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13tinysocks · 1 month ago

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My Dead Girlfriend

Alone at last. None of those assholes around to harsh your vibe or ruin your furniture. Just you, Mark, and a horde of bugs.

NSFW, time to jerk it fellers!

[Invincible Varients X Reader]

13 * Cave-In Fever [10.4k]

[Part one] [Ao3] [12] [14]

"Pain works on a sliding scale,

So does pleasure in a candy jail."

Candy Jail - AJJ

The grand tour felt like an open house. Your arms wrapped around Baldie's broad shoulders, one of his arms wrapped secure around your waist as he hovered you above the attractions. Torch light weakly reaching a few feet ahead. Baldie didn't seem to mind the re-lit stick burning in his hand. He'd dealt with lava baths after all.

He took you over thinning and thickening paths of pale bugs. Always skittering. Leaving large patches of black ground perfectly walkable. You let him carry you anyway. Tired from the power drain. Embarrassed from the conversations of days past, your earlier crying, but when he smiled at you- it seemed to wane. It was nice to have someone be nice to you.

He flew you from the rocky foyer to a smaller low-ceilinged room. Every surface drilled into and filled with cream colored jelly bodies. Eggs and developing young.

"We'll never run out of food." You say to the room that stretched beyond the torch light.

"Hopefully they don't taste as bad as they look. He said they're edible." Baldie's laugh reverberated through your body. He turned, floating you back toward the entrance.

"I'm guessing..." You take a long look at an older bug, feeding the young something mashed from its mouth. It looked like a pale, oversized, "Shrimp."

"That'd be nice." Baldie hums. "Think we'll find cocktail sauce?"

"I wish." You smile as he leaves and floats into the next cavernous room of your new home.

The air thickened. You immediately start to sneeze. Baldie blasted off, "Bless you, bless you, bless you." You shake off sneezing but not the itch in your eyes and throat. Spores catch fire in the torch, expended before they can catch on the carpeted walls. A blue, green, and white nebula of mold grew thick on every possible surface. Even the carcasses of the dead.

Bugs meandered throughout, clicking with their parapets, communicating. You wonder what they were saying.

"Foods gotta eat too, I guess." You cringed at the mold blooms. Pretty but you couldn't image it in your mouth. Rotten cotton candy. Oh, God, you could imagine it. Ew.

Baldie paused. Watching a bug inspect a particularly fat bloom, sort through the fibers, and pick off a tiny piece. Proudly crawling across the floor. Baldie followed, hovering slow above it. You watched, interested as the little worker climbed over its brothers and sisters, up its mother's segmented belly, into and out of her mouth after delivering the load.

"Do you think they eat any of it?" You watch the worker disappear into the mold farm.

"Probably not." Baldie says, "They get all the nutrients they need in their larval stage. Work until they run out of energy and die."

"Brutal."

He shrugs, "It's just the way a lot of bugs are. Sacrifice everything for the betterment of the hive," he flicked the torch toward, "The queen."

Your Mark was never a science buff. He was a C-student, through and through.

"You like bugs?" You ask.

"I like that we can eat them." He says, "I did a science project on leaf-cutter ants in seventh grade. Then one on fig wasps in eighth. I remember everyone cringing at the pictures I put up and I dunno, it just didn't make sense to me. They're like crabs but tiny. What's so scary about them? And what's wrong with something looking kind of weird, you know?" His voice falls off, self-consciousness taking over.

You smile at him. "So you do like bugs. Bug Boy."

His cheeks warmed. "There's no way that's your nickname for me."

You looked at the lenses, big, black, fly-like. You don't say it but he knows it.

"No." You say. "It's uhm-"

"Chrome Dome, right?" He doesn't seem ashamed of his lack of hair just a little worried- worried that you don't like it. His warped skin. That you think he's ugly, to be cringed at like a bug.

"It's Baldie, actually." You admit.

"Better than Chrome Dome." His smile is the same sad, self deprecating one from earlier.

"Still it's not my best." You say and the realization hits you aloud, you say it without thinking, "If it's just us down here, I could actually call you Mark."

His fingers on your waist flex, chest puffs, cheeks go pink. "Really? I- I mean if that's not weird for you."

It kind of was, but you needed to work on reassociation if you were going to be living with him. "Yeah, and the other guy could be Mark Two."

He was the fifteenth variant Angstrom Levy grabbed. A near after thought. But you made him the first, the favored, on top of the world. He wants to kiss you but doesn't. Sure, you're looking at him nice, but he doesn't know if you're there yet. He'd wait for you to lean in. If you ever did.

"Works for me."

He took you back to the fire, smoke starting to coil and collect on the ceiling. There'd have to be long periods of dark to let the smoke dissipate. Disappointing, but being with you was worth the setback.

He sighed because this couldn't last all night. "We have to go back."

You stiffen against him. "What? You said-"

"For one night and one morning, okay?" His words loosen your body. "We need to make your disappearance more ambiguous. They saw which way you went tonight. We have a plan, don't worry."

You narrow your eyes, set on his lenses and the honey-brown eyes hidden behind them. "One night, one morning, that's it. I can't stand to be around those assholes any longer than that."

As long as he wasn't one of those assholes, you had a, "Deal."

***

Mohawk didn't open his eyes, laid back, hands behind head on his cot. Playing nonchalant, though he'd been listening for you the whole time. "Look who it is, back from fuckin' the scraps."

You scoff. "Unlike you, I don't live for sex."

"Yeah, you live for Mark Grayson- who is me, baby."

Your nose wrinkled. Baldie sent an apologetic look and found his own cot to lay on. You both knew if he defended you, Mohawk would only get rowdier. The fact that he was poised for sleep was as rare as a calm toddler.

"I live to make you hit yourself in the balls." You sit on your cot for the first time in a few nights. Omni who laid on his side visibly relaxed at your added weight. "Which I can't do without sleeping so shut up." You laid down, back to Omni, arms around yourself.

"Whatever you say, Mark-liker."

"Wow, a real insult."

"Guys, go to sleep." Maskless grunted.

You try but can't because you were freezing. The blanket you'd been working on with Phantom was nowhere near big enough to cover you. You could get up and put the solider top on, but you don't. Strangely anxious that the shuffling would set Mohawk off again. So you lay and try to suppress the shivers.

The cape came over you without sound. Body heat stuck to it like glue. You pulled it over yourself as much as the distance between you and Omni would allow. Which wasn't enough, so you scooted backwards, greedy for comfort in this wasteland. Your back ends up against his. Even through his suit, he's like a living furnace. You unwillingly melt against the heat. Wrap the cape around yourself and feel yourself begin to doze.

You only stir when he turns. Shifting carefully to keep the cape over you. The only difference now was his chest was to your back, legs pressed behind yours, one arm over your waist, the other propped up his head for a pillow. His breath tickled the back of your head. Shallow, anxious, like he was waiting for you to pull away.

You could tell him to buzz off and he would, but you don't. He's warm and honestly- he'd been okay to you. Airing your sex laundry to the whole group wasn't cool, but you'd live if he held you for one night. The last night he'd see you again, hopefully. The thought made you a little sad, and you couldn't tell if it was for you or him. You didn't let yourself hope he was the secret Mark who found the cave.

You think about being gone, about him, until sleep takes you.

***

He held you into the morning without sleeping a wink. How could he when you were right there? Ready and willing in his arms, sleeping peaceful as an angel. He wanted to press kisses into your hair, whisper sweet nothings into the night but he withheld. That was for another time. When you'd come to accept his affections more. You were only beginning to come around, and he couldn't be more grateful. All you needed was some time to think, to understand. And he was willing to wait.

He regretted having to leave, to go on another journey hundreds of miles into the caves only to find nothing. But if there was a chance he could find food and safety for you, he'd go. In a handful of hours, he'd regret the choice but in the moment, he laid a chaste kiss on your sleeping temple and left.

The others filtered out, rising with the sun. Even Baldie who fixed you with a knowing look before disappearing into the caves. The last two at camp were Maskless and Phantom. Today was Maskless's turn to babysit. You'd fought against the babysitting like a motherfucker but were always overruled. Especially with Lensless and Scars gone partly rogue.

Maskless didn't like sitting still, not being useful- like you had been. He considered taking you out to the desert, hunting down Scars and Lensless with you- killing them together for more jerky. But that was too dangerous, it could get you both killed. Most likely him and an unimaginable amount of torture for you. But the longer he went without eating, the more he thought about it anytime he remembered your existence.

Today, his stomach was a snarling monster. Today might be the day. He turned to you, still sleeping on your cot. "H-"

"I can take over today," Phantom mumbled behind him.

Irritation ticked in Maskless's jaw. "I've got it."

"I need to talk to her." Phantom stood beside him, both watching you sleep. "Alone."

Not that Maskless cared for your well-being, he still had some morals. He had been with Phantom while they dug out the caves, in the rare moments he spoke, the only thing he talked about was you. "So you can force yourself on her right?"

Phantom didn't react, though he wanted to crack Maskless on the chin. "No," he said, "I want to ask about mom. If she was with him then (Y/n) must've known her." He can't acknowledge your version of himself, it too weird. Wrong.

Maskless hummed noncommittally. Stomach aching. "You can do that while I'm here." He'd like to know too. If your Debbie was like his.

Phantom hadn't planned for so much resistance. Any more pushing and the outcome would be suspicious. He took two steps toward you, questions about Debbie on his tongue. He hoped you'd play along, even if you didn't know it was him partnered with Baldie. He'd built enough of a relationship outside of that to talk to you- hadn't he?

"Hey." Tracksuit poked his head into the caves. "Think I found something."

Maskless's neck cracked with how fast it turned.

"Where?" He was in front of Tracksuit. Praying it was something edible.

"Not far off," Tracksuit hovered backward, nodded toward Phantom, "You comin'?"

Maskless looked to him. Plans forgotten, stomach winning out. "Someone has to watch her." Then they were gone along with Phantom's hopes. They'd found the cave. He'd never get you to himself.

You stirred, sunlight slaid across your form. He was alone with you for now.

The air displaced, sand dust suddenly cleared, Baldie hovered in the middle of the room. "We don't have much time." He said.

Phantom doesn't need an explanation. He'd told something to that Tracksuit-sporting idiot to get Maskless out of the way. Baldie was smarter than Phantom gave him credit for. Dangerous, but for now, advantageous.

"Do it." Phantom said.

You rubbed the sleep out your eyes, "Wha-" You turned in time to catch Baldie ramming a fist into Phantom's middle. He folded around the force, shot back but recovered before he hit the wall. Baldie didn't let Phantom steady himself before zipping behind him, delivering a bone-cracking axe kick to his side. Phantom couldn't stop himself ramming to the ground. Your cot was sent into the air with you on it.

Baldie caught you, and brought you up to the surface. Leaving you standing on the edge of the desert hole while he kicked Phantom's ass as fast as possible. You watched, horrified, confused. The weight of Phantom's gift in your pocket.

It was done in less than ten seconds. Baldie returned, muttering an, "I'll explain later," before grabbing you under the shoulders and tearing into the caves. Stale air tore at your cheeks. Moving so fast you couldn't breathe.

He slowed at the tombs entrance. Slipped you both inside and quadruple checked that the door was flush with the wall before he hovered you down to last night's camp.

You are too stunned in his arms to speak, taking gasping breaths as he sets you down on cool rock.

"Sorry." His touch left while he built up the fire. "We had to make it look real."

"We?" You blink as orange light began to frame his thick body.

"Told you it was nobody bad."

The realization is slow. Sleep still bogging your mind.

"Oh." Phantom was the partner. That... made some sense, you supposed. Though he hadn't spoken to you much beside a handful of times. He didn't seem crazily obsessed with you and had done more for your survival than most of them. "Make what look real?"

"You called those two Lens and Scar?"

"Lensless and Scars."

"Ok, them. We had to make it look like Lensless and Scars kidnapped you. Beat him up in the process. Would make everyone look up top instead of below. Once the coast's clear, he's going to join us."

That was something straight out of Machine Head's head, a hasty yet efficient trap for a group of dumb supes. "Not bad if you don't consider those two will know it's lie."

"Who's going to believe them?" Baldie stepped back from the crackling fire.

He was right. A smile split your cheek. "Kinda sad I'm gonna miss them getting mauled."

He sighs, "Me too."

There's a beat of quiet. "What now?" You look over what the fire exposed. Same as last you saw it.

"Well," he ran a hand over his neck, sheepish, "I couldn't exactly take beds but I brought the stuff to make 'em, we could probably start there."

He goes to grab the material when a hiss made the cave shudder. You both looked to the queen. Her children didn't seem to notice. Eyeless head set on you both, your noise, the fire.

Her mandibles snapped together, click, click, click-ity, click.

Her subjects stop and seem to collectively turn on you both. Thousands of them crawling forward all at once. Baldie scooped you up into the air before their tiny legs could touch your boots. It didn't take much to avoid them, clumsy and unused to fighting. They climbed atop of one another, shakily making themselves into pillars that kept falling under their own weight.

You furrowed your brows as Baldie easily moved away from their hissing mouths, "They weren't like this last night."

The queen's tiny legs kick in frustration, click, click, click-ity click!

The bugs redouble their effort and can't swarm more than three feet into the air. You'd laugh if it weren't so strange.

"Last night..." Baldie thinks aloud, "They have some kind of circadian rhythm?" It's a guess, information pulled vaguely from those science projects years ago.

"There's no sun." You watch as the queen grows more and more upset. Spittle flying off her mandibles. Fat body wriggling.

"The planet still rotates on an axis, so like..." Here the information grew hazy, something about, "magnetic fields?"

Sounded right as anything else. "I guess? Do we just, hover until they don't care anymore?"

The queen began to lean her heavy body forward, making the cavern shake. Massive mouth parts snapping. Pissed her subjects couldn't kill you, if she wanted the job done, she'd have to do it herself. She snaps, click click! And the masses disperse, they were falling back. Leaving to defend the eggs and farm.

Baldie couldn't allow this, was annoyed that Phantom hadn't picked up on this before sending you here. If he ever had to leave you, he didn't want you to be eaten alive by termites or whatever they were. He considered setting you down on the now bug-free floor, but doesn't want to risk a surprise attack. "Hold on and uh, hold your breath? Maybe shut your eyes."

You had been, but your arms tighten. Lips pulling into your mouth. Lids close.

He pivots in the air, fist out.

The queen seems to feel the shift, he's not dodging around her anymore. She has no eyes but she knows something is wrong, can feel the power roiling under his skin. She hisses a desperate click!

The white plated center of her glossy forehead caved in with a creme-brulee crack. Baldie is careful to hold you out of harm's way, but you still feel the brains splatter around you. Her buggy insides passing you as fast as a train. Wet and oven hot.

Baldie came out the back of her head, a human bullet. Green-gray fluid came rushing out, splattering hard against the cave wall, slapping against your back. The flesh didn't burn or singe your skin, which was a relief.

The Queen falls forward, pieces of her leaking out of the wound. Baldie is under her, catching her with a single hand before she could crash hard against the cave floor. It'd be real bad if they staged your disappearance just to be found so soon.

He stepped out from beneath her. Set you on the perch that was your campground. Covered in slippery bug juice and mucus-slimy meat. He hovered around her, poking and prodding, making sure she was dead. She was. He landed on what was left of the back of her head, "Dinner's served."

He looked down at himself. His uniform so goop covered he was a sickly green. "Good idea."

He didn't want to leave because he needed to keep watch for the bugs who had not yet returned to the throne room. But part of him did. You were butt naked in the pool surrounding the queen's throne. Clothes wet and whacked as clean as you could get them, set to dry by the fire.

He kept his back to you. He was tempted before seeing you in the shorts and tank top, but seeing you naked? That was something else. He was but a man and it'd been four long years.

On the flip side, you watched as the bug guts dried on him the longer you washed. You were already having a hard time getting the gunk off of yourself. You could only imagine the time he'd have when you were done. Despite your reservations, you knew it'd be better for him to get in now.

"Mark," you say, forcing the name Baldie to not slide off your tongue, because he wasn't Baldie anymore. Not here, not alone with you.

He almost made the mistake of turning. Ears tinged red. "Yeah?"

You sighed, "Just get in already."

"No can do."

"You can and you will cuz I need help with my back and you're definitely gonna need some with yours."

Still, he hesitates. "I-"

You find the closest rock and throw it at his back. That makes him turn, "Hey-" And he sees you, halfway out of the water like a siren calling a sailor. He picked his jaw up off the ground and swallowed thickly, "Oh, uhm, sorry I-"

"Look man, as long as you're not creepy I don't give a shit. Get in here before I make you." Technically, you could, but your pull wouldn't be strong. It'd been less than twelve hours since your last heavy lifting work out and you were not ready for another.

Mark's shoulders fell but he lowered into the pool, clothes and all, as far away from you as possible.

You laughed, "Dude. That thing is gonna stick to you if you don't take it off and clean it."

He was red neck to ears as he turned. Peeling the prison issue top up and over his head first. Exposing his broad back to you. Nothing you hadn't seen before but still, it was a nice back. Skin puckered and miscolored with scar tissue. Muscles so thick they looked like they could burst out of his skin. His back went from broad to tapered so nicely at the waist. And man, the start of that bubble butt... Hello sailor.

Mark peaked over his shoulder. Part of him wanted you to be checking him out. Another was deeply horrified that you were. And you were, very transparently.

"Uh, hey." He said, letting his shirt fall into the water to soak.

"Hi." You say. "Gonna take care of those too or what?" You point to his pants which were still very much on.

Most of his lower half was in the water, they were already soaking so why take them off? Except he could literally feel his skin starting to stick to the fabric. Carefully, he started to lower the drawls. Thankfully, you had enough tact to look away. Let him do his own thing awhile. Which is a long while because the bug brains had started to harden like concrete. You didn't mind waiting for your back to be scrubbed. It was nice, sitting quietly, comfortably, au natural without some freakazoid trying to force his way into your pants.

He tried getting his back himself. Flexible as he was, there was a spot itchy on his back. He turned, hand over his junk. "Hey uhm-"

"Nuh-uh bucko," you already had your back to him, water tracing the path of your spine, "you're doing me first- not like that."

Mark's approach is slow, tentative. "You sure?" He tries and falls to not look at your bare ass.

"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't. Now, get this shit off me, it's giving me hives."

"Okay." His voice came out squeakier than he intended.

He cupped water in his palm, poured it down your back. Tried to ignore the sigh you let out. When his palm met the flat of your back a tinge of pain shot up his forearm. He paused.

"You good?"

"Yeah." He made himself move. Gently rub at the congealed mass on your back. Touching you like this, skin to skin, felt good yes but- the last time he was naked with you- he was a teenager. He wasn't covered in scar tissue or riddled with nerve damage. He was somewhat used to the pain that came with moving, his skin pushing and pulling with his body. But intimacy in this skin felt new.

He wished you hadn't asked him to touch you. He felt like he was taking advantage. Using your body the ways the others would.

When he's done, you turn. Keeping your eyes up and doing a little twisting motion with your finger to indicate it was his turn. He swallowed and twisted.

Human touch was weak. Before he felt it, he had vivid sense memories of your hands running down his back, but now he could barely register your fingers on his back. Or the breath on his neck. He wanted to savor the moment, as perverted as it made him feel, but how could he if he could barely feel it?

"Done." You don't step back. If he turned around, you'd be face to face.

He swallowed, "Thanks."

"Welcome." Your voice had a pull to it. An unsaid desire for him to turn, to melt into this moment wit you.

It scares the shit out of him. "I don't understand," he says, frozen in place, "Why are you so..." Good? Comfortable? Nice? "Okay with me?"

"Because you're not an asshole." You say. "Need that in this place, even if you're kind of my asshole ex in a roundabout way."

Ouch- but he was asking for that. He doesn't know why he says it, "She's been dead for four years." Maybe he was hoping to ruin the moment. Cut the obvious tensions between you both because he was scared. "I didn't know til I got out." Almost a month ago now. "Guess some part of me always knew she'd be dead- my dad never liked her- but-" Lips pull in and out of his mouth. Keep it together. Just keep it together. "It's hard to imagine someone dead after talking about your wedding and the house you'll buy and the dogs you'll adopt."

Your laugh surprised him. "He," because he's not Mark, not right now, "and I talked about the same shit and I image him dead everyday. Things change."

Mark finally turned. Different story, different person, different sides, but somehow you understood each other perfectly. But he wanted, needed to know if your heart was taken if, "You're still in love with him?"

"I was for awhile. Few months after. Wrote him a ton of letters I never ended up sending in prison." That word slaps him with memory. The days, weeks, of dark nothing. Then beatings. Then nothing, nothing, nothing. His mind filling in the blanks. "I got over it mostly but..."

"But?"

Unexpected annoyance flashed across your face. "Dude, we are naked in a pool together and you wanna ask about my ex all night? We doing this or what?"

His brain short-circuited. You wanted to... "Oh. Oh! I'm sorry I wasn't trying to-"

You step back, mildly mortified, "Shit, were you not- my bad."

You hadn't been able to stop thinking about his lips on yours since you'd danced and kissed. It was nice. A little stiff with his inexperience, but nice. You trusted him not to hold it over your head and he hadn't. Honestly, it'd been a long time since you'd kissed someone with feeling. Most were sloppy make outs from one-night-stands. Sure, you were a little reluctant, him being Mark and all, but that also made you less reluctant. A real catch twenty-two emotionally.

Mark also couldn't get it off his mind. How easily his lips melded to yours, how right it felt. But that was coupled with guilt, he felt like he'd used you, not noticing your high. Wishing you hadn't. Curbing the desire to chase after your heels like a horny dog. Despite the cloying urge to reach out, to make sure it was real, he made himself say, "I don't want you to feel like you owe me anything."

"You're the only one who hasn't made me feel like that. I'm hitting on you cuz you're hot and normal." And you were emotionally burnt the fuck out and it'd be nice to be distracted awhile. Mark didn't seem like he'd go batshit if you fucked so why not.

Hot? Normal?

You must have strange tastes in this timeline. Must be around so many awful people for him to seem 'normal'. You'd learn eventually what a mess he was, but for now? You were leaning closer and closer, fingers coming under his pecs, splaying across his chest. His breath caught, he went statue still, but he didn't pull back. He let you kiss him.

Your lips were wet, pressed onto what was left of his. Near half of his lips had melted away, healed over with ridged scars that tingled at the press of your mouth against them. He kept his hands glued to his sides, terrified that if he held you, he'd crush you in the thrill of the moment.

You pulled back. "Do you not want me to?" His body language was a little more than closed off. Jesus, you horny asshole-

"I want to." He says, "It's just been awhile."

His circumstances caught up with you. Four years of torture then suddenly sex? No wonder he was reluctant.

"We don't have to go there now." You say, "We've got all the time in the world, Mark."

But that name, that title of a human being, it made him want to act like the man he was. This time he sinks forward, pressing lip to lip. Hands falling at your sides, just barely grazing your bare waist. He isn't forceful, doesn't push you back, he lets you lead after initiating. Lets the kiss stretch on and on. From closed lip to open mouthed. Nowhere near tongue-fucking, but a careful fencing back and forth. Touche, point, match set.

He moved his hand, spreading it along your side. You moaned into his mouth. Hands rolling up his chest, sending sparks down his spine.

Boom.

You both paused. Lips pulling apart but still holding each other.

Ba-boom!

The ceiling rattled. Specs of loose rock splashing into the water.

"What the-

Boom! Ba-boom-Krack-ack-ack-ack!

�� Debris rained down. The cave shuddered so violently the firewood fell out of place, the light spluttering out. Mark took your sopping form into his arms and took to the air. Dodging around falling rock. The sound and vibration went on for minutes.

You were terrified that any second the roof would collapse and that'd be it. You'd be done-city. But it doesn't. The tremors end. You are coated in a light layer of dirt but don't care. It was nothing compared to bug brains, to the pounding of your heart.

"What was that?"

"I don't know, but I should go find out." Mark said.

The idea scared you. Set a heavy pit deep in your stomach. "You said you guys were framing Lensless and Scars right?" You don't wait for an answer, scared if you stopped talking he'd leave you in the dark. "What if that was them coming to the fireside and getting attacked? What if some stuff caved in the fight?"

Mark thinks the vibrations and sounds went on for far too long. Thinks the whole cave system but this sanctuary was crumbled in. Feels like a caged canary in a too-small enclosure. He doesn't reason, doesn't set you down, just rushes to the roof where the entrance was. He yanked the rock back despite your protests to stay hidden.

A wall of dirt came tumbling inside. When it stopped, there was only more dirt and rock. He started to dig with one arm, holding you close with the other. You were blind and naked and confused. He dug, scraped, drilled, but the rocks never ended. There were no more caves. He was trapped in isolated dark- again. His heart felt like it was about to explode. He needed to get out of here. Needed to bust though hundreds of miles of rock, dirt, and sand and breathe fresh air- see the sun.

But.

"Mark!" You were here. The ascent would kill you, the rocks would tear your skin from your body.

As soon as he stopped digging, the little tunnel he'd carved started to cave. He barely got you both back to the main room before it fell in on itself.

"I don't understand." He said, he wanted to say more, but his mind was stuck. He was stuck. "I don't understand."

"Mark, put me down." You were scared to use your power. Scared he'd drop you hundreds of feet in the dark.

He hears it in your voice. Hurriedly, he sets you back at camp and rebuilds the fire. Then he's off, digging frantically at the cave entrance. You watch his back until he disappears. Hot by the fire but chilled to the bone, shivering from adrenaline.

He digs out miles of memorized caves but it was all gone. Everything. And every time he stopped, the progress he'd made would undo itself. He only returned to the cave because you were there and you needed him.

You were asleep atop a pile of the softest junk he'd hauled along. You had the right idea, rest, tackle it in the morning. Or was it already morning? Baldie couldn't tell. He'd been a month out of space jail and he started to like being able to tell. Oh God, he couldn't tell.

You snored. His heartbeat slowed. He laid beside you, not touching. Too awkward with the nakedness. Clothes too sopping wet to put back on. He doesn't sleep, but he listens as you do. Mind racing.

***

"He should be here by now," Mark said when you woke up. He had been sitting next to you, curled in on himself, unmoving and silent until you brought a hand to his arm. You think it's morning with how antsy the bugs are about the hive. This was the third sleep you'd had in the cave. You didn't know how long they lasted, minutes or hours. Mark's sleep schedule was more intermittent. You were unsure if he had slept at all.

"We don't know how long it's been." You say for what feels like the tenth time.

He'd explained the plan to you in more depth since day one. Once the others believed it was Scars and Lensless who beat up Phantom, they were supposed to go hunt the duo down. Leaving Phantom to recover alone, where he'd slip away. The others were supposed to assume somehow Scars and Lensless overheard him tattling, waited in the shadows, killed him while he was alone. Hell, maybe they did. Maybe that's why he hadn't shown up yet.

In the time since you were trapped, you'd made more the cave more of a home. The Queen's massive shattered carapace exo-skull was over you like a tent- after Mark cleaned out the internals of course. It was thick, decently insulating, milky see-though, it made you feel like a hamster. But it was nice, having something that felt more 'inside' than the claustrophobic inside of the cave. Made it feel like leaving the makeshift bedroom was going outside. Like you weren't completely trapped.

"What if they figured it out?" Mark says, standing, back to you, picking off dried bits of bug brain off the walls.

"What if they didn't?" You countered, sitting up off the shittily DIY-ed cot that made your back crack. Breakfast was waiting on a carapace table, fire crackling beneath, keeping the shell bowl hot. Soup boiling. Thin and watery, with juicy meat chunks throughout. With the queen dead, you were nowhere near short on food. Though the colony kept on taking little pieces of her to the young. Mark thought they were trying to make a new queen. Maybe they were just bugs used to eating whatever. Meat didn't seem to ever be on the menu for them so why not?

Since the queen's death they hadn't swarmed. They left you be, kept to the farm and tending the young. Left the main room alone for the most part aside from quietly picking at her corpse. There were no more hisses or clicks shared between them. The only sound they made were legs hitting ground by the thousands in distant rooms.

Mark hummed, "They were always a little stupid," though he doesn't consider your side. He thinks Phantom is dead. He thinks the entire cave system is collapsed. Thinks you're going to run out of oxygen in a few weeks and die down here if he doesn't tunnel out to the surface. Where you'd die sunburned, peeling, and dehydrated. You were trapped either way. Always trapped.

Phantom had said he was going to make a new tunnel. He worked for the GDA, he was smart, knew how to make something that wouldn't collapse. A secret passage that'd let you three go to and from the surface at will without detection. But Phantom wasn't here- Mark- Baldie, was. The Mark who didn't finish high school, who barely remembered anything before prison. If he tried to tunnel out, he'd collapse the cave, he'd crush you. He couldn't lose you again.

Behind him, you pulled up a curved leg shell you used for a chair- surprisingly sturdy. You stabbed into the meat with a hollow barb taken off the Queen's back and shoved it into your mouth. She didn't taste as you guessed, shrimpy, she was actually more crab-like. Better tasting than anything you'd had back home. You ate seconds and thirds of her the first time Mark hesitantly boiled her leg meat. Luckily, she wasn't poisonous. Phantom hadn't lied about that.

He hadn't eaten since the first time. Made sure you ate and drank and rest plenty while doing none of that himself. It was starting to get on your nerves.

"Pull up a chair, sit."

He did without preamble. When it was done and your control ended, he stayed, knowing you'd just make him do it again. You hadn't used your powers since you both arrived but using them was a good sign you were fed up with him.

You pushed the bowl toward him, not full yourself but knowing you could have plenty more in as long as it took to boil water.

You held out the barb to him, "Eat."

He didn't take the utensil. He snatched up the fattest chunk of meat with his hands and bit into it like a rabid dog. The way he was used to eating in prison. Hurried, terrified, because any second the food could be taken away and withheld for weeks. Before with Emperor, he made himself eat slow, civilized, by watching the others. But when commanded to follow his internal instruction manual? He swallowed chunks whole, let meat juice drip down his arms. Drank deeply from the bowls edge when there were no morsels left.

He hadn't eaten so much in years. He immediately wanted to puke- a bodily reaction and gut reaction to your pleased smile, to your hand patting his thigh. Why were you looking at him like that? He got you trapped.

"Not to be a dick but why do you care?" He hadn't meant to ask. Theorized that with your waning hold on him he was more vulnerable. He wasn't but he also wasn't ready to accept that. That being alone with you made him feel like a stupid child.

"You saved me from those assholes, I saved you from starving yourself." You say it simply. "I know I'm always a major bitch when I'm hungry so."

He would've laughed if he wasn't so mud-stuck in self hate, he still smiles, "Are you calling me a bitch?"

"Kinda." You shift, rummaging in your solider pocket. It rested under the codeine, which you'd been tempted to drink these past few days but resisted. "Look," you held the disc over the table, "Phantom gave me this before everything went down, alright?" You flip it in your hand the same way he had, revealing the suction cup, revealing the hidden emergency button. You pressed it, got up and stuck the suctioned side to the wall. "It's a panic button. He knows we need him down here, alright? He's probably just being watched by Gray or someone else twenty-four seven. Those guys are dicks, but maybe one of them doesn't mind playing doctor for a few days. Makes it hard to slip away."

He hadn't considered that. Thought since Phantom was so smart everything would go smoothly. Still, the anxiety comes out of him, "What if those two killed him for lying? Collapsed all the caves in the fight. You saw them, they're batshit."

"I think we'd be dead if that happened." You say. "No way every cave but ours collapsed, dude."

Another point he hadn't considered. He softens. "You might be right."

"Might be?" You laugh, "I'm always right."

***

Three more sleeps. You still hadn't seen Mark rest. He was antsy. Always fluttering room to room, looking for other ways out. Knocking on the walls to see if they were hollow. None of them were.

You were feeling the cabin (or would it be cave?) fever set in much slower but it set in just the same. You couldn't always have the fire going, too much smoke. It dissipated much slower since the cave-in. Added to Mark's total collapse theory, but you wouldn't tell him that. You explored with a torch now and again, stretching your legs but never getting far.

The hive was big, sure, but you could explore the whole thing without flying or super speed- though it would help. Especially in the nursery, where walking wasn't really possible unless you wanted to step on thousands of eggs.

You were starting to get a good feel of the hive. Fall into a rhythm of scavenging through the queen's remains and trying to make furniture or extend your hamster hut. You had to stay occupied or you'd start to agree with Mark. That Phantom was dead, all the caves were fucked and you were going to die down here.

When you weren't home-making or sleeping, you were messing with the bugs. Poking at them, clicking at them. Mark was nice but anxious company. Covering with jokes that you saw right through. He thought he kept it hidden well, but he didn't. You knew what it was like to feel like a rat in a cage. You'd spent time behind bars. You knew how to make it work. He didn't, his jail time was too isolated, too dehumanizing. He was waiting for a punishment that always came.

Still, you tried to keep up his morale.

"I think I can control them." You said, walking backward on the well-worn path. A handful of freshly hatched young followed at your toes. Only stepping forward when you clicked your tongue, power laden in your throat. You had tried to control animals in the past to middling success. Dog's sat when you said sit, but they'd do that anyway. Bears couldn't maul your enemies because bears couldn't speak English. But alien bugs spoke in clicks and you could click.

Mark doesn't reply at first. Sat on a ledge, elbows on knees, head in hand, brow furrowed. Angsting about Phantom. Angsting about this dark place. Angsting that he couldn't be happy when you were trying so hard to be happy. He knew you weren't, you were trying to make the best of a bad situation, and his inability to follow along was killing him. He should be happy, this cavern was a reprieve from everything you'd come to know in the desert, but it felt like prison to him. Your presence wasn't enough to stop the physical memories of his torment.

"Think you can make 'em dig us a way out?" He tried to smile, but it faltered.

"Maybe eventually. Just getting a feel for it right now."

You stop when you not-so-accidentally back into his knees. You click your tongue once and the bugs pause before they reach your shoes. Three clicks later and they scamper back to the nursery. "Cool, huh?"

Though he was horrified things would go wrong, he still thought you were, "The coolest."

You could see the 'but' on his furrowed brow. "What else?"

"That not enough of a compliment for you?" He joked.

"Not what I mean, Mark. Tell me what you're really thinking about."

Caught red handed. No use hiding it. "If they don't make another queen, they're all going to die soon." He hated seeing your shoulders drop. Seeing his fear infect you, but you had to be reasonable. Had to at least hate him a little, the bastard with all those perverted thoughts cloying the inside of his skull. He shifted, feeling like he didn't deserve your incidental touch. "We'll run out of food." He leaves out the starving part. The slow, painful death he almost saw happen to you once.

"You don't know that."

"I'm sorry." He says though it pains him, "You don't either."

You spin on him and give him a look he deserved. Anger mingled with annoyance. "Are you trying to upset me?"

"No!" He says thought he thought it'd be better if his mouth stayed shut. "I'm just... I don't know. Scared. Scared I've ruined everything and you don't even realize how bad things are."

You could punch him but it'd be like hitting a brick wall. It'd only make him worse, and in turn make you worse.

"Ruined everything?" It's an effort to make your voice gentle, "We're the best off we've been in weeks, I haven't been sexually harassed or threatened. We don't have to share food or ration. Even if all the bugs die, people eat mold all the time. Blue cheese, duh." You're not sure about that, but say it just so he'd stop moping. His expression doesn't change. "Come on, dude, at least pretend to be happy to be alone with me. The others would be acting like they won the lotto right now and I'd probably be trying to kill them. But you? You're acting like you're in hell."

"I got you stuck here." He countered limply. You wore him down in few sentences. Softened his edges.

"We're not stuck. You can turn yourself into a human drill." He opens his mouth to argue, "Ah-ah-ah, I'm not done. I know it'd be dangerous but maybe the queen's shell could protect me from falling rock or somethin'. I don't know. I know it's best to wait for the other guy, but just know we're not officially trapped- so stick that in your ass and smoke it. Have you considered I might want to be alone with you awhile?"

"You want to be-" Mark swallowed thickly. Not noticing until now how you'd snuck closer. Body pressed between his open knees, hands on his thighs. So caught up in his own head he hadn't noticed your flirting. He wanted you, bad, but he had to say. "I- I destroyed part of your world? I did horrible things in your name, I don't understand."

"I've literally killed multiple versions of you." You say evenly, "Does that make you not want me?"

"No." It's almost instant.

"Then I think we're agreed." You lean in.

He has to lean down on the ledge to meet your kiss. Awkwardly bent as it made him.

You hadn't kissed since that first day. He'd made himself avoid your touch, fly out of your lingering gaze. He knows you couldn't love him, not with your past and previous declarations of Mark Grayson hate. But he'd earned himself this affection somehow and he'd take it, even if he thought he was undeserving. You both needed an anchor, something solid and real that wasn't fear. These dog days had made the selfish thing in him fester, come to surface to taste for blood.

Blood that rushed to his face as you climbed up the rock, still kissing him. Pushing him to scramble backward on his ass. You were like a force of nature, bending him to your will. Straddling his hips while he laid back on the cool rock. Tongue slipping into his mouth, leading the way when he fumbled. Excited but largely inexperienced.

He didn't know where to put his hands. Your hips felt too charged a place. Your shoulders too awkward. Your waist seemed like a good bet.

Soon as he made contact you let out a groan that he swallowed. Eyes rolling behind shut lids at the sound. He was stiff where you were fluid. Kiss and breath constantly on the move. From his lips to his marred cheek down to his jaw where you sucked his skin into your mouth. He let out an embarrassing sound, whole body tensing, fingers digging into your sides.

You'd be bruising tomorrow, but the pain was welcome. Made you hum satisfied against his skin, lower your teeth to the nape of his neck and nip. His breath caught in his throat. Hands flexing.

"This okay?" You ask.

"Yes." He said embarrassingly quick. "Yes it is."

"Good." You leave a trail of open mouthed kisses against his neck. Sending unfamiliar sparks up and down his body, right to the head of his cock. His hips jolted up involuntarily. Pressing the pitching tent against your pants. Your kisses stop, he's about to apologize, when you let out a satisfied laugh that makes something in his lower belly flip. "Little more than okay, I think."

"Yeah." He breathes a soft chuckle. Then stops breathing when you drag yourself down his length through layers of clothes. The pressure is hot, immediate, almost painfully intense. It'd been a long time. Jerking off was never on his mind in prison. He was always too beat up or starving or something worse.

Your lips meld back to his as you rolled yourself against him. Working him through clothes until his cock is achingly hard and throbbing. You pull up, leaning back to look down at him. His white pants sporting a high tent between your legs. His chest rapidly rising and falling. Sweat sticky on his brow.

You'd worked yourself up but couldn't get as much friction on your end as you'd like. Your hand goes to your fly.

"Wait." He says, breathless and wispy.

You pause. "Do you not want to-"

"I do! I do! So, so bad. But uhm. I'm uhm."

You roll your hips against his hard-on and watch him squirm. "You're what?"

"I'm scared I'll uhm, get to excited and uhm, crush you." He tried to make his face deadly serious but he was so flushed and fucked-out he looked anything but. He goes redder when you laugh. "I'm serious."

"I get it," your hand falls from your fly, "we can take things slow." And goes to his waistband.

His brows knit. "How is that taking things slow?"

"Third base ain't a home run." You tug at the band but don't release the straining monster. "And I can stay on top."

Mark considered the options. Keep his hands to himself and cum or blueball himself sad boy style. He picked the former. "If you- if you don't mind."

Your grin is wicked as you tear his pants down, "Mind? I've been trying to do this since you brought me here." Could he get any harder?

You watch his cock fly up and out to slap against his stomach. You groan at the sight. Waste no time trailing your fingers up his shaft, barely touching just to watch his face.

In truth, Baldie was covered in thick scar tissue that made feeling difficult. But the sight of you over him, handling him, that's what sent pleasure up and down his slowly arching spine. And when you took him into your hand, really took him, he felt it. Like a cuff of fire he never wanted to go out.

You started, thumb swirling on his weeping tip. He was excited, sure, but nowhere near lubricated enough for you to really put in some elbow grease. So you do what any handjob giving warrior would do and spit on his dick.

"Aah?" The sound is a question quickly followed by a moan as you work your saliva up and down his shaft. "Haahh!"

His fingers went to the ground, scraping up lines of rock to contain himself as you jerked him off. You leaned over him, propped on one hand as you pulled hard at the base. He whimpered, shot his hips up, hitting yours hard enough to bruise. He muttered a gasping, "Sorry," and pinned his ass to the floor.

Instead of accepting his apology, you aim to make his life worse. "You're good," you say husky, working hand and rolling hip, "you're doing so good."

He came without warning, so hard and unexpected he thought he was going to black out. Shooting meager drops onto his chest. He stilled all at once, heaving, red all over.

"S-sorry." He said, "I didn't mean to."

You moved viper fast. On your hands and knees, licking the cum off his stomach. Moaning as you rolled up his body, captured his lips in a kiss where he tasted himself. Barely there but salty. You pull back, a bridge of spittle connecting mouth to mouth, "That was so fucking hot."

It was nice to be in control, to have Mark under you and pliant.

"Really?"

"Yeah you fucking idiot." You kiss him, all tongue and teeth. He should be upset by the words, the tone, but he's not. When you pull away your eyes are dark, lust blown. "You've got two options here." You look down to his softening length. "Either you finger me or I ride your leg."

Mark didn't know if he could blush anymore.

He bumbled, stumbled over his words. You made things worse by asking, "Make your choice or I'll make it for you." He could feel his cock stir.

"I think it'd be best if you laid back and I-" he forced himself to meet your eye, "you know."

You nodded and dismounted his lap. Hurriedly shucking off the GDA boots, which was hard with how slick your hands were.

"Let me help." You felt a breeze, then you were bare from the waist down. Mark on his knees in front of you, hovering over you, scared if he initiated the kiss he'd smash your skull.

You catch his drift, lean in first. The kiss is short, sweet. He broke the kiss, leaned back, and took you in. You leaned back, spread your legs wider, voice a teasing whisper, "Hey."

He hadn't seen a pussy, your pussy, in years. Hadn't drooled like this in years either. His hands shook. He didn't know if he could do this. He was horrified he'd hurt you. And also, he had no fucking clue what he was doing. He was sure he'd fingered you before but he couldn't remember anything besides a vague warm feeling, your skin against his. Torture does that to a brain. "Now's probably a bad time to tell you I don't know what I'm doing."

"I don't care Mark, just touch me." You brought his hand to your inner thigh.

Mark nodded, willing his hand to move closer to your heat, his breath shaking, trying not to look at your face. He knew he'd lose his nerve if he did, if he saw the desire for some bastard like him in your eye.

His fingers barely brush over your entrance, dragging through your slick before landing on your clit. He circles the nub and your hips jut forward trying to get him to go, "Harder," You say.

He nods. Pressing his thumb carefully into the flesh. Knuckles pressing indecently into your slickened cunt. You shudder and cant your hips, trying to suck the fingers in. He only glanced at your face because your head was thrown back. "Do you want me to-"

"Yes-" You gasp, "Yes, just do it."

Mark shifted. Pressure leaving your clit while he focused on lining up a single finger with your entrance. He is shaking with anticipation, cock hard against his stomach. When you look down at him, he's a deer in the headlights. "Come on," you goad, "fuck me."

He sunk the finger in slow, one knuckle at a time. Watching you shudder, feeling you suck him in, pulse around him. He barely gets to enjoy being sunken into you before you're moving, fucking yourself desperately on a single finger. Little moans echoing off the cave walls. All he can do a moment is watch, reverent until you gasp, "Move."

The pull-out is agonizingly, unintentionally slow. The fill-back is good, his finger pad curled up. He retained some muscle memory. You bare down on his fingers as he moves. Hips quick and erratic to his measured pace. He is hypnotized by the way you use him so freely.

"Another one." You say, sweat shining on your cheeks.

He's about to ask another what when you grind against his hand. Three fingers and a thumb slick with your arousal, just waiting to be used. You pull your hips back so he can pull out, readjust, and fill you back up all the quicker. When he's to the knuckle, two fingers deep, you throw your head back and whine. Hips wiggling, forcing fingers to press to your g-spot over and over and over until, "Fuck- fuck I'm gonna cum!"

He makes the first move, surging forward to kiss you. Your teeth clack together but it doesn't matter, you are coming undone. Shivering and groaning into his mouth, pulsing hard enough around his fingers for him to feel it. For him to accept that this is really real.

When it is done, you break the kiss to heave, resting forehead to forehead.

"Can I-" He doesn't want to say it, just wants to indulge, to lose himself in your body, "Can I eat you out?"

He feels you clench around his fingers at the thought, your breath stuttering as you said, "Thought you had no idea what you were doing." You're teasing him but your voice is uneven, thighs quaking in anticipation.

"I want to," he says it quietly, "I want to. Please."

Your nodding is on the edge of desperate, body still coming down, "Fuck, please Mark." .

That was all the permission he needed. He was on his belly in an instant. An open mouth met with your entrance. Tongue brought up to your apex. Tongue flat, rolling tentatively over the whole mass. You shuddered and he did it again with a flexed tongue, catching pleasure by the tail. Feels how you stiffen, how your hold on him tightens.

The search for that spot begins. Lost in his excitement to see how you'd react. He is clumsy, imprecise, but not lacking in enthusiasm. Full face pressed to your heat. Nose pressed to pubic bone, his fingers tentatively sliding in and out of your body. Tongue exploring, eyes watching, drinking in every move, ears strained for your moans.

He was no lesbian but he was moaning into your cunt, savoring your taste. Trying to commit to memory. You hold him down, he doesn't breathe, you grind into his tongue, he takes everything you give. Slowly, he melted into your body, growing more comfortable, more confident. He never hurt you, never squeezes your thighs too hard, though your legs try to choke him at the neck.

The climb isn't quick, it's back and forth, but you savor it.

"Suck," you gasp when his tongue made a particularly devious flick, his fingers pressing into your g-spot. "suck on it."

He obeys. Rewarded with your scream and arching back. "Fuck, fuck Mark, oh fuck!" Only encouraged him to bear down, to swipe his tongue back and forth, bully your cunt into melting submission. You cum again, clawing at the back his neck, bucking hard into his face.

He rose over you. Spent, gasping, shaking with the lingering high of release. Chin sticky, tongue coated, nose filled with you.

You grin as you feel his cock hard against your thigh. Sly, devious, ready to undo him again. "I think you deserve a reward."

It goes back and forth and back and forth. A feral fuck-fest of hand stuff and carpet munching. Until you are both spent, physically and emotionally. Laid partly nude atop one another, you on him, breath echoing off the cave walls. His arm slung over your waist, dick going soft and sleepy.

"Well," your heart hammers in your chest, pressed to his, "That should also help you be less of an asshole."

He can't find anything negative or self deprecating to say, so he smiles and pulls you somehow closer.

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

Text

"Yeah, I'll see you next year," Steve says as yet another girl turns him down. As soon as she's out the door, he turns to Robin. "I swear I'm striking out like I did at Scoops Ahoy."

"No, I don't think so. I think you're doing much worse," Robin replies with a laugh. "But really it's very entertaining. A great way to end my year."

Steve runs a hand through his hair and turns back to his abandoned stack of tapes only to turn back around as soon as the bell above the door rings. He turns around with a heavy sigh as soon as he realizes who it is.

"Great to see you too," Eddie says with a humorless laugh.

Robin cuts in before Steve can. "Don't take it personally. He's just unsuccessful in his mission to woo a lady and get a New Year's kiss."

"Really?" Eddie asks, leaning across the counter.

"I think I'm coming across as desperate."

"Because you are," Robin adds unhelpfully.

Steve shrugs. "Well sorry I'm a romantic."

"Sorry that you've never gone a year without a New Year's kiss since, what, middle school?" Robin asks, grabbing a stack of tape to put back on the shelves.

"Yes, and I don't want to break the tradition now."

Robin rolls her eyes as she walks away, and Eddie props his chin on his hand. "You're actually struggling to find someone?"

That's an understatement. Steve has gone beyond struggling and is full-on failing at the task at hand. "At this point, I would take anyone."

"Even me?" Eddie asks with a wide smile.

Steve stares at him for a moment and considers it, eyes dipping down to his full lips and back up at him. "Let's see if I can get anyone else first."

Eddie's hands dramatically clutch his chest. "You wound me, Steve. Am I really last choice for you?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at him and deadpans, "Absolutely."

Instead of the dramatic response, Steve expects, Eddie instead leans over the counter and lowly says, "I can change your mind about that if you'll let me."

Steve laughs and leans forward. "Yeah? How's that?"

Eddie runs a hand through Steve's hair, sending chills down his body as he lightly scrapes his nails on his scalp. His hand then settles on the back of Steve's head and drags him in close to whisper, "I guess we'll have to wait to see at midnight."

With that, Eddie gives him a wink and steps back. "Robin, tell me what movie to watch while I waste away the rest of this year."

Robin peaks her head out from a shelf and waves him over, and Steve doesn't register anything they're saying because he's too stuck on what the hell just happened between him and Eddie. Because yeah, he's a little kiss-starved and attention-starved, but even when he's given into his desperation with random girls, it didn't ever feel so... electrifying.

He snaps out of his bout of confusion when someone walks into the store. He perks up a bit when he notices it's a girl who is not only pretty but also very much alone. Steve gets his hopes up a bit as he does his spiel, "Hi, welcome to Family Video, is there anything I can help you with?"

The girl looks Steve up and down and lightly bites her lip before answering, "Yes actually. I'm looking for a romantic comedy. Something to give me some hope when going into the new year."

"You need hope when it comes to romance, too?" Steve asks as he leads her over to the romance section.

She giggles and twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "Yes, but I was wishing it would come sooner. Maybe around midnight?"

Steve nods and chuckles. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

The girl is quick to find a tape and bring it to the register where Steve rings her up. As he hands her the tape, she asks, "So, do you have any plans tonight?"

And this is Steve's moment. He looks her up and down, staring at pink lip gloss smeared over full lips then her brown eyes that are... not brown enough. It's like they're missing the depth that Steve is used to for some reason as if he's expecting...

Steve swallows and glances around the store, spotting the head of curly hair quickly as he watches the interaction. Eddie gives him a thumbs up accompanied by a sad smile, but Steve gives him a genuine smile back. "Actually, I do have plans tonight."

The girl gives him a small oh before quickly hurrying out of the store, and Steve can't feel too bad about disappointing the girl when he sees a light blush spread over Eddie's cheeks.

"So, you do have plans?" Eddie presses as he makes his way back to the counter.

"It seems like I do," Steve replies, leaning across the counter.

"Mhm," Eddie hums and looks down, "And what happened to me being your last option?"

"I seemed to come to my senses," Steve flirts easily.

Eddie smiles and pulls a few strands of hair in front of his face, unsuccessfully hiding his blush. "So, I'll see you at midnight then?"

"I'll see you then," Steve says with a wink, his eyes following Eddie all the way out of the store and into his van.

Robin slowly makes her way to Steve's side and asks, "You know that he just stole a tape, right?"

Steve shrugs. "I'll make sure to let him know."

"And we're going to discuss everything that happened just now this year or....?"

"I'll save the panic for next year," Steve decides.

Robin smiles at him. "Good idea. You have other things to do tonight."

Steve laughs loudly and finds himself unable to stop smiling for the rest of their shift.

As he drops Robin off at her house, he gives her an obnoxious kiss on the cheek and says, "Happy New Year."

Robin scrunches her nose up as she wipes at her cheek, but she can't stop the smile that's spreading on her face. "Happy New Year, and have fun tonight!"

"I will!"

As soon as Robin is safely inside, Steve speeds off toward Eddie's trailer, trying to push down his nerves by giving himself a pep talk that he knows Robin would make fun of him for. He'll have to leave that part out when he retells everything to her tomorrow.

When he gets to Eddie's, he takes a minute to fix his hair in the mirror before making his way to his door and knocking quickly.

Eddie opens it with a surprised look on his face. "A big part of me thought you were joking."

"And if I wasn't?" Steve asks, hoping Eddie himself wasn't joking about the whole thing.

Eddie's eyes flicker down to his lips. "Then I'd let you know that we don't have to wait until midnight to kiss. There are no rules against kissing before then after all."

Steve smiles so wide, his face starts to ache. "You're right. There are definitely no rules about that."

Eddie almost immediately tugs him inside and is quick to close the door behind him before cupping his face and leaning in. "And you're sure you're not joking about this?"

"Absolutely," Steve says as his hands lightly rest on Eddie's back.

"Well, Happy New Year's Eve to me then," Eddie jokes before closing the distance between them and pulling Steve into a kiss that makes his entire being light up in a way that rivals all the fireworks that go off that night.

As they gently pull away, Steve whispers against Eddie's lips, "You're never going to be my last choice ever again."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks with a smile.

"Yeah," Steve says, kissing him again.

They lose track of time that night, but they still manage to get in a New Year's kiss at midnight. As they drift off in the early morning hours, Eddie announces that 86' may not have been his year, but 87' sure will be. And Steve can't help but think the same thing.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #last minute i decided i needed to write a NYE ficlet #and that's what I entered the new year doing #and i honestly couldn't be happier #cheers to another year of writing steddie

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spread-the-influence · 3 months ago

Note

You can post that rant here, pookie. We'll listen 🤭

i've been resisting because i'm trying so hard to just keep this as a blog for the au and the comic itself but Wow it gets so difficult to Stfu with each passing day LMAO i feel like i should just go crazy like i did in the other blog and post my rambles without caring for The Blog's Theme

let me preface this by saying that i will do this without making references to external sources ( gooseworx's tumblr + interviews ) because i don't think you need to hear it from her to know how ridiculous it would be for ragatha to be 100% evil or 100% good .

___ So. a Theme in a story is the Central Idea . it's a concept woven throughout the narrative , and it comes up multiple times to give a Message . a Message in a story is a Lesson . it's what the writer wants to tell you through the story . essentially , think of theme as the Topic and message as The Details . the theme provides the foundation while the message provides the walls , easy peasy

let's apply this to tadc . the theme that jumps out the most , to me personally , is Community . through the fucked-upness of the circus , the thing that grounds the characters is their bonds . even though the episodes would get dark and existential , there's this underlying sense of hope because these characters have Each other .

this is where ragatha comes in ! this woman Craves a community , and that's why she's interesting . she's trying to make everyone like her — even the people whose opinions she Shouldn't care about — to the point that she would act insincerely to achieve that . but this only results in her unintentionally pushing everyone away . and well i've talked before about how her relationship with everyone has Tension .

if she was a villain ... it will Suck ! not just in a writing sense but in a narrative sense , like — if her evil plan was to get everybody on her side then she failed Spectacularly at that . but if her evil plan was to act so pathetic that no one would suspect her then move the fuck over mother gothel because THIS is the most manipulative animated villain of the 21st century

but seriously , it will suck because What Message Is There , and most importantly , how does it play to the Community theme ? oh boy oh boy the nice person is actually mean all along , guess i learned to never trust anybody — in the show about learning to trust people ????? also there's just zero buildup to it . any buildup ragatha has regarding her ' true self ' is just her being Insecure and Anxious , which very much doesn't give off villain energy if you ask me

if she's a pure angel that has done nothing wrong , however , then it's ... not going to be narratively satisfying . while i would prefer this over the reveal of her being a villain hypothetically , it will still Suck because it undermines the Tension and Buildup , if you get me . like wow cool we're getting hints that ragatha's not what she seems , only to find out that ... she is what she seems !

i'll say this setup isn't really building up to Oh she's a bad person ): or Oh she's good (: it's more like Oh this woman needs a fucking therapist we need to give her a support system asap so she wouldn't explode on us .

i'm not going to chalk this up to lack of media literacy ( because personally the phrase ' media literacy ' has kind of became a buzzword that doesn't mean anything beyond ' you're reading it the Wrong way ' which defeats the point of engaging with art ) . i just think people formed an image of ragatha from the pilot , and that was only cemented by her being the oldest woman in the circus + her fussing over pomni . she did seem like a kind caretaker looking out for everybody if you don't read into her dialogue too much . so of course when traits of her that aren't as Kind come out , it stands out .

and honestly ? i've stopped minding it as much — because if i wrote a character like ragatha i want this Exact thing to happen ! i would go HAHA you fell for the character's facade that was meant to be dismantled by the viewer !!!!

#>>MISC;#WARNING: ESSAY #this was in the drafts for a while and i forgot to post it Lol

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eyecan02 · 10 months ago

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WARNING: MAJOR BEETLEBABES SPOILERS

I had fun watching this film. It was great seeing the OGs again, it was funny and it had a good script BUT I have to give this movie 7/10 because the pacing was off for the first half of the film and because of the two unnecessary Babyjuice scenes (We'll get to more of that in a bit.)

It just felt rushed and Beetlejuice and Lydia's scenes were limited. Yes, we knew from the get go that Keaton's scenes would be confined because that's how he wanted it but I just like complaining. lol

Before Lydia and Beetlejuice officially reunite, he starts spamming her phone with the Day O song playing with Beetlejuice's name in bold pops ups coming up nonstop. This happens when Rory is trying to talk about their wedding and Lydia just isn't in the mood to talk about it.

The first Beetlebabes scene is the "therapy scene" and its also the first Babyjuice scene. Lydia's belly grows quickly, her water breaks and out pops out Babyjuice. It starts crawling around and soon starts biting on Lydia's ankle. You do actually see bloody teethmarks on Lydia's ankle to which Beetlejuice says, "Takes after his dad." and he starts drooling exaggeratingly.

I don't remember the exact wording but Lydia called Beetlejuice "Demented." To which Beetlejuice replies with something like "Well, if me wanting to be with the love of my life is demented then fine I'm demented. Come here, honey." Yes, he actually calls her the love of his life!

He tries to do the gliding thing he did with Lydia during the first movie when he says this. Before Lydia is pulled to his side, she yells, "Home! Home! Home!"

That's when Lydia tries to hurry to get everyone out of the house and out of Winter River but Astrid tells her she has a date and somehow convinces Lydia to drive her to the boy's house. So Delia and Lydia board up the attic door and decide no one goes in and that they'll leave that same night right after Lydia gets married at midnight.

Now as most of us have heard- Astrid's crush has a secret. That secret is...that he's a ghost. Which, I feel so dumb about not guessing it. I should've figured it out when they showed "The Recently Deceased" book thar he claimed he bought at a "yard sale". The boy (can't remember his name) says Lydia can help him come back to life (not through marriage) and says if she travels with him to the Neitherworld, she'll help her see her dad again.

Lydia soon finds out that the boy (I think his name was Jeremy) was not only someone who killed his parents but is also a ghost (through info from Jane the realtor) so she rushes to rescue Astrid but gets there seconds too late. With no other choice she goes back to the Maitlands home and summons Beetlejuice.

The minute Beetlejuice gets Lydia into the afterlife...they're immediately separated right after the "Bonnie and Clyde line. The excuse? Beetlejuice had to "visit the little boy's room" as a plot device so that Lydia and Astrid could reunite with Astrid's deceased father. He's the one that saves them from the sandworm and helps them make up.

It turns out that Jeremy was gonna swap places with Astrid. She would've gone on the Soul Train that takes you to the "Great Beyond" and he would've resurrected as a living person. This takes place at an immigration office. Beetlejuice has kind of a heroic moment where he switched places with the person behind the glass that gives the "stamp of living approval."

When Jeremy looks at the paper that Beetlejuice gives him, it reads "Shit Out of Luck Fucker". XD This part had everyone howling with laughter. Beetlejuice stamps on the paper and that instantly opens the floor beneath Jeremy and sends him to hell.

Astrid's father helped Lydia and Astrid leave the Neitherworld through a portal in a mausoleum that is conveniantlly across from the church that Lydia is supposed to getting married at. Even though she doesn't really want to marry Rory, she decides to do it anyway. Tells Rory she won't change into her wedding dress- that they should just proceed as they are.

That's when Beetlejuice arrives with Delia, pushes her aside and tells her to "Scram!" lol (Earlier in the film, Delia tried to perform a strange love ritual with a pair of snakes that she was told were defanged. Spoiler: they weren't defanged so she died and got sent to the Waiting Room so since she doesn't want to wait there for ages, she summons Beetlejuice who agrees to help her if he can help her find his "runaway bride".)

Beetlejuice proceeds to drug Rory by stabbing his neck with a syringe and this somehow makes Rory confess whata scumbag he is and how he was just using Lydia for money. Another interesting moment where Beetlejuice is being "helpful" in his own way."

So the next five minutes are just as chaotic as Jenna Ortega described. And remember how we all had speculated that Beetlejuice wouldn't waste time with a song and dance and would try to get through the vows as fast as he could? We were wrong. Beetlejuice apparently thought he had all the time in the world as he starts to lip sync "MacArthur Park" and even had Lydia lip syncing the song to him. His make up got all runny as he wept at his own wedding.

They dance and then Wolf and his SWAT team crash the wedding followed by Delores storming in and Beetlejuice tells her, "It's not you. It's me. I'm just looking for a more soul mate type. You should be with a guy that is more into you."

He magically rips off Rory's shirt to reveal a shirt underneath that says "I Love Delores". Delores is not impressed. And I honestly forgot what happens to Delores but then the Sandworm scene happens and then everything calms down. Lydia, Astrid and Delia try to leave the church but Beetlejuice stops them, reminding Lydia that they have a contract. He pulls out the contract.

But then Astrid remembers something Wolf had mentioned earlier about Beetlejuice violating "Code 669" by bringing a living person to the Neitherword so she states that that means his contract with Lydia is null and void. Beetlejuice's contract proceeds to burst into flame.

Lydia steps forward and says "I'm sorry it didn't work out between us." She says something else that I forgot and proceeds to say his name three times and with each call of his name, Beetlejuice's body inflates more and more until he pops.

Delia promises she'll haunt Lydia and Astrid until they're sick of her. Wolf takes her back to the Neitherworld where Delia reunites with Charles's mangled corpse. It then skips to Lydia announcing the last episode of her show so that she can "start living".

Then it shows Lydia and Astrid traveling together. It looks like they're in Romania/Transylvania where Astrid locks eyes with a cute guy. Then a time skip where Astrid is marrying the guy. Another time skip where Astrid is giving birth. This is where it gets weird. She gives birth to Babyjuice that proceeds to start crawling on the walls. That's when Lydia wakes up, relieved that that was a nightmare when suddenly Beetlejuice leans over her in bed and says, "I just had the strangest dream." Lydia gasps and she wakes up again and slowly looks over to her left to see an empty space and no Beetlejuice.

So I'm guessing that's what that one interviewer guy meant when he told Winona "You sorta got your wish at the end." I guess it means Beetlejuice will always be haunting her and playing the long game of waiting for her. I need to discuss this with someone! What do you think of the spoilers? The ending in particular?

#beetlebabes #beetlebabe #beetlelyds #beetlejuice x lydia #huge beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers #beetlejuice beetlejuice spoilers

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xmencompletionistgirl · 3 months ago

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Alright, I guess this is my "yap about the Fall of the Mutants" post? This is my first major milestone completed while I'm running this blog so I'll ramble for a bit. This isn't really an event in the traditional sense, like, none of the X-titles actually cross over in meaningful ways other than a member of one book learning about the goings-on of another book via the news or something. So there isn't a grand narrative to comment on, the connecting thread is thematic, I guess. It's really just a glorified status quo change-up, which all events are in theory, but it doesn't actually really have the crossover element of the event which is kind of the selling point, so??? either way I'll talk about each book one at a time

(Uncanny X-Men #225-227)

May as well start with Uncanny. Shockingly, I don't have a ton to say. I think it was fine, but not amazing. Tbh I feel like Claremont's writing falters a bit whenever he's writing about 'end of the world' type stuff on a cosmological scale. The Phoenix Saga is great, but beyond that when he does these 'end of the universe' things it's all very similar, like a mini-Phoenix Saga repackaged. He's in love with these sweeping concepts of the world being in balance, very New Age, and he gets sort of lost in it. I don't have a great way of articulating it, though, and I'll save some of my deeper thoughts on his writing for a big fat Claremont era post once I finish his run. Some cool visuals anyway, and I'm glad that Storm has her powers back. We'll see where the 'world thinks the X-Men are dead' stuff goes, but I'm guessing it's not going to last very long.

(Power Pack #33)

X-Factor, also fine. Also not a ton to say. It was probably the weakest of the 3 overall, but not for lack of trying. I just find these early Apocalypse stories kind of dry? They aren't really saying much with his character, at least not yet. Not a fan of the 'dumb Beast' stuff either, no idea how long that last. I hope this leads to a power reset with him and getting his blue fur back, I really don't like looking at hairless Silver Age Beast. That being said, thank GOD X-Factor as Mutant Hunters era is over. Jfc what a bad concept. Simonson did her best to salvage it but you can physically feel her grating against the concept with every issue she writes. I feel so bad for her for inheriting Bob Layton's mess.

Oh I almost forgot; I hate Caliban in this?? Like, I really don't buy his turn to Apocalypse at all :( Probably the only part of this event that made me a bit irritated.

Every non-X-book tie-in was related to X-Factor, for some reason, also. It's really the only part of all of this that feels like a big event, but it's downplayed. Power Pack and Daredevil all the clear standouts. Really good. Pictured above, the Power Pack issue does a phenomenal job of selling the scale of it from a kids' perspective. Everything is on this incomprehensible scale and watching this giant rectangle of a spaceship knock into stuff in New York really sells how big of a threat Apocalypse is. And Daredevil is an on-the-street version of that, moreso focused on how New Yorkers react to this battle and think that the end of the world is here. It's a very human story and I really should read Nocenti's Daredevil run sometime, it seems pretty good.

The Fantastic Four tie-in was painfully average and the Captain America one was awful. Avoid them lol, they are very mired in their own continuity. Luckily I was familiar enough with the F4's history that I caught on quick, but they are in a VERY weird era here. No Reed or Sue, the Thing is in his pointy rock-skin era, She-Thing just got made, Doctor Doom has been ousted from Latveria... just madness. As for Cap, it's more comprehensible but it's just not very good. They're in the John Walker era and Steve has been forced out of the role (and is wearing USAgent's future costume), but he and Falcon and... *checks notes* Demolition Man a.k.a. D-Man and Nomad-but-not-the-Steve-Rogers-one,-the-Jack-Munroe-one (alright?) go and stop Famine from destroying a fuckton of crops in Nebraska or something and that's it, that's the whole tie-in. No mention of X-Factor iirc. Really weird book.

(New Mutants Vol. 1 #60)

And now, the New Mutants. Once again the BEST X-Family book. I'm a New Mutants girlie, I will stan them until my dying breath and that is THAT. I have so much to say. The book is great, Sunspot and Warlock are back, and the falling out with Magneto and the death of Doug actually sells the event!! It really feels like only they go through a status quo change worthy of the name 'The Fall of the Mutants'. It's a fairly average adventure for them to start with, and there's a bit too much fixation on a fairly uncompelling villain for my liking, but at the end of #60, a switch flicks. Doug dies in a really brutal, unceremonious way. He's just shot by the villain of the arc and that's it. He's dead.

(New Mutants Vol. 1 #60)

(New Mutants Vol. 1 #61)

I love. LOVE. Watching Illyana go demon mode on these guys. No notes. Please more of this before she's uh, out of commission until like 2007 lol.

(New Mutants Vol. 1 #61)

And then #61 is mourning. Everyone lashing out at each other and Magneto... being Magneto, ultimately pushes everyone away out of fear. I don't think my screenshots can capture it, it's really great stuff. (Also, that panel of Illyana crying about pretending to be a normal kid while sitting next to the body of her dead friend? Art.)

(Uncanny X-Men #227)

I almost forgot about this, but in Uncanny #227 we get a checkup with Kitty and Kurt, who are back! The sigh of relief I let out omg. I didn't even realize how much I missed them or how long it's been. Excalibur soon!!!!

Overall, it was alright! I'd say it's a step up from Mutant Massacre at least, which I thought was a bit all over the place. Events were a new concept back then though, and very clearly an editorial mandate, so I guess that's to be expected. I'd say read it if you're a Claremont era fan or an event completionist, but otherwise, eh. Not terrible, not mindblowing.

Except for New Mutants. That was great. Did I turn my Fall of the Mutants post into a New Mutants shill post? Yes I did and I won't apologize

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luveline · 2 years ago

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hello jade! you are so talented and i love how you handle Miguel, so here comes my request: miguel overworking himself and tinkering on stuff and fem!reader pretending a accident happened, just to lure him away and force him to rest, while someone else takes over

thank you!! and thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader x boyfriend!miguel

Miguel's eyes are the kind of dry where you can actually physically tell from the edge of the platform you've just yanked yourself onto. His undereye area is sunken and dark, and his lips are pressed together tightly as he breathes in. He has some strange technology in his hand, a screwdriver in the other. It's unusual to see him working with physical tech these days, and whatever it is has been keeping him busy.

"Hey, Miguel," you say finally, breaching the quiet. Margo looks up from her desk at the sound of your voice, and something in her gaze says, Oh, good, you're here. Fix him. You nod tightly. "Miguel?"

He looks up for a split-second, if that. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

"Calibration."

He doesn't explain the tech beyond that. You're a Spider, you should be able to guess what it is that he's working on. You've created web-shooters yourself with extremely complicated and delicate makings, but the longer you look at it the more confused you feel.

"Do you need anything? Water? Something from the cafeteria?" You edge into the room, footsteps measured. "A nap?"

"Nope."

You frown and approach his side. He's sitting down, so there's that. The most important thing is that he's resting in some capacity, but the second most important thing is that his hair is in hand's reach. You put your hand on his shoulder to test the waters. Miguel doesn't react. Pleased, you push your fingertips into his hair and scratch gently at his scalp. His hair is a little dirty. He isn't taking care of himself, and this deep into a project it's unlikely he will be anytime soon.

You decide it's morally okay to lie. "I need a favour," you say gently.

He looks up, finally noticing your hand in his hair. His head tips into your palm, his eyes softening, his crows feet wrinkles erased ever so slightly as he asks, "What do you need?"

"I smashed the window in my room, and it's really, really cold, and I can't find a vacuum," you say, setting a false shame into the line of your mouth and eyes, your brows pinching up at the starts. "I'm really sorry, I don't know what to do."

It's your apology that finally tugs him out of work mode. He lets the doohickey he'd been tinkering with plink flat onto his workbench, a rare but not uncharacteristic kindness in his voice. "Don't be sorry. We'll get it fixed. I know where everything is."

"I know where everything is," Lyla says.

"S'what I said," Miguel says. You know he laughs to make you feel more comfortable, and the guilt for lying to him festers.

That guilt quickly wanes on the walk to your room. He's yawning and blinking the entire trek, big hand over his mouth to hide it. The Spider Society is really shaping into something amazing, and more and more Spiders arrive everyday. They've started construction on a dormitory for worldly visitors and refugees, but you've been lucky enough to get your own room near Miguel's. It's hard work for him to undertake such a huge project. He doesn't realise he's not doing it alone.

"How'd you break your window, anyway?" he asks through another jaw-cracking yawn.

"You know me," you say, laughing nervously as you open your door and reveal a lack of both a broken window or smashed glass.

Miguel squints through tired eyes at the room's cleanliness. "The smashed window?" he asks.

"What do you mean?" you ask.

"You know what I mean, the– you smashed a window? You wanted a vacuum?"

"Did I?" you ask.

"She lied," Lyla says, blinking in and out of view.

"I gathered that, thanks."

"Okay, I'm sorry, I did lie. I just want you to take a break," you say, sitting at the top of your bed in what you hope is an enticing display, hand rubbing the empty space beside you. "Come and sleep, Miguel."

"I can't," he says gruffly, then less so, "I can't, I have things to do."

"Just for a bit," you say, eyes wide and pleading, your very best approximation of puppy dog's. "Please, baby. Just for an hour."

Miguel stares at you for a moment, his shoulders sagging, before he closes your bedroom door and wastes no time in lying down next to you. You're startled at his willingness to do as you asked, but then you notice his flushed cheeks, tanned skin darkened by a rosy blush.

You open your mouth to say something smug. He senses it, and says, "I can't sleep if you're talking."

Your lips snap closed.

Miguel lays motionless for a while. His breathing evens out. Sure he's asleep, you lay down beside him and dot a chaste kiss against his temple.

His lips flicker. Not smiling, but almost.

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infamous-if · 1 year ago

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To Gender Select, or to Not Gender Select

So as everyone knows, I'm using the opportunity for this rewrite to really step back and look at what I have so far. I have just subscribed to the whole "follow my gut" thing and for the last two months or so, my gut has been telling me something.

For context, I created Orion (and I have mentioned this a couple times when I first opened this blog) that he came to me fully formed. While other ROs were more of a puzzle that appeared more and more fleshed out with every detailed I added, Orion was like a jenga block tower that grew more and more unsteady every time I changed a detail about him. He just came to me exactly as he was and I didn't really think beyond that. For example, with G, pieces of both Gina and Griffin came to me at the same time and G isn't G without both versions. With Orion he was just...Orion.

But lately—and this was not without many suggestions asking for it!—I've been playing around with the idea of a female version of his character.

One of my biggest things was to make sure that this wasn't a matter of just changing a variable. When it comes to my gender selectable ROs, I want to make sure I'm including the subtleties and nuances that come with being a man/woman in the public eye, especially for O. Their route is heavily centered around the idea of professionalism and...other things I can't mention and I think it'd be super interesting to add another component of being a woman, not only typically stern and taciturn but in a dominant position in music mostly taken up by men. Which is why, in the rewrite, there will be lines that are unique to Orion and unique to her. Reactions that are different, conversations that change. People who continue to romance Orion will prob not see a difference.

Not only does it separate them as two different people, it creates some distance from Orion, who is an established and beloved character already. I want his female counterpart to stand on her own as her own character.

Just because they have the same route does not mean they are the same person. I've always said that about my gender selectable characters.

This was not a spur of the moment decision. I was thinking about this for a while. I just needed to make sure every piece of Orion's route would make sense for her, and I do believe it does.

I've also been told many times how many people like Orion's route and the whole "manager-client" trope but are unable to play it as they are not attracted to men. I think this would be a nice addition and a way to make it more inclusive/give more people more routes to play!

The things I have written for Orion will probably stay the same since they've been written. Everything after the rewrite will have both options to select from.

So meet Oriana Quinn. With a short black bob usually greased back and a perfectly pressed suit, Oriana is as intimidating as she is determined. Yes, she's just as tall and muscular as her male counterpart and as obsessed with the gym as he. Her route with Cory will be different in its nature (since Cory is straight) but...guess we'll see!

fun fact: The beauty of Oriana being the name is that coincidentally, it also has to do with the sky. One of my requirements for finding a name like Orion's was that it was sky themed since it does come up. It almost seems like fate! haha

TLDR: Orion will be gender selectable. If you have plans to romance Orion and Orion alone, this will make no difference to you. For those who were hoping for this, I hope this news makes Infamous a bit more enjoyable for you! <3

#update #rewrite #rewrite update #o quinn

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lee-laurent · 11 months ago

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Playing House - Luke Hughes

Summary: Tori makes the decision to introduce Riley to Luke

content: angst, some fluff, arguing, kissing, money issues

wc: 2.5k

notes: here it is! as requested by one of my anons :)) this is part 5 of the done trying series! here we goooo

Tori woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing repeatedly on the bedside table. She groaned, reaching out to silence it, but the name on the screen made her sit up immediately.

John Marino.

"Hello? Is everything okay?"

"Hey, Tori. Sorry to call you so early. Riley wanted to talk to you."

Her heart melted at the sound of her son's voice. "Mama! Hi!"

"Hi, baby! Are you having fun with Dada, Nanny, and Pop?"

"Yes! We has pancakes!"

"That sounds so yummy! Are you being a good boy?"

"Uh-huh. Miss 'oo, Mama!"

"I miss you too, Ri-Ri! I'll see you super soon though, okay?"

"O-tay! 'Uv 'oo!"

"Love you too, Riley. Be good for Dada."

She heard John take the phone back. "He just wanted to say hi. I'll bring back tomorrow morning, as planned."

"Right. Thanks, Johnny. See you then."

As she hung up, she felt Luke stir beside her. He blinked a few times, then smiled sleepily. "G'morning."

"Morning, Lu," she replied, leaning in to kiss him. "Riley called. He misses me."

"Of course he does. Who wouldn't?" he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "So, what's the plan today?"

"I was thinking we could relax for a bit, then maybe go for a walk? Show you around the neighbourhood."

"Sounds perfect," he murmured, his voice still heavy with sleep. "But first, more cuddles."

Tori laughed, snuggling into his chest. "Deal."

Later that morning, they were walking hand in hand through the park near Tori's apartment. The sun was shining, and the air was warm- the perfect day to be outside. The found a spot near the small pond, enjoying the peacefulness.

"I love this place," Luke said, looking around. "It's nice and calm. Feels like we're not even in the city at all. Miles away from everything."

"It's been my little escape since we moved here. Riley loves it too. He calls it the 'duck park' 'cause of all the ducks, which unfortunately sounds like 'fuck park' when he says it, but we move."

Luke laughed. "I can't wait to meet him properly. I hope he likes me."

"He will," Tori assured, squeezing his hand. "You're great with kids. I've seen how patient and kind you are with all the kids that come to fan events."

"I guess. But this... this is different. This is your son. I like need to make a good impression."

"You will, Lu. Trust me."

The rest of their day was spent adventuring. They walked around the neighbourhood, talking about everything and nothing. By they time they arrived back at Tori's apartment, they were both beyond tired.

As they settled onto the couch to watch a movie, Tori's phone buzzed again. This time a text from John instead of a call.

Can we talk tomorrow when I drop off Riley?

Tori sighed, "Looks like John wants to talk tomorrow. Probably about you."

Luke nodded, "Figures. But we'll deal with it... together."

"Together," she grinned. Luke chuckled, pressing a loving kiss to her cheek. She shook her head, pulling him in for a proper kiss.

"Together."

Tori was a bundle of nerves the next morning. She busied herself by tidying up the apartment, acting like her two-year-old would notice whether or not the place was clean. Luke tried to reassure her multiple times, even trying to pull her back into bed, but she could clearly see the tension in his eyes too.

"I- Luke I think I should talk with John alone to start. I know him... and he'd just get angrier if you were there."

"But I want to help you, Vic. I wanna be there to back you up."

"I know, babe. But... just trust me on this one."

"Fine. But if he raises his voice, even just a little, I'm coming in to beat his ass."

Finally, there was a knock at her door. Tori opened it to find Johns standing there with Riley. She felt a knot form in her stomach as John stepped into the apartment, his expression grim. Riley was already distracted, happily playing with his toys in the living room, , with Luke sitting nearby, making car noises to match Riley’s play. She took a deep breath and led John into the kitchen, bracing herself for the confrontation she knew was coming.

"What's this about you introducing Luke to Riley?" John started, his voice low but edged with anger.

Tori crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure. "John, Luke is an important part of my life now. Riley needs to know who he is. Slowly. We'll take it slowly."

"An important part of you life?" John scoffed. "You've barely even been together. He's just another hockey player. He'll probably just break your heart. You really think that's a good idea for Riley? For our son?"

"It's not about him being a hockey player. You know I'm not a puck bunny, John," Tori shot back, her frustration showing. "It's about him being someone else who cares about me and in extension cares about Riley. Someone who wants to be there for us."

In the living room, Luke was playing with Riley, making sure the little boy was entertained. He could hear the heated conversation in the kitchen and felt a pang of concern. He wanted to support Tori, to show John that he genuinely cared for Riley, but he respected Tori's wish to handle it herself.

"Hey, buddy, wanna race cars?" Luke asked Riley, trying to keep his focus on the child.

Riley giggled, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes! Vroom! Vroom!"

John shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. "You barely known him! Wh- what if he leaves you?"

Tori's eyes narrowed. "You don't get to judge my decisions, John. I'm careful, I don't let just anyone in like this. Luke isn't like other people. He cares about me. And he wants to care about Riley too."

"And you think that's enough?" John challenged. "Does he have what it takes to be a dad? You think just because he says he cares, it's okay to bring him into my son's life? What if Riley gets attached and then Luke leaves? Huh? What if Riley gets hurt?"

"Riley deserves to have people in his life that love him. And Luke wants to do that. He wants to be there for Riley, to be a positive influence."

John sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I don't want Riley to get hurt, Tori. He's already been through so much."

"I know," Tori replied gently. "But keeping him away from people isn't the answer. Luke isn't trying to replace you, John. You'll always be his dad. He's just trying to be there for Riley, to be a friend."

Luke turned to Riley, who was now making his toy car zoom circles around the coffee table.

"You're doing great, Riley!"

Luke looked back to the kitchen, then at Riley, weighing the situation. He took a deep breath and called out, "Tori, maybe I should talk to John too."

Tori turned her head to Luke, her eyes softening. "I appreciate it, Luke, but this is conversation that we need to have alone."

John also glanced towards the living room, his expression hardening at the sight of his son playing with Luke. "If he has something to say, he should say it now."

Tori reached out, placing a comforting hand on John's arm. "John, please. Let's just talk, okay? Don't... don't worry about Luke right now."

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension slowly easing. Finally, John nodded, though he still looked conflicted. "Okay, fine. But if he ever hurts Riley, Tori, I won't forgive him. Or you."

"He won't. I promise."

John sighed again, the fight leaving him. "Okay. I will try to be civil."

"Thank you," Tori smiled. "For Riley's sake."

John nodded, heading towards the door. "Bye, Riley. Dada will see you later. You have fun with Mama and Luke."

"Bye, Dada! 'Uv 'oo!"

"I love you too, baby."

After John left, the atmosphere in the apartment lightened. Luke continued to play with Riley, who was still a bit hesitant but seemed to overall enjoy Luke's company. Tori watched them for a moment, her heart filling with love and affection for both her son and Luke.

"Hey, Riley, do you wanna show Luke your favourite car?" Tori suggest, kneeling next to her son.

Riley looked up at his mom and then back at Luke, his small fingers fidgeting with a toy car. He seemed unsure, glancing between the two, seeking reassurance from his mom.

"It's okay, bud," Luke said softly, smiling at the toddler. "I'd love to see your favourite car."

Riley slowly reached out, handing Luke a small fire truck. "Dis one," he murmured, still clinging to Tori's side.

"Wow, this is a really cool fire truck!" Luke said, examining it with genuine interest. "Does it make sounds?"

Riley nodded, pressing a button that made the fire truck's siren wail. He glanced up at Luke to see his reaction.

"That's awesome!" Luke exclaimed, his enthusiasm making Riley smile.

Encouraged by Riley's reaction, Tori suggest they go to the park. "How about we take your fire truck to the park, Ri-Ri? We can play on the playground and look at the ducks."

"Yes!" They all put their shoes and headed out, Riley clutching his fire truck tightly.

At the park, Riley stayed close to Tori at first, his eyes wide as he observed the other children playing. Luke sat down on the grass, setting up a small area with Riley's toys.

"Riley, look! We can drive your fire truck on this road," Luke grinned, drawing a pretend road in the dirt with a stuck.

Riley watched for a moment, inching closer, intrigued by the game. He glanced at Tori, who nodded encouragingly.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Go play with Luke."

Riley finally sat next to the boy, still a bit tentative but clearly interested. He placed his fire truck down and together they drove it along the makeshift road, adding little sound effects and making up stories about rescues.

As they played, Riley's shyness began to fade. He started to laugh more, his small voice growing more confident as he directed the fire truck and explained a story to Luke. Tori watched on with a smile, feeling an immense sense of relief.

After some time at the park, they headed back home for lunch. Tori prepared sandwiches while Luke and Riley played with more toys in the living room. Riley was now fully engaged, laughing as Luke pretended to be a new character in their game.

"Mama, 'ook! 'uke is dino!" He exclaimed, pointing at Luke, who was stomping around and making growling noises.

Tori laughed, setting the plate of sandwiches on the table. "That's awesome, Ri! Let's eat lunch, and then we can play some more."

The next few hours were spent playing, completely skipping over Riley's afternoon nap completely. He was too busy playing with Luke.

Dinner time was always an adventure with Riley. As they sat around the small kitchen table, Tori served up plates of spaghetti, Riley's favourite food after mac and cheese. Luke took a seat next to Riley, who was already eagerly stabbing at the noodles with his little plastic fork.

"'Ook, 'uke! I do it all mine-self." Riley exclaimed, proudly showing off his newfound skill.

Luke watched with an amused smile as Riley attempted to twist the spaghetti onto his fork, only to have most of it slip back onto his plate. Undettered, Riley tried again, managing to get a very small clump of noodles into his mouth.

"Great job, buddy!" Luke praised, genuinely impressed by Riley's determination.

Riley beamed, his face lighting up with joy. "Tank 'oo! Mama show me."

"You're doing great, Ri-Ri. But remember to take small bites," Tori added.

As dinner continued, Riley's enthusiasm led to more spaghetti ending up on the table and his high chair than in his mouth. He giggled as a particularly long noodle dangled from his chin.

Luke couldn't help but laugh. "You're making quite the mess, little man," he said, reaching over to wipe a bit of sauce off Riley's cheek.

"'Ghetti is fun! 'Ook, 'uke!"

With that, Riley took another forkful of noodles and lifted it high, causing several noodles to fall on the table. He giggled, kicking his feet, waiting for Luke's reaction.

"Whoa, that's some impressive skill. You might need to teach me how to do that."

Tori shook her head in mock exasperation. "You two are a pair," she said fondly. "But let's try to keep some of the food on the plate, okay?"

Riley nodded, his face serious as he tried to be more careful. Despite the mess, the atmosphere was filled with warmth and laughter. Luke felt like he belonged, enjoying the simple moment with his girlfriend and her son.

After dinner, they all moved to the living room for some relaxation. Tori flipped through their apps on the TV before settling on "Paw Patrol," one of Riley's favourites.

"Patrol!" Riley cheered, clapping his hands as he snuggled into Tori's lap.

Luke sat beside them, throwing his arm over Tori's shoulder. "I've heard a lot about these puppies. Which one is your favourite?"

"What his name, Mama?"

"Marshall, bubba."

"Dat one!" Riley pointed at the screen where the fire pup was making a daring rescue with his friends.

"That's a good choice, bud," Luke nodded, making a mental note to research the rest of the characters in the show.

As the episode played, Riley's eyes remained glued to the screen, occasionally glancing up at Tori and Luke with a large green. Luke couldn't help but feel his heart swell at the sight. The little boy was growing on him, and quickly.

After the episode ended, Tori stood up and stretched. "Alright, Ri-Ri. Bathtime."

Riley pouted, but slid off the couch. "O-tay, Mama."

Luke followed them, watching as Tori began filling the tub with warm water, adding a generous amount of bubble bath.

"Need any help?" Luke asked.

"Sure," Tori laughed, handing him a cup. "You can rinse his hair."

Riley splashed happily, creating mountains of bubbles. Luke carefully poured water over Riley's head, using his hand to shield the boy's eyes.

"You've got this down, buddy," Luke said, impressed by how easy the toddler was being.

"Tank 'oo, 'uke! Bubbles are mine favourite!"

"Mine too."

Once Riley was clean and wrapped in a fluffy towel, they all headed to Tori's bedroom for storytime. Riley picked out a book he loved to read over and over again, "Goodnight Moon." He climbed onto the bed, snuggling between Tori and Luke.

Tori began reading, her voice soft and soothing. Riley leaned against her, his eyes growing heavy. Luke listened intently, feeling a sense of peace wash over him.

"Night-night, Mama. Night-night, 'uke," Riley murmured, already drifting off to sleep.

Luke picked him up, carrying him down the hall to his room. Once he was settled in his crib, they closed the door quietly behind them. Tori turned to Luke, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you for helping me tonight. It means a lot to me. And to Riley too."

Luke wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "It was my pleasure, V. I loved every minute of it."

Together, they made their way back to the living room, ready to enjoy the rest of their evening, knowing they were building something special not just for themselves but for Riley too.

Victoria prayed it would stay that way...

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #john marino #luke hughes imagine #njd imagine

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 19 days ago

Text

Dear Agony

BuckTommyWhumpWeek, Day 5: Hypothermia (A03 version)

This one is Tommy whump for you connoisseurs out there... ;)

Thick drops pelted the roof of the small, cozy cabin high up in the mountains, dripping onto the icicles on the eaves.

“It’s thawing.”

Tommy stepped closer to the window, resting his chin on Buck's shoulder. “That's too bad. I'm sorry.”

Buck turned his head. “Why? Wasn’t you who made the weather,” he said with a smile.

“Well, that's actually beyond my capabilities.” Tommy grinned and added, “However, I did persuade you to make this trip with me. After all, we wanted to go hiking, and the forecast never mentioned a change in the weather.”

Buck snuggled up to him, muttering, “Oh, I’m sure we'll find something to pass the time.”

“Probably,” Tommy whispered close to his ear, “but unfortunately our vacation is very short.” He glanced out the window again. “There's a spot with a fantastic view up the San Antonio peak... in spring, the blueberry bushes blossom, giving off a very special scent. In summer, you’re surrounded by the berries. It’s a paradise. There aren’t any berries now, of course, but it’s still very romantic with the snow and all.”

“Oh? How do you know all that? How many times have you been up here?”

“Hmm,” Tommy muttered with relish. Buck pulled him away from the window with a laugh.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

An hour later, the rain had stopped. The landscape, however, was filled with the sounds of crackling and dripping: harbingers of the thaw that the change of weather had brought. Buck and Tommy had opted for a short hike anyway. After all, this was a rare occasion – when did they have the chance for three days of vacation in a row, at the same time?

It was still chilling, with the wind biting through their thick layers of clothing. Buck had been living in the city for so long that he was no longer used to this kind of weather. He enjoyed it, though: as they walked, he happily puffed his breath out into the cold air, savoring the snow while it lasted. Three days in the wilderness, in a tiny cabin with Tommy, love in front of the fireplace like in a cheesy rom-com, and a walk while they warmed each other's fingers – it couldn't get any better.

At least until Buck spotted the viewpoint Tommy was talking about. The blueberry bushes were, of course, bare and heavy with snow, but between them, a narrow path opened up to a small clearing. The sky seemed close enough to touch, the low-hanging clouds were pure cotton candy. The surrounding peaks of the San Gabriel Mountains were still patched in white. It seemed hard to imagine that they’d be driving back down tomorrow into pre-summer L.A. Buck wasn’t ready for it yet.

They spent the rest of the day hiking one of the many adventure trails around the mountains. The sun was shining again; after a particularly steep descent, its rays glistening on a patch of ice were a welcome sight.

“A small lake,” said Buck, enthralled by the view.

“There shouldn't be a lake there,” Tommy returned, frowning as he spread out the map in his hands.

“Are we lost?”

“Not really... let's compare the geodata.”

But the virtual map showed the same thing – definitely not a lake. Buck, looking over Tommy's shoulder, tapped on the phone, suggesting, “Turn on the topography map.”

That helped: the spot in front of them, where the path normally led, was in a hollow; a small descent that wasn't even noticeable when there was plenty of snow. Now, however, there was a sheet of ice because rain had gathered in the hollow and the snow that usually covered it had melted.

“Well, tough luck for us,” said Tommy, glancing at his watch. “We'll lose some time, but we'll have to go around it, I guess.”

“Wait, it's not a particularly large patch of ice. Maybe it'll hold us.” Buck was already testing the frozen surface with the heel of his boot.

“Evan. It's thawing, it'll never hold us.”

Buck turned around, grinning and already with both feet on the ice. His left leg slipped. For a moment, his arms flailed in the air, then he caught himself. He looks like Bambi, Tommy thought, almost amused.

“Don’t,” he warned him nonetheless. “The cabin is still more than an hour away. If you fall in, you'll get some nasty frostbite. It may be thawing, but it's still freezing cold.”

“I'm sure it'll hold.”

“We’ve no signal out here,” Tommy tried to reason. “How am I supposed to call for help if you break through the ice?”

“You won’t need to.” Buck grinned, stepping forward cautiously. “Look, four steps. It's holding.”

Tommy shook his head, but he knew there was no stopping this man. When Buck set his mind to something, he found a way — and while he was risk-taking, he wasn't reckless. He knew the dangers, and he probably even knew all the statistics about frozen surfaces, their supposed thickness and the like. Tommy watched as Buck cautiously took another step.

“Solid ground. Like I said, only four steps.”

“Not everyone has legs as long as yours,” Tommy replied skeptically, but nevertheless he put a foot on the ice. Cautiously, he moved on.

“You'd better move a little to the right. It's safe where I walked,” Buck said, gesturing.

“If I cross at exactly the same spot, it'll be too much weight.”

“No, statistically speaking, that's the thickest part of the ice,” Buck disagreed. “The closer you get to the edge, the thinner the ice...”

He broke off as there was a loud noise. It sounded almost like stepping on a branch in the forest, only much higher and more threatening. Tommy looked down in amazement. Fragile, narrow cracks had formed around the soles of his boots. Then, the ice broke.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As if standing on a trapdoor that had suddenly opened, he plunged into the freezing water up to his chest. Quick-thinking, he stretched out his arms, which crashed painfully onto the remaining ice, yet his hands found no hold.

“Tommy,” Buck shouted, taking a step back onto the ice, but Tommy yelled, “Stay where you are!”

Buck stood rooted to the spot and looked down in disbelief at the surface he had just crossed so easily. Cracks had formed all over the ice, a threatening pattern of fragility. The water pulled Tommy down, his wet jeans sticking to his legs. He pressed his forearms firmly against the remaining ice around him, his muscles tense to the point of tearing.

“It's not deep,” he said; the calm in his voice was meant more for Buck than an expression of his state of mind. “This isn't a real lake. I can...”

At that moment, the ice supporting his arms broke. The force pulled Tommy down a little further, and for a terrifying moment he thought he was drowning. Water splashed into his face, knocking the breath out of him; it penetrated every fiber of his clothing. Buck threw himself face down on the ice and started to crawl towards Tommy. The ice cracked ominously.

“Stay there,” Tommy implored him, gasping for air. “I'll make it out, don’t worry. Don’t fall in as well!”

“No way, I'm pulling you out!”

“No,” Tommy shouted sternly. “Go back. The ice is about to break, can't you see?”

He nodded in Buck's direction. And sure enough, the cracks in the surface grew larger, still spreading. Small, razor-sharp shards flew through the air as the entire ice collapsed and broke into dozens of pieces. Tommy took a deep breath—ice-cold air that hurt his lungs—and pushed off awkwardly. His wet clothes pulled him down, but his iron will and all the weightlifting paid off: he managed to swim forward, through the chunks of ice.

It was only a short distance, but it felt endless, as if the eerily cold water simply refused to part and let the man, this strange foreign object, pass through. Buck had retreated when the rest of the ice broke, but now he waded in, and as soon as Tommy was close enough, he grabbed him.

“I got you. I got you,” he stuttered. His wide-open eyes revealed that, contrary to all experience, contrary to all knowledge, he had almost panicked. Because it was about Tommy. The adrenaline felt different when you suddenly found yourself on the other side of the accident.

Finally, both of them stumbled into the snow. It was wet and slippery, but right now, that didn’t matter. Tommy lay on his back and stared at the sky, panting as if he had just run a short-distance race. Suddenly, there were Buck's blue eyes instead of the sky, an even more beautiful sight, and very welcome at that moment.

“You okay? Are you hurt?”

“No. No, I don't think so,” Tommy replied slowly as he thought about it. As his heart rate slowed down, he realized he was wet and clammy, and his body instinctively reacted – he started shivering.

“We need to get back,” Buck urged. “As fast as we can.”

“I’ll manage.” Tommy took a deep breath and pushed himself off the ground, a little surprised at how easy it was.

Buck peeled off his puffer jacket, wrapping it around Tommy's shoulders. “We need to get you out of those clothes, and fast. But not here.”

“I'm fine.”

“This was a stupid idea,” said Buck, biting his lip.

“Can’t disagree on that… let’s just go,” Tommy replied with chattering teeth.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Buck should’ve known that Tommy’s I’m fine was obviously window dressing. Something was clearly, seriously wrong, but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it. They were walking for like ten minutes, and Tommy couldn’t stop shivering; as uncomfortable as he must have felt, that was probably normal. What wasn’t quite so normal was him acting somewhat nervous, almost agitated. Normally, he was the one who kept a cool head; as a pilot, he couldn't afford to do otherwise. Now, he was picking at his trembling fingers, if he wasn’t running them through his hair or kept wiping them on his jeans as if he was trying to dry something, anything. Maybe it was just that he didn’t know what to do with his hands – a feeling Buck could certainly understand, but he’d never seen Tommy act like this. Finally, he walked with his arms wrapped around himself, though there was nothing to keep him warm right now. Even the jacket Buck had wrapped around him was already soaked through.

The landscape, which had seemed so picturesque just a few minutes ago, suddenly felt hostile. Though it wasn’t as cold as yesterday, when it had been gently snowing on their arrival at the cabin, but the wind was still biting under Buck’s sweater, and stinging on Tommy’s wet skin.

“There's really no reason to call 911,” Tommy said when Buck held up the phone for the third time, searching for a signal.

“This is definitely a reason to call for help,” Buck objected. “We still have a long way to go, and you need to warm up. You're probably hypothermic.”

“When we get back, we'll take the car and drive down to the hospital, okay? If it's that important to you.”

Buck looked at Tommy skeptically. He knew the man didn’t like hospitals all that much, and he couldn’t blame him, but this was ridiculous. Tommy kept hopping up and down in a futile attempt to warm himself, but it was pointless in his wet clothes. Buck didn't know much about hypothermia—in L.A., you probably had to get locked in a cold storage room to suffer from it—but he knew enough to realize they’d better hurry.

“I'm sorry about our trip,” Tommy added. His smile showed genuine regret.

That stung, almost like the cold wind. Buck bit his lip. “I-it’s my fault. I shouldn't have talked you into stepping on the ice.”

“Hey, at least you gave me your jacket.” Tommy’s grin was crooked. He was breathing heavily—surely that wasn't just because he couldn't stand still for a minute.

“Wait a minute,” Buck held him back. Despite the thick jacket, Tommy’s arm was ice cold, which made him feel queasy. “I think you're hyperventilating.”

“Your jacket is so warm.” Tommy shrugged, then tugged at the garment, clumsily trying to slip out of the sleeves.

Startled, Buck held his arm tightly. “Hey. Leave it,” he implored his boyfriend, but Tommy shook him off, saying, “You need it more than I do, don't you think? I'm not cold anymore.”

Tommy held out the jacket to him. Buck was indeed cold—he felt as if there was an icicle stuck in his stomach.

“Please put that back on,” he said, fumbling for his phone again. There was still no signal, and they were nowhere near the cabin.

“Hm?” Tommy went. He looked down at himself, then at the sky; for a moment, he seemed utterly confused. Then, he just plopped down onto the snow.

“What are you doing?” Buck grabbed Tommy's shoulders. They felt strangely stiff, and the icicle inside his guts only seemed to grow larger. “You need to get up. We have to keep going. Come on, I'll help you.”

Everything about Tommy now seemed rigid; it was as if Buck was trying to move a rock, downright terrifying. His thoughts were spinning. You’re a first responder, you know what to do, he told himself. But his inner voice didn't sound as encouraging as he would have liked, because it just wasn’t that easy. He knew they needed help as soon as possible, warmth, an ambulance, oxygen—everything that wasn't available right now, but that wasn't the problem.

Buck was used to stressful situations, but right now, fear was almost paralyzing him, and he couldn’t understand it. He was a maker, functioning under pressure, finding solutions, but… Suddenly, he realized that he felt like a relative. Like someone who was getting in the way of rescue because they cared too much for the patient. Buck certainly had feared for his loved ones before, but never like this, and it sent him into shock. The only one who could free him from it was himself, and fast – for Tommy.

“Listen,” he said, kneeling beside Tommy and putting his jacket back around the man’s shoulders; he had to hold it in place because he kept trying to pull it off. “We're both used to saving people. But sometimes we need help too, okay? That’s fine.”

“Hm?” Tommy looked at him with a unsteady gaze. “Evan?”

“Yes, exactly. Listen, Tommy, I’ll tell you what we're going to do.”

Buck pulled Tommy up. He had given up resisting, but probably not because he understood the seriousness of his situation. Buck feared that, on the contrary, he’d already reached a dangerous stage of hypothermia. Tommy’s breathing was shallow, his eyes glassy—how was he going to get the man to the cabin? One thing at a time. Buck grabbed Tommy around the waist, pulling him along. Tommy stumbled forward, and Buck supported him. It would take forever, but he could do it. He had to.

Once, long ago, somewhere between construction worker and bartender, Buck had briefly pushed wheelchairs in a hospital and walked people who had spent a long time in bed. Tommy hadn't forgotten how to walk, but he seemed unwilling to do so. No—rather, it seemed as if everything about him had frozen, as if the ice-cold water and air had slowed him down. He moved almost in slow motion, and Buck, who regularly checked Tommy's pulse, realized that it felt the same. Whatever that meant, he had to banish those thoughts from his mind for as long as possible.

Buck kept checking his phone—nothing, still. He caught himself starting to babble, as he often did when he was nervous. Tommy had always been the only one to never interrupt him, to listen patiently to sometimes endless ramblings. But he also always had the means to interrupt Buck from letting his thoughts spiral out of control. Right now, he couldn’t do that. Tommy’s apathy was so uncharacteristic that Buck felt panic rising.

“We're almost there,” he muttered, more to himself than to Tommy, “we’re gonna make it. Keep going, yes, like that. I'll get you back, and then you'll be warm again, I promise.”

Tommy didn't answer; he hadn't responded for minutes. Whatever had spurred him on, it suddenly seemed gone. Slumping against Buck’s grip, he collapsed.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Much later, Buck would wonder why all his panic had vanished at that moment, making room for an almost eerie calm. Even though the situation had only gotten worse, he was functioning again; the firefighter gene seemed too deeply ingrained in him.

He let Tommy slide into the snow, felt his pulse—still slow and arrhythmic, as far as he could tell—and lifted one of his eyelids. The pupil was extremely dilated, and he had no idea what that meant. It wasn't good, anyway. Buck tapped Tommy gently on the cheeks. “Hey, come on. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Tommy didn't respond. Against his better jugdment, Buck pulled out his phone once more, but they still weren’t close enough. No signal. He cursed under his breath, checking his watch. Somewhere behind those snow-covered trees to the north was the cabin. If he’d calculated it correctly, it was perhaps another three-quarters of an hour to get there. In about thirty minutes, his phone might be able to connect to the nearest cell tower. Looking down at Tommy, Buck realized he needed to get him out of the snow, and fast, and there only seemed to be one option left. He took a deep breath, as if he could inhale determination, and watched his breath steam in the cold air as he exhaled. Then, he slid his arms under Tommy’s shoulders, crouched down and pulled him halfway up before finally hoisting his boyfriend onto his shoulder. With a grunt, he stood up, steadying his precious cargo.

“Just a bag of cement,” he said aloud as he stepped forward slowly, trying to keep his balance. Tommy was heavy, but it was all a matter of the right mindset. “Did I ever tell you that I used to work on construction sites? They always liked to get the young guys when there was something heavy to carry. Of course, there were rules, like using hand trucks or a harness, stuff like that, but they only enforced them when the owners or architects were on site. Otherwise, everything had to be done quickly, so we just threw the bags over our shoulders. Got me a hell of a lot of muscles after a couple of weeks...”

Tommy was wet and clammy and heavy, and he was anything but a sack of cement, but right now, Buck couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about his shallow breathing, his pale face, his bluish skin, or his irregular pulse. Buck thought only of each step he took, because each step brought Tommy closer to safety.

He walked on almost mechanically, one foot in front of the other, balancing the weight on his shoulders. With one hand he clutched Tommy's body, with the other he checked his cell phone again and again.

“Do you know the story of Leslie Allen?” Buck knew he was talking to himself. But if that was what kept him going, if that was what kept Tommy alive... “He was an Australian stretcher bearer at the Battle of Tambu during World War II. Two American colleagues had been killed while trying to retrieve their wounded. But Leslie Allen went onto the battlefield as if the bullets couldn't touch him; he picked them up one by one and carried them to safety. Twelve men."

The trees in front of Buck thinned out. He squinted. Was that... was that the roof of the cabin back there? He quickened his pace.

“I figured,” he said, holding the phone up, “if he carried twelve men one after the other, I can take on one stubborn guy. You certainly owe me a shoulder massage afterwards, Tommy, right? Because I... shit!”

He almost dropped the phone: two bars, finally. Not much, but it would do. Buck frantically pressed the emergency button.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As the path widened, Buck could now actually see the roof of the cabin. Just a few more minutes and he’d be there, the car was right around the corner, they’d be fine, right?

“911, what's your emergency?”

Buck had never been so happy to hear a voice. In a staccato tone, he gave their location and an update on Tommy's condition; it all came out almost automatically as his mind was preoccupied with getting closer to the car. He could already see the chrome of Tommy's truck bumper glinting in the sun.

“All right, sir, stay calm, help is on the way.” The guy in dispatch gave his spiel, his voice calm and authoritative. “Get your partner into the warmth, somewhere dry. If possible, remove his wet clothing and wrap him in blankets. But no hot water bottles, and please don't try to warm him up by rubbing his skin.”

Buck trudged grimly through the snow. “Don't worry,” he replied, “I know that much, I'm a firefighter.”

“You're a firefighter?”

“Evan Buckley, LAFD, Station 118.”

“Oh,” said the other man. From the sympathetic tone of his voice, Buck could almost hear what he was thinking. The station that lost its captain. Word got around among first responders, and they weren't far from L.A., after all. But Buck had no time for sympathy right now, nor did he want to relive the grief that had been a part of him for months. Bobby was dead, there was no changing that, but he would save Tommy. He had to.

“Listen, how long until backup arrives?” he asked.

“The nearest department is twenty minutes from your location,” said the dispatcher. “In the off-season, the roads are usually empty, so maybe fifteen.”

“That's too much, can’t wait for them,” Buck replied. “I'll drive out to meet the ambulance.”

“Sir...”

To his credit, the man on the other end didn't try to talk Buck out of it; he was probably consulting with his superiors. In any case, Buck had no intention of waiting that long. Tommy's car wasn't locked; after all, the whole point of this trip had been to spend a few days in seclusion – this wasn’t exactly a tourist spot, and a snow goat was hardly likely to break into the vehicle.

Buck wedged the phone between his teeth and hoisted Tommy into the back seat. Perhaps the most sensible thing to do would have been to take him to the cabin, strip him of his wet clothes, and wrap him in blankets, but Buck had that… feeling that made all his nerves tingle. Everything inside of him screamed that he couldn't waste any more time. Yes, Tommy was robust, an athletic and healthy man. But he was so pale, his skin was almost translucent now, and his lips and fingers had taken on a concerning blue color. Buck suppressed the urge to squeeze those fingers. He felt around Tommy's clammy pockets – of course he had the car keys with him, the man was always prepared. Maybe it was just a reflex, but right now Buck was pretty grateful for it, just like he was for the car, because it had park heating. He quickly reached between the front seats to turn it on.

“All right, sir,” dispatch reported, causing Buck to quickly reach for his phone again, “take the road south of Barrett Canyon until it meets Mt. Baldy Road. It's just a short mile. Wait there for the fire department, okay?”

Buck mechanically checked Tommy's pulse. “Alright, fine,“ he replied. “I... damn it.”

”Sir?“

”I-I can't feel a pulse."

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The dispatcher said something, maybe he was explaining what to do. Buck didn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. He knew what to do, and now, he was just functioning. He tossed his phone onto the front seat. Half squeezed into the footwell of the truck, his knees in the melting snow, Buck crossed his hands, pressing them down on Tommy's chest.

“You’re-not-doing-this,” he panted as his hands performed a mechanical, well-practiced rhythm. „You won’t leave me, you’re perfectly healthy man… just a little wet and cold, nothing that can't be fixed. Besides, the fire department will be here shortly. Are you listening to me? If I break one of your ribs, it'll be your own fault, you hear me?"

A drop fell on Tommy's cold, motionless face. Great, now it's starting to rain again, Buck thought, until he realized they were in the car. Defiantly, he frantically wiped his eyes, then held two fingers against Tommy's neck. Still nothing. He pressed down on his chest again, counting in his head.

Aloud, he said, “A fresh start. That's what you said, wasn't it? No more of this on-off relationship, no more rom-com misunderstandings. This time, it's for real. Maybe forever. Okay, you didn't say that, but I thought it, Tommy. I thought it. And I wanted to tell you. Maybe not after this weekend, but...”

He paused and pressed his mouth to Tommy's blue lips, suppressing the thought that they were cold as a corpse's. He blew air into Tommy's lungs twice, or at least he hoped it got there. Hope was all he had left now, wasn't it? It was so damn unfair. Buck didn't know if what he was feeling was actually anger or sheer desperation, but whatever it was, it drove the rhythm his hands were drumming on Tommy's chest.

“It was just a little ice. The water wasn't even deep, it wasn't a lake, you said yourself there's no lake, just topography. A glitch in the matrix. But you don't die from that, you hear me? I won't let you. I don't want this to–”

There. Was that a movement, or just his imagination? A twitch, perhaps, or just something you see out of the corner of your eye, like a blink? Buck pressed his fingers against Tommy's throat. In the desperate need of a miracle, he held his breath.

Thump. - Pause - Thump.

Buck counted. After a minute, he exhaled as if emerging from the depths. Less than 60 beats, too few, but at least something.

“That's it,” he gasped. “Keep breathing, you hear me? We have to...”

“Sir?”

Buck had completely forgotten about the phone. He quickly fumbled around on the front seat, grabbed it, and yelled, “I have a pulse again! When will the ambulance be here?”

“They’re two min–”

The phone slipped out of Buck's cold, wet hands: Tommy's eyelids fluttered.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

“Tommy,” he whispered. His phone fell under the back seat, but it didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now but this: a little flutter, a soft twitch. Life. Buck gently and carefully took Tommy's face between his hands, providing just a little bit of body heat. “Hang in there a little longer, okay? I'm sure they'll be here any minute. He said the road should be clear. It's a piece of cake, they...”

Tommy slowly opened his eyes. His pupils were still large, his gaze unfocused.

“Cold,” he muttered as his eyelids snapped shut once more.

“I know,” said Buck, his voice taking on a soothing tone.

The unnatural warmth of the park heating made the air in the car stuffy, but at least it wasn't quite so cold anymore, even though the door was still open. Nevertheless, he pulled his sweater over his head, placing it somewhat awkwardly over Tommy's chest like an oversized band-aid made out of love.

“You'll be fine, okay? You'll warm up again, I promise. Breathe easy. That's good, like that. Just stay with me.”

His fingers gently stroked Tommy's cheeks, as if he could bring color back to them with just his touch and his will. Tommy muttered something unintelligible.

“Shh,” Buck said, surprised to find that he wasn't stuttering, hadn’t been in a while, actually. “Just lie still. I won't go anywhere.”

It was pointless to meet the first responders on the street now, and above all, Buck would have had to let go of Tommy. The thought of getting behind the wheel and not being able to keep an eye on his breathing was terrifying. If it were up to Buck, he would sit here forever, holding Tommy's hand and watching his chest rise and fall. What a feeling. How strange to feel happy when the situation was dire.

“... either,” Tommy muttered.

Buck brushed a few wet strands of hair from his pilot’s forehead; then, following an impulse, he leaned forward and kissed the damp, incredibly cold skin. He wondered if Tommy even felt it, quickly dismissing the thought. They’d be safe soon.

“Sure,” he said in the kind of tone they used with patients; it didn't matter if they understood what you said, as long as someone was holding their hand. But Tommy frowned, cranking his eyes open with effort.

“No,” he whispered. “Listen.”

Sirens could now be heard in the distance, and Buck couldn't imagine a more beautiful sound. Or a more beautiful sight than Tommy, the corners of whose mouth turned upward. It was a crooked, almost ethereal smile, but it was beautiful. The smile of a man who wasn't quite himself, but who had an important, urgent message he needed to get across. And after that, Buck knew, even before the words were spoken, everything would be fine. This time for real.

“’M not leaving either. Never again.”

#writing #fanfiction #my fics #bucktommy #bucktommywhumpweek #tevan #kinley #whump #whump fic #hypothermia #whump community #evan buckley #Tommy Kinard #Tommy Kinard Whump

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midnight-mourning · 4 months ago

Text

Above & Beyond

💘💘Midnight's DCA Valentine's Day 12💘💘

Sorry for being late! Had many things going on, but here it is now! Others will be released over next day or so ^^

Prompt: OMG MIDNIGHT REQUEST TIME 🙌 ok hear me out- the boys going ALL OUT for valentines. im talking balloons, chocolates, flowers, cards, plushies, you name it! Just to show their sweet lil y/n some love ❤️

Word Count: 1651

Read here if you prefer ao3!

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

You're a bit surprised when you walk into the Daycare for work a week before Valentine's. Overnight it's completely transformed from how you left yesterday evening. Red and pink decorations hang all around. Streamers, hearts, even bits of confetti and the likes.

You could barely register that they were Valentine's decorations before Sun is bounding over to you, with a laugh.

"Hello, Sweetstar! What do you think?" He gestures to the rest of the Daycare, then places his hands on his hips with a nod. "Just perfect for the holiday, right?"

As he moves you take notice of something moving up on his head, and see he's modified one of those headbands that have the spring hearts on them to fit around his faceplate. Additionally, there's bits of glitter on his rays, and several heart stickers all along his torso and arms. Courtesy of the kids if you had to take a guess.

You giggle, setting down your bag. "I think it's lovely Sun. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all."

"What for? We have to be ready for the big day!"

You shrug, digging in your bag for your nametag and then putting it on with a quick adjustment. "I guess I've just never been that much into Valentine's so I never thought to do anything like decorating or such."

"You don't like Valentine's Day?" Sun exclaims, shock evident in his tone.

You put your hands up in defense. "No, no. I think it's a fine holiday, I've just not celebrated it really."

"W-why not?! It's the best holiday of the whole year!"

You walk past him, snatching up your clipboard off the desk to start going through your checklist for the day. "Don't you say that about every holiday?" You tease.

You weren't wrong, from Halloween, to Christmas, to even President's Day, both attendants always claimed it to be their favorite. You think they just didn't have a favorite, or that their programming made them enjoy them all equally.

Sun steps in front of you, bending down to your level. "But this one's different."

"Oh, and why's that?"

His rays spin, eyes upturned crescents. "You'll see." He stands straight again, clapping his hands together. "Don't you worry, Starshine! We'll make this the best Valentine's you've ever had!"

"Alright bud, if you say so." You chuckle.

He waits another moment, then looks around and scoops something up off the desk behind you. He presents you with your own heart-themed headband, setting it snugly on your head with a quick pat.

The gesture makes the heat rise to your cheeks, and you cough.

"There! Now we match~"

You nod. "Y-yeah. Sure do."

You quickly learned what Sun meant by 'best Valentine's ever'.

It was simple at first, little cards left around the Daycare in places on you would find them. Sometimes with a flower or piece of candy with it. If one of the children hadn't found it first, that is.

During naptime, you'd find little drawings addressed to you, slipped in between the pages of the books. Or a rogue stuffed animal wearing Valentine's attire or the likes. Not to mention the little whispered compliments Moon would say as he passed you by while patrolling, causing you to blush every time.

"Your eyes sparkle in the low light, Valentine."

"You should where that shirt more often, it's a good look for you, Star."

"You told today's story perfectly, Moonbeam. You have such a lovely voice, you know."

They upped the ante as the week went along, a whole massive bouquet of flowers one day, multiple boxes of chocolate the next. Dozens of balloons greeting you as you enter the Daycare, a massive plushie cradled in your arms as you leave. Everyday leading up to the day itself was filled with gifts and doting to the point you were almost overwhelmed.

You appreciated it all very much, it was just, a lot. Especially after never having received treatment like this before. You just simply didn't know what to do with it all. Not to mention all the things they'd say while gifting you one thing after another.

It flustered you beyond belief and you couldn't tell if they were being serious or not. Sure, you know it was in part because they wanted you to enjoy the holiday, but that wasn't all of it, right? There had to be something more there, it would crush you if there wasn't.

Regardless, you felt like you needed to pay them back at the very least for taking so much time and effort to do so much for you.

So, the night before Valentine's you sat down and made them a gift of your own. It was silly, and not nearly as good as all the things they'd made you, but it was just as much from the heart. You think that was enough.

When you walk inside for work the next morning, nothing seems amiss. Surprisingly, or rather suspiciously, there's no gift waiting for you on the desk or near where you put your bag.

However, you do notice the cheeky, secretive attitude that both Sun and Moon have as the day goes along. So you know they must be plotting something, you're just not sure as to what.

You're on edge all day because of it, even during the Valentine's party for the kids. During which Sun even spins you into a dance, making the kids laugh and your cheeks burn. Moon also steals you for a dance before naptime as well, You had thought that would be the end of it, but they still act off throughout the remainder of the day.

It's only when the last child says goodbye for the day do you get to know what's going on. Right as the door shuts Sun is whisking you away, up into their room. Before you can enter, his hands cover your eyes.

"No peeking... It's a surprise~" Sun chuckles, guiding you into the space.

You laugh. "Okay, okay. I'm surprised you guys haven't gotten tired of them by now."

"How could we get tired, they've been so much fun!" You stop moving, his other hand rests on your shoulder. "Alright, are you ready?"

You hum.

"Surprise!"

Sun uncovers your eyes, and you're in awe to find their room decorated to the nines. Soft, pink light envelops the space, with slow music quietly playing from somewhere in the room.

Their bed has half a dozen heart pillows or plushies on it—doubling their collection—and you see a table set up for two just a bit behind it. The smell of pizza makes you hungry, along with the other snacks also included in the spread.

But the entire scene makes you realize something. Well, two somethings rather.

You glance up to Sun, who's still bouncing on his feet, waiting for your approval. "I, is, is this a date?"

"Of course, silly! What else would it be?" Sun takes your hand, pulling you over to sit down. "Now, we think that once you eat, you can watch a movie with Moon, and then you and I can make a craft together and—"

You dig your heels into the ground. "Wait!"

Sun immediately pauses. "Is, something wrong?"

"I, not exactly." You run a hand through your hair. "I guess I'm um, surprised to hear this is a date, is all. I mean, don't get me wrong, I really really like you both, it's just a lot to take in." You remember what else you'd wanted to say. "Oh! And also, I um, had something for you guys, too. To say thanks, for all of this. And also just because um, I wanted to."

You search in your pocket, digging out your—slightly crumpled—card that you'd made. It was one of those silly fold out ones that you'd made by scratch, but you think it turned out okay. You present it to Sun, nervous as ever.

You can't look him in the eye because of your nerves, so the growing silence while you wait for him to take it starts to get you.

Suddenly you hear a click and the lights dim. What follows are several more clicks and a quiet chuckle.

"Sun was a bit, overwhelmed. But I'll happily take your card, Star." Moon takes it from your hands. "You didn't have to—"

At his hesitation you glance up, seeing he's stock still as he reads over your message.

You start to let doubt creep in. "I, sorry I know it's not the best but um—"

"This is best gift we've ever received."

Before you can react, Moon is picking you up and holding you tight, faceplate pressing into your shoulder with a quiet giggle.

"Thank you. We'll treasure it forever."

You beat your fists against his back, playfully of course. "Nooo, it's so bad, I did my best but it's bad—hey!"

Moon is pressing kisses to your neck as he spins around with you. After a moment setting you down in the chair at the table.

"It's perfect, because you made it for us." Moon cups your cheek, then presses his smile to your lips before pulling away to sit down across from you.

You grumble in response, shaking your head once before taking a bite of your—heart-shaped—pizza.

"We're curious. Why was a Valentine's date so surprising to you?" Moon asks across from you.

You shrug. "I mean, I thought you guys liked me but I wasn't sure so it was a pleasant surprise, but still."

"Starlight we've been dating for at least six months. Or at least, we thought so? Did, you not—oh stars." Moon's hands cover his faceplate as it spins.

The action makes you almost choke as your burst out laughing, in disbelief but also adoration.

You can't deny, it probably was the best Valentine's Day you've ever had.

And you can't wait to spent the rest of it with them.

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank you @milosmantis for the cute request! I thought having a little bit of a twist to it would make it extra wholesome hehe

My writing Masterpost

DCA Valentine's Masterpost

Tag list (if you would like added, simply say so!):

@machopeach @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay @that-one-unknown-artist @rosescarletful @buzzybee3

#fnaf dca #fnaf sun #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #dca fic #x reader #mm dca valentine's #writing requests #midnight mutterings #the ideas came to me in visions ngl #but i enjoy them very much hehe #i have enjoyed all the silly fluff I've been writing #but i can't WAIT to post day 13 #i shant say more #but #be on the lookout :)c

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mxstellatayte · 1 year ago

Text

next door kind of love.

warnings: none, just some childhood best friends to lovers and tooth-rotting fluff. make your dentist's appointments now yall.

growing up living next door to the sargeants was an interesting experience. your parents were friends, having bonded when logan's parents moved in a few months after your own parents had. then, a few years later, they had dalton. just over a month after dalton's first birthday, you came along, and then eight months after you, on new year's eve, logan was born.

the three of you were inseparable as you grew up. you'd accompany them to their races and they'd support you at your roller derby tournaments. they would find a new way to climb the tree in your back yard and you would set a time record for climbing that route. the three of you had more inside jokes than you could count, made up more backyard games than anyone could ever begin to comprehend, and trusted each other beyond the ends of the earth.

when the sargeants moved to switzerland, though, you were crushed. sure, their plan was to only stay for two years, but those two years started to feel like an unbearable eternity after just the first month.

"mama," you said, a bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich in your mouth, "i miss logie and dalt. when are they coming back?"

"not for a long time, honey. i'm sure they'll come visit, though. how about we call them and see how they're doing?"

your face lit up. "yeah! can we call them now? can we can we can we?"

your mother smiled and shook her head, the papers surrounding her full of confusing numbers and big words like "homeowner's insurance" and "disability pension application."

"maybe, honey. we'll have to see what time works for them. first, though, i need you to finish your lunch, strawberries and all. can you do that for me?"

"sure, mama."

lo and behold, two years had passed, and the sargeants were almost back to florida. your father had the idea of surprising them at the airport, so you'd made a giant sign that said "WELCOME BACK SARGEANTS!" in bright blue magic marker. after selecting a spot you deemed visible enough, you craned your neck every time a new flow of passengers exited, hoping to see your best friends. every time you caught a flash of what might've been one of them, your heart skipped a beat, but when you finally saw dalton, logan, and their parents, it felt like you were on the moon.

you mustered up as much air into your thirteen-year-old lungs as you could and screamed.

"DALTON! LOGAN!"

every head in the airport whipped around to you, but you couldn't care less. your two best friends were running full speed at you, suitcases abandoned with their parents, and you couldn't stop smiling. you're slammed by the tightest hug you've ever experienced and you might be seeing stars from your ribs being crushed but that doesn't matter when you finally have dalton and logan back with you in florida.

you're muttering so many "i missed you"s and "i couldn't wait to see you guys"s and "i have so much to tell you"s into them, and it feels like forever before you guys let go of each other.

"you guys ready to get out of here?"

when logan won the karting championship in 2015, you'd never screamed louder. you were the first person he looked for after the race and the person he hugged the tightest.

when you made it to the top roller derby league in your area, he was the first person to congratulate you, and he brought you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers- baby breath, white tulips, and jasmine.

as logan worked his way up through the different levels of formula racing, you'd always manage to stay up to all hours of the night to watch him race or even send him a simple "good luck" text.

when he told you he'd been admitted to the williams driver academy, you almost tackled him to the ground with how much force you hugged him with. "i'm so happy for you," you said, repeated like a mantra.

"and guess what?"

"there's more?" you pulled back from the hug, looking up at him.

"i get to do a post-season test drive in abu dhabi."

"what?!" the smile on your face is not only from pride, but now also shock. "lo, are you serious? that's amazing! when did you find out?"

"maybe..." he checks his watch, eyes looking up. "five minutes ago?"

"wait. did you tell your parents? and dalt?" he hesitates, a blush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks. you can't help but think, even for an instant, that it's... kind of cute?

"logan hunter sargeant, did you tell me before you told your parents?"

"i might have..." the scowl on your face deepens, and you pull away from him, remove the house slipper you're wearing, and whack him across the head with it.

"out of my house! go over to your own and tell your parents, your literal givers of life, that you're driving a fucking formula one car! out! out with you!" you wave him out of your front door and watch with a smile on your face as he runs back to his own home, laughing when he trips over himself and falls into the grass. a few minutes later, you hear dan and madelyn scream with joy.

"my best friend is going to drive a formula one car," you say to the wind. "holy shit."

a bit over a year later, when logan signs with williams to drive with them in 2023, he still tells you before his parents.

the tuesday after the austin grand prix, a new post on your private instagram account appears. its location is tagged as the circuit of the americas and the caption reads "one of the perks of your best friend being a formula 1 driver is getting to go to austin and get paddock passes for free. the other is getting to spend the weekend with your best friend."

in may of 2024, logan brings you to the miami grand prix. at the end of the race, you are the first person he looks for. you are the person he hugs the tightest. you are the person to tell him that it wasn't his fault that he crashed and he did everything he could. you are the person whose shoulder he cries into and the person who gently holds his face and wipes his tears away with your thumbs.

you are the person to stand on your tip toes to place a kiss to his lips, the salty taste of his tears reaching your own lips. you are the person he sees when he opens his eyes and, when you backpedal in the slightest bit, you are the person he pulls closer and kisses like he means it.

you are the only person that hears when he says that he's loved you since you surprised him at the airport when they came back from switzerland. you are the only person that hears him say that it's always been you that he's loved, that he's never seen anyone else besides you.

and he is the only one that hears you say that you love him, too.

#formula 1 #mxstellatayte #f1 #formula 1 fluff #driver: ls2.#logan sargeant fluff #logan sargeant fanfiction #logan sargeant imagine #stella writez #f1 fluff #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #drabble

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whoops-all-jennas · 5 months ago

Text

Past Lives pt. 10

Wednesday x witch!reader

"I've got this strangest feeling."

"This isn't our first time around."

Summary: You and Wednesday try to prevent the Hyde from stealing the mayor's body.

Warning: Descriptions of blood and injury, specifically cut injuries

I find myself staring out my window, the pitter patter of raindrops being the only sound besides my thoughts.

Wednesday told me the mayor was investigating the Gates Mansion yesterday when she was there. He was on the way to tell the sheriff something before he was hit by a car.

Of course, someone discovers too much and they get killed.

My thoughts are interrupted by Wednesday opening the door. "Hey Wednesday, the funeral was faster than I imagined."

Wednesday puts her umbrella up before looking back at me. "Whenever the dirt hits the coffin I'm gone."

Wednesday takes a few steps towards me. "Tonight we'll stake his grave. They will pay for what they did to Eugene."

I find myself dazed under her statement, my heart rate accelerating at the thought of having to use the death curse on anyone or anything. I push back my anxiety, forcing a nod in response.

"We need to talk about the books they stole from us Wednesday."

Wednesday is silent for a moment. "What is there to talk about?"

I sigh, a bit of my stress carried in my air. "More specifically, the book of curses. If they can perform magic we're in serious danger with that book. That is if they haven't memorized some of the spells from it already."

"We'll deal with this before it's an issue." Wednesday states, naively. "What spells should we look out for from the book?"

I sigh again, looking at the ground. "First there's the spell you told me study, the death curse. That one's kinda self explanatory."

I look up to find Wednesday's eager eyes on me, thirsty for more information. "Next one is the imperious curse, it makes the caster in total control of whomever the spell was cast upon. Some times, if the will power of the castee is strong enough they can fight back the curse. Which is where this last curse comes in."

I'm silent for a moment, the anxiety of the power the enemy now holds settling in further. "Lastly, the torture curse. This one is also self explanatory, it causes an excruciating pain all over the castee. It's also used on people under the imperious curse to attempt to destroy their will."

Wednesday looks to the side, letting the information sink into her brain. Her eyes soon find mine again. "We won't give them a chance to perform these spells."

She looks at me with confidence and reassurance in her eyes. "Tonight, we'll end this."

I look down from Wednesday's eyes to find the necklace I gave her around her neck.

"There's someone else we have to deal with before tonight." I say, meeting her eyes again.

The sun is beginning to go beyond the horizon. My fist meets the wood on Xavier's door, soon met by Xavier on the other side.

"Hey Y/n, what's up?" Xavier gives me a slightly anxious look.

"Hey, uh. Can I come in?"

He stares dumbfounded for a minute. "Oh, yeah! Sure." Xavier takes a step back, giving me space to walk past him before closing the door. "Did you think about my apology?"

I'm silent for a moment, finding a seat on Xavier's bed. "I haven't come to a conclusion yet." My eyes meet Xavier's.

"So, why'd you come here then?"

I take a deep breath. "Wednesday and I want to ask you a couple questions about your latest vision."

Xavier looks to the ground for a moment. "I uh, yeah I can do that. Where's Wednesday?"

"We want to discuss it at your art studio if that's alright" I ask, my voice shaky.

Xavier examines my state for a moment. "Are you okay?"

I quickly nod. "I've just been anxious about why I've been banned from leaving the school." I lie through my teeth. "Wednesday is waiting for us at your art studio."

Xavier examines me one more time, his eyes looking me up and down. "Shouldn't keep her waiting I guess."

Xavier opens the door to his art studio to find Wednesday set up a chair and cooler full of a random assortment of snacks and drinks.

Xavier quickly turns around, confusion in his voice. "Y/n whats-"

"I'm sorry, Xavier." I pull out my wand, pointing it at him. "Stupefy."

A red light emits from my wand, the projectile hitting Xavier in the torso. He falls backwards in the art studio unconscious.

I sigh while putting the wand away. "Let's get this over with."

Wednesday and I struggle to drag his lanky body fully inside the art studio, leaving the light on as we lock him inside.

Wednesday and I are hiding behind two different tombstones. I look at my watch, reading the time is 12:30. My heart rates accelerates as the time comes closer, having lost slight control of my breathing.

The chirping of crickets fill the air, soon gone silent in the presence of vicious footsteps entering the cemetery.

Wednesday looks at me expectingly. I stand, my legs shaking as I reach for my wand with a trembling hand.

I'm a good 20-30 feet behind the Hyde, it's already digging in front of the mayor's fresh grave. It flings the dirt behind him, landing near my feet. The fog met with the light of the full moon creates an ominous atmosphere.

I point my wand at it, unable to keep my wand steady.

I go to shout at it, my voice restricting itself along with my airway.

More dirt flies by my feet, soon followed by Wednesday's voice. "What are you doing?!"

The sound of scratching on wood fills the air. The Hyde turns around to find me standing there, pointing my trembling wand at him.

My vision starts to get blurry as my eyes become glossy. Why can't I do it? "I- I-" My voice is trembling with anxiety.

"A- avada. A-a-" I find the incantation impossible to utter, a tear streaming down my face.

The Hyde starts to ignore me, the cracking of wood filling the chilled air as it breaks through the casket.

"Y/n! Do it!" I hear Wednesday shout, muffled by my thoughts.

The Hyde pulls the mayor's body from the grave, looking at me one more time before turning away to run. The sound of his footsteps fading as the crickets return.

I tightly grasp my wand in both of my hands, bringing it close to my chest, feeling the anxious beat of my heart worsen. "I couldn't do it." I utter quietly to myself, looking at the now comfortable looking ground.

Wednesday quickly stands, running to me. "Y/n what happened."

Her steps slow down as I drop down to my knees, my sobs taking dominance over the chirping of the crickets.

"Y/n?" Wednesday asks in a worried tone.

"I couldn't do it." I say between sobs, the tears meeting at my chin before dripping to find my trembling hands. "It hurt so many people, and I couldn't do it."

Wednesday is silent for a moment, finding her way in front of me. She's looking down upon me. "I'm sorry Y/n, I shouldn't have ask-"

"Why couldn't I do it?!" I my neck straining from suddenly looking up to see her face, my voice trembling between the sobs. "Why, I don't-" I find myself lost for words.

Wednesday kneels before me, putting her hands on my clenched ones. She slowly pulls my hands away from my chest, resting them on my legs. "Do you remember when we first met?"

I find myself silent, returning to reality at the sound of Wednesday's stoic yet comforting voice. "You healed a small cut on my forehead, even though you never met me."

Wednesday gently prys at my tightened grip around my wand, starting with my index finger. "And then in the woods, when you saved Eugene's life."

My brain remembers that night vividly at the mention of him. Wednesday is now prying at my ring and pinky fingers.

"If it wasn't for you, he likely would have died." The sound of my wand landing on the dirt reaches my ears, as Wednesday loosened my grip.

Wednesday stares at my red hands, tense from gripping the wand so tightly. "It's your hands, they're not meant to kill."

I find the tears rekindling, my red puffy eyes tensely closing.

"They're meant to give life. I'm sorry I asked you to do this"

I find the sobs uncontrollable, practically shouting into the wind as Wednesday grabs my hands. I throw my head into her chest, met with her arms moving to hold me comfortingly.

I wake up on the ground of my art studio, my head throbbing. I sit up, resting my head on my hand. "Ugh, what the."

I soon stand, wobbling back and forth trying to restabilize my footing. I nearly fall as I approach the door, finding it locked on the other side.

"You can't be serious." I utter to myself, pulling my phone out. I scroll through my contacts before finding Bianca. I stare at the icon I set of her for a second before calling.

"What do you want?" I'm instantly greeted with Bianca's remark.

I take a deep breath. "Y/n snuck out."

"What?! Where to?!" Bianca asks, worried about how Weems is going to act.

I find myself staring at the painting. "I have an idea. I think we should tell Weems, she'll know what-"

"I think you're insane." Bianca overly announces the I. "If she knows we failed, she'll personally disband the Nightshades."

"I think whatever reason Weems is trying to keep Y/n on school grounds is probably more important than our roof parties and virgin drinks." I state sarcastically.

Bianca takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment. "Where are you now?"

I hold Y/n close, her tears running dry. "Are you ready?"

You nod, grabbing your wand off the ground before standing.

"I hope I'm not interrupting your date."

Y/n and I turn towards the voice to find Tyler at the entrance of the cemetery. You rub your eyes in an attempt to wipe any forgotten tears.

I see an opportunity to make something useful out of tonight. "Tyler, we need you to take us to the Gate's Mansion."

I find you standing next to me with a new found courage at my words.

Tyler looks at us for a moment, biting his tongue as he weighs his options. He sighs. "That wasn't really a request was it?"

We start to walk towards him till we're a few feet in front of him. "Where's your car?"

The engine cuts off, parking in front of the Gate's Mansion.

We all get out of the car simultaneously, approaching the garage door.

You pulled out your wand, making a circular motion with your wrist as you point it at the doorknob. "Alohamora."

You went to turn the knob, met with rattling. "It's stuck."

I approach from behind, You give me space as I try to force the door open. The door doesn't budge.

"Let me try." Tyler states, before shaking the door with full force. Still nothing.

"We'll probably have to find a different way in." He says, as you pull your wand back out.

"Step back." You point your wand at the door as we follow your demand.

"Bombarda!" You shout, met with a loud explosion on the door, forcing it open. You walk inside with Tyler and I following behind you.

I take the tarp off the car in the garage. "This is the car that hit the mayor." I state flatly.

"This just took a dark turn." Tyler says, looking between both of us for a moment. "I didn't sign up for this."

"Feel free to wait in the car." I state, before heading to the door that leads inside the house.

You have your wand emitting a light from the end to light the hallway. The house is decorated with cobwebs and dust, the only other light being the pale moonlight of the full moon through the dirty windows. "This is the night I'm gonna die." Tyler says as we find our way to our first room to investigate.

We end up in the study. The room lacks any windows and is decorated with animal head mounts on the walls, cobwebs between the antlers of the deer heads.

I find my way to the bookshelf, inspecting every inch under my flashlight for any sign of disturbance over the dust. I point the flashlight up to notice a square design at the top of the bookshelf is clean.

I push the design, it caves inward with the sound of gears shifting. The noise of wood scratching against the floor fills the room as a hidden door is opened.

Behind the bookshelf reveals a shrine dedicated to Joseph Crackstone. Next to the painting of him it says in red text on the wall.

THE MOON WILL BLEED

WHEN I RISE

Y/n and I make eye contact for a moment with Tyler behind us. "Who doesn't have a family alter in their study?" Tyler says sarcastically.

"Ours is in the living room." I say before touching the wick of a candle. "It's still warm."

I find a necklace in front of the painting. I grab it, instantly met with the feeling of electricity coursing through my veins. You catch me as I fall back, entering a vision.

I find myself on the soft grass within an old cemetery. The full moon lighting the scene. There are people in pilgrim attire and masks surrounding a casket with some sort of runic marks on the floor surrounding it.

I look to the side to find Elsie hanging on a hook by the rope tied around her wrists. Her white hair flowing in the wind.

The figures start to place jars of body parts on top of the runic symbols until all the runic marks are covered.

"Draw her blood." One of the masked figures state. Another one unsheathes a dagger before approaching Elsie's vulnerable figure.

"Please don't-" I hear her cries, unable to do anything. The man grabs her legs, sliding a big cut across it. Her blood streaks down her leg, staining her clothes.

"Stop, please!" Elsie cries through her winces of pain.

He lifts the dagger, before starting another cut down her other leg.

She releases a bloodcurdling scream, unable to contain her pain anymore. Crows flock at the sudden exclamation.

One of the figures grabs a cloth, wrapping it around her mouth muzzling her. "It'll be easier if you bite." He says.

The man with the dagger has now given her multiple cuts on her legs, the blood pooling to her bare feet. The blood trickles to a bucket beneath her.

He draws the dagger to her arms next, gliding the dagger across her skin. Elsie's screams of pain are muffled by the cloth in her mouth, drenched in her saliva.

After cutting on both arms equally, the blood staining her white bed dress, he leaves one more cut on her arm as the pale light of the moon shifts into an ominous deep red.

The light illuminates the foggy graveyard, giving everything a blood red glow. The runic symbols begin to glow a pale blue, contrasting the moon. All the figures stand around the casket as a black fog emanates from it.

It suddenly makes sense to me why Weems wanted to keep you protected on school grounds. Fear fills my body as the vision continues.

Goody runs into the graveyard, quickly but quietly approaching Elsie. She grabs her by the waist, lifting the rope tied around her wrists off the hook, causing Elsie to collapse onto her as Goody struggles to run under her weight.

Goody runs past me, carrying Elsie over her shoulder, her blood staining Goody's clothes. I look back to the casket to see a figure I recognize on the other side of the fog. If the Hyde and their master succeed, it won't be Joseph's first time coming back from the dead.

I soon turn around to follow Goody and Elsie. After a few minutes of running they go inside a building, placing her on a bed.

Goody pulls out her wand, interrupted by Elsie holding out a necklace. Her blood trickles down the chain. "I- I want you to take this." Goody slowly grabs the necklace by the talisman attached to it, the chain slipping out of Elsie's grasp.

The talisman is decorated with black tourmaline against the silver of the rest of the talisman. A shield is inscribed in the reflective metal.

"It is a protection talisman, enchanted and given to me by my parents." Elsie says, her voice strained from her screams. Goody holds the talisman tightly in her hand before putting it over her head. She hovers her wand over the edge of one of Elsie's wounds, guiding her wand across it.

I open my eyes to the carpet of the study in the Gates Mansion. I quickly stand. "We need to leave." I look around only to find Tyler in the room.

"Where's Y/n?" I ask, fear in my voice. I put the Elsie's protection talisman around my neck.

"She went to investigate the rest of the house." He says calmly, in contrast to my panicked state.

I rush outside of the confined room to find the pale moonlight from before replaced with the harsh deep red I saw in my vision. I rush to the window to confirm what I'm seeing, finding the moon to be an unnatural red.

I turn my head to the noise of an engine of a car turning on from the garage. "Wednesday what's going on?" I hear Tyler frantically follow me.

"Y/n's in danger." I state flatly, trying to control my emotions.

I run outside, slamming the door open, to find the blue car that hit the mayor screeching past the gate of the mansion.

My eyes are stuck on the silhouette of the car as it makes more distance.

Tyler runs past me to his car, stopping in front of the driver seat. "Are we following them or not?"

His voice brings me out of my daze, running to go into the passenger seat. The sound of Tyler's engine fills the car as he twists the ignition.

His wheels kick up dirt as Tyler presses on the gas. After the car stabilizes, we quickly catch up to the blue car.

Fear and worry find shelter in my eyes as I stare at the car in front of us, reflecting the ominous light drawn from the blood moon.

Part 11.

Past Lives Masterlist

a/n: hoho things are happening. one of the moments in this part is heavily inspired off of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood. Idk if it's just me, but my writing feels kinda off in this part? I can't place it, so sorry if the writing is weird.

taglist

@oishiiiz @jessiemariano21494

#wednesday x y/n #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x female reader

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