers to roof with bug splats, dust, and dirt, didn’t say anything. The fact that she was smiling like an idiot was more than enough.

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ DELTA   | 1:03 | 34:01 | 90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH WENDELL | 1:01 | 36:42 | 86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  HENRY   | 1:05 | 38:00 | 83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH JAMES   | 2:17 | 40:09 | 78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

------------

The next day 

“Shall I wish you the best of Western Luck?” Caerphilly ventured hesitantly. She really hadn’t spent any time with Bear alone, and the ramifications of what Truro had done to him loomed large even still. 

“I think you’re about sixteen years too late for that,” the Hymek chuckled. “But I’ll take it in spirit.”

“Ah, yes, well… it’s only-”

He continued to laugh, cutting her off. “I understand completely. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and all. You should talk to Duck about that sometime… he’d understand.”

“Ah, yes, well… he and I have-” Caerphilly continued to trip over her own words. 

“Oh please don’t be awkward around me.” Unlike Caerphilly, Bear was relaxing more and more as the conversation went. “You’re a co-worker now, we have to work together, so consider everything that’s done as done.” 

His gaze became conspiratorial. “And, any engine that threatens to feed City of Truro his own boiler tubes is a friend of mine.”

“You heard about that?!” Caerphilly let out a shocked bark of laughter. 

“I hear many things about him. For example, did you know that he was deported from the Netherlands for being a miserable toerag?”

“No!” 

“Oh yes! He’ll never talk about it, but that’s why he came back so quickly from that continental excursion tour…”

They kept talking until it was time for the two engines to collect their coaches. Despite Bear’s… complicated history with the Great Western, the two engines’ shared upbringing soon led to an impenetrable string of “Western-isms” that was capable of repelling even Bloomer, who eyed them with suspicion from the other side of the shed. 

“So, any thoughts on this before you head off? Any crucial information I should know about?” Now that she was thinking about the speed trials, Caerphilly really, really, really could not turn off Science Museum Docent Voice even if she wanted to. (She didn’t)

“Yes, actually,” Bear smiled as something occurred to him. “You went into the museum before I was built, didn’t you?”

“Yes?” This was worrying from a data-collection standpoint. Don’t let the books on diesels be wrong again… Just let him be mechanically normal!

“The works tried a lot of things to get my engine to work the way they wanted it to. Eventually they just replaced it with one that was better. One from a Western.” He looked simultaneously smug and predatory at that. It was a good look on him. 

“A Western… like Fusilier at the museum?” 

The predatory smile was incredibly good-natured, but it was still distressing to watch it grow even larger. “Exactly like Fuse. He’s certainly not using them.”

Whatever Caerphilly was going to say next was stopped in its tracks by Bear’s signal raising to a clear aspect. With a loud mechanical rumble, Bear’s engine revved to the redline, and the empty train powered out of the station and over the bridge faster than Caerphilly ever would have expected. 

“I don’t know why I’m even bothering with this anymore,” Caerphilly said to nobody in particular. “The data will be so corrupted that I’m going to be the control sample.”

There was a distant horn blast, as Bear cleared the crossings near Vicarstown station. For him to have gone that far that quickly… I hope Henry knows how lucky he is.

--------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ DELTA   | 1:03 | 34:01 | 90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR    | 1:01 | 36:12 | 86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL | 1:01 | 36:42 | 86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  HENRY   | 1:05 | 38:00 | 83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH JAMES   | 2:17 | 40:09 | 78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

------------

The next day was Sunday, and the express didn’t run to the mainland. Usually, Pip and Emma spent the downtime getting essential work done, but a power outage in Crovan’s Gate town meant that the facility was running mostly off of backup generators. This left Pip and Emma at somewhat of a loose end. 

About three hours later, the staff in the diesel shed had decided that a pair of diesels looking at them like lost puppies had gone on for long enough, and went to find them something to do. 

An hour after that, and they were being coupled up to the coaches for the Boat Train.  Caerphilly saw them go by as she stopped at Crovan’s Gate station. “I’m getting so much data that I don’t need,” she said to no-one in particular. “What on earth am I going to do with it?”

---------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH DELTA    | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR     | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL  | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  HENRY    | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH JAMES    | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

-------

Monday morning rolled around, and no-one was more surprised than Gordon to find BoCo heading a stopper train into Barrow station around noon. “BoCo? Has someone failed?”

“Not at all,” BoCo replied. “I’m just doing someone a favour.” 

“And who might that be?” The only one lazy enough to suggest such a thing was James, and considering that going to Barrow meant an opportunity to wheedle his way onto another Boat Train turn, it seemed highly unlikely that he’d pass on the chance.

“Me,” BoCo said firmly. “I’m doing this for me.” He said it with such firm resolution that Gordon found that he had no response to give. 

BoCo spent the next half hour in the shed, deep in thought, or perhaps meditation. Gordon had an inkling of what was going on, and did his best to shoo Bloomer away. 

Sure enough, when the time came, BoCo was on the point of the Boat Train, and was staring at the signal with deep intensity. 

“Are you sure that this is… a favour?” Gordon asked hesitantly, backing down onto the Limited. 

“It’s something like that.” BoCo never took his eyes off the signal. 

“Do you think that you’re… ready for this?” 

“I don’t care if I’m not.”

“BoCo… what is this about?”

The diesel finally looked away from the signal bridge, and Gordon was struck by the expression on his face. It was both one of youthful determination, and aged resignation. Vitality and fragility. Contentment and loss. Fear and calm. It was like looking back into the late 1960s, as the world fell apart. 

“I’m the last Condor, and I need to know if I can still fly.” 

The signal rose, and BoCo was bathed in the green light as he departed. Gordon sounded his whistle as the coaches rolled out of sight. “Good luck, my friend…”

-------------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH DELTA    | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR     | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL  | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  HENRY    | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH BOCO     | 1:02 | 36:22 |  86.64 MPH | 100.81 MPH  JAMES    | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

---------

The next morning, Gordon took the up-bound Boat Train to Kirk Ronan. While the passengers boarded at the docks in Tidmouth, he noticed a strange sight and sound - James was cursing and yelling like an engine twice his size as he bashed and bumped lines of container cars and fish vans around. “You don’t get Marina today! You get me! You know what that means? ORDER!” 

Gordon wisely decided not to get involved, but wondered where Marina was all the way to Kirk Ronan, and then wondered some more as he took the empty coaches to Barrow. 

When he got to the yard, everything became clear. Marina was asleep in the middle of the yard, still connected to the now-empty fish vans from the Flying Kipper. She slowly woke up as he shunted the coaches next to her. “G’morning.” 

“Afternoon, more like it.” Gordon raised an eyebrow. 

“Has it been that long?” She yawned. “Don’t think I’ve slept in like that in years.”

“James seems set on waging war with the trucks down at the harbor.” Gordon held the eyebrow where it was. 

“It’s fine, he and Delta both owe me favors.”

“Whatever for?” 

“... I don’t think you want to know. I barely want to know.”

“...” Gordon didn’t know how to respond to that, and elected to change the subject. “I don’t recall you showing any interest in these trials.” 

“Well,” she said, engine kicking over as she began to wake up fully. “I remember when BoCo’s class was new, and while I never met any of them at the time, I remember hearing all the reasons why I was better than them, not least of which was that they were type 2s, and I was a type 3.” 

She paused for a moment, remembering something. “Then, thirty years later, I came here and I met him, and that odd-looking type 2 proceeded to best me in every conceivable way there was. And I asked him how, and all he did was laugh and say that the works here were just that good. At first I thought that maybe they had fixed him, made him whole, but later, I began to realize that they made him… more.” 

Her eyes sparkled in the midday sun. Gordon began to wonder if he needed to have longer and more regular conversations with the diesels.

She continued. “And then, a few years later, the works called for me, and they called for him at the same time. They told me that they were going to “improve me.” And while I was being taken apart, I saw them take him apart.” Her eyes flashed, and Gordon began to wonder if maybe this trial was having effects on engines in ways he didn’t know about. 

“He’s not a type 2, not anymore,” She said with reverence. “Just like I’m not a type 3. Now I’m more, and I need to know how much more I am.”

With a fine-tuned roar of exhaust, she powered away to the diesel pumps, leaving Gordon feeling overwhelmed, yet contemplative.

-------------------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH DELTA    | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR     | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL  | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  MARINA   | 1:06 | 37:11 |  85.00 MPH | 101.73 MPH HENRY    | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH BOCO     | 1:02 | 36:22 |  86.64 MPH | 100.81 MPH  JAMES    | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

-----------

The next day, everything was quiet. Gordon and Caerphilly had both assumed that Sam would be taking her turn at the boat train today, and had strategically placed themselves on the line to offer encouragement. For Caerphilly, this meant moving a line of empty china clay trucks from the works to the clay pits at Brendam, a job that would involve spending lots of time in sidings letting more important trains go by. For Gordon…

“Have you ever done this before?” In a complete reversal of his demeanour just a few days ago, BoCo was chipper and all smiles, although this may have had something to do with watching Gordon shunt the pick-up goods. 

“Yes, rarely, and I would like to keep it that way,” Gordon huffed. The trucks had known exactly  how uncommon of an occurrence this was, and were reveling in the opportunity to cause trouble for “the big cheese,” as they’d taken to calling him. Even worse, there had been some sort of dispute between the usual express crews and the crews from Cargo Operations, and the end result meant that he had three men far more used to express passenger trains making an absolute hash of things on his footplate. They were twenty minutes late and they hadn’t even reached the hill yet.

“Well, think of it as a way to broaden your horizons!” 

“Yes, Caerphilly said something very similar.”

“Oh good! Great minds think alike!” 

“Let me tell you the same thing I told her.” Gordon’s eyes narrowed. “It would be in your best interest to broaden the number of ways you can keep your mouth shut.”

“Uh huh.”

Gordon’s eyes narrowed further, and he grumbled something about bilgewater drinking Westerners and their diesel-swilling compatriots…

--

Later 

Caerphilly was in yet another passing loop near Killdane station, and was waiting patiently for the boat train to come by. 

Presently, she heard Sam’s whistle in the distance, and perked up. She looked towards the signals, and found them all at Danger. “What?” she said to no-one. “Where is she?”

A moment later, she found out when Sam came steaming into the station from the other direction with a container train. Confusion writ large across Caerphilly’s face, and it was quickly mirrored by the big decapod. “Why do you and Gordon look so surprised to see me?”

“Weren’t you taking the boat train today?” 

“No? I’m taking it over the weekend. I’ve been out on the Little Western, shifting ballast all morning.” She took notice of the line of clay “hoods” behind Caerphilly. “And Gordon had to take the pick-up goods because of that… were you two waiting for me?”

“Merely to offer support-”

“Oh my god!” Sam’s whistle was shrill, and she blushed deeply. “That’s so kind of both of you. You didn’t need to do that!”

“Yes, I did,” Caerphilly started, and then caught herself. “But apparently I didn’t. If you didn’t take the express, then who did?”

As if by divine provenance, a whistle sounded in the distance, just as the signal above - one of the newest color-light models that the P-Way gang were very excited to have - changed to green. 

Both engines turned all of their attention to the east. “He can’t be.” Sam said, voice full of disbelief. 

“He’s an antique.” Caerphilly wished she was facing the other direction. She needed to see what sort of mania was gripping this fool. 

“The works here are good, but they can’t be that good, can they?” 

“We’ll see when they have to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.” 

 The whistle sounded again, and a great cacophony of chuffing and puffing made further conversation impossible. The train appeared over the horizon trailing a huge plume of smoke and steam, engine whistling fit to burst. It stormed over the high-speed turnouts connecting the down slow and the down fast lines, and vanished into the distance as quickly as it had come. 

“I stand corrected.” Caerphilly said as the smoke wafted away. “He’s suicidal.”

----------

“Don’t you have to be inside the box?” Gordon sniffed at the Wellsworth signalman. 

“Eh, the points are set,” the man said, taking a long slow drag on a cigarette. “Won’t take a second to bell them through once they’ve gone.”

“I hope to one day live my life with the lackadaisical grace that you live yours,” Gordon said pointedly. 

The signalman took no notice. “Besides, this train, I have to see up close.”

“It’s only Samarkand,” Gordon harrumphed. “Wait until I go in for overhaul and you’ll be seeing her on the express somewhat frequently.” 

The signalman turned and raised an eyebrow in Gordon’s direction. He said nothing, but Gordon felt like he was missing something deeply important. “What? What is it?”

There was a distant whistle, and his confusion turned to annoyance. “That’s not the boat train, you buffoon! That’s Edward! What kind of a signalman are you?”

The signalman didn’t say anything, and pulled a small camera out of his pocket. 

Edward’s whistle sounded again less than two minutes later, presumably for the distant signal, and it took Gordon several all-too-short seconds to realize that any train stopping at Wellsworth wouldn’t have been able to go from Maron to the Wellsworth distant in that short of a time.

“No…” 

From behind him, deep in the yard, there was a tidal wave of swearing as BoCo did the same math and came to the same conclusion. 

Edward’s whistle sounded a third time, for the foot crossing near the station, and then the train was hurtling past. Edward was red in the face and working hard enough to turn his smoke sooty black, but his wheels were turning so fast that his con-rods were a blur. The coaches stretched behind him, seeming impossibly large against his small tender. The train streaked through the station at lightning speed, and roared away towards Crosby with all the noise and circumstance of a proper express. 

Dead silence fell over the station as the lamps of the train receded around the corner. Gordon and BoCo were in shock. The passengers waiting for the next train (most of whom knew Edward personally) were clutching their pearls, their chests, their heads, each other, or the nearest lamp post. The stationmaster had been in the middle of a phone call, and the handset fell from his limp grasp, dangling on the cord. In the signal box, the signalman had clearly not been expecting Edward to be going that fast, and was a little rattled by it; he tried to throw open the door to the box, and the handle came off in his hand as he did. In the deafening silence, Gordon had a thought. I think that Caerphilly should really be studying what the time trials are doing to us, rather than what we are actually accomplishing.

-----------------------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH DELTA    | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR     | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL  | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  MARINA   | 1:06 | 37:11 |  85.00 MPH | 101.73 MPH HENRY    | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH BOCO     | 1:02 | 36:22 |  86.64 MPH | 100.81 MPH  EDWARD   | 1:05 | 38:55 |  80.52 MPH | 100.00 MPH JAMES    | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

----------- 

The Next Day

The noise that had started when Edward backed into the shed that evening didn’t stop until the morning, and everyone was slightly bleary come sunrise. As such, nobody really paid attention to the engines rostered on Barrow-bound trains until almost noon, when Henry (who had taken the morning boat train to Kirk Ronan) returned with empty fish vans from the Flying Kipper. 

“Well if it’s not you,” he said to a perplexed Gordon. “And if Caerphilly just left, who is it?”

----

“Lassie, I don’t know who you are, but I know that you definitely don’t belong here,” Bloomer said slowly, trying and failing to comprehend what was going on. 

The crowd of men in “CROVAN’S GATE TMD” jumpsuits on the platform glared at him. “Would you shush?” the foreman asked, before turning back to the thick bundle of cables connecting the engine to the first coach. “This is a perfectly legitimate maintenance procedure! We have to have a shakedown run.”

“On a train with passengers? While she’s hooked up to a load of AA batteries like a child’s toy?” 

“It’s not batteries!” The men snapped as one. 

“Well then what is it then? Magic? Because that’s an electric locomotive, and you’ve got no wires!” Bloomer scoffed. 

“Actually, it’s a diesel generator,” the electric engine said. Her name was Abbey, and she was looking around the mainland terminal like she’d never been there before. It was entirely possible she hadn’t been. “They’re very excited to see if this could work long term.” 

“Lassie,” Bloomer said slowly. “No disrespect, but I think an electric motor hooked up to a diesel generator has already been invented. They call it the diesel locomotive.”

Abbey laughed. “I know, but wouldn’t you agree to something daft if it meant getting the chance to do something incredible?”

“To be honest with ya, the last time I agreed to anything daft I got locked in a shed for what felt like a hundred years, so no.”

She laughed again, and kept lightly needling Bloomer over his lack of an “adventurer’s spirit” until the men declared her fit to move. The generator, which had been mounted inside an old baggage car, clattered to life, and Bloomer watched with no small amount of amazement as an electric train moved (not at all) silently out of the yard.

--

At Kirk Ronan, a few passengers boarding the train seemed to understand what was missing from their train, and the departure was delayed a few minutes as they got photos of Abbey with no wires above her, the diesel engine shoehorned into the baggage coach, or the thick bundles of wires that were attached to Abbey’s pantograph. 

Simon, one of the engines who worked the Kirk Ronan branch, looked on with bemusement. “I can’t blame them. That is the strangest looking diesel I have ever seen.”

----

At Killdane, James was stopped at the platforms with a passenger train, and tried to figure out why all the electric engines were lined up on electrified platforms. 

“You’ll see,” Dane, one of the electrics, said in a suspiciously calm tone. “Just wait until Abbey gets here.”

That had been several minutes ago, and James was now thoroughly worried about what was going to happen when Abbey got there. 

A horn sounded in the distance, and James was promptly deafened by all the engines honking theirs loudly in response. Worse yet, they didn’t stop honking, so he couldn’t ask them what in blazes they were doing. 

Then, a train appeared in the distance. It got bigger very quickly, and James suddenly had an out-of-body experience as he watched an electric engine zip past on the wrong side of the station from the electric line! 

------

Caerphilly was at Maron when the lights of the boat train appeared over the curve of the next hill. The engine honked gaily at her as it passed with a woosh and a roar, and then the train vanished over the crest of Gordon’s hill. 

“... Did I just get passed by an electric train??!”

-------

At Crosby station, Gordon was waiting for parcels to be unloaded from the mail train. He was distracted by the stationmaster asking him a question, and so only paid partial attention to the boat train passing by with a cheerful “Hi Gordon!” 

“Yes, hello Ab-bb-ab-Abbey…?” Gordon trailed to a stop mid-word as his mind caught up with what he’d just seen. 

-------

Sam and Marina were chatting idly at the docks as the boat train rolled in. Both engines trailed off to a stop and looked at Abbey as she pulled up next to the P&O terminal. 

“So, what you were saying about us being made… more?” Sam said slowly. “I get it now.”

“And this island does grant immortality.” Marina blinked quickly. “We’ve all drunk from the fountain of youth…”

--------

Later that evening, Abbey was at the big station being connected to a short goods train bound for the works. The trucks had no idea what was going on, and were too scared to cause trouble. Across the station, the Fat Controller exited his office. He made it about halfway down the platform before doing first a double, then a triple-take at the sight of an electric engine under the station canopy. He turned, as if to walk over and investigate the matter, made it about ten steps in that direction, and then seemingly thought better of it, and turned back the way he’d come. 

----------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH ABBEY??  | 0:59 | 30:59 | 102.98 MPH | 111.68 MPH DELTA    | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR     | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL  | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  MARINA   | 1:06 | 37:11 |  85.00 MPH | 101.73 MPH HENRY    | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH BOCO     | 1:02 | 36:22 |  86.64 MPH | 100.81 MPH  EDWARD   | 1:05 | 38:55 |  80.52 MPH | 100.00 MPH JAMES    | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

----------------

The next day… again

Finally the weekend came, and it was Sam’s turn on the boat train. Gordon and Caerphilly were optimistic, and spent most of the night before giving her pointers on various parts of the route. Sam started out as somewhat “normal” about the whole affair, but as the time got closer, she started to feel a tickle of anxiety down in the bottom of her boiler. 

Henry, of all engines, was the one to offer reassurances, and the two engines spent quite a while in Barrow yard talking amongst themselves. At the end of it, Sam was feeling rather upbeat and optimistic. 

On the flip side of this, Siobhan and Wilma were experiencing the dual sensations of “looming dread” and “deep regret.” They had assumed that, as Cargo Ops crew, they wouldn’t be anywhere near the speed trial runs; however, after several main line crew members called in sick (For once it was legitimate - there was a rather virulent strain of Norovirus running through Barrow at the moment) the crew assigned for Sam’s time trial were Rupert and Clancy. Once Sam found that out, she refused to go anywhere, and Will and Siobhan were rousted from the crew rest area with minimal explanation and less preparation. 

“How fast does she wanna go?” Will asked hesitantly, as the train rolled out of Barrow. 

“Well,” Siobhan muttered, looking down Sam’s long boiler towards the tracks ahead. “Passenger trains are allowed up to 110 on most of the line, sooooo…”

Will took a moment to be absolutely stunned, before she quickly crossed herself and resumed shoveling. “Father, son, holy spirit, what the fuck am I doing?!” 

---------

The train got off to a good start out of Kirk Ronan, and made excellent time to the junction at Kellsthorpe Road. A lot of the time trial trains had to wait here for cross traffic to clear, but fortunately for Sam (and unfortunately for Will and Siobhan) there was a green signal all the way to the down fast line, and Sam sprinted up the line with a 50 mile an hour running start. 

Will was stoking the fire constantly, pouring every last ounce of skill into feeding Sam’s fiery heart as the floor of the cab rocked underneath her. It was much smoother than she’d expected, the floor acting more like a ship rocking in the swells than the bucking bronco she’d been dreading. 

“This is a lot more normal,” she shouted across the cab to Siobhan as she took a break to check the water glasses. The cab may have been steady, but the wind was at near hurricane strength, and both women were wearing protective earplugs. “I was expecting worse. How fast’re we going?”

Siobhan didn’t bother responding, and instead pointed towards something on her side of the cab. Will made her way across, and found Siobhan’s gloved hand pointing at the digital speedometer tucked into a nest of pipes and wiring. 

What Will said next was lost in the roar of the wind as the train neared Killdane station, but the speedometer was clear: The train was doing 109 miles an hour on an uphill grade. 

-------

Once again, James was at the Killdane platforms as the boat train drew near. This time, he was with the Limited on the up fast line, and the engine on the boat train was mercifully a steam engine, not some bizarre electric. 

He blew his whistle in support as Samarkand drew closer, and was rewarded for this with a gale-force wind that buffeted him from seemingly all directions. Rocks and dirt thrown up by the train’s passage bounced off of him, scoring and marking his shiny red paint. On the platform, several passengers dove to the ground as Sam’s passage caused the concrete platforms to vibrate like a distant earthquake. Loose paper and rubbish swirled around the platforms like a tornado. 

Then, as suddenly as she’d arrived, Sam was gone, whistling into the distance. James and his passengers tried to adjust to the sudden quiet. 

They did not succeed.

-----

Gordon and Caerphilly had felt quite clever in timing their stopping services to meet at Cronk. 

“It is her turn today, isn’t it?” Gordon murmured. “And we won’t be witnessing Ivor the engine, or Skarloey, or something else equally improbable?” 

“Oh hush!” Caerphilly grinned. “I can hear her coming.”

They could hear her whistle sound, a long, delirious shout of joy as the train cleared Killdane. Gordon raised an eyebrow - he knew what an engine needed to be going through in order to produce that sound. 

“You’ll need to be quick if you wish to inspect her technique,” he said sagely. “She’s moving quickly.”

Caerphilly was facing the other direction, towards Killdane, and whistled softly. “You’re right. Bloody Nora, she’s coming on quick!” 

Before either of them could say anything else, the helicopter-like sound of a steam engine at full chat drowned out all other sound. Sam and the boat train screamed around the corner from Killdane in a flurry of noise, dust, and steam. Her whistle sounded again, shrill and barely coherent, as she saw the two of them. 

As the train passed, Gordon had the experience of being buzzed by a low-flying airliner; Caerphilly felt like she’d been hit by a bomb, complete with the dust and debris. 

The train was gone into the distance before either of them could speak again, and they stared slightly agog at the cloud it left in its wake. 

“Now,” Caerphilly said slowly, spitting dust and rocks as she spoke. “I know that this isn’t a competition, or at least we didn’t mean it as one, but… we are going to have to step up our game if we want to beat that.”

Gordon had to agree. 

-----

This time, the Wellsworth signalman was in his box when the train thundered through, but Will peered out of the cab window just long enough to see the man staring slack-jawed at the train as it whipped through the station at triple-digit speeds, a half-eaten sandwich falling from his mouth. 

-----

The train slowed slightly as it passed Crosby station. Knapford wasn’t far off, and after that was the restricting signals to let them into the dock. Its speed was now merely fast instead of the relativistic velocities it had been achieving earlier in the run. 

“Oi!” Will called across the cab. Now that the speed was firmly in the high double digits, speech was intelligible again. “We need water! I’m dropping the scoop!” 

“Now?” Siobhan called back. “We’re almost there!”

“We won’t get there unless we fill the tender! I don’t wanna get caught short!” Will was insistent, and dropped the scoop regardless of what Siobhan really wanted. 

---

On the slow line, Percy was making his way up the line towards Crosby with a short train of vans for the goods platform. He saw Samarkand - that new goods engine, who was absolutely gargantuan - racing towards him. Oh great, just what we need. Another big engine who wants to be some big important passenger engine because of course she fuc- wait what’s that. 

That was a plume of water appearing from underneath the big engine’s tender. 

Percy had just enough time to realize that he was puffing over the Crosby water troughs before: 

SPLASH “Acksbughifhsithtjighngthhtgtbbbthblughsaaachkkk!”

---------------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA  | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH ABBEY??   | 0:59 | 30:59 | 102.98 MPH | 111.68 MPH SAMARKAND | 0:59 | 33:11 |  95.61 MPH | 110.09 MPH DELTA     | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR      | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL   | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  MARINA    | 1:06 | 37:11 |  85.00 MPH | 101.73 MPH HENRY     | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH BOCO      | 1:02 | 36:22 |  86.64 MPH | 100.81 MPH  EDWARD    | 1:05 | 38:55 |  80.52 MPH | 100.00 MPH JAMES     | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

----------------------

The next day - for the penultimate time.

Considering the lunatic heights this time trial had reached, everyone else was thrilled that Caerphilly was finally on the boat train. Among other things, it meant that the trials were almost at an end, but more importantly, it meant that the “big ones” were finally going up against the clock. 

The main line crews, who were scandalized to have been so so thoroughly trounced by Sam, Will, Siobhan, and by extension the rest of Cargo Ops, had fought amongst each other for the “honor” of manning Caerphilly’s footplate. The big engine thought it bemusing that they were so eager, and couldn’t quite keep a straight face when the two men (not Clancy and Rupert) who eventually emerged from the station bore scrapes, cuts, and a very noticeable black eye. 

“I didn’t think you actually meant fisticuffs!” she squeaked, trying to keep the cackling at bay. 

On the next platform, Siobhan was on James’ footplate with a van train, and didn’t even look up. “Ah tell ya,” she said to James. “Cargo Ops was the smartest fuckin’ decision Ah have made in years. Certainly is smarter than bashing someone’s face in to get a good driving spot on the express.”

“Didn’t you take the express last week? With Caerphilly?” James asked as Caerphilly’s crew scowled at her and then each other before sullenly clambering into the cab. 

“Like ah said.” Siobhan oozed smugness at near-Gordon levels. “Smartest thing ah have done in years.”

------

Despite a small, petty voice in the back of her mind suggesting that she should slow down the train to upset her crew, Caerphilly found the prospect of letting herself fly down the line to be exhilarating, and was straining against her own brakes as the passengers boarded in Kirk Ronan. 

“Easy there,” the driver said as the guard waved his flag. “We’ve got to wait for the signal!” 

“You’ll have to keep an eye on her,” the fireman said, attempting to sound knowledgeable. “She’s liable to run away from you.”

The driver nodded in agreement, and got a firm hold on the controls as the signal - a GNR style model that “somersaulted” to vertical - flipped upwards to a clear aspect. He was ready for whatever this engine could throw at him. 

Caerphilly proceeded to rip the throttle and reverser out of his hands anyways, and set off with a flurry of wheelslip and black smoke. 

Gwen, the small tank engine who worked in the Kirk Ronan dockyard, watched the train leave. “Those idiots have no idea what they’re up against, do they?” she said to herself as Caerphilly’s driver tried and mostly failed to reign in his engine. 

-------

Donald and Douglas were working on a slow goods train to the mainland. It wasn’t the pick up goods, but it still made a few stops between Arlesburgh and Barrow, one of which was Killdane. Douglas was working in the yard, collecting a line of aluminum trucks while Donald worked the motorail terminal.  Located a few hundred feet away from the station itself, the motorail terminal served the Sodor Motorail passenger services, as well as goods trains that dropped off shipments of new cars bound for dealers and customers across the island. 

The main line was elevated above the electric line and the yard on an embankment, and so Douglas didn’t see the boat train pass so much as he heard it - a shrill whistle sounding, followed by the deafening roar of a steam engine at full throttle, and then the coaches whooshing by. He paid it little mind, and once he’d collected the trucks he needed, he puffed up the embankment to the motorail terminal. 

“Ach, for land’s sake! Wha’s happened ‘ere!” he gasped. 

Donald’s tender was laying astride the rails, the cartic wagon behind him bent almost completely in half. Scattered around him were a half dozen Ford sedans, upside down or sideways, smashed half flat. As an explanation, Donald yelled something in Scots that was almost untranslatable to English. Roughly paraphrased, he said: “That stupid great cruise missile scared the living bejesus out of me!” 

---------

Caerphilly flew down the line, at speeds she was not properly able to comprehend. The experience of it though, that was something she understood just fine. Her motion was fluid, the individual cranks and rods whirring away at speeds faster than they had ever been designed for. The feeling of it was indescribable, and she found herself hoping against hope that every signal would be green from here to eternity - so that she could keep going on like this forever. 

Inside the cab, her crew were having a very different experience. The cab was noisy, bouncy, loud, and hotter than some furnaces. The draft from the firebox was so great that opening the firebox door would suck the coal off the shovel, and threatened to take the shovel with it. By the time they cleared Cronk station, the fireman had developed blisters on his hands from holding it tightly. His gloves were already starting to wear thin. At one point the firebox door stuck open, and the driver watched in morbid fascination as a loose lump of coal bounced out of the tender, onto the footplate, and was promptly sucked across the cab and into the inferno. Both men were sweating through their clothes, but they worried that removing them would only end with the garments being unintentionally fed into Caerphilly’s ravenous fire. 

Whistling for the Maron signal box was perhaps the greatest indication of the dichotomy between engine and crew. The driver pulled the whistle lever for a short blast - just long enough to acknowledge their presence. Caerphilly held the whistle open until they stormed over the crest of the hill. The sound was jubilant, triumphant, ecstatic - a sign that the engine was experiencing the closest thing to heaven one could on the mortal plane. 

To the crew, the sound of the whistle was a demonic howl that clawed away at their waning sanity. As the train crested the hill they went light in their boots, and for a moment both men would have sworn that the sound was not that of an engine, but that of Satan’s chariot. 

In a macabre bit of efficiency, her heaven was their hell. Both were ongoing as the train raced towards Wellsworth. 

--------

By this stage, BoCo was ready and willing to accept anything occurring when the boat train went through Wellsworth. Even still, it was somewhat embarrassing to see the signalman make a fool of himself yet again. This time, the daft idiot had fallen prey to the smell of freshly baked apple turnovers in the station cafe, and was trying to wave off a curious bee that was trying to inspect the man’s sticky, sugar-coated fingers. 

With a cry of frustration (or perhaps fear, maybe the man didn’t like bees), the bee was swatted from the air just as Caerphilly’s whistle shrieked for the crossing outside the station. The signalman hurried into the box, and would have managed to actually be in position for when the train passed by if he hadn’t caught his shirt tail on the edge of the lever frame. With a ripping sound and a thump, the shirt gave way and the man fell to the floor, just in time for the Boat Train to hurtle through at near-relativistic speeds. 

After the train had passed, BoCo had to bite back a bark of laughter as the now shirtless man peeled himself off the floor and belled the train through to the next signal box. 

-------

At Knapford, a very bored Thomas was attempting to needle Gordon in an attempt to amuse himself. “And so Percy smelled like the water trough the rest of the day, which I must say isn’t quite as bad as ditch water, but…”

He trailed off when Gordon failed to respond. The big engine wasn’t even paying attention, instead staring down the line towards the next station, and Thomas scowled at the perceived slight. He began thinking of something that might get under Gordon’s paintwork when a whistle sounded in the distance. 

In just a second, Caerphilly Castle thundered out of the tunnel that led to Crosby, wreathed in an angelic cloud of smoke and steam. Smiling broadly, she whistled long and loud as the train raced through the station and disappeared from sight. 

Thomas’ eye glinted at the sudden opportunity, and he whistled softly. “Wow, I can see why the Fat Controller chose her to be the new Express.”

Gordon didn’t respond, but in a way that made Thomas hopeful of a reaction. 

Finally, after a few seconds: “Indeed. There is only one other engine on this island I would choose to be my successor.” Gordon was calm and collected, and once the guard’s whistle blew, he steamed away in a regal cloud of steam. 

A bewildered Thomas watched him go. 

------------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA   | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH CAERPHILLY | 1:00 | 32:71 |  97.22 MPH | 115.16 MPH ABBEY??    | 0:59 | 30:59 | 102.98 MPH | 111.68 MPH SAMARKAND  | 0:59 | 33:11 |  95.61 MPH | 110.09 MPH DELTA      | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR       | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL    | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  MARINA     | 1:06 | 37:11 |  85.00 MPH | 101.73 MPH HENRY      | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH BOCO       | 1:02 | 36:22 |  86.64 MPH | 100.81 MPH  EDWARD     | 1:05 | 38:55 |  80.52 MPH | 100.00 MPH JAMES      | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

----------

The next day - for the last time 

The morning brought an overcast gloom that worsened as the day went on. By the time Gordon backed down on the coaches at Barrow yard, stationmaster Burton was carrying around an umbrella. He strode down to the train, skillfully avoiding the damp patches of earth that threatened to soil his wingtip shoes, and handed a document up to Gordon’s driver. 

“Heads up, you two,” the driver said after donning his reading glasses. “There’s a change in schedule. We’re leaving 20 minutes early from Kirk Ronan.”

“Twenty minutes early?” Gordon was befuddled. “What on earth could they have done that for?”

“Track work on the main line, it looks like. They want to get us and the Express through before they close off anything.”

Gordon grumbled something about the passengers complaining, but said nothing else. Meanwhile, the driver turned to the fireman. “Any complaints from you, Rupert?” 

Rupert, still sporting a bruised cheek from yesterday, tried and failed to look imperious. “Not at all, Daniel.”

Daniel (please, his friends call him Dan) rolled his eyes. “Are we going to have a problem with anything else?” 

“I don’t see why we should,” Rupert scoffed. “After all, it wasn’t you who put Clancy in hos-”

“We’re not going to talk about that during work hours, alright?” Dan cut him off. “I believe the Fat Controller said much more to you lot yesterday.” 

Gordon heard all of this and rolled his eyes. I wonder if those funny automated trains on the Docklands Light Railway are interested in giving lessons on driving oneself…

----

The rain started about an hour later, as the train stood at Kirk Ronan. Inside the cab, Rupert and Dan looked upwards with dismay. “Just our luck,” Daniel muttered. “Wet rails and slick running in the middle of a damned time trial.”

Rupert snorted dismissively. 

“What? What’s that noise supposed to mean?”

“I suppose it means that you should use the skills you supposedly have, then?” Rupert sniffed. “Two children in a freight engine beat three quarters of the damned railway down the Killdane straight on dry rails, so two men of our calibre should be able to achieve the same in these conditions just fine.”

Dan glared. “I feel like discounting Siobhan like that is really a-”

“Children in a freight engine.” Rupert said with a serious look in his eye. “Nothing more. We are gods compared to them.”

“Your speeches leave much to be desired, fireman.” Gordon rumbled. “If any of us is a god, it would be me, so perhaps you should allow someone else to take charge of this endeavour.” 

He waited a beat, just long enough for Rupert’s face to twist into an ugly scowl. “Unless you would like to inform both Daniel and myself that you happen to have over one hundred and seven years of experience working on express passenger trains, at which point we will happily cede control to you.”

To his credit, Rupert took the tongue lashing like a man, and didn’t throw a tantrum, but he also didn’t say a word for the rest of the time they spent in the station. 

Dan managed to keep his petty smile hidden throughout this time, although he gave Gordon’s throttle lever an affectionate pat when Rupert’s back was turned. 

-------

Like Caerphilly and Sam’s runs, the signal at the main line junction was clear, the four-aspect colour-light model going from two yellows to a single green as they approached it. The AWS gave a cheerful all-clear chime and Dan opened the throttle fully. Given free reign, Gordon responded with a will, charging forwards towards the down fast line. 

Before they’d even cleared the signal, still moving at a relatively slow pace, there was a shrill whistle from Kellsthorpe Road station, and Caerphilly streaked out of the rain-slicked gloom with the midday express. The train was already at a fast clip, and it roared past, running opposite-main on the up fast line. 

Gordon’s wheels spun for a moment as the last coaches of the express streaked by, before digging in. Like a greyhound out of the gate, Gordon powered forward, each turn of his 7-foot drivers adding speed at a fantastic rate. 

Despite the reduced visibility from the rain, the tail lamp of the express never faded away. Gordon was quickly catching up to the train, reaching over one hundred miles an hour within minutes of entering the main line. 

Caerphilly wasn’t lazing around, and the express coaches passed by slowly as Gordon’s acceleration began to trail off. The speedometer needle was practically dancing around in its housing, but Dan could just make out an indicated one hundred ten on the dial as the two trains leaned into the curve that marked the ⅜ point of the Kellsthorpe-Killdane section of the main line. 

Gordon was just about level with Caerphilly’s tender, and sounded a long blast of his whistle. Caerphilly’s drivers spun frantically for a half-second, while her crew almost jumped out of their skin at the noise. 

“Funny running into you here!” Gordon shouted. “Lovely weather we’re having!”

“What are you doing?!” Caerphilly yelped. “You’re not due for another 20 minutes!” 

“Perhaps I’m just that much faster than everyone else!” Gordon was full of mirth, and was only now starting to show that he was getting winded. 

“Including me?” Caerphilly was momentarily the picture of innocence. 

“Especially you!” Gordon was still accelerating, and was a few buffer-lengths ahead at this point. The speedometer needle was bouncing so much that Dan couldn’t read it. 

“Well then!” The innocence turned into a strange combination of sincerity and deviousness. “Let’s see how fast you can go!” 

Caerphilly whistled, long and loud, and began pulling ahead of Gordon, inch by inch.

Gordon responded with a burst of acceleration that would have made Nigel Gresley faint. 

“Oh god!” Rupert shouted over the wind and the noise from two sets of valve gear whirring away. “She’s goading him on!” 

------

The rain was an intense downpour across most of the island, and many passengers had retreated inside station waiting rooms. The rain had also delayed the planned track work, with many of the P-way gang retreating inside their warm vans and Land Rovers to wait out the storm. 

This meant that very few people were on the platforms at Killdane, Cronk, and Maron stations as the two trains roared by with the intensity of a hurricane. Some even mistook the noise as a thunderstorm. At Cronk station, a group of tourists from the American midwest made a spectacle of themselves as they started yelling about there being a tornado. 

-----

Possibly the best view of the two trains was the signalman at Maron. Sitting in his small brick signal box near the top of Gordon’s hill, he saw both trains emerge from the rain like spectres. They screamed towards him, trailing clouds of smoke and mist that stretched for hundreds of feet. His box’s territory was small - literally Maron station and nothing else - so by the time he’d sent the bells acknowledging that the trains were in section, he had to bell them out just as quickly. 

For once, the layabout running the Wellsworth box was on the ball and in his box, and the bells chimed with his acceptance of two down-bound fast trains into his section. 

The lamps of the express rocked and rolled over the hill, and then both trains were gone. 

The signalman wanted to ruminate on the sight he’d just witnessed, but the railway waits for no-one, and within seconds of him logging the two trains’ passage, the Cronk signalman was ringing him. Slow goods train, down-bound. 

He rang the bell to accept it. The railway kept on running, even as the express and the boat train remained fresh in his memory. 

---------------

Gordon and Caerphilly were having the times of their lives as the two trains screamed down the hill towards Wellsworth. 

“Feeling tired yet, old iron?” Caerphilly teased. 

“Tired? Never!” Gordon declared with some bombastic flair. “This is the standard pace for all express engines. Or did you not know that?” 

Caerphilly’s response was an enthusiastic whistle as the two trains passed the Wellsworth distant signals at speed. “This pace is perfect for me!” 

At the speeds they were going, a mile was flying by every 35-40 seconds, and a single casual tease could fill a signal block. Gordon opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat as the sudden feeling of something being very wrong filled him. 

“What? What’s the matter?” Caerphilly saw his face fall, and the teasing stopped in its tracks. 

“Something’s wrong-” Gordon started, before all the breath left him. 

-

The two trains were rounding the corner separating the hill and Wellsworth station. Time seemed to slow down, and Gordon could see multiple things happening in slow motion. 

First, he saw Edward at the platforms, colour draining from the old engine’s face. 

Next, he saw the Wellsworth home signal, located in the center of the platforms, dropping to red. 

Then, he heard the AWS alarm start to scream a signal warning. 

In the corner of his vision, he saw the Wellsworth signalman staring out of the windows of the signal box in abject horror. 

And finally, he saw BoCo, slowly pulling onto the down fast line with the midday Suddery-Tidmouth service. 

-

Time stopped, and became meaningless as Gordon, Dan, and the AWS all acted on their base instincts at the same time. The train brakes came on hard, and Gordon threw every ounce of steam he had into his pistons. The reverser - a massive steel screw that had to be turned a dozen times to change from forward to reverse - spun wildly in the opposite direction before Dan could even reach for it. It slammed into the stops in full reverse, and Gordon’s wheels began to spin wildly in the other direction, even as momentum and the wet rails continued to push him forwards, towards the rear coach of the train. The train screeched through the station, past the signals, and Dan heaved on the whistle, letting Gordon’s yell of terror be broadcast for thousands of feet. 

BoCo had no idea that anything was wrong until shouting and yelling broke out behind him. His driver began to advance the throttle slowly. Then, in a matter of seconds, Edward bellowed “RUN BOCO!” at the top of his voice, the coaches started screaming, and Caerphilly rocketed by with a shriek of “What are you doing!?!.  

The throttle was ripped from his driver’s hand and slammed into the forward stop, exhaust poured from his vents, and the train lurched forwards just as Gordon’s whistle began blowing behind them with all the urgency of the horns that heralded the apocalypse. 

Inside Gordon’s cab, there was a sudden shout of “save yourself!” as the speed dropped below forty miles an hour, and Dan turned to see Rupert fling himself out of the cab like a professional gymnast. He managed to clear the rails of the slow line, but landed hard and tumbled to a stop in a puddle, at least one arm pointing the wrong way. Dan didn’t have time to be shocked, and instead braced himself as best he could, holding on for dear life. 

Gordon shut his eyes. 

BoCo willed himself to go faster. 

The sounds of screeching metal got louder and louder. 

And then everything stopped. 

---

Gordon couldn’t hear anything but his own heaving breaths, and he opened one eye to see that he’d come to a stop on top of a level crossing some three thousand feet beyond the platforms at Wellsworth. BoCo’s train was racing away into the distance, and further beyond was the glinting lamps of Caerphilly’s express. 

Behind him, the coaches were babbling incoherently to each other, which presumably meant they were okay. 

“Daniel, Rupert? Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine, but Rupert jumped!” Dan was already clambering down the ladder. “He’s… oooh that’s not good. Stay right here!” he sprinted off down the line to check on the fallen fireman. 

“Are you alright?” a small, shaking voice said next to him. “What happened? That was so close…”

Gordon looked, and there at the gates was Bertie the bus, shaking on his suspension like a leaf. 

“I…” Gordon had to stop and think about the questions. “I don’t know.”

----------------

Later 

Gordon was shunted into the engine shed at Wellsworth for examination. A few hours later, a very pale BoCo joined him. 

“I’m telling you,” the diesel said in shaky tones. “The signal was green. It wasn’t even a semaphore - they replaced it last month. It was a colour light and it was green.”

“I believe you,” Gordon said quietly. “But the distant was up, and the AWS did not sound a warning.”

BoCo looked at him. “Then how did this happen?”

“I don’t know…” Gordon didn’t like how haunted he sounded. 

-----

A few hours after that, the Fat Controller came to see them, followed by a number of men in windbreakers and polo shirts marked with “HMRI” and “HSE”. They examined Gordon and BoCo closely, took a great many notes, asked a few questions, and took the AWS boxes from both engines. Occasionally a man from the railway would come in, escorted by one of the HMRI men, and examine something, or offer an opinion. It took several hours for them to be satisfied, and it was nearly midnight by the time the last of them left. 

The Fat Controller had stayed during the entire time, sitting quietly on a chair in the corner. Once the last polo-shirted man had departed, the Fat Controller stood up and faced the two engines.  

“Sir,” Gordon said immediately, all thoughts of propriety forgotten. “What happened?”

The Fat Controller looked exhausted. “We don’t have the specifics yet, but it appears that at some point after your train cleared the AWS magnet for the distant signal, the signalman was somehow able to change the points and signals, and allow BoCo access to the main line.” He took a deep breath, and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Whether this was due to incompetence, malfunction, mistake, or… malice, we don’t know. We likely won’t know for some time, maybe months, or even a year.”

BoCo made a noise. “I can’t… I mean, this is - I should have-”

“Absolutely not.” The Fat Controller thundered. “We may not know what did occur, but we certainly do know what did not, and that was any rule-breaking on either of your parts. The blame is entirely on the signaling system, and by extension, the railway.”

“Sir-” BoCo and Gordon both tried to say something, but the Fat Controller held up his hand. 

“No. Even if this was an act of pure malice on the part of the signalman, it should have been impossible for him to do so. Something failed today, whether it was our training regimen, a safety interlock, or some other thing, and we will find out what it was so it can never happen again.”

BoCo was cowed into silence, but Gordon still had one question. “Was… was anyone hurt, sir?”

The Fat Controller exhaled deeply, and relaxed his posture slightly. “Only a few passengers who happened to be standing up at the time. They mostly had cuts and bruises. One man has a concussion from falling down. The only substantial injuries were to your crew, Gordon; Rupert, your fireman, took quite a nasty fall when he jumped from the footplate. He’s in hospital in serious condition, but the doctors say he should make a full recovery by winter.”

“Very good, sir,” Gordon couldn’t help but feel guilty. 

“However, Gordon,” The Fat Controller kept going. “The most injured party in this whole affair… is you.”

“Me?” Gordon was shocked. He did hurt all over, but he had assumed it was normal wear and stress, not an actual injury…

“Oh yes,” The Fat Controller was serious. “I might not be the mechanical engineer my grandfather was, but even a lay person would agree that your connecting rods are not supposed to look like that.”

“My connecting rods..?” Gordon was suddenly very aware that maybe he wasn’t supposed to feel the way he was. 

“Oh yes,” The Fat Controller continued. “Not to mention the flat spots on every wheel you have, the damage to both your cylinders, and your motion - on both sides, may I add. I could go on, but I will summarize: You are going to the works in the morning, and your overhaul is starting early.”

“S-sir?”

“It makes no sense to fix all this for a few months of service before your boiler ticket expires.” The Fat Controller was becoming slightly more animated, walking back and forth, trying to stretch out his legs after the long sit in the chair. 

“O-of course, sir.” Gordon felt slightly overwhelmed. Not only did all of… this happen, but he was supposedly free of blame, and getting overhauled immediately? 

“I know that this may be a lot to deal with all at once, Gordon, but you prevented a ghastly accident from occurring.” The Fat Controller at once became still, and looked the big engine in the eyes. “People likely would have died if not for your quick action. This is the least that we can do for you.” 

“Yes sir,” Gordon said quietly, a lump forming in his throat. “Of course sir. Thank you, sir.”

The Fat Controller made his way to the door. “I have to leave you both now. Have a pleasant night.”

“You as well, sir.” BoCo and Gordon chorused out of habit as the door shut behind him.

The Fat Controller’s footsteps made it a few feet away, before stopping and returning to the building. “Ah yes, one other thing.” He said through the re-opened door. “I must congratulate you, Gordon.” 

“Sir? On what?” 

There was the barest hint of a smile on the Fat Controller’s lips. “Well, you obviously did not complete your time trial, but we were able to analyze the raw speed data.” A pause followed, with a small amount of glee coloring his face. “Aside from Pip and Emma, you remain the fastest engine on this Island. Well done.”

----------------------

ENGINE | TOTAL TIME | TIMED PORTION | AVG. SPEED | MAX SPEED ▼ PIP/EMMA   | 0:56 | 29:31 | 107.17 MPH | 127.23 MPH GORDON     | DNF  |  DNF  |     DNF    | 121.63 MPH  CAERPHILLY | 1:00 | 32:71 |  97.22 MPH | 115.16 MPH ABBEY??    | 0:59 | 30:59 | 102.98 MPH | 111.68 MPH SAMARKAND  | 0:59 | 33:11 |  95.61 MPH | 110.09 MPH DELTA      | 1:03 | 34:01 |  90.22 MPH | 107.85 MPH BEAR       | 1:01 | 36:12 |  86.74 MPH | 104.36 MPH WENDELL    | 1:01 | 36:42 |  86.11 MPH | 102.04 MPH  MARINA     | 1:06 | 37:11 |  85.00 MPH | 101.73 MPH HENRY      | 1:05 | 38:00 |  83.01 MPH | 101.34 MPH BOCO       | 1:02 | 36:22 |  86.64 MPH | 100.81 MPH  EDWARD     | 1:05 | 38:55 |  80.52 MPH | 100.00 MPH JAMES      | 2:17 | 40:09 |  78.60 MPH |  97.29 MPH

[hey-its-roseaurum]

Hot or Iced (Superman/Clark Kent One-shot)

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x fem reader (Katrina, "Kat" for short)

Word Count: 4.8K

Summary: When Kat decided that she was going to work at the Daily Planet, she didn’t expect to be an IT Specialist. She also didn’t expect to meet Lois and Clark Kent. While going to meet Clark Kent at a restaurant to look into Superman, something terrible goes wrong.

Warnings: Cursing, violence/gore, kidnapping, SMUT, oral, Sex P n V, Unprotected Sex, creampie, kissing, praising kink, consent

A/N: This story is dedicated to @lainiespicewrites and her love for Superman. We decided to write a story for each other, this time a one-shot. This story can be from whatever iteration of Superman you like, whether it's Reeve's, Cavill's, or Corenswet. This is my first time writing something that has a little bit of spice to it. Let me know what you all think and enjoy the ride! (Because I may not be doing this again ;) )

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I pushed past the bustling people of Metropolis with three to-go coffees in tow. Each cup looked the same, except for one, a pink lipstick stain on the top of the lid. I had used my mouth to hold the coffee in place while I was on the subway twenty minutes earlier. It took every ounce of balance and coordination to keep myself from slipping and spilling the cups all over myself.

It has been a while since I’ve brought coffee for my favorite coworkers, Lois and Clark. They had been super busy these last few weeks tracking down Superman. So I thought bringing them coffee to give a caffeine boost would help. I figured they would appreciate the kind gesture, considering everything they’ve done for me.

After all, it was Lois that helped me get a job as a reporter here.

She was the first person I met when I moved to Metropolis a few years ago. I had spontaneously accepted a job as an IT support specialist at the Daily Planet in hopes to eventually be promoted. I’ve dabbled in a few IT jobs in my previous job just enough that I was “qualified” for the position.

Lois had been the one to show me around the building. My new boss wasn’t available at the time.

Don’t ask me why it was her that walked me around because I don’t know why either. I’m guessing it was fate because her and I instantly clicked and became friends by the time the walkthrough was over.

We were exchanging numbers just as Clark stumbled into the elevator. He had come through the front main doors disheveled and looked completely out of his element. I found out later that he had been accepted as an intern reporter in the same department as Lois and was starting that same day.

I didn’t know it then, but I was about to see more of Clark in the coming months.

I took ten different visits in the first week to fix his computer before I became friends with him. I found out he’s from Kansas. He grew up on a farm. And he was terrible with technology.

But he was awkward, cute, and kind to me.

From that day a year ago, its always been Lois, Clark, and I.

For a while I wanted something more but I never felt like he looked at me the same way he looked at Lois. I would sometimes catch their silent glances while I’m fixing a printer. It was like they had their own silent language when I wasn’t around. Everyone that I’ve talked to on Daily Planet thought the same thing too. So for the past year or so, I’ve been trying my best to move on and just keep Clark and I as friends.

But it's been harder than I thought.

My thoughts slammed back into the present as I stood in front of the Daily Planet. I was hoping that I was going to beat the rush of traffic this morning.

I didn’t expect a huge crowd of people this morning. The sidewalks were so congested that I couldn’t see the pavement. But hey, the city never sleeps.

And neither do the news reporters.

Shoving myself through the crowd, I made my way up the stairs that lead into the building. Thankfully I didn’t spill a drop of coffee in the process. I crammed myself into the elevator with five other workers and let the lift take me up. It was like a pack of sardines in here, and it even smelled like one. I had to hold my breath to keep myself from gagging. When the elevator stopped at floor 15, I bolted out of there like my life depended on it.

What I was met with was bustling people, newspaper bundles all over everyone’s cubicles and multiple conversations that I couldn’t make out. I scanned the room until my eyes landed on Lois by her desk.

“Hey Kat!” Lois called, motioning me over to her desk. I didn’t wait a second to go over to her cubicle. “Come take a look at these photos.” She clicked on the image tab on the desktop, pulling up a couple pictures. Each image was blurred and looked to be taken from surveillance footage. You could somewhat make out a silhouette of a person, most likely a man by how big they were built. One was near Gotham. Another was in an unrecognizable location, most likely north of Metropolis judging by the mountain scenery. The last one looked like it was taken a few streets over from The Daily Planet. The time stamp on the top right of the photos were dated to yesterday.

“You think this is THE guy?” I pointed, setting her coffee next to her on the desk. A stack of files sat haphazardly on her desk. “Because it looks like someone either photoshopped these or it was a drone flying across multiple cities.” Lois rolled her eyes.

“I’m sure. I wouldn’t be showing these to you if I didn’t think otherwise.” She beamed, not even wasting a second to grab the coffee cup and took a sip. “I got these images from a reliable source. I trust that they wouldn’t have tampered with them.” She rubbed her eyes, the dark circles under her eyes like a flashing neon sign.

“Rough night again?” I questioned while grabbing my own up to take a sip, changing the subject. My eyes settled on the images again.

“Perry wanted another article on Superman by this morning.” She shrugged. “You know how he is with that. He always wants to know more about this mysterious hero rather than what is ACTUALLY going on in our streets.”

“Unfortunately I do.” I let out a sigh “Every time I come up here to fix his computer I have to hear him ramble on about Superman. I don’t know how that hasn’t driven you crazy yet .” I laughed, my eyes scanning the room until I spotted the man himself. Perry White was on the other side of the room yelling at another reporter. A half smoked cigar hung loosely from his lips. “I’m surprised he didn’t ask Kent to write it. He was able to get some good info on the mysterious superhero last time.”

“Lois, did you get the photos I sent?.” I felt my heart stutter as the deep voice reached my ears. I spun around so fast, almost knocking the files off of Lois’ desk.

Speak of the devil.

“C-Clark, hi! Didn’t see you there. We totally weren’t talking about you or anything.“ I cleared my throat. Shut up. Shut up. Put yourself together Kat.

I grabbed the last to-go cup and gave it as a peace offering. “Did you just get in?”

“N-No. I’ve been here for a while.” He chuckled, adjusting his glasses before accepting my offering. “H-How was the commute? It looked intense out there”

“Great besides the bustling people. I thought I was going to get here before the morning rush hour. Guess not.” I finished the last of my coffee before turning to Lois. “If you can send those images to me, I can see if Daryl can trace those images to when or who took them.” Lois nodded, working on my request right away.

“And you.” I pointed at Clark. “I need to talk to you.”

“Me? W-Why would you need to talk to me?” A creeping blush began to grow on his cheeks.

“You were able to get some info last time on Superman. I’m just as curious as anyone else about this mysterious hero. I figured I could see what you know and branch off from there.” It was a half lie. I wasn’t super curious about Superman, but I did want to spend more time with Clark. This was the way to do it. “But if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I can scope out other sources.”

“No, you don’t have to.” He stuttered. “I-I meant to say, yeah I can help you” I held back a chuckle at him stammering. His stutter and awkwardness always was flattering to me.

His mumbling brought my attention back to him.

“What did you say? I’m sorry I couldn’t catch that.”

“W-We could do it over d-d-dinner. As colleagues.” Colleagues.

Yeah…just colleagues. Just friends.

I smiled even though there was a hollow painful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

The rest of the day went fast. One of my co-workers Daryl was working on teaching me how to switch Ram on a computer. He was the real IT genius in this department. The only things I knew how to really do was turn a machine on and off and troubleshoot computers when they crash. However Daryl and I were in the middle of tracing the images before the day ended. He and I were going to finish it and look into it further the next day.

By the time the ‘non-date’ approached, I was filled with nerves. I desperately needed his help. He always seemed to know where the best shots were taken. With his help, we might be able to uncover who Superman really is.

But I never made it to dinner.

:(

The bag got whipped out of my head. I was met with bright lights, causing me to squint and turn away. The only other things I saw were two silhouettes. My eyes traveled around me. The first thing I noticed was that I was in a chair. The next was my arms tied behind my back with zip ties. Finally, I could be moments away from giving my last breath.

I racked my brain for any sense of time, any clue as to how I got here. The last thing I remember was standing outside the restaurant that Clark and I agreed to meet. The next I’m here, tied to a chair.

“Good, you’re awake.” The voice was male, not distinguishable. “Tell us where he is!” My heart began to pound, its constant beat hitting my ears.

“Where is who? I don’t understand.” My voice sounded like sandpaper against my ears. A million questions were racing through my head. “I don’t even know why I’m here.” The man cracked his knuckles, bringing the light down so I could see their faces.

There were two men, one towards the door at the end of the room. His bulbous nose looked like it had been broken one too many times. The other one was closer to me. He had a scar vertically going down his eye.

“You’re here because we found you lurking in our data system. We traced your IP address. What do you know about these images?” The second one responded. His voice was deeper, more distinguished. The two photographs were shoved in my face.

I recognized them immediately. These were two of the photos that Lois showed me this morning. The one near the Daily Planet was missing. But how did those have anything to do with me? I swallowed hard.

“This has to be a misunderstanding. I didn’t take these photos. I don’t even know who is even in the photos.” I rambled, unable to stop myself. “They are probably photoshopped. I stumbled upon them by accident. I really have no idea so please-”

“You know damn well it’s Superman.” The first man growled at me, cutting me off. I swallowed hard, trying my best to remain calm and not have a panic attack.

“I’m telling you I don’t know!” I practically screamed. “I’m just a girl who fixes printers when they get jammed. I don’t even know why I’m in an IT department in the first place. I’m not even qualified.” I couldn’t stop myself. “If anyone, it would be Daryl. Daryl is practically a genius. He’d be able to tell you and confirm that your-” Hot pain erupted on my cheek as a fist collided with my face, abruptly shoving my face to the side.

“Shut up bitch.” The one closest to the door screamed. I bit my bottom lip, tasting blood in my mouth as something hot ran down my cheek.

“Lie again and we will do more than hurt that pretty little face of yours.” The other one taunted, taking a cloth and wiping blood off of his ring.

Oh my god I’m going to die here.

I’m going to die here and Clark is going to think I stood him up. When I don’t show up tomorrow, Lois and Clark are going to notice. They are going to find my body somewhere in a ditch all because I decided to do things myself.

This is all my fault. I should have never tried to figure out what those photos are. I shouldn’t have just let the journalist speculate who this Superman was. If I kept my nose out of it, I would be sitting at home. I ruined everything and my life is going to be the price.

“Now I’m going to ask you again.” The one with the ring pulled out a knife, pointing it towards my throat, “Who is Superman?” I glared up at the man, tears brimming my eyes. Just as I was about to open my eyes, something burst open behind me. Chunks of cement flung in the air, one of them hitting the man with the ring in the shoulder. The other one pulled out a gun, his eyes looking like saucers.

“Oh no, its-” The man didn’t speak another word before he fired bullets behind me. I flinched before throwing all my weight to one side, tilting the chair enough to fall. I collapsed to my side with a thud, my head hitting the floor. Everything moved in slow motion.

The man with the gun fired more bullets before something red and blue rammed into him. The man laid there, his eyes rolled back. His gun was a few feet away. The man with the ring didn’t have a chance to react before he too was on the ground unconscious.

Then I felt my chair move, repositioning me so I was sitting upright again. I was met with blurry blue eyes.

“Katrina, can you hear me?” I squinted, trying to focus my vision. It kept going in and out of focus. The only things I could make out were that this man was built with brown hair.

“How do you know my-” I started before cutting myself off. This must be the Superman that those goons were talking about. Here he was in all of his superhero glory. His eyes trailed my face, searching for any injuries. His jaw flexed when he caught sight of the blood and what was surely going to be a bruise.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He said breaking the zip ties as easy as snapping toothpicks. Lifting me up bridal style like I weighed nothing, he hoisted himself up into the air.

:)

“So let me wrap my head around this…you’re Clark AND Superman?” I asked while Clark was cleaning the scratch on my face. The two of us were in a place called the ‘Fortress of Solitude’, a place where Clark claimed he goes to recover after battles. After the fight with the goonies, he said he didn’t want to take me back to my place. If they were able to trace my address, then they knew exactly where I lived.

And I didn’t want to be left alone in my place after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours.

“I’m Clark when I’m at the Daily Planet, but Superman when I’m saving Metropolis.” Clark responded, dabbing a wet cloth on the scratch, soaking up the remaining clotted blood. He was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. I watched him as he worked. His eyes looked so focused, so intense. It was a complete contrast to him at the Daily Planet.

“So then…who are you to me? Superman or Clark?” I bit my bottom lip. He pulled away, finished bandaging the wound. But it also looked like he was taken aback.

“To you, I’ve always been me. Not Clark Kent from work, not Superman, just Clark.” I just stared at him, almost unable to believe him.

“So then why tell me now? You could have just taken me to the hospital. Your identity would have been safe. So why reveal it now?’ I couldn’t stop myself from asking the question. After all this time of separating Superman from Clark Kent, why choose now to say something?

A long moment passed between us, so long that I didn’t think he was going to respond at all.

“When you didn’t show up that night, I thought you bailed.” His words were soft, raw. “ But then I knew that you’re not known to just not show up. So I panicked. I was losing my mind trying to find you. I almost lost it when I found out some of Lex Luthor’s henchmen took you.” I felt my heart fall into my stomach. He continued on. “And when I found you tied up and hurt, I knew I couldn’t hide it from you anymore. You needed to know.” He let out a shuttering breath.

That’s when I saw him, the real man behind it all.

Not Superman.

Not Clark Kent.

Just Him.

Quickly unlocking the door into another chamber, I followed him inside. The door shut behind us with a soft thud. Inside was dimly lit with blue lights. A king sized mattress was placed on the back end of the wall, followed by a bookshelf to the right and a chair to the left. I leaned against the door and bit my bottom lip, hesitant to make the first move. All this time I’ve been wishing for Clark to see me more than a friend. And there was for sure something here. So why am I so shy all of a sudden?

Seeing him in the red and blue suit as superman did something to me. All of the feelings I’ve kept inside began to bubble to the surface. I was still reeling over the fact that out of everyone I thought would be Superman I never expected Clark Kent.

His hand gently grabbed my chin, leading my gaze and thoughts back to him. When did he become so close?

“What’s on your mind?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me. It’s okay.”

“I just…I just have been wanting this for so long and I didn’t think that you thought of me like that.”

“Kat, isn’t it obvious. I always wanted you.”

“But what about you and Lois? I thought the two of you were…” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Lois and I have never been like that. We’re just really good friends.” He stepped closer, closing the gap between us. I froze, my mind reeling but became silent at the same time. His mouth softly grazed my ear.

“Why do you think I always called for you to fix my computer?”

“Because you don’t understand it.”

“No Kat.” He paused, “It’s so I could see you.” I’ve never felt my face heat up faster in my life.

“Oh!....Oh” He let out a laugh.

“I’m from Kansas, not from Mars. I know the basics of fixing a computer.” His laugh died suddenly. Both of our lips were mere inches away. All either of us had to do was move and our lips would touch. My gaze stayed on his while his eyes moved from my lips to my eyes. There was yearning in them, longing, desperation.

“We shouldn’t do this. You’re hurt. You’ve been through a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.” He whispered, his body visibly. straining. Clark was doing everything in his power to restrain himself. Desperately. I couldn’t help but find it hot.

“It’s okay.” I whispered. “You won’t hurt me.” His lips were on mine in an instant. His lips were soft, his kisses softer. He tasted sweet. I could feel him still holding back. But I didn’t care, I was beginning to drown in those soft, delicate kisses.

Just as I was about to drown, he drew back.

I watched him as Clark tugged the fabric over his head. His chest was glistening with sweat from the flight here. My heart was pounding in my chest, a violet rhythm that wished to break through my ribcage and escape.

Mouthwatering. He was utterly mouthwatering.

And I am utterly fucked.

This wasn’t just Clark Kent standing in front of me anymore. He wasn’t the soft spoken, nerdy Clark I met at the Daily Planet. He wasn’t the big, rough Superman either. He was both, but yet none at the same time. This was the human being behind it all.

And I just fell harder.

“Clark.” I whispered.

He stepped closer, his movements slow. Deliberate. Like a man who knew exactly what he wanted. In an instant, our mouths met again. His kisses were primal, wanting, demanding.

“I want you bent over, whimpering,” He groaned in between our kisses. “I want your nails on my back. I want to hear you tell me how good I’m making you feel. I want you to forget every man who tried. I want you to feel like you’re safe with me.” With each confession, his kisses grew more soft, more held back.

His deep almost primal voice cracked-like a part of him was coming through the urge.

“But if you don’t want this.” He pulled away a moment, his eyes locking with mine. “Stop me. I’m not going to force this on you.”

The air between us pulsed with tension. But he never wavered. All I had to say was the word and he would back away.

But I didn’t want that, not when just him telling me how much he needed me was wrecking me. I could feel myself trembling, my inner thighs soaked. It took everything in me to grip the last shred of my composure.

I swallowed hard, nodding once.

“I trust you.” I whispered.

And Clark, ever the gentleman, ever the hero, let out a sound so low and primal that I felt my entire body shiver.

His mouth was on mind again. These weren’t soft, sweet kisses like before. They were wanting, hungry. He was like a starving man who had just found a buffet. And he was intending to eat.

He cupped my cheeks, deepening our kiss. My head felt light, either from how good it felt for him to kiss me or because of lack of oxygen I didn’t care. All I wanted at that moment was him.

When neither of us could breathe anymore, we broke the kiss. I took it as an opportunity to meet him halfway. Gripping my shirt I yanked it over my head, not wasting a second to discard it on the ground. Clark froze, his breathing hitched and his eyes wide. Completely awestruck.

“Kat…You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. Then closed the distance again but before he reached me he stopped, dropping to his knees. He looked up at me, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly dragged my pants, then underwear, down to my feet.

I’ve never wanted him to touch me more than I wanted him to now.

“Ladies first” he said, his lips grazing the inside of my thigh. Soon after he kissed up my thigh over and over, little gasps and moans escaping his lips. He was giving me another chance to back out.

But I was too far in to back out now.

My hands grabbed his hair, my fingers tangling with his dark locks. My breath caught in my throat, each kiss sending signals to my middle. “Clark-please.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before he dove in, his tongue met my pussy. I felt him moan into me, like I was the best thing he’s ever tasted.

He started incredibly slow, at first long, broad strokes over my entrance before he made his way up to my clit. Each pass he let out a groan, like a starving man being fed.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “You taste so sweet. So good.” My legs trembled from his response.

His mouth closed around my clit and sucked. I saw stars as he sucked, licked, devoured. The only thing I knew was that he was divine and that I wasn’t going to last much longer. He pressed in further, deeper, messier, louder.

A cry escaped my lips, my legs barely holding me up with how much they shook. Clark wrapped one of his arms around my thigh, holding me in place and stabilizing me. He groaned into my clit, sending pleasure towards my approaching orgasm.

“Come for me.” He gasped in between licks. “Come.”

I cried out as my whole body jerked, each one of my muscles clenching to the pleasure. My hands gripped his curls, my world dissolving to the pleasure. His name released my lips as a moan, a soft chant and cry. My legs collapsed, but Clark made sure I didn’t fall.

He released his grip on my clit and looked back up at me. His eyes were wild, desperate, like he wasn’t finished with me yet. He surged to his feet.

He grabbed me by my waist, hoisting me in the air like I was weightless, and carried me to the bed. I was still reeling from my orgasm that I didn’t register us moving until my back hit the mattress. I gasped, my thighs spreading out, my back arching. My eyes moved to him in front of me. He worked on his sweats, pulling them off and then-Oh God.

A whimper escaped my lips.

He was huge. It stared at me, flushed, thick, veined, and leaking. It look so fucking hard that it looked painful.

“Birth control?” His voice was hoarse at the question.

I nodded, breathless.

His eyes darkened before meeting me the rest of the way. Gingerly, he pushed my legs open with almost trembling hands. Lining himself up with my soaked entrance, he paused.

One last chance to back out.

He looked down at me as he stood over me, waiting for the silent confirmation before his eyes softened. “I’ll go slow.”

“I don’t want slow.” I said in a soft whisper, “I want you ruined. I want you rough. I’ve always wanted you”. That was all the confirmation he needed.

He slammed in.

I screamed, Clark matching mine with a moan so deep, so wrecked, I felt it go straight to my core.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped, loosing his composure, “You’re-fuck, you’re so wet-so tight. You’re perfect.” He pulled out and thrust back in hard. Deep. I could feel him hit my cervix. I felt tears fall down my face at the pleasure. I was already overstimulated, but I couldn’t stop wanting, begging for him. I could feel myself around him, needing him to keep going. Clark braced over me, driving in.

Again.

Again.

Again.

His hips kept snapping, every thrust more brutal. More perfect.

I clutched his broad back, my nails raking down, digging into him, as he pounded into me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Harder,” I begged, tears continuing down my face. “Harder, please-need it” Clark responded, hips snapping faster, his whole body jerking with the effort. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good.” As he kept thrusting, he reached in between us, rubbing my clit. I felt the pleasure, built to the point where I thought I was going to explode. I think he saw it in my eyes.

“You gonna come again? He panted. “Come with me baby. Meet me over the edge.” I nodded frantically.

Then it hit.

The pleasure exploded, the pleasure releasing in big waves. Both of us felt it. I could still feel him deep inside me, his cock pulsing inside my clenched pussy. He let out a loud moan.

“Fuck-I’m gonna”

“Do it.” I gasped. He groaned as hot, deep, almost endless heat grew in my insides. His hip twitching, body shaking, gasping my name before he collapsed over me. We both layed there in a haze of sweat, come, and ruin. Our bodies were tangled, hearts racing.

It was the best feeling I’ve had in my entire life.

He pulled himself out, rolling over me and collapsed next to me, his breath still ragged and panting. He looked gloriously ruined, his brown locks damp with sweat. His breaths brushed against my neck in soft, contented huffs. One of his arms was around my waist. I couldn’t help but have my hand against his chest, making sure that what just happened was real.

The room smelled like sex, sweat, and victory.

I had hopefully survived the last abduction of my life.

And Clark was mine. And I was his.

“So how are we going to tell Lois?” I asked sleepily, turning my body so I was facing him.

“About Superman? Or us?”

“Yes.” Clark let out a chuckle, tracing small circles on my hands.

“Someday she’ll catch on that I’m Superman. But as for us.” He paused, locking eyes with me. “I think it’s best we let her know before she investigates us like she does Superman.” I let out a laugh.

“Fair point.” I smiled, kissing him gingerly.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 29

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Mentions of Death

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 29

College was nice while it lasted.

Yes, that might be a tad melodramatic given you never got a letter in the mail that said your scholarship was null and void. Nor did anyone at Wayne Foundation reach out demanding restitution for the money you’d used thus far. But, come on, it had to be coming. And even if those letters never came, you refused to accept the money. There were other means to pay your tuition.

Certainly, ones with a lot less strings attached.

You would probably have to take a gap year to pad out your savings and look for new opportunities. It wasn’t ideal, but you’d waited this long. Pushing your education off another year wasn’t the end of the world.

But it might be the end of your world.

When the writing club had its last meeting this week, Chloe was kind enough to ask what classes you had slotted for the fall. Instead of making up something on the spot, you made up an excuse about work or a paper or a paper you needed to finish for work. Honestly, the details were kind of fuzzy.

Now, you were folded over a tray of hors d’oeuvres like your life wasn’t falling to pieces.

Screw Jacob.

Or Jason.

Or whatever his name was.

Why did he have to come into your life like a whirlwind and make a mess of things? A beautiful mess, but a mess, all the same.

“Hey!”

You looked up from your platter as Evan slipped into the catering kitchen at the Gotham banquet hall. One day, you’d never have to touch another serving platter, but that day wasn’t today. Nor was it any day soon. At this rate, you might as well sleep in the back of the catering truck to cut costs.

Evan hid his hands behind his back and smiled, revealing his missing incisor. When you looked at him, you saw a young Jason smiling back at you. It curdled your stomach.

“I have good news.”

You forced a smile. “And what would that be?”

He revealed the sheet of paper hidden behind his back. You took it and flipped it open, revealing a report card. It was mostly B’s, though he finished the quarter with an A in math. He was quick with numbers when he took the time to sit down and use them. You noted the C in English, but you expected that. It was one of his weaker subjects. The fact that he eked out with a passing grade at all was a marked improvement.

Your smile turned more genuine. “Holy shit.”

“I know!” Evan bounced on the balls of his feet. “My advisor said I should start thinking about college. I’m not sure if I can afford it without a scholarship, but I might be able to get into a technical college or go part-time so I can keep working with you...”

He rambled, but you didn’t care. Hearing him talk about going into higher education was the best news you had all month. Your throat clenched around nothing as you studied the grades once more.

“My advisor said I should have a few letters of recommendation at the ready. My GPA is on the lower side, but depending on my SAT scores and those letters, I might have a shot. I was wondering if you would write one for me?”

“You want me to write you a letter?”

Again, you couldn’t help but think of Jason.

He fiddled with the buttons on his sleeves. “Only if you want to, but I look up to you, I guess.”

If you weren’t crying before, you were now. With tears in your eyes, you flung your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. “Of course, I’ll write you a letter. I’m so proud of you.”

He gave you a quick squeeze, and you almost sobbed. He had no idea how badly you needed this hug. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll get into GU too, and we could be students together.”

Evan meant well, but his words were like plunging headfirst into icy water. Nice as that sounded, that seemed unlikely for a lot of reasons.

When you broke away from him, you quickly wiped your tears and ruffled his hair. “I’ll do what I can to make that happen, kiddo. Now, let’s get to work. This bruschetta isn’t going to plate itself.”

The party came and went, uneventful for the most part. Mark no longer worked for your company. Your boss didn’t tell you why, but you assumed the drugs had something to do with it. Whatever. You weren’t sad to see him go. The world still turned, but you felt stuck.

By the time you finished cleaning up with Evan, exhaustion had settled deep in your bones, but a twenty-minute train ride stood between you and your bed.

You found a seat in the far corner of the mostly empty subway car. Resting your bag in your lap, you shuffled through its contents until you found the book tucked away at the bottom. The Odyssey translated by Emily Wilson. It was a comfort read, despite the vaguely bittersweet pang in your chest any time you cracked it open.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The good, the bad, and everything in between. You weren’t aware of how much you thought of him until he stopped coming around. You hadn’t seen him, not even as a blur of red on the night sky.

He did exactly as you asked and gave you space.

That irked you.

The fact that it irked you, irked you more.

Just as the doors were about to close, another person dashed onto the car. Tall with dark hair mostly hidden beneath a blue ball cap. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up.

Jas—

No.

He looked similar to him, save for his brown eyes and the scarless face. You missed his steely blue eyes. They painted the backs of your eyelids whenever you closed yours, but it wasn’t the same. You scolded yourself and tried to focus on your book, but that too had soured now that you’d gotten your hopes up over nothing.

The ghost of Jason Todd, ironic as that was, haunted your life, but you wanted more than his ghost. Life wasn’t nearly as vibrant without him in it, but you’d been the one to push him away. You should have had him stay. You should have sat down and talked through things like the adults you supposedly were. No more running, no more building walls to protect yourself from being vulnerable.

But should haves didn’t make things right now.

You needed action.

As the car pulled away from the platform, you devised a plan to make things right. Writing had gotten you into this mess. It was going to be the thing to get you out of it too. One more letter. One last shot to do things right. The only question was how to get it to him. The PO box was probably gone, not that you’d ever send it there.

This letter wasn’t for Bruce Wayne.

It was for Jason Todd.

Most people would call you crazy for writing to a dead man. They would tell you that you’d have better luck reaching him through a Ouija board, but there had to be people out there who knew the truth.

People who were close to him.

Family.

Friends.

Your book closed with a snap as the realization struck you. That was it. You knew exactly where to start your search.

***

Steph sat at your usual table in the student center with a purple smoothie and a half-eaten bag of sour gummy worms. The red end of one poked out between her lips as you settled in the chair across from her, jaw set in a determined line.

“What’s with the face?”

“I need to get something to Jason.”

The faintest pinch in her nose confirmed what you suspected. Steph knew his real name all along. You couldn’t blame her for keeping his secret. It wasn’t hers to tell, but she could make up for it now.

She ripped the gummy worm in half and chewed. “I don’t think I know any Jasons. Wild, I know.”

You stared at her, unimpressed.

She shrugged and popped the other half of the gummy worm in her mouth. “Worth a short. How much do you know?”

“How much do you know?”

“I asked you first.”

You glanced over your shoulder. Several students sat around them, but the closest ones wore large headphones to block out the bustle of the student center. They were unlikely to hear this next part, but you lowered your voice anyway. “I don’t know. You tell me, Spoiler.”

She gasped. “You bitch. How long have you known?”

“A blonde vigilante dressed in purple appeared outside my place in the middle of the night and blamed Mercury being in retrograde for Jason getting dosed with fear toxin.”

“Weird shit happens when Mercury is in retrograde.”

She really wasn’t helping her case. It was a wonder how any of them kept their identities under wraps. “Come on, Steph. I might not have guessed Jason was using a fake name but give me some credit here. I know you’re not Batman.”

“Psh, Batman wishes he was me.”

“How many of your friends are actually vigilantes?”

“Not that many. Like one or two. Twelve tops. They’re mostly Ti—shit, forget you heard that.” She stuffed another gummy in her mouth to avoid talking, but it didn’t work. “Ya know, some of my friends, like you, are just normal people.”

“And what is Jason?”

“Jason is...” She chewed thoughtfully. “He’s complicated.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Steph shrugged as if she hadn’t just been outed as a vigilante over a bag of gummy worms and a smoothie. “It comes with the territory. Well-adjusted people don’t wear masks and fight crime, not even me. Shocker, I know, my life seems so put together.”

“So, say I wanted to give him something,” you began as you pulled the letter from your bag, “How would I go about finding him?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said he doesn’t come around often. He and the Bat don’t really agree on how to combat crime, so it’s easier for Red Hood to work as a solo act. He claims to prefer it that way, but I don’t know. His whole vibe screams child sidekick if you ask me.”

“Do you know what happened between us?”

“Seeing as you’re using his real name, I can hazard a guess, but no, he didn’t tell me anything. Not when—” She closed her mouth so fast, her teeth snapped.

Your eyes narrowed. “You’ve been in contact with him.”

“Once. A week ago. We crossed paths while out on patrol. Well, that implies it was a happy accident, but he sought me out. The lovesick fool wanted me to give you this.” She pulled a manila envelope from her bag. It was heftier than yours by a concerning degree.

Your pulse quickened.

“I didn’t know if you wanted it or not, so I held off on giving it to you until you brought it up on your own, but God, you two were made for each other. How did you both settle on writing each other letters like a pair of star-crossed lovers? It’s nauseating.”

“Says the girl who’s been taking ASL classes with Cass.”

Steph flushed scarlet. “Do you want me to give him your letter or not.”

“Please. I’m afraid I’ll go crazy if I hold off any longer,” you said as you slid the envelope across the table. She did the same with his. When you picked it up, you turned it over in your hands, trying to imagine what he could have written.

“Let’s raincheck for later this week,” Steph said as she shoved the letter and her bag of gummies in her bag, “Something tells me you’ll want to be alone for this next part.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“You said it yourself. I think you’ve waited long enough.” Her voice was firm, but not unkind as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “Your horoscope for today said you needed to face the things you keep putting off.”

“Why do I feel like you made that one up to make your point?”

She winked. “Guess you’ll never know.”

With that, she headed off, leaving you alone with whatever awaited you in this envelope. It was weird being on the receiving end of a letter for a change. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you ripped it open.

Hi.

I’m not really sure what to write.

Well, that’s not entirely true. There are plenty of things I want to write, but I have a feeling this is already going to be pretty long as it is, and I don’t want to bore you. Most pressingly, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have lied to you. Jacob was a stupid name, and I shouldn’t have let it go on as long as it did.

And the letters to Bruce Wayne… I’m sorry for deceiving you.

I was a coward.

You had every right to turn me away, but now that I’ve had time to sit with my poor decisions, I realize I still owe you the truth. All of it, even if it makes you hate me more. So, here it is.

Fair warning, it’s not a happy story, but it’s mine.

Make of it what you will.

And he did. Pages upon pages of it. Jason told the story of a boy who came from nothing. With loving parents who were far from perfect, until one day, they were gone too. He was alone in the world.

I preferred it that way. I knew how to take care of myself. I’d been doing so long before my mom died of her overdose. It wasn’t anything new. I had an affinity for lifting tires off cars. Shocker, I know. One day, I got bold and targeted the wrong person.

Or the right person.

It’s all perspective, I guess.

A man of great influence, Bruce Wayne, plucked him off the street and gave him a life he only ever dreamed of. He wasn’t alone anymore, but with it came the weight of expectation. He was out of his depth, but he tried to make things work.

Bruce opened the door to a world of opportunity. Much like I wanted to do for you, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Back to the story. I wanted to use my new life for good. I could make the world a better place, not with charity galas or schmoozing with rich folk who didn’t give a damn about me, but under the cover of night.

I found magic in an unlikely place.

I became Robin. Not the first. That was some other guy who did it a lot better than I did (which is a secret I want you to carry to your grave. If he learns I even hinted that he was better than me, I’ll never hear the end of it.)

You reread that passage, ensuring you hadn’t misunderstood. Red Hood had been a Robin? Did that mean Bruce Wayne was Batman? Is that what he was telling you? Most people suspected there had been more than one kid acting as Robin. Nearly twenty years had passed since the first one appeared, after all, but you never expected…

You shook your head as you cast your judgments aside until you had finished reading. You still had several pages to go.

For the first time in years, I felt like I had the means to be the change I wanted to see in the world. I wanted to do right by it and help the people who needed it most. It was a thrilling time.

Until suddenly it wasn’t.

Jason was killed by the Joker’s hand when he was fifteen. There was no terrorist attack abroad, not really. He’d gone after his birth mom who’d sold him out to the Joker. Despite that, broken and bleeding, he’d tried to save her until his dying breath.

A lump formed in your throat as you recalled the scar on his cheek. J—not for Jacob or Jason, but for the Joker. You clasped your hand over your mouth to keep from whimpering.

The story should have ended there, but it didn’t. I woke up, clawed my way out of the grave and… what happened after was a little fuzzy. I wish I could tell you more. I was taken abroad by the League of Assassins (long story—again, the details are a little fuzzy), but I eventually found my way back to Gotham.

I was angry.

Vindictive.

Starved for revenge.

In all the time I’d been gone, nothing had changed. Rogues still ran rampant through the city. And worst of all, the man who’d orchestrated my death was still alive. Clearly, my death meant nothing.

He did things he wasn’t proud of, but you already knew that part of the narrative. The guns, the crime, his tenuous relationship with Batman. It all made sense now that you had the context behind it.

You weren’t sure where else this story could go, but as you flipped to the next page, that lump in your throat threatened to burst.

One day, not so long ago, I met a woman on the subway. She wore a yellow hoodie as she read Wuthering Heights. We talked about books and for the first time in years, I felt a little less like a monster. When we parted ways that night, I never expected to see her again.

But fate has a sense of humor, I guess.

He recounted the night he saved you from being mugged. That felt like ages ago. Another lifetime, in fact.

This woman was smart and brave and rightfully cynical of the world. She had a dream. It was a lot like a dream I had once upon a time, though I’d long since abandoned it. A half-dead kid would never go to college, but it wasn’t too late for her.

Oh.

Oh no.

I wanted to help, so I did something stupid. I pulled some strings. Used the influence I’d turned my back on and got her a scholarship for a foundation in my name.

The letters were meant to be clever. An ode to her favorite novel and nothing more. We were never meant to see each other again, but I couldn’t stay away.

The more I got to know her.

The more I got to know you…

The web of lies grew, and I was stuck. I didn’t know how to break free, and I was afraid of what would happen once I did. I couldn’t imagine a life where you’re not part of it, love.

Your teeth chattered as you fought back a new wave of tears. This was a complicated emotion. Neither good, nor bad, but raw and so, so real. Words couldn’t do this feeling justice, but it was visceral.

The money is yours. No more letters. I don’t expect anything from you. That’s the way it should have been from the start, and I refuse to let you drop out of college because I’m an idiot who lets my lies get away from me. You’ve always been capable of more than you give yourself credit for.

I, Jason Peter Todd, chose you for a reason. Not Bruce Wayne, not his foundation, but me. I would do it again. And again, and again, if it meant I had a moment of your time.

Because it was a beautiful moment.

Please, love. Don’t give up on your dreams.

Dreams are the real magic.

That’s where his letter ended. You wiped your tears, only slightly embarrassed to be caught crying in the middle of the student center. You probably should have taken the letter home to read it there, but it was already done.

His story answered some questions, but like the head of a hydra, they multiplied, leaving infinitely more in their place. You understood why he made these choices. How could you not after he poured his heart and soul into every page. You wanted to gather him in your arms and kiss each of his scars until he knew, in his heart of heart’s that nothing he shared changed your perception of him.

But that would have to wait.

You would have to wait.

What happened next was entirely up to him. You just hoped your letter inspired him to make the right choice.

-----------------

A/N: In case you were wondering, this was the chapter that made me tear up while writing it. One chapter left!

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[avocado-writing]

i can never run and i cannot hide

notes: he is so creature coded to me. wanted to write something about that.

pairing: vampire!papa v perpetua x f!reader

rating: e (hunter/prey; primal play; cnc; dubcon; aftercare)

words: 2.2k

It’s a cool, dark, starry night, your absolute favourite kind - contrasting so beautifully against the summer days which have been plaguing you. In the north wing of the abbey there’s a window which sits just so, allowing you to look up to the moon with no spires to block your view. When you cannot sleep you find yourself coming here to perch instead, a little bird drawn to the world outside. You’re all alone when the lights have been dimmed for the evening, your fellow Siblings asleep in their beds or far enough away not to bother you from your constellation-gazing. It’s peaceful. 

Or… it is usually peaceful.

A chill runs over you and the hairs on the back of your neck rise, in a way which suggests that someone is watching you. You whip your head around to face the shadows, searching them with squinted eyes for a moment, attempting to ascertain whether the figure you think you can make out is real.

And then they move. Papa Perpertua steps forward, just far enough into the soft silver moonlight that you can see that one pale eye transfixed on you, so that you can admire how his black shirt shifts on his thin chest. Another chill. You’re not entirely sure if this one is in fear.

“Oh, your Dark Holiness, I didn’t see you there…” you manage. Is he smiling? At this distance it is difficult to tell but you swear that you catch a glint of fang.

“No,” he agrees, his voice a purr. Oh he is definitely smiling. “You’re out here late, sorella. And wearing so little, too, hmm?”

You’re suddenly starkly aware that you’re only dressed in a nightgown, light and thin for the summer. It does little to hide your body. Your nipples have peaked in the cool air of the evening and you want to cross your arms over your chest to hide them, but you don’t want to draw any more of his attention than you already have.

“I’m sorry. I ought to go to bed, I didn’t mean to seem disrespectful, dressed like this…”

But to leave you’ll have to walk past him. You feel your heart hammering in your chest as you hop down from your windowsill, closing the gap between you, him seeming to loom ever higher the closer you draw. For a second you think you will be let go without admonishment… but then a clawed hand shoots out to wrap around your arm. You gasp at the coldness of his touch, your skin turning gooseflesh where he’s made contact. He grins down at you. You feel your blood pumping through your veins and you know for certain, in that moment, that he can too.

“Tell me, sorella, have you ever lain with a Papa before?”

Your mouth goes dry. You can’t look away from that eye, it’s piercing into your soul. You are rooted to the spot, paralysed, a deer in the headlights.

“P…pardon?” you manage to squeak out. He sweeps down so he can be closer to you, and you can see every pore on his perfect, terrifying face from his distance.

“Have you fucked a Papa, little bird?”

The pet name has you clenching your thighs together, but you don’t want this. Do you want this? Before tonight you’ve barely said three words to the strange new Papa, only heard the rumours of him stalking round the monastery at all hours, and how you ought to not cross his path or you’ll meet a terrible fate…

“I… no…” you breathe. Your answer pleases him. His smile widens and you are met with a maw full of sharp teeth. The breath in your lungs seizes and you begin to shake.

“Before tonight is over, little bird, you will.”

He lets go of your arm and raises to his full height. He is towering. In fact, his body seems to elongate in the shadows, odd and willowy. Inhuman. 

“You have a ten second head start, sorella. And then I am coming after you.”

Your eyes have begun to fill with tears at the implication of his words, and yet there is no denying the tight knot of heat burning its way through the pit of your stomach.

“Papa… no… please don’t do this…”

“Ten…”

Oh, he is not playing. You turn and run. You curse yourself for not wearing shoes, thinking that bare feet would help keep you cool. Instead your soles slap painfully against the stone floor and you wince at the tiny flickers of pain with each step. It is better, though, than the alternative.

His voice rings in your head, velvet and poison.

Nine… eight… seven…

You make it to a crossroads in the corridors, turning your head this way and that. Where do you run? Where is best? Where could you find someone to protect you at this late hour, when the sleeping quarters are so far away?

Six… five… four…

There is no time to think. You pick a direction and sprint as fast as you can. After a couple of moments you’re able to place your surroundings and realise you are near the sanctuary, where Black Mass is held every Sunday. Maybe you can find some corner to hide in until he is bored of searching for you and goes off to find some other unfortunate plaything.

Three… two… one…

You throw the sanctuary doors open and close them as quietly as you can behind you, running into the vast room and desperately searching for a good place to squirrel yourself away. Everywhere seems too open, too obvious. But there is no time.

I am coming, sorella.

Out of options, you simply throw yourself behind the altar, begging to whatever devil is listening that he won’t search here. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you try to make yourself as small as possible and quiet your breathing, a hand slapped over your own mouth to muffle your hyperventilation. Is it enough? It has to be enough…

The sanctuary doors creak open and your heart sinks.

“I know you’re here, little bird. I can smell the thrum of your blood,” calls Papa Perpertua, his voice echoing around the empty room. You stay as still as you can while listening to the sound of his shoes as he searches.

“Are you between the pews…?”

You can imagine his cold gaze sliding over the wooden seating, knowing it would be too obvious a place to sequester yourself.

“Hmm, in the confessional…?”

The sound of claws on wood as he inspects. He is closer now. Surely close enough to hear your breathing if he tries with his unnaturally keen senses…

“No, you have no sins to be blessed for. Not yet, anyway. So there’s only one place left, sì?”

A shadow falls over you. You look up into Papa’s grinning face, his pupils blown wide with desire as he looms over the altar.

“There you are, little bird.”

You try to run, you do, but he is too fast. There is that hand again, snatching your wrist from the air and pulling you back into his embrace, your back to his chest. You kick and squirm but he holds you impossibly tight, arms like iron bars.

“Papa, please, don’t!”

“You keep saying that, hm? ‘Don’t’? And yet, I don’t believe you. Because your body betrays you, sorella.”

His palm graces down your sternum, your stomach, and comes to rest between your thighs. You freeze in fear as he runs his fingers across the slick that’s gathered at the top of your thighs. He holds them in front of you to inspect, his claws glistening in the moonlight which filters in through the glass windows above you both.

“You want this. Do not fight it. Do not fight me, silly little thing.”

He lets go of you for just long enough to swipe the altar clear of dark holy symbols with one long arm, before he throws you onto the cold stone. A claw comes up to the collar of your nightdress.

“Shame to ruin something so beautiful,” he sighs, and you don’t know if he means you or it. But then he is ripping down the front, tearing it in two so that you are bared to him. His eyes rake across your body as he takes you in hungrily, and then suddenly that sharp mouth is at your neck. You push your hands against his shoulders to try and force him away but he is far too strong for that. When his teeth press into your flesh you squeak, and it turns into a squeal when he bites. You feel warm blood trickle down your neck onto the altar beneath you as he begins to drink.

“You’re a beautiful vintage, sorella,” he groans, his voice thick with desire in your ear. Your head begins to go light. Your thoughts are candyfloss-spindly, stretched and sweet. At some point your attempts to push him off of you turns into an embrace, your arms wrapped around his back.

“There you are, hmm? Finally accepting that I know what is best for you?”

“I don’t… please stop…” you whine, but your heart isn’t in it any more. You know he hunted you to get your blood pumping so you’d be even more delicious for him and you don’t care. The caress of his tongue as he laps warm blood from your veins has you melting for him. When his hand dips between your legs again, he finds it is not only crimson dripping onto the stone beneath you.

You expect his claws to hurt as he presses them inside you, but it turns out he can be surprisingly gentle. First two then three as he realises how ready you are for him, their sharp tips dragging across the sweet spot buried against your walls. You gasp and try not to buck your hips lest he draw blood from there too.

You’ve no doubt that he would clean it, though.

When his thumb presses to your clit, you realise that you have no choice but to let yourself go. You come hard, your cunt clenching around his knuckles, flooding his palm with your release. He pulls back to look at you, to frame your orgasm in his memories forever. His chin is soaked red, lips and teeth both stained, but he reaches up to taste you from his fingers. His eyes roll back in delight and then he’s dipping them between your lips too, the tang of your own release heady on your tongue.

“You enjoy letting go,” he states, moving his thin waist between your legs and tugging at the lacing of his trousers. He pulls himself free, not bothering to undress any further, stroking himself with the hand he just used to bring you to climax. The sight of his thick cock coated with you is almost too much to bear.

“Please…” you whisper one last time, but you’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop or keep going. He doesn’t seem to care either way, instead he pushes your thighs up against your stomach and presses himself inside your needy cunt. You whine and wriggle at the feeling of fullness. He’s hard and feral. His hips snap back before thrusting forward, fucking into you the altar so hard that you slide up it a couple of inches.

“Papa…!”

“Be good for me, tesoro, and take my cock. You can do that for your Papa, hm?”

He doesn’t expect an answer but you manage to nod between the tears of overstimulation which sting at your eyes. He digs the tips of his fingers into your soft flesh as he forces himself into you impossibly deeper, his pelvis slapping against your ass as he fucks you hard. You throw your head back with every roll of his hips. It is unholy. It is glorious.

“Look at your Papa. I want to see you when we come together.”

You force your gaze upwards. He looks more creature than man like this, his teeth bared in a snarl, eyes wide in a frenzy. His cock strikes your sweetest spot over and over and he is lost in it, in you; he surges forward to crash his bloody lips to yours as you feel him spill inside you. His hips judder to a halt as he climaxes, taking you over the edge again too as he floods your poor, abused cunt. The kiss peters out and soon the two of you lie there in a messy embrace, one which you are only pulled out of at the sound of your name being called.

You look up. Gone is the wild beast who hunted you just moments ago, replaced by your sweet, adoring Perpetua. He kisses the sore spot on your neck where he bit, his tongue a salve.

“Did that sate your desire, tesoro?” he hums, knuckles dragging along your flank in a caress. You nod and bury your fingers in his hair.

“Mmm, thank you, my love. The altar was a nice touch…”

He grins, but it’s no longer something which strikes fear. It is sweet and kind and meant only for you.

“I thought you’d enjoy that. Come, let me take you back to our chambers. I will run you a bath and clean you up. And… thank you for letting me feed.”

You caress his face and bring him in for a loving kiss, your tongue swiping along his bottom lip to taste the cocktail he has made of you.

“I love you, Perpetua.”

“I love you too, my little bird.”

[sycamore55]

Chapter Three- Take Me to the Finish Line

Vi x f!reader

Contains: events of ep 2 s1 arcane (SPOILERS), some dialogue is quoted directly from the show, friends to lovers, slowburn, reader is Ekko's sister/benzo's kid, vi and reader as teenagers, ungodly amounts of fluff (you're welcome) and some angst (?!)

WC: 7.7k

Trigger warnings: discussions of childhood trauma stemming from abuse/parents dying or being dead

Summary: After you and Vi have come face to face with your feelings for each other, you begin to think that maybe this is the one good thing that you can hold on to. But the Undercity always has a way of making life hard, especially for two kids who maybe love each other.

A/N: hello all you cutie patooties, welcome to part 3 of my Born to Die series! my apologies for the delay, I've had an insanely hectic week. the masterlist and parts 1 & 2 are on my blog if you haven't read them yet but want to

previous part here <-

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

Last night had been absolutely perfect.

As you lay in your bed, staring at the murky green ceiling, your mind echoed with the memory of the night before. Every hitch of Vi's breath, every time a faint blush bloomed across her cheeks, even how when she laughed, the way she would shake her head slightly.

You had been close enough to almost count every freckle on her face, and to see the small cut on her upper lip curve up each time she smiled.

And when your fingers intertwined, you thought you might die of happiness right then and there. But one thing lingered on your thoughts.

Why didn't you kiss her?

Or why didn't she kiss you?

Growing up in a place where every day was a struggle to survive, romance hadn't exactly been a priority, so you didn't have a frame of reference for what you were supposed to be doing. Maybe this was just the way things went.

Oh well. That could be a mystery for another day.

You couldn't stop thinking about how it had felt to have your body pressed tightly to yours as you shared the moment together. Truth be told, that was probably the most at peace you'd felt in a long time.

Suddenly, the blanket you were lying under was pulled away. You groaned and tried to pull it back as the cold air hit your skin.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Ekko said as he hovered over you. "I need your help with the shop."

"Mhm....five more minutes," you mumbled tiredly.

"No, not in five minutes, now!" Ekko protested. "Seriously, why have you been so tired lately?"

You sighed, finally sitting up and snatching the blanket back from him. "I just had a late night."

He smirked at you. "Oh yeah? What were you doing?"

"Nothing, Vi and I just stayed up late talking." You rested your forehead on your palm, dragging your hand back to finger-brush your hair.

“Just talking?” He smirked at you. “Or were you doing something else, like…”

You threw your pillow at his face. He dodged it, giving you one last teasing grin before he left the room, and it fell into silence again.

You finally dragged yourself out of bed, and slipped on your jacket. You pulled your hair back into a braid, before heading down to the shop.

As you worked that day, there were times when you realized you were softly humming to yourself. Humming. What was going on with you? Was it even possible that one girl could make you this happy?

Ekko had noticed immediately, and knew exactly what was going on. You were the target of relentless teasing from him all day, with your only comfort being that Powder was probably doing the exact same thing to Vi.

Benzo also noticed your newfound cheery mood, but he was more oblivious as to its cause. He was simply just glad that you were happy for once.

At the end of the day, when both you and Ekko had finished your work at the shop, you decided to go to the Last Drop to visit the others. The whole way there, Ekko teased and peppered you with questions like, were you and Vi dating? Were you gonna kiss her? Did you love her?

The only way to get him off your back was to turn the questions back to him, but about Powder instead. You laughed to yourself when his face went red, and he quickly clammed up.

When you reached the bar, you both quickly said 'hi' to Vander, who, with a knowing twinkle in his eye, informed you that Vi and the others were in the basement.

You held your breath as you went down the stairs, unsure what was going to happen next, but definitely excited to find out.

---

You told Vi the previous night, when you left, that you were working for the entirety of today. That didn't really help to settle her nerves, which were growing rapidly with each minute you weren't there.

What if you got scared off and she would never see you again?

What if you were upset that she didn't kiss you?

Goddamn, she'd been so close. Even in the dark, she could see the way your hair fell over your shoulders, and how you got a small crinkle between your eyebrows whenever you worried about her.

She redid her wraps almost immediately after you left. She wasn't used to having them off. But somehow, with you, it felt...natural.

Gosh, she really should have kissed you.

She'd been close enough to, easily. But you both chickened out of it. She was fine with just sitting with you and holding your hand though. Way more than fine, actually.

What the two of you had didn't have solid lines or definitions yet. But it was definitely something, and Vi knew there wasn't any turning back now.

When she got back, Powder had been asleep, but Mylo easily teased Vi enough in her absence. When Powder woke up, Vi had asked her what she had said to you the night before.

With a grin, Powder informed her that she had told you that she thought you should kiss Vi, so that you could be her actual big sister. Vi's face went bright red at this information, and Mylo laughed so hard that he actually fell on the floor.

That entire day, she couldn't stop replaying the moment in her head. Some of the times, when she was reminded of it, she imagined that she had, in fact, kissed you. The thought of how your lips would feel pressed against hers occupied her mind for the entire day.

Now, she was stretched out on the couch, watching Powder tinker with one of her bombs. Mylo and Claggor were chatting on the other side of the room. She looked up as the door to the basement creaked open. Powder's eye lit up as she saw Ekko come down the stairs, as you shut the door behind you.

Ekko flopped down in an empty chair, and immediately struck up a conversation with Powder about the latest bomb she was working on. You slid down onto the couch next to her and smiled, and in a second, all of her doubts faded away.

"Hey," she said to you as you sat crisscross on the sofa, facing her.

"Hey," you replied, with soft and anxious smile on your face. "Sorry we're late, things were kind of hectic at the shop today."

Vi shook her head, as if she hadn't spent every single second of the day doubting if you were even going to show up. "Don't worry about it."

You told her about your day at the shop; which customers had been polite or rude, and the new device you were excited to fix up. She listened thoughtfully, ocassionally needing to pull her gaze away from just watching your mouth.

As your train of thought naturally came to a halt, you noticed how intently she was looking at you. As the silence between the two of you fell, you watched the others, playing and chatting. Eventually, Vi spoke up again.

"You wanna get out of here?" She pushed herself off the sofa, and extended her hand to you. You took it, pulling yourself up off the couch.

"And go where?" you asked her. She smirked in response.

"Anywhere works. Why, you got something specific in mind?"

Now it was your turn to smile mysteriously at her. "Actually, yes."

"Well, what are we waiting for then?"

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

After a long debate with the others, Vi had finally convinced them not to tell Vander that you and her were leaving. She assured Powder that they would be careful to not get caught, and then Powder whispered something in her ear, quiet enough as to not let you hear, that made her ears go bright red.

You didn't tell Vi where you were going on the walk over. You just said to her, 'you'll see,' if she asked. The walk wasn't too long, but it did take you through some extremely dirty tunnels, where the bottom was covered in water. You both ended up getting the bottom of your boots wet, but when you got to your destination, she forgot all about that.

"Woah." Vi stared up in awe at the mural on the wall.

"Yeah," you replied quietly. You had decided to take her to a secret place that you had discovered a while back.

"I didn't even know trees could grow down here," she said in awe.

"Me neither," you admitted. "I've been coming here a while now. I try to add a little to it each time." You gestured up at the mural. Vi's head snapped sideways to look at you.

"Wait, you're telling me you painted all this?" Her eyes widened slightly as you nodded. "Damn. I had no idea."

"I haven't shown anyone," you responded. "Except you now, I guess."

She smiled back at you over her shoulder, and you thought your heart might combust right then and there.

"You're really talented," she said, looking more at the painting. She traced her fingers over each of the designs, stopping at the one that intrigued her the most.

"What's this?" She asked, pointing to the small portion of the painting. You walked over to see which part she was looking at.

"Oh, those are called seahorses. I saw a picture of them in a book someone brought into the shop," you replied. She looked more closely at the painting.

Your fingertips brushed over the paint strokes as you spoke. "In the book, it said when they fall in love, they stay with their partner for the rest of their lives. And they take really good care of their kids. It's pretty sweet, actually." Vi watched your hand move over the wall as you spoke about the seahorses.

"Wow. You're talented and smart? I really hit the jackpot." Vi said, grinning at you. Your cheeks heated up.

"Is this your way of flirting?" you replied, the blush still fully visible on your cheeks.

"Depends. Is it working?" She smirked at you as you leaned back against the wall, crossing your arms.

She was now standing in front of you, so close that you were almost touching. Her foot bumped against yours as she stared over your face.

"You're really beautiful," she whispered. "You know that, right?" Your breath caught in your throat as she moved closer to you.

Her left hand came up to cup your cheek, while her right hand tentatively rested on your waist. You held onto her right arm with one of your hands, and rested the other one on her shoulder.

"Vi," you began.

"I really want to kiss you right now," she whispered, cutting you off. "Is that okay?"

Time seemed to slow down as the buzz of the firelights faded away, and the world around you became the background. All you were left with was her, and the feeling of her touch.

You leaned in.

She leaned in.

Your lips met hers.

It was delicate and clumsy and absolutely wonderful.

Vi kissed you gently, like she couldn't actually believe it was happening. The hand she had rested on your waist snaked all the way around your back, and she pulled you flush up against her. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, running one of your hands up into her hair.

As the kiss ended and your lips broke apart, she rested her forehead against yours. Your hands came to a stop on her face, and hers stayed on your waist.

She finally opened her eyes, looking up at you. When you met her gaze, you saw how lightly she was breathing. You gently traced the bruise on her temple with your thumb.

She kissed you again, and this time, the kiss expressed all of the feelings that the two of you had built, and all the time you had spent keeping them to yourselves.

It wasn't rushed, or messy. It was just you and her, filling all the time you had with all the things you both left unsaid.

---

"So, what now?" Vi asked you.

You were now sitting beside Vi, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. Your head rested on her shoulder, and she had swung her legs over yours as your fingers laced together.

"I don't know," you admitted softly. "I don't really have a ton of expertise in this area."

"Me neither," she added. "But, I mean when all this shit with Piltover and the enforcers is done. What do you want then? Because I know what I want."

"What do you want?" you asked her.

"I want to take you to actually see the city. We could go for a day, and I can show you the spots I like to go and sit at. And we could bring some food, and just spend the day there."

You pulled your head up from her shoulder to look at her. "Like a date?" you asked, your eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah," she smiled. "I want to take you on a date."

You smiled widely back at her. "I think I want that too."

She leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Your smile only grew wider as she lay her head down on your shoulder. You closer your eyes as the two of you lay beneath the tree.

"I think Powder and Ekko already know about this," you informed her. "At least Ekko. He's been teasing me nonstop all day."

She laughed softly to herself. "Yeah, Powder and Mylo too. At least Claggor's nice enough to pretend that he hasn't noticed."

You sighed. "I hate to say this, but the others are gonna get suspicious if we don't head back soon."

She groaned softly, swinging her legs off of yours. "Can I at least get another kiss before we have to go?" You laughed softly to yourself, before taking her face in your hands to kiss her again.

But on the other hand, maybe, it wouldn't hurt to get back a little late.

---

"I knew it!" Vi was fifty-fifty on whether or not she should punch Mylo to get him to shut up. The smug, gloating smirk on his face was enough to make her lean towards sixty-forty for smacking him.

"Oh man, I totally called it!" Claggor simply sat in the corner with a wide, goofy grin on his face.

Your hand was still laced with Vi's, and you were picking at the fabric of your shirt nervously, your face bright red.

You looked down as Powder tugged gently on your arm. "Does this mean you're my sister now?"

"Oh, um," you glanced at Vi. "I mean, technically no, but you know you've always been able to think of me like a sister, right?" Vi's heart skipped a beat as she watched how natural you were with Powder.

Powder smiled wide, before running back to where Ekko was sitting, He didn't say anything to you, but when you caught his eye, he had a huge smile on his face. You gave a small smile of your own back to him.

Mylo didn't stop his teasing though. "Wow, Vi, I never thought you'd be the first one of us to get totally whipped for someone."

"I-shut up, that's not-" Vi stammered over her words a bit as Mylo's grin only grew wider.

"Seriously. How'd you of all people manage to score a girlfriend?"

At the mention of the word girlfriend, Vi immediately turned beet red. You glanced down also, a bit surprised by how casually he'd used the word.

Claggor, sensing the awkwardness, sighed and finally spoke up. "Dude, just drop it already. It's not like we didn't know what was going on."

Vi made a small noise that sounded like she was being strangled.

"Sorry, what?" you asked. Claggor sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"We all knew," he finally admitted. "Neither of you are super subtle."

"Oh," was all you managed to squeak out. Vi remained silent, her face still brightly colored. A silence fell over the room, as Powder and Ekko settled back into what they had been doing before. Mylo was still grinning to himself, and muttering something about lovebirds and then, classic, classic.

Vi sighed, and pulled you back over to the couch, where you both sat down. "Just ignore them," she said.

"Noted," you muttered to yourself as the blush began to fade from your cheeks.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

When you first told Vi about a beach in Zaun, she actually thought you were joking.

But Powder had begged and begged to go see it. And when Mylo, Claggor and even Ekko jumped on the bandwagon, Vi had to give in.

You had assured her that the enforcers wouldn't come down there. The water in the river that ran into the undercity bordered on toxic, and no one from Topside wanted to get anywhere near it. Even most people in Zaun didn't know it existed, and wouldn't get close enough to the river to find it on their own.

So that was how Vi ended up being dragged down an alleyway, Powder holding one of her hands, and you holding the other. Mylo and Claggor trekked behind the three of you, and Ekko jogged along beside them.

"It's not that much further," you promised everyone for what felt like the hundredth time. Mylo groaned, and began to complain again. Vi quickly shot him a look that said shut it.

As you walked along, Vi's hand would occasionally brush against yours. Neither of you said anything about it, because as you had noticed, seeking comfort in each other's touches was becoming more and more common between the two of you.

It had been a few days since your first kiss. Although everything was a bit awkward at first, between Mylo's teasing and the newness of it all, Vi felt that things were finally settling into something at least sort of normal. You and Ekko spent almost every day after being in the shop at the Last Drop, and every time he tried to tease you about Vi, you only had to mention Powder's name to shut him up.

You dropped Vi's hand to push a cluster of dead vines away from what appeared to be a dead end. You ducked down to enter a dark tunnel. Powder quickly followed you, dragging Vi along with her. Mylo hesitated for a moment, before groaning and following. Ekko and Claggor entered, letting the vines drop behind them, shrouding the tunnel in darkness.

"It's right at the end of this," you called back, the sound of your voice echoing in the small space.

"It better be," Mylo called back, the annoyance in his voice becoming more prominent.

Finally, a light became visible from the end of the tunnel. You smiled slightly to yourself as Powder and Ekko both gasped quietly. When you exited the tunnel, you were faced with a small patch of sand on the riverbed. It could hardly be called a beach, but it was a close as you could get to one in the undercity.

Powder pulled Vi out of the tunnel, Ekko running to catch up to her. You stood back and watched with a wide smile on your face as the kids ran down to the water. Vi stood beside you, smiling to herself as she watched Powder playing by the shore.

"I guess you weren't kidding," she said to you. You smiled over at her.

"I guess I wasn't," you replied with a slight smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. You gestured over to a dead log that had fallen on the ground. You and Vi sat down on the edge of the log.

You could and would on any day swear up and down that the calmest Vi ever looked was when she could watch her siblings be at peace. The thin, short strands of hair that fell in front of her face weren't even on her radar. You watched a twinkle pass through her pale, sky-blue eyes, and a smile ghosted her face.

She wasn't bouncing her leg or pulling on her fingers out of anxiety. She was truly calm.

"Thank you," she finally said to you.

"For what?" you asked her.

"For bringing us here. It means a lot....y'know, for Powder and the others."

"Oh, it means a lot for Powder?" you raised an eyebrow at her. A faint flush dusted her cheeks.

"It's just nice. Y'know, to catch a break from everything."

A soft smile decorated your face. "Well, I'm happy to help." She smiled back, before leaning her head on your shoulder. She exhaled softly, closing her eyes. You smiled wider to yourself, leaning your head against hers as you watched the family you had built finally have a happy moment.

---

"Remind me why we bother with this dump?" Mylo's voice interrupted the silence of the abandoned arcade, as Vi finished up her round on the punching machine. Her score glowed in bright letters at the very top of the leaderboard.

"Vander said to lay low," Vi replied, the exhaustion in her voice clear as she wiped beads of sweat away from her forehead. "Enforcers never come down here, so this is as good a place as any."

"Oh, what's the matter, Mylo?" Claggor teased. "You worried Powder's gonna beat you again?"

"Hey, if she didn't keep fixing these things, I wouldn't keep missing," Mylo complained. Just then, Powder clicked the final pieces together, powering up the machine.

"You guys know I wouldn't take you on a job you couldn't handle, right?" Vi asked as she undid the straps of the boxing gloves, flexing her fingers. Mylo fired off a few shots at the target, but missed almost all of them.

"Are you kidding? That was the best job we've ever done," Mylo responded. "Maybe just don't take Powder next time." Powder glared at him as she snapped the arcade gun into place, raising it towards the targets.

As she fired off the shots at the targets, almost all of them hit exactly the right spots. She made a face at Mylo, before walking over to another machine.

She watched through a crack in the window as enforcers interrogated the people outside.

"Hey, guys? You should see this-" she began, but was cut off as one of the men being questioned was thrown into the window, shattering the glass. Vi ran to the edge of the platform, scanning the room.

The enforcers quickly noticed them in the arcade. "Search them," one of the officers commanded.

"Go ahead, idiots. We've got nothing," Mylo practically jeered.

Powder glanced at the crystals in her pouch, and then looked up at Vi. Vi noticed the crystals in Powder's pocket, and looked over at Claggor. Understanding what to do, Claggor pulled the switch, and the lights went out.

Powder and Mylo ran. They both ducked into the game they had been playing. Mylo tried to shoot the enforcers with the toy gun, but it didn't do any damage. They went to grab him, but Vi hit them with one of the paddles from the punching machine.

Powder ducked and weaved between the various targets. One of the enforcers snuck up behind her and grabbed her, but she managed to get his arm stuck in the target, and Vi grabbed her.

"Come on!" Vi shouted as she pulled Powder along behind her. The four children ran out into the alley behind the arcade, with the enforcers close on their tails.

As they ran into the alley, Vi noticed enforcers on the other side ahead. They were cornered. Just as Vi was about to panic, a ladder dropped from above. She saw you and Ekko standing on top of the ledge above it.

She jumped to reach the ladder, pulling herself up first as Mylo and Claggor followed close behind. One of the enforcers tried to grab Powder again, but she managed to escape.

Vi kicked the ladder down when they were all safely on the ledge

"You need to hide those crystals."

"Yeah, no shit," Powder responded, as they all disappeared into the tunnel.

Vi took your hand as the two of you followed the others through the tunnel. You gave her hand a soft squeeze, a reassuring reminder that you were right there with her. For once, none of the others teased you about it, as the events that had just occurred lingered over them all.

---

"We should hit them back. We've got the numbers to beat them."

"Yeah! Let's teach them what it means to mess with us!"

Loud shouts echoed around the bar as people protested and rose from their seats. Vander and Benzo were in the front of the room, leaning against the counter. Vander lit his cigar and took a long breath of it before he replied.

"You sure that's what you want?" His tone was skeptical.

"Let's do it," someone called from the back.

"We crossed that bridge once before, and we all know how that ended," Vander warned the crowd.

"You're just protecting your kids!" another voice chimed in. He glanced back at where Vi, Powder, Mylo and Claggor were standing in the doorway, with you and Ekko off to the side.

"I'm protecting our people. I'd do the same for any one of you," he shot back. "We look out for each other, it's the way it's always been. This will blow over. We just need to stand together."

"The Vander I knew, the one who built the underground, wouldn't be afraid to fight." A woman stood up to face Vander. You didn't recognize her, but Vi obviously did.

Vander look another drag from his cigar as he stepped forward. "Do I look afraid?"

"No. You look weak." She whistled and a different group of people stood up, following her out of the bar.

"Why isn't he doing anything?" Claggor whispered as the people in the bar began to disperse.

"We kicked the enforcers butts with just the four of us! Imagine what the whole of the Lanes could do!" Powder added.

"Geez, even Powder wants to fight," Mylo snickered.

"So why aren't we?" Vi's voice was filled with frustration as she followed Powder into the basement. You walked after her, but stopped when you noticed Ekko hadn't moved.

"What's wrong?" you asked him, folding your arms across your chest. Vi raised an eyebrow at him as Powder peeked around the door to watch.

"Spill it Ekko," Vi ordered. Ekko's gaze darted around, with nervous glances at Vi, you and Powder in between.

"Uh...okay, well, um, Vander's got a deal with the enforcers," Ekko finally answered sheepishly.

"What deal?" You frowned at Ekko, as this was news to you too.

He nervously glanced at where Vander stood, before gesturing for you to follow him to the basement. You exchanged a quick look with Vi, before following him down the stairs.

"I heard Vander talking to the enforcers. They had a deal where they wouldn't come down here, if none of us went up there," Ekko explained as he sat down by the chair. Vi sat down on the couch facing him, and you stood behind her.

"But, since you exploded that building..." he trailed off.

"For the last time, we didn't-" Vi sighed as she cut herself off. "So the enforcers are just gonna keep coming now?"

"I think so? I didn't hear that much," Ekko answered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Vi sighed as she leaned back against the sofa. Great, she thought. Just what we need.

---

That night, as Vi lay awake, staring at the ceiling, she couldn't shake her anxiety about their encounter with the enforcers. They had been so close to catching Powder. If they took her....Vi didn't think she would be able to live with herself.

It was pure luck that you and Ekko had been on your way to visit them in the arcade, and were able to drop down the ladder to help her and her siblings escape. But if you hadn't been there, the enforcers might have hauled all of them off to prison.

She rolled over, the thin blanket that covered her doing little to ward off the cold. As she stretched her head over the rail of her bunk, and looked down at where Powder slept, she couldn't help but imagine all the ways that day could've gone wrong.

Suddenly, a small line of light shone on her face. She sat up in her bed as the door creaked open, which was where the light was coming from. She expected it to be Mylo or Claggor, or even Vander, but it wasn't.

It was you.

You gave her a small, lopsided smile as you shut the door, pulled your boots off, and walked over to the bed. She leaned down over the edge.

"How'd you get in here?" she whispered, careful not to wake Powder.

"Benzo's upstairs with Vander. I told him that I wasn't feeling well, and Vander said I could sleep on the couch down here for the night," you whispered back.

She supressed a laugh. "I didn't take you for the sneaking around type." She scooted over as you silently climbed up into her bunk.

"I'm not. I think you're just a bad influence on me," you replied as you lay down on her bed. "But I am gonna have to get up to go lay down on the couch in the morning." She smiled, and pulled her blanket over you, and wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. You started playing with the ends of her hair gently, and rested your forehead against hers.

"How are you holding up?" You murmured quietly to her. She sighed softly, closing her eyes.

"I really thought that they were gonna catch Powder," she whispered back. "It's a miracle you and Ekko showed up when you did. And I still can't believe Vander is working with topside."

"Yeah, I'm really glad we made it in time" you whispered to her. "And the thing about Vander is crazy too. But Vander and Powder aside. How are you feeling?"

Vi was taken aback by your question. At first, she thought it was a dumb thing to ask. She was fine. She had to be fine, because people were depending on her.

The more she thought about it, though, the more she wanted to talk to you about it. "I don't know," she finally admitted. "I don't know when this is gonna be over."

You listened to her intently, stroking her cheek with your thumb. She leaned into your touch, and you could visibly see her slowly relax.

"I'm really tired," she continued. "I'm always trying to be strong, for Mylo and Claggor and Powder. Powder especially. But it gets hard sometimes. And I can't stop worrying about what's gonna happen to us."

"This isn't all on you, you know," you said softly to her. "I'm here for you. And Mylo and Claggor and Powder- even Ekko- yeah, they all look up to you, but they also love you a lot. You don't have to carry it all alone."

She exhaled softly, her forehead still resting on yours. "Thank you," she whispered as her eyes finally closed.

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Of course."

And as your eyes slowly fluttered shut, you could've sworn you heard her mumble something that sounded suspiciously like I love you.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

The sound of soft giggles floating through the door to Vi and Powder's room had become routine for everyone by now. Mylo would roll his eyes and crack a joke, Claggor would sigh and try to refrain from saying anything, and Powder and Ekko would be instantly overjoyed whenever this happened.

You figured that Benzo had an idea of what was going on, but he never said anything to you about it. Vi had similar suspicions that Vander also knew, but did his best to give her the space to come to him with it.

When the others were in the basement, you and Vi tried to avoid being loud, even though the door was closed. This meant that you could only ever steal one or two quick kisses during your time together.

Vi's sleepy, mumbled almost-I-love-you had been the subject on your mind the most for the past week. You weren't even sure if that was what she said, and frankly, you were too scared to ask her.

Right now, you and Vi had found the rare occasion where Ekko had invited everyone to go over to Benzo's instead of hanging out in the basement. You and Vi had declined, opting to spend some time by yourselves instead.

You were cuddled up on the sofa, with your bodies slotted together. Your arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and one of your hands was curled in her hair. Her hands were cupping your face as the two of you whispered jokes and sweet nothings to each other in between gentle kisses.

Vi paused for a second, her face hovering close to yours. "I kinda wanted to ask you something."

"Okay. Shoot," you whispered back to her.

"Alright. Well...I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend? Officially, I mean."

You froze at the question, your eyes widening slightly. Your grip on Vi's shoulder loosened unconsciously.

"It's not a big deal, I mean..." her voice trailed off, and a pinch of guilt poked at your stomach.

"I..." you tried to respond as she dropped your face and pulled back. The disappointment in her eyes was clear as she dropped her hands in her lap, swinging her legs off the sofa. "I think I need to get back to the shop soon."

"Oh," was all that left her mouth. "I guess I'll see you later then." She didn't meet your eyes as you stood up. The guilty feeling only grew in your stomach as you walked up the stairs without meeting her eyes.

You hesitated, before walking out the door.

Shit, you cursed in your head as you walked through the street. Idiot.

You should have said yes immediately. You really wanted to, more than anything. But of course you had to go and mess it up. Like always.

She didn't mean it. She's too good for you.

You shook your head as the thoughts began to stream in your head. They hadn't gone away since you were a kid, especially after your parents had left. Whenever you got anxious, it became completely out of your control.

Exactly like right now.

Being Vi's girlfriend would be....pretty damn amazing, if you were being rational. But you knew you wouldn't ever be able to let go of the fear that she would leave you too.

And you couldn't go through that. Not again.

---

You were dropping Ekko off at the Last Drop and doing your best to ignore the awkwardness between yourself and Vi when Powder's monkey alarm went off.

You watched Vi's eyes quickly widen as she stood up. Vander had instructed you all on what to do if this happened, but this was the first time it was actually happening.

"Come on!" Vi hissed quietly as Mylo and Claggor scrambled into their hiding spots. You and Ekko climbed on top of one of the large pipes, ducking to remain out of sight. Vi climbed up to hide next to Mylo and Claggor, and helped Powder stretch overhead to hang in between the pipes.

The light flickered off, and you all waited and held your breath as you heard heavy footsteps outside the door. As the door creaked open and beam of light shone into the room, you could make out the worry plastered on everyone's faces.

A single enforcer walked around below you, shining the flashlight around various corners and spots where a person could be hiding. You all waited with held breath as he searched. As Powder's arms started to shake, you saw Vi's anxiety growing worse. Powder struggled to hold on to the pipe.

She almost slipped, and the enforcer quickly turned around to look back. When he didn't see anything, he turned around and began to climb back up the steps. He took one final look at the room, before slowly shutting the door.

Powder immediately let out a yelp and dropped to the floor. She kept her head down and the rest of you stayed hidden until Vander swung the door open.

"Are you all okay?" he asked. Vi grunted as she leapt down from where she was hiding.

"No, we're not okay. They almost saw Powder. What if they took her?" Powder flicked on a light as you and Ekko climbed down from on top of the thick pipe.

"No one is taking any of you. I would never let that happen," Vander responded.

"It's already happening. You heard him, they won't stop. We need to fight back." Vi's fist slammed against the wall as she spoke. You all watched with concern visible in your eyes. "And if you won't, I will."

You gently placed your hand on her shoulder. As she looked back at you, you watched some of the anger in her eyes fade into worry.

Vander sighed to himself. "I've heard this kind of talk before."

---

Thunder rumbled in the distance as raindrops fell over the city. The night was foggy and cold, with a faint breeze in the air. Vi held her forehead as her hood protected her hair from the drizzle.

"Why are we here?" she finally asked.

"You still don't understand," Vander said.

"What I don't understand is how you can work with them." Vander flinched a little at her words as she continued. "We were here. We saw what they did." She moved forward, gesturing with her hands as she spoke.

"I grew up knowing I'm less than them, that my place is down there. I want Powder to have more than that, and I'm willing to fight for it." Her hands curled into fists.

"So was I. I was angry, just like you. I led us across this bridge, thinking things could change." Vander's voice was quiet and calm. "If I hadn't... your parents would still be alive. I know you wanna hurt the topsiders for what they've done to us. But who are you willing to lose? Mylo? Claggor? Powder?" Your name was the final one that left his lips. Her expression softened as the weight of his words hit her.

Vander walked over to stand next to her. "Nobody wins in war, Vi."

Her voice softened as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "What are we gonna do? The enforcers will come back."

"I... I don't know. I'll, uh, I'll figure it out." Bells rang out in the distance as the two of them stood side by side under the night sky. It was a few minutes before Vander spoke again.

"I've been meaning to ask...what's going on with you and ________ anyway?"

Vi sighed, dropping her gaze as she fidgeted with her hands. "I think I messed it up."

He frowned. "What happened?"

Vi dropped her gaze, blushing faintly before she finally answered. "I asked her if she wanted to be my girlfriend officially. And she panicked and ran off." She started rambling as she continued. "And she was clearly not okay. But she didn't trust me enough to tell me what was wrong." Vander nodded along as she spoke.

"Well, trust is a funny thing, Vi. Look, I've seen the two of you, and I think it's safe to say that she feels comfortable with you. But sometimes things happen that remind us of the bad things in the past. You and I both know that feeling."

"From what Benzo's told me about her- look, I won't sugarcoat it. That girl's been through the ringer and back. I don't know what she's told you about, but she doesn't have a whole lot riding on the fact that you won't abandon her."

"I wouldn't, though," Vi said softly.

"I know that. But does she?" Vander sighed softly. "Look, there's a few things you've got to make sure you're doing if she's to trust you. If you want to hear." Vi nodded, looking up at him.

"Alright. Well first, be honest. Put yourself out there, even if it's hard. Don't shy away from your feelings. Be patient." He chuckled to himself. "That one might be a bit harder for you to crack, eh?" He lightly bumped her shoulder with. She rolled her eyes, but was cracking a smile too.

"It might take some time. But all good things do. So just try to hang in there. Oh, and there is one more thing."

"What?" she asked, looking up at him. He fought back a grin as he answered her.

"Just shut the fuck up. And listen to what she's saying. And if she isn't saying anything, pay attention. She'll find a way to tell you."

He chuckled softly again, and this time, Vi managed a soft laugh of her own. "Thanks." He smiled down at her.

"You'll figure it out. God knows your parents had enough of their own problems when they got together. And they made it work. Eventually." He grinned a bit wider.

She blinked, and then groaned, her head going back to resting on his shoulder. But he could tell she had a smile of her own on her face.

"You really like her, huh?" Her smile faded slightly as she nodded, all the unknowns of how this would play out echoing around her mind.

"Yeah. I do."

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

The jingle of the bell snapped you out of your trance as you looked up at the door of the shop opening. You watched as Vi slowly walked over to the counter, her movement slow and heavy in comparison to her usual air of determination.

A pang of guilt hit you as you saw her. You had been avoiding her, if you were completely honest with yourself. It wasn't like you didn't want to see her; you really did. But you couldn't bring yourself to own up to your insecurity.

You took a deep breath as you pushed yourself off the counter, standing behind it to face her. She stared at you for a few seconds, and as she did, you could have sworn that you saw the worry fade away from her face for a short moment.

"Hi," she finally said to you.

"Hi," you responded quietly. "Listen, I have to tell you something."

"Me too," she sighed. "I don't have much time though."

"Why not?" you frowned at her.

"I can't explain now. Just....you go first."

"Okay," you sighed, running your hand back through your hair. "I'm sorry that I panicked the other night. Really. I didn't mean to, I just....I don't even know, it's stupid. But I got really in my head about it. So I ran. I know it doesn't make it better. But I really am sorry."

She listened intently as you spoke. A flicker of relief appeared in her eyes. "To be fair, I kind of sprung it on you. And yeah, I obviously wanted you to say yes. But you didn't have to."

"I know that. But," you sighed anxiously, trying to figure out how to say what was on your mind. "I wanted to say yes."

Her expression immediately changed, from the relief of not have completely driven you away to a pained expression. "I need to tell you something. And I need you to just listen to me, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed.

"Okay," she sighed. She took a breath before she began.

"I really care about you. So much. And I know I've made a lot of promises, and I'm telling you now, I'm going to keep them. I'm gonna take you on a real date. And we're gonna go back to the tree, and the beach, and all the places we've been together."

You hopped over the counter to stand next to her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I just....I need you to hear this. Because I care about you so much, and I don't care if you're my girlfriend or not. I'm still gonna do all this for you. It might take a while for me to do that. But I'm going to do it. I promise you."

You felt a tear roll down your cheek. Vi quickly reached up to cup your face in her hands, wiping your tear away. She pressed her forehead against yours, and you quickly latched on to her arms.

"I promise. Don't give up on that, no matter what."

"I won't. I promise," you whispered back to her. She leaned in to kiss you, and you immediately met her halfway.

Vi held onto you tightly as your lips met hers. She kissed you as if it was the last time she ever would. As you kissed, you tasted salt. You didn't need to ask why.

She was hesitant to pull away, but eventually, she forced herself to. "I have to go," she finally said, her forehead still pressed to yours.

"Where are you going?" you asked her.

She sighed. "I just have to go. Don't follow me. Please." She finally let go, taking a step back. Your eyes were still filled with tears.

"Please tell me what's going on," you begged her.

"I can't," she said, in a broken voice.

"Just.....at least, promise me you'll keep yourself safe," you pleaded.

"I'll be fine. Make sure you take care of yourself."

"I will." With that, she gave you a small smile, before leaving the shop. You watched her go, your mind still riddled with confusion.

Where was she going? Why did she think she needed to tell you all those things?

You brushed the thought of, ignoring the growing pit in your stomach. Yes, it was unusual. But so were most things about your life. Nothing would come of this.

Or at least, that's what you thought.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

end note: call me an egomaniac because I was actually giggling and kicking my feet while writing this. I'm hopefully going to drop part 4 in a week or so, which will be the last part where vi and reader are teenagers (buckle up y'all, it's based on the events of ep 3 of s1 so it's gonna be a rough one). Tysm for reading, I really appreciate it!

[mandrakemistakes]

What if hijacked Peeta regained his kindness (including to Katniss)?

Thanks for the question! I fully believe that he did! I think it took a while, and it was clearly really challenging for him. But he 100% regains his kindness and his love and care for Katniss. We get to see a lot of that progress toward the end of Mockingjay. Buckle up. I have proof

He is constantly worried about keeping everyone, and especially Katniss, safe from himself. To the point of self sacrifice (repeatedly asking them to kill him or leave him behind and insisting on being handcuffed when they refuse. Also the time he sends her running away from the sewer mutts) He gives Katniss a can of lamb stew, which he remembers is her favorite meal. Its what they shared together in the cave in their first games He says something encouraging and helpful to Pollux when they have to go into the sewers, which Katniss notes as something Peeta has always been good at, finding the right words to help someone He tells Gale that Katniss loves him, which is a buncha nonsense imo but he's clearly trying to do something nice for Gale here. It's a continuation of what he was trying to do with the locket he took into the quarter quell. He thinks he himself is doomed and wants Katniss to be happy so bad he's pushing her towards Gale so she wont be alone. Plus he genuinely thinks that's what she wants. Devastating. Let us not forget that Katniss's kiss pulls him out of a borderline mental break and summons him back from the oblivion all the way to repeating his age old promise to stay with her, "always." A Peeta with no kindness and no affection for Katniss would never have said that.

Then we have some post war moments

Peeta is FURIOUS about the proposal of a new hunger games, which shows he has his correct and default compassion and moral compass in tact He foresees Katniss's attempt to kill herself with her nightlock pill with enough time to run up and stop her. She yells at him to let her go, to let her die. He says "I can't." As soon as he's medically released he goes straight to Katniss's door and starts PLANTING PRIMROSES AROUND HER HOUSE The day Peeta gets back, Katniss passes out crying downstairs on the couch after yelling at Buttercup and wakes up in her bed. Who could've moved her I wonder?? Who has carried her to bed before, and knows which room is hers? Hamitch and Sae have been letting her sleep on the couch for months. No, that was Peeta He helps Katniss construct a memory book of all the people they have lost, including adding drawings of those they don't have pictures of

And then we know they grow back together and live their lives together and even have children. He is definitely in possession of his full kindness and full self by the end of the books. He's still damaged and has his moments of flashbacks and struggle, but I believe he is kind. I believe he is Peeta

[mrsfudd]

can you pls pls plss do a pazzi x reader where its jst pure fluff and the context is basically where they're like sleeping while cuddling and Kk decides to like take a pic of them and post it on the internet n it blows up yk? plss do it

ill get down on my knees for this fic 🙏🙏

Paige and Azzi decided to go “public” with their relationship not mentioning the fact that theres a third. It really didn’t bother you, you were a basketball star or anything and it made more sense for the media to believe it was a traditional relationship. Some of the UConn girls knew but not all of them, now you wish nobody knew.

warnings: asshole KK

sorry for typos 🙏

“Hi, my baby” Azzi purred walking into your dorm room.

“Princess, I missed you” Paige exclaimed following right behind Azzi.

“KKs coming over in a little bit, she had something to do first” You informed looking up at both of your gfs.

They both look down at you and smile, sitting down on the couch with you. Sandwiching you between them.

“Lay down baby” Azzi muttered patting her hands on her lap.

You lay your head on her lap and lay the rest of your body on the couch. Paige lays her head between your thighs and Azzi ends up laying down with her legs at each side of you and Paige.

The feeling of Paiges soft, warm, and pretty hair in your hands was enough to soothe your whole body. Azzis calm breathing and gentle caressing of your face was enough to put you to sleep. Your hands massaging Paiges scalp and her being tangled in yours and Azzis legs was enough to bring her out. The weight of you on Azzi and Paiges gentle touch on her calf brought her right to sleep.

In your opinion, it was a cute sight. Maybe not to everyone. As your closing your eyes, all thoughts about KK being on the way exited your mind and slipped Paige and Azzis as well. You were unbothered, maybe a little too much.

A half an hour later, KKs knocks on the door go completely unnoticed. After a few failed attempts, She ended up letting herself in.

“Oh wow” KK muttered to herself, finding you and your girlfriends entangled on the couch.

KK had already knew that y’all were together so it wasn’t really a shock for her but this was the first time she seen an intimate moment like this. Without hesitation, she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture while giggling to herself.

She put a dumb song with the caption “awww” and posted it on her Instagram story. She didn’t wake any of you up, just exposed you and left. She only left the post up for 7 minutes but it didn’t matter, it was everywhere in 30. Tiktok, Instagram, twitter, snapchat, facebook. Everywhere.

After a about an hour, Paige wakes up. She hears a barrage of notifications coming from all three phones. Extremely confused, she looks on her phone and immediately wakes Azzi up.

“Azzi what the fuck is this” Paige raged.

“What the hell, who took that?” Azzi cursed.

“Fuck az, what are we gonna do?” Paige sighed.

You finally wake up and immediately ask what was wrong. Paige didn’t say anything, just handed you your phone.

Your heart dropped once you saw the photo, without a second wasted you called KK. Paige forgot who was planned to come over.

“Hey sleepyhead” KK jokes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You boasted.

“Chill, I didnt think anyone would see it” KK laughs.

Before you could respond, Paige snatched the phone out of your hand. You glace over at Azzi whos been typing on her phone for what it feels like forever.

“Fuck you KK” Paige yelled in the phone and hung up before KK could even exhale.

Paige hands you your phone back and you get on social media.

“Whos that with my girlfriends”

“OMG THERES OTHER ONE???”

“praying there just friends”

The comments made you sick but also really annoyed and aggravated at the same time. Paige looks up at your distressed face and reassures you “ Hey, baby Its gonna be fine. This is perfect this means we can tell the whole world that your our girl”

Azzi finally looks up from her phone and continues “ We love you princess, nobody cares about those thirsty fangirls. Me and Paige are gonna figure this out. How about you just sit there and look pretty for me baby” Azzi tries to make you feel better and she picks up a phone call.

You wanted to believe her but you knew this was about to change your life forever.