#he’s like a little bug I want to keep him in a jar and shake him around

[nsharks]

I don’t know if your taking request, but if you’re not please ignore me.! But my request is Simon kid got a tantrum and Simon is comforting them🥺 (Please excuse my English. It’s not my native language </3)

oh honey you are totally fine! and I love this request so I had to do it right away <3

simon comforts his son during a tantrum

very brief abuse mention

“What do we need the cranberries for, love?”

Simon’s pushing the grocery cart with your son in it. Meanwhile, you drag your feet behind him, your infant daughter asleep in a carrier against your chest. It seems, recently, she prefers sleeping during the day. The evidence of this is clear in the slackness under yours eyes.

Simon was used to preforming on little sleep. It’s easy to say he’s handling the week of regression much better than you are.

“Salad,” you answer numbly. One hand rubs at your eyes, as if that will make them feel any less heavy, and the other hand rests on your daughter’s back. “We’re having that salad I like tonight, remember?”

“Well, gonna have to find something else.” He raises a brow and juts a finger towards the shelf. “All out. Bloody hell, who’s buying cranberries this time o’ year besides you?”

You don’t even have it in you to remind him to watch his language. Sighing, you chew at your lip and offer a small, lazy smile. Having him here, not just to help but to keep you sane, is something you cherish. Even through your lack of your sleep, you savor the moment; grocery shopping with your family.

With Simon’s bare face on display.

In public.

Something you were surprisingly used to now.

It’s funny; you had sex with him, loved him, before you ever saw his face. And now it’s a face that you get to watch bury in your children’s tummies to blow raspberries in the mornings.

“What do you think, bug?” Simon asks the toddler in the cart, touching his little chin. “Maybe salad isn’t the right call for tonight, huh?”

“Don’t get him on your side,” you huff. “You never want my salad.”

“I’d just prefer to eat a real meal,” Simon shrugs, glancing over the shelves as you walk through the aisle. You should’ve known he had already been thinking about hijacking the dinner tonight.

And in this moment that Simon is distracted, looking for stuff to make a real meal, the toddler in the cart leans over to grab something.

It’s a glass jar.

Manages to get both little hands on it and bring it to his lap in the cart.

“What are ya-“

Simon frowns and looks down at him.

“What do you have there?” he says and your eyes widen when you see your son hold up the jar precariously with his chubby hands. “Nuh-uh, kid. Not gonna happen.”

Simon tuts at him and easily takes the jar away, but the action must feel like the end of the world to your two-year-old, because he immediately begins to cry.

Like screaming crying.

You should be used to it.

And you are.

How many nights had you dealt with your toddler’s tantrums all by yourself, his father miles away?

But today you’re tired, and your ears are ringing, and frankly you feel like crying yourself when your son starts flailing his arms around, trying to get the jar back.

“No, kid, you can’t have-“

“Simon,” you sigh and shift the baby against your chest, whose starting to wake up. “I’ll take them both outside. You finish getting everything.”

Shaking his head, Simon is already lifting the crying toddler from the cart and firmly telling you, “No, I’ve got it. You just… pick out whatever you want, yeah? Salad is fine.”

You don’t protest.

It’s much easier for Simon to restrain the boy, simply grabbing both of his wrists in one hand so he can’t hit. And holds him against his hip as he makes his way outside.

Seven years with Simon and he’s grown (emotionally) before your eyes. He had to learn how to safely express love, and it took time, but now he knows exactly how to love you, your kids. Shows it in patient words and gentle fingertips and constant acts of service.

Sure, there are moments where he gets frustrated (particularly when the boy tries to hit his little sister).

But Simon knows how to just be quiet and calm and let his son feel what he needs to feel. Because had anyone ever let him do that as a kid? Had anyone ever taken him outside during a tantrum, sit on a bench and hold him close, rubbing his back?

“It’s okay to feel angry,” Simon murmurs to his son. His cheeks red and puffy. “I’ve got ya. I’m here.”

The boy slurs out babble that Simon’s trained ears recognize as “want it”.

“Right,” his father sighs low. “I know what you mean, kid. Get proper mad when I don't get what I want," and he brushes a thumb to his cheek, "But we've got to find something that helps us stay calm, yeah?"

Simon doesn’t scold your son. Doesn’t tell him it’s okay, because he understands that it might not feel that way. Doesn’t even give a shit that the crying is drawing attention from people. Simon just sits on the bench with him and lets the tantrum happen.

And as your son’s tantrum fades into sniffles and little hands twisting around in his father’s shirt, Simon can’t help but think about his own memories. Most of them faded or blacked out now, he still manages to recall a time when he cried like this and his father had pushed his face in the dirt for it.

“I’ll give you something to fucking cry about.”

The words burn in his mind. Catch in his throat and force him to swallow. He used to shut those memories out, keep them buried somewhere underneath gunfire and blood and a mask. But now he welcomes them whenever they surface, learns from them. Reminds himself that he didn’t deserve that treatment and neither do his own kids.

Simon holds the toddler even closer.

Hands splaying over his back and a small kiss to his forehead.

“Look at ya,” Simon mutters out a piece of praise. “Feeling calm, bug? Wanna go back to your mum?”

But the toddler shakes his head no and instead, they sit out there until you’re done with the shopping. When you finally walk out, you see that Simon is smirking in amusement, watching your son sit in his lap and draw his little finger over the skulls inked on his arm. A relaxing activity, perhaps, and the sight of it makes your heart spill over.

[luxurychristmaspudding]

On Call | On Call

part ii

summary: sometimes, frankie wonders what he'd do without you. without your help, your laughter, your friendship, the lunches you pack him. and sometimes, when he's alone, he wonders what he'd do with you.

pairing: neighbour!frankie x f!babysitter!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. idiots in love, reader is good with kids. reader and frankie are both bi and have same sex exes. if that’s a problem for you, keep scrolling. fluff, plenty smutty thoughts, f&m masturbation. mentions of grief/dead parent, heartbreak, and biphobia/homophobia. brief competency kink, makin' a man some lunch (in a neighbourly way). drinking.

reader is a teacher, has hair, and there are some descriptions of outfits, but she is otherwise a blank slate :)

wc: 13.1k (normal length fic, my ass)

an: eternal love to @schnarfer for being a constant guiding light and the most wonderful friend. and further eternal love to @din-jarring and @toomanytookas who each make every day a little sunnier.

dividers from the glorious @saradika-graphics

She said call me now baby and I'd come a running If you'd call me now baby I'd come running

- on call, kings of leon

series masterlist | main masterlist

When Frankie gets home Thursday night, weeks later, you’re working at his dining table.

He checks his watch as he closes the front door gently behind him, looking back at the glimpse of you in the kitchen, brows furrowed. It’s late. Surely you should be in front of the TV, fighting sleep.

His footsteps are quiet down the hall, and he pauses in the doorway. You glance up at his soft hey, and he can feel how tired you are.

‘Hey, buddy.’

Your smile is quiet, kind. You watch as he moves to the sink, collecting two glasses, filling them with water.

‘How’d it go?’

You say it at the same time, and it breaks some of the stillness, both pairs of lips lifting in mirrored grins. 

‘Good,’ he says, ‘Glad to be home.’

He moves closer and takes a sip from his water, placing yours next to you, gesturing for you to go next.

‘Fine. Totally fine. She was out like a light after the second read. Best kid ever.’

You take a gulp of your water as he raises his eyebrows.

‘Second?’

Mhm.

‘I usually have to do at least four.’

You giggle, fluttering your fingers at him.

‘Magic touch,’ you whisper, ‘Plenty of practice reading kids to sleep.’

He shakes his head at you.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Mm. I’m sure my ninth graders would disagree.’

Frankie rolls his eyes, sitting down heavily next to you. He rubs his face, huffs a deep yawn as he slouches further down into the seat. You try not to stare, but he just looks so soft. You want to wrap him up in a blanket and lead him up to bed. Lay him down and press kisses to his cheeks.

‘She drew this,’ you say, pulling out a sheet of paper from beneath your piles of books. ‘Personally, I think it’s a good likeness.’

He laughs, properly, as he takes in the flourish of crayon across the page. It’s obvious where you’ve helped her - sketching the outlines of people, houses - and obvious where she took over - a mess of scribbles, rainbows of colour. The two houses, the fence, him and Lucia - Papi and me - and then the colourful tangle of you next door - Bug.

He traces the lines with his finger, gaze softening, heart swelling in his chest.

‘She hold you up, doing this?’

You smile at him, shaking your head. You fumble below the books again, pulling out a second sheet.

‘No. Looked so cute I drew one myself.’

You watch Frankie’s eyes light as he takes in your drawing. His and Lucia’s curls, the books under your arm, the oversized caterpillar in the grass. A tidier version of Lucia’s, one where you’re stood closer together. Like a family. 

He bites his lip, a sparkling swell of joy flooding his chest.

‘Masterpiece.’ He says. You shake your head at him, bashful. ‘Wanna put it on my fridge.’

You scoff at him.

‘Put Luc’s on the fridge.’

He holds your drawing away from you, pushing Luc’s over your papers.

‘Put Luc’s on your fridge,’ he says, ‘And I’ll keep this one. Deal?’

You suck your teeth, grinning.

‘Deal.’

He stands from the table, moving further into the kitchen. When he reaches the fridge, he takes an alligator magnet and pins your drawing to the metal. He steps back, folding his arms. You watch him.

‘Perfect.’ He says. You giggle.

‘You’re a soft bastard, Frankie Morales.’

He laughs, turning back to face you. 

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

You hold out your pinky, and he links it with his.

‘Promise.’

The heat from his hand, so close to yours, is almost irresistible. Your chest heats, and you want to pull him closer, see if he’s that warm everywhere. 

You drop his hand, standing on heavy legs. Your I should get going is muffled through a yawn, and he nods, helping you to gather your things. When you’re ready, he follows you to the door. 

This time, he pulls you into his chest. And he is warm, warm all over, and you could sleep here, suddenly, wrapped in his arms.

‘Goodnight, baby.’ he says, as you step out of his house.

He’s warm, and he’s so sweet. Baby, baby, baby running through your head as you make your way across the grass, smiling to yourself, still smiling when you turn on your porch, facing him stood on his own. Half of his body dimly lit by the glow within his house, shadows across his face as he makes sure you unlock the door and turn the light on safely. You raise an arm to him, and he does the same. You turn it into a flash of your middle finger, and he does the same - grinning to himself at the sound of your giggle across the lawn, cut off only as you close your door behind you. Goodnight, baby.

It still echoes in your mind as you’re pulled from the silken depths of sleep on Saturday morning by the whirring of a lawn mower. You huff, grumble, roll onto your back and press your forearm against your eyes. You have no idea what time it is, but you know for sure that it is too early for whatever this shit is.

Through the dim light behind your arm, you grimace. Your toes are a little cold, body achy like it needs to be stretched out. All fixed with more time spent asleep, except the buzz from outside comes louder now, more incessant. You roll yourself sideways, squinting in the sharper light coming from the window, mumbling to yourself as you sit and push up off the mattress. When you shuffle to the window and pull the curtain aside, you’re surprised. Frankie is up and out already - his front lawn cut into neat stripes - and now he’s gliding up and down yours doing the same. T-shirt clinging to his body, arms and neck shining with sweat. Cap on to keep the sun from his eyes, the curls at the base of his neck damp and dripping. He’s a sight.

 And there’s something about the way he does it, how easy he makes it look. The stripes, the handling of the machine. How he changes the oil of your car, how he can change the tire on his. The way he drives, hand at your headrest when reversing. How he lifts Lucia, how he chops and slices while cooking. So goddamn easy, brow barely even knotted, just his thick fingers working through any problem they come across.

Heat stirs in your cunt.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about it. Him. It’s just that doing so feels… weird. You try not to have detailed fantasies about your best friend next door, feeling disingenuous when you call your good mornings, but certain flashes of thoughts just aren’t so easy to ignore. Stupid ones, like licking his skin when he’s covered in grease, him eating you out over the bed of your truck. Stupid ones like him knocking on your door when he’s done with the grass, coming in to find you reaching for something at the perfect angle in a little summer dress. Thoughts like him bending you over the counter and fucking you stupid, sweat mixing on your skin, the smell of grass flooding your head, tits bouncing in his hands.

Idle thoughts. 

Ones that have you flopped back onto your bed, legs spread, one hand between your slick folds as you work yourself. Moaning and gasping into the heat of the morning, brief flashes of Frankie bursting behind your eyelids. The glimpse of skin and coarse hair you’ve seen when he reaches up to lift something, the shy look he gives you from below his lashes. How soft his mouth looks - what it would feel like on yours, what it would feel like to have him whisper against your thighs right now, telling you how pretty you look, watching your hands before he catches them in his and replaces them with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re cresting in an easy, all-consuming orgasm. Your back arches against the mattress, eyes squeezing shut as your cunt flutters and pulses, fresh slick gushing from between your fingers. Your thighs twitch as your circles ease, heart beat slowing in its thrumming as you swallow and pant. The mower is still whirring outside. He must be nearly done.

Frankie cuts the machine as he trims the very last patch of your grass to a lighter shade of green.

He peels his shirt away from his skin, flapping it in an effort to cool down. The cap comes off next, one hand swiped across his forehead, the other running air through his damp curls.

It’s warm. Unseasonably warm, and if he had any sense he wouldn’t have cut any grass today. But this Saturday suited him, and once he’s done his lawn, he may as well do yours. You don’t accept nearly as much as you should for looking after Lucia, so he’s taken to sneaking in more favours when he can. An oil change, lightbulbs you can’t reach, an Ikea chair you couldn’t find the time to set up. He knows you’ve noticed. Scowling slightly at how you can’t say no, quick to find a way to repay him. It’s become a welcome game of tag over the last six weeks. You won’t be outdone. In fact, if Frankie was a betting man -

‘Gotcha something.’

When he turns his gaze from the street, squinting slightly, he finds you bounding towards him. Barefoot, glowing with the remnants of sleep, and fucking poured into the most sinful sundress he’s ever seen. Like a teenager, he feels his cock twitch in his jeans, and he scolds himself for it.

‘It’s hot out.’ You grin, holding out a tall glass of something clinking with ice. His own answering smile speaks something of his relief, his gratitude.

‘Sure is.’

He takes the glass from you, giving it a sniff. You roll your eyes.

‘It’s lemonade. I’m not trying to poison you.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘Yet, anyway.’

He nods, as though you’ve confirmed what he’s long suspected.

‘’S the thought that counts. I don’t get a straw?’

You smack his bicep with the back of your hand as he takes a sip.

‘Dick,’ you grin, ‘I’ll piss in it next time.’

Frankie’s eyebrows shoot up, but he manages to swallow without spluttering it all over you. He considers for a moment, clearing his throat.

‘Nice piss.’

Your mouth pops open, feigning disgust.

‘I said next time, freak.’

He laughs, flashing you a cheesy wink.

‘You love it really.’

You giggle, spinning on your toes like a schoolgirl. He laughs with you, sipping the lemonade, eyes crinkly and affectionate, tracing your lips, the hem of your skirt.

You look up and down the lawn, impressed with his craft. Quiet satisfaction blooms in Frankie’s gut.

‘Looks great,’ you say, pressing his arm. ‘Thank you. You know, you don’t have to do this.’ 

He shrugs.

‘Was out here anyway. Just helping my favourite neighbour.’

You chuckle.

‘Whatever. But you still don’t have to.’

‘Fine,’ he says, pulling a face. ‘I’ll never, ever do it again. I’ll leave you to mow your own lawn, build your own furniture, set your car on fire…’

‘I’m not that bad,’ you laugh, giddy as you step around him. 

‘Bug,’ he says, fixing you in place with a firm hand on each of your shoulders. ‘Baby. I’m not convinced you even know what a wrench is.’

You gasp, genuinely offended this time, and he laughs.

‘Of course I know what a fucking wrench is, asshole. I’ll give you a fucking wrench.’

He laughs harder, and you reach up to swipe his sweaty cap from his head. Before he can grab at it, you’re off, flying in circles across the lawn. He sets his glass down and chases after you, hands slipping through the fabric of your dress. He’s not looking at the plush flesh of your thighs revealed at each stride. Not noticing the way your chest moves, definitely doesn’t see a peek of your ass as you whirl in front of him. He doesn’t, he didn’t, he didn’t. Certainly not on purpose. 

He blames the heat, his earlier exertion for why he can’t catch you. Can’t even try to grab you when you zoom by and scoop up his empty glass, when you round the curve of his fence and wait for him to follow you. He’s barely jogging now, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily. He’s almost at you, cap almost within reach, and then you plant the hand with it in on one of the pickets of the fence, jump, and swing your legs over.

‘That is playing so fucking dirty!’ He pouts, and you cackle at him. 

If there’s one thing you’ve mastered over the last year, it’s hopping the dividing fence. If there's one thing Frankie swears he will not do, it’s swing himself over. Something about his joints, something about his back. Yada, yada as far as you’re concerned.

‘What’d they teach you in Delta Force?’ You tease, ‘Surely it can’t have been any harder than that.’

He flips you off, hands on his knees.

‘You learn to do that in college? How many fences were you jumping?’

You throw his cap to him, waggling your eyebrows.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.’

‘Weather boy?’ He wheezes, shaking his head. ‘Not even gonna ask. Christ, you make me feel old.’

You snicker at him again, hopping from foot to foot. He holds out his empty hand.

‘Good game.’

You step forwards, full of faux-graciousness. You take his hand, opening your mouth to snipe something back, but he’s pulling you in too fast for you to process.

And god, he’s wet. Slimy and gross and warm -

‘Get off me, Frankie!’ You howl, and he chuckles, nuzzling his soaked cheek against your forehead.

‘Come over for dinner tonight,’ he says as you squirm in his arms, ‘We’re making pizza.’

You jerk yourself free, and he lets you go, so fucking pleased with himself. You shake your limbs out, trying to erase the sweaty feeling of him.

‘Only if you have a shower first. You fucking stink, dude.’

He begins to back towards his house, and you do the same.

‘I’ll have a shower,’ he says, ‘If you bring a wrench.’

You snort at the bottom of your porch steps.

‘Fuck you, Fish. I ain’t bringing a wrench. And get your goddamn mower off my grass.’

He giggles, a boyish sound so unlike the burly man it comes from. It makes you giggle, too. 

‘See you later, Bug.’

‘If you’re lucky, Morales!’

You never do produce a wrench, but Frankie is always thrilled by the other magic tricks you have up your sleeve. He looks forward to the surprise when he comes home from flying - whole Lego cities in his living room, wonky origami in the kitchen, hama beads you’ve dug up from God knows where. The hama beads, he decides, he could live without. He found one in his sock the other day. 

He’s home from work earlier than he thought he'd be tonight. Lucia tucked up in bed, he’d tiptoed upstairs to crack her bedroom door open, watching the rise and fall of her back before stepping in and pressing a kiss to her plump, toasty cheek.

He’s just finishing making coffee when he glances across the kitchen to a mixing bowl that hadn’t been out this morning. Curious as the coffee brews, he moves closer to the pale blob inside, and pulls back the clingwrap. He sniffs the dough-like mass, but comes up empty for clues. 

He pokes a finger into it, grimacing at the damp sponginess before covering it again and wiping the digit on his jeans. He pours the coffee, adding creamer and sugar, before shouting over his shoulder.

‘Bug,’ he calls, ‘Were you making bread today?’

‘What?’ he hears you answer from the living room, and he smiles as he carries the coffee through to you.

‘I said, were you making bread?’

You’re still where he left you, tucked up on the sofa. You reach for the mug he offers with greedy hands, and he laughs.

‘Bread?’ you ask, taking it, brow furrowing before the confusion clears and you beam up at him. ‘Oh! No. I made playdough.’

‘Made playdough?’ He says, plopping down beside you.

‘Hell yeah, baby. Easy as fuck. Do you know it’s edible?’

‘Edible? You feeding my daughter playdough?’

You roll your eyes.

‘Obviously not. You’re a regular comedian, you know that?’

He chuckles into his coffee, blowing at the steam.

‘Did she eat it anyway?’

‘Not while I was looking.’

He hums at your answer, swinging your legs onto his lap and squeezing your calf.

‘What you watching?’ he asks. You shrug.

‘Some movie. This guy’s a detective tryna take down a drug ring. She,’ you say, flapping a pointed finger at the screen, ‘Is like, a burlesque dancer who’s actually an undercover agent, and he just found out. He’s feeling some type of way about it because he thought he was saving her from some kind of terrible fate, but it turns out she��s totally fine and is actually saving his ass.’

Frankie grins at you, and when you turn your head and catch his eye, you grin back.

‘What?’

‘Nothin’.’

You snort at him. He turns his attention back to the TV.

‘What’s the deal with the monkey?’

You jiggle your legs in his lap in excitement.

‘Oh! You’ll love this. He’s the gang leader. Everyone understands what he’s saying apart from the detective and this one guy who thinks he’s having the worst trip of his life.’

He belly laughs this time, tipping his head against the back of the couch, and you watch, eyes sparkling, as the hoots of laughter leave his mouth. You lean forward and smack his arm, giggling too.

‘Shh, you’ll wake Luc up.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he splutters, still snickering, ‘I’m sorry. Oh my god. If there was ever a movie written for you, it’d be this one.’

You gasp.

‘I know. It’s insane. And the soundtrack is amazing. So many cool songs. And -’ you pause, waiting for the actress to pop back up on screen, ‘She wrote some for it. Can’t remember what her name is right now, but she’s in a band in real life.’

Frankie watches as the woman welcomes the detective into her dark apartment - pin boards full of pictures and maps, a wall that falls away to reveal all kinds of hidden weapons. She turns to face the other actor, and Frankie cocks his head.

‘She kinda looks like you,’ he says, and you make a noncommittal noise. ‘Sure you don’t have a long-lost sister?’

You chuckle, and the camera pans back to the man.

‘I don’t think so. But he looks like you. Just - maybe… a few years older.’

He drops his jaw, staring at you.

‘Just a few?’

You snort.

‘Yeah, Fish. Don’t worry. Old age comes for us all.’

He makes a hurt noise, fingers scrabbling for the bottom of your feet, and you shriek, holding your coffee far away from you as he tickles.

‘Stop!’ you cry, ‘Stop! Okay, I’m sorry! You’re so much younger than him. You barely even look thirty.’

‘Barely - even - thirty -’ he laughs, wrestling with you as he tries to stop from spilling his own drink. ‘Not only did you call me old, you’re a liar, too.’ he stops only briefly to put his coffee down, and you manage to do the same before he launches at you with renewed vigour. His hands are all over you now, finding any sensitive spot he can. You grab and dig your nails into his arms, kicking your legs against his lap, planting a foot against his belly to hold him away.

You speak only in squeaks, hacking coughs and muffled laughter. There’s a pressure building in your bladder, and it only makes your movements more desperate, more uncoordinated. You’re begging, pleading, almost in tears through your yelping, and then your heel digs lower than it should. Frankie’s movements cease as he doubles over your legs, grunting out a pained noise as you whip your feet away from him.

‘My - fuckin’ - balls.’ He gasps.

You try to suck your laughter back through your teeth, but it’s futile. You lean forwards towards him, your palm firm on his back.

‘I’m sorry,’ you wheeze, ‘God, I really - I swear I didn’t mean to do that.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ he groans, cradling his crotch, ‘There was feeling behind it.’

You snort, pulling his shoulder back so he relaxes into the couch.

‘Come on. It was barely a tap. Lucia could still have a brother or sister.’

He groans anew.

‘I’m in no fit shape for any of that now.’

You giggle and pout at him.

‘Aw. Want me to kiss it better?’

The flush that reddens Frankie’s face is almost immediate, the same heat flashing through your cheeks. Your mouth works to find some kind of joke, something to take it back with, but you flounder. 

‘Keep dreamin’, bug.’

A ha! escapes your lips, and Frankie manages a bashful smile, a shake of his head. But your heart is lumbering in your chest, stomach gooey, and the tips of his ears are glowing. 

He’s not thinking about it. He’s not.

And neither are you.

So he says something stupid about the monkey, and you say something stupid back. Layers on layers of silliness until the giggles return and the nerves are tucked away.

You love this kid. You really do. But it’s been a shitty fucking day.

You’ve not cried in the staff toilets since your training, but today every vibe was off, as the kids say. You’d been about ready to head home, forget about any work you needed to do, pull on your pyjamas and crawl into bed. Instead, you’re trying to blink back stupid tears on your way to the elementary school across town.

You’re not mad at Frankie, not even upset. When he’d called to say there’d been a fire at work and he needed to stay to provide first aid, your stomach had dropped through the floor. Your are you okay? felt clumsy, rushed, pushed against his panicked panting through the line. But he was just as quick to reassure you - he wasn’t even close, but one guy had burns and they might need him to cover the last flight out.

And it wasn’t a problem - isn’t a problem. You love spending time with Lucia, want to be as much help as possible, but man. You just wish it wasn’t today.

When you pull up to the school gates, Lucia is waiting for you. Her tiny backpack clutched in her fists, bright smile as she chatters away to her teacher stood beside her. Miss Lopez, Frankie had texted you, just in case.

The car door is barely open before the curly-haired whirlwind is launching herself in your direction with an excited squeal, crashing into your legs. You laugh, squeezing her shoulders before dropping down to her level. 

‘Hey, baby bean!’

‘Papi said you’d come!’ She beams as you stroke her hair back from her face.

‘He sure did. You gonna come and hang out with me ‘til he gets home?’

She nods like her head’s on springs, and over her shoulder you look to Miss Lopez. She has the sweetest face, a lovely smile. You straighten out and offer her your hand. She takes it, palm soft and dry.

‘Sorry I’m late.’ You offer, and she shakes her head.

‘Not at all. You must be Mrs Morales.’ She says.

You choke on a laugh.

‘Oh - I - I’m not, actually. Family friend.’

Miss Lopez claps a hand to her forehead, grimacing.

‘Of course,’ she says, ‘The office did tell me. I’m so sorry. It’s just been one of those days.’

You chuckle, feeling Luc link her fingers with yours.

‘I know the feeling.’ You smile, and she smiles back. Miss Lopez crouches to Luc's level and gives her a gentle boop on the nose.

‘Be good, be safe.’ She says, and Lucia giggles, starting to pull you back to your car. Her teacher waves to you. ‘See you soon!’

You make sure to return it, ushering Luc to the car.

When she’s buckled in, she gently tugs the chain of your necklace.

‘I missed you.’ She says, eyes wide and earnest. Heat pricks behind your eyes again.

‘Missed you too, bean.’

It’s been a shitty fucking day, so you make cookies. 

It’s easy to do, and mostly for you, but Luc is fucking delighted. You make sure to dig out her little chef’s hat, and she whizzes around the lower cupboards grabbing a mixing bowl for you. She loves it, more than anything. She’s a star with shaping, mixing, tasting. On the same page as you about eating the dough, and very content to sit by the oven door to watch them melt and bake in front of her. Easy entertainment, and she’s in your sights as you grade your essays at Frankie's kitchen table. 

You know you’re not being fun. Not mustering the same kind of sunshine you usually do so effortlessly for her, not that she seems to notice. You try to keep a smile going when the cookies are done, packing a small box of them into your bag and eating two each before dinner. She might not finish the whole meal, but she looks at you like you hung the moon.

When you settle down to watch Frozen again later, her head starts to bob half an hour in. You let her fall asleep cuddled up next to you, and when another half hour passes, you extract yourself, gather her tiny body in your arms, and carry her to bed. 

You set her down gently, pull the covers up to her chin, and watch her snuggle down in the blankets, nuzzling into their softness. You feel so weak, so goddamn tired, so disappointed in yourself for not playing like you usually do, for not encouraging her to sing and dance with you, for not reading her her usual bedtime story. It’s important for development at her age, a nasty little voice reminds you, and it just feels like something else you’ve failed at. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, turn on her nightlight, and lean down to kiss her cheek. Her skin is so warm, so soft. You gently swipe the curls from her face.

‘Night night, little love.’

You’re still marking your essays when Frankie comes home. 

You know you shouldn’t be. You know you should have curled up on the sofa or in the guest room like he’s told you to before. Know you should be asleep, barely managing to keep your eyes open, but you feel so fucking miserable, and you’ll be damned if Frankie comes home to you crying wrapped in his duvet.

Your coffee is cold, and a sip of its chill only serves to spark irritation in your stomach. You begin gulping it down, wishing it gone, before spilling some on the sheet of paper in front of you. You curse quietly just as you hear his keys in the door, dabbing at the blotch on the page as he toes off his boots in the hall. Your pressing only seems to be making it worse, little flakes of paper coming off on your sleeve as he enters the kitchen. 

‘Hey,’ he says quietly, ‘I thought you’d be asleep.’

You give up, leaning back in your chair to look at him. 

‘How’d it go?’ You ask, throat tight.

He shrugs. 

‘Okay. Dylan has some burns and Eddie is pretty shaken up, but they’ll both be okay. Ended up taking Dylan’s last flight.’ 

You take a deep breath. 

‘I’m sorry, Fish.’

‘Why? You didn’t set fire to it.’

You know it’s one of his usual quips. You know he’s not trying to be smart, not trying to rile you up. But you can feel it happening, all the same. 

‘Are you okay?’

He looks at you, assessing. It’s not like you to not snipe something back, not like you to not take the joke further. 

‘I’m fine. Just took me by surprise, that’s all. I’ve seen worse.’

You nod. He frowns. He doesn’t like it when you’re quiet. 

‘Sorry I was gone so long.’

It hangs in the air for a moment. You clench your teeth, frustrated at yourself for the undeserved irritation. 

‘You were at work. ‘S not a problem.’

He’s staring at you. You can feel it as you lean forwards again, pen in your hand. The words in front of you blur. 

‘Whatcha reading?’

You should go. You should really pack up before this ridiculous anger bubbles over. It’s not Frankie who deserves it, not the kids who deserve it. You should sleep on it, get some perspective. Fuck, do some mindfulness or something. 

Frankie drums his fingers on the wood when you make no reply, and you glower at him as he moves around the table, eyes fixed on your pile of marked essays. He thumbs the corners, and you bristle.

‘Oof,’ he says, picking up the last paper you graded. ‘F for Fail?’

‘No,’ you bite, ‘F for fuck off, Frankie.’

His eyes flick to yours, surprised, and he’s greeted with a wall of fury which he’s never seen before. It shocks him enough to put him on the back foot. Show his belly. He whistles lowly, dropping the paper back onto the pile, and is rewarded with something akin to the gnashing of teeth. The pieces slot together in his head. The bags under your eyes. How short you’re being. 

‘Okay,’ he says, ‘I think that’s enough for tonight.’

‘Don’t patronise me.’ You hiss, and it’s like you’re an open book for him to read. The flame in your stomach roars to life at the look he gives you. You need to take a nap.

He pulls the rest of the papers away from you, and you try to claw them back, outraged. He grabs your hands, holding them away from your work, and your wrists twist in his grip.

‘Frankie,’ you seethe, ‘Let me go. I’m not fucking around.’ 

But he doesn’t. He’s seen you worked up before, knows you better than you think. Knows this isn’t just the result of a few bad essays, knows this is because of something more. Knows how to make you feel better. ‘Francisco Morales,’ you start, ‘Get your fucking hands off me -’ 

He tightens his fingers again and tugs you up off the chair. It squeaks across the floor as you stand. Something about your attitude sparks a flame south of Frankie’s stomach, and he swallows sharply. Nothing a good hard fuck couldn’t fix, and he blinks at himself, surprised. He drops your hands. Where the fuck did that come from?

‘Get off -’ you growl, and he points at you.

‘Sit your ass on the couch. I’ll be there in a minute.’

You set your jaw and glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. He watches as your mouth twists into a scowl before you turn on your heel and stomp through to the living room.

He takes his cap off, scrubbing a hand through his hair and exhaling through his nose before adjusting himself in his jeans. He tidies your papers, puts pens and markers back into your pencil case, closes your laptop, packs your bag. Moves to the cupboard for two mugs, busying himself with tea and coffee as he tries to push thoughts of your furious eyes from his mind. How he could kiss the frown from your forehead, the scowl from your lips, how he could take you apart with his mouth, his cock, make you forget, make you feel better -

When he steps into the living room, you’re sat with your back to him, crowded into a corner of the couch. He places your tea on the table behind you, and his coffee on the other at his end. He lowers himself onto the cushions, relaxing against the leather, watching you. Your shoulders are almost up to your ears, fingers picking at the skin around your nails, eyes on your lap. He waits, chewing his cheek, hands twitching at the way your nails dig into skin.

‘I’m sorry for snapping at you.’

Your voice is small, quiet. He rubs his eyes and sighs.

‘It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean it,’ he pauses. ‘I’m sorry for - manhandling you.’

You huff a breath through your nose, scratch at your knuckle. Frankie feels the worried pit in his stomach start to yawn.

‘Bug,’ he says, softly, ‘Talk to me.’

You wipe your hands over your thighs, and Frankie wonders whether it’s him. Something he’s said or done. He knows he’s not been looking hard enough for another sitter - maybe you’ve just had enough. His gut twists.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing - just. A bad day, is all.’

Too fast. He can feel his eyebrows lift.

‘Because of the tests?’

You shake your head.

‘All of it. The whole day was wrong.’

Frankie waits again, resisting the urge to move closer to you. You need a moment, though everything in his body wants you near right now. The scratching at your knuckle is incessant, and Frankie observes the movement with his own growing anxiety. You clear your throat.

‘All my lessons were shit. Everything was shit. I forgot reports and data drops, and the kids wouldn’t shut the fuck up, and I yelled at my favourite class, and almost everyone in my tenth grade group failed their assignment, and I just - couldn’t smile enough, wasn’t good enough for Lucia, and I’m so tired,’ you rush out, pressure building behind your eyes and at the back of your throat. ‘I’m tired, Frankie.’ You whisper.

He’s nodding, hands clasping and unclasping over his lap. 

‘Bug, baby,’ he says, so gentle, ‘Please don’t worry about Luc. Don’t ever worry about not being good enough. You know she thinks the sun shines out your ass,’ he pauses, but there’s no giggle. ‘And I bet your lessons weren’t shit. You had a bad day - that’s all. That does not make them shit.’ He can see your head quirk minutely, hear the thought as though you’d spoken it aloud. Wrong. He keeps going. ‘And things get forgotten, but they’ll get done. Did anyone say anything?’

You shake your head.

‘No. Helen just said they need to be done as soon as possible.’

‘So no one was upset? No one yelled?’

You shake your head again.

‘So it’s fine. You won’t be the only one, bug. And kids never shut the fuck up. It’s annoying as fuck. You know how long I’d last in that classroom?’

‘Five minutes?’ You say, a tiny curl of amusement in your words.

‘Twenty fucking seconds. You’re a saint.’

He hears it, though faint. A small huh of a laugh. He continues, smiling a little.

‘And fuck the tenth graders. If they shut the fuck up, they’d have done it properly. They wouldn’t have fucked it up. They wouldn’t be making my best pal upset, here on my couch.’

You breathe out, shoulders sagging.

‘Maybe they found it hard, though. Maybe I didn’t do a good enough job of explaining it all -’

‘Ah,’ Frankie interrupts, ‘Maybe. But were they concentrating when you explained it? Or were they talking football teams and weekend plans?’

The scratching stops. Frankie counts the seconds by the tick of his heart beat as you pop your knuckles and sigh again. You still haven’t looked at him. 

You suck air through your teeth.

‘Football teams and weekend plans. But they still - the results are awful, Frankie. They’re gonna think I can’t do my job.’

‘They’re not gonna think that. They’re not. This is one bad day, one bad result. You’re doing all you can. But you can only do so much, bug. Today was just not your day.’

Your body is vibrating with tension. You link your fingers together, watching the way the skin shifts between the joints.

‘It just - it wouldn’t be so hard if they fucking listened to me,’ you say, still quiet, but angry again now. Upset in a way that makes Frankie’s chest swell. ‘And then I get to thinking - maybe it is me. Maybe I’m just shit at my job and nobody’s bothered to tell me yet -’

‘Enough. You’re not doing this. Of course someone would have told you. Bug, they’re kids. They don’t even listen to their parents when they’re told to defrost the chicken when they get home from school. You’re not doing anything wrong.’

In the low light, Frankie can see you bite your lip, chin wobbling.

‘Hey,’ he says, softly. ‘Hey. Don’t cry. If anyone should be crying, it’s them. You’re doing your best. The least they could do is meet you halfway.’

‘But it’s my job, Frankie. And I care.’

‘I know you do, baby,’ he says, finally leaning forward, squeezing your thigh, ‘I know you do. So - what can we do? You’re tired. Lots of sleep. Long lie in on the weekend. But there’ll be lots of things you can do to turn things around. What can you do for tenth grade?’

You look up, finally. He gets a glimpse of your eyes, panicked, worried, before you turn them away again. You swallow, nod.

‘I guess I could… break it down for them. When I give their marks back. We could write an answer together. And Lucy showed me a really good feedback grid I can print for them all so they know what to work on.’ 

‘Good. That’s good. Make ‘em write it again?’

You twist your fingers.

‘Yeah. I guess so. There’s time. And they could do with the practice.’

Frankie squeezes your thigh again, stroking his thumb against your pants. You huff.

‘There. See? Already fixin’ it. Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy.’

You quirk your head.

‘You’d think. More like - fuckin’ - difficult, difficult, lemon difficult.’

A slow smile spreads across his lips, despite himself. And when you look up, catch it, you fight to keep your mouth from doing the same.

‘You can laugh, bug,’ he says, ‘That was funny.’

A small giggle floats from between your lips, but it’s still watery. He can taste the salt in the air.

‘What else?’ he says.

You shake your head, retreating back into yourself again.

‘Bug?’

Your eyes are back down on your hands, fingers twisting, twisting, twisting.

Frankie holds his breath, heart aching in his chest. He can feel it radiating off of you, something deeper, painful.

‘I just - it made me think maybe I’m not cut out for it. Maybe I’m not as good as I hoped I’d be, and -’ you cut yourself off, throat tight. You swallow, and Frankie leans towards you. One of his huge hands reaches out to yours, and he gently pries his fingers between your palms, thumb stroking over your knuckles. The tears come without you realising, hot and quick, so many of them you’re startled. ‘And maybe - not as good as dad said I would be.’ You shrug again, wounded, vulnerable. Frankie shifts, the arm closest to you wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you to his chest. Your voice catches, fear and guilt straining against sound. ‘That was the worst part. I felt like I was letting him down.’

‘Letting him down?’ He says into your hair. You feel his lips against your scalp as he speaks. ‘My god, bug. How could you ever think that?’ He squeezes you tighter, and you fight the sobs clawing up your throat. ‘Every day, you go in there and you kill it. No one in that school has ever said a bad thing against you. And you come home with notes, drawings, emails from kids and staff and parents who tell you that you’re making a difference. That you’re helping them learn, you’re making them feel safe, feel like they’re worth the time you give them. Do you know how special that is? Do you know how many of those kids come to you for that?’

A broken noise escapes your mouth, and Frankie begins to rock you gently. 

‘I’m proud of you,’ he says, ‘And I know if I’m proud of you, your dad is watching you with his heart about to burst. You could never let him down. Look at you. You are so special.’

You hiccup against him, and Frankie nuzzles his face into your hair. Your tears are hot, damp through his t-shirt, but you can’t stop. You hold to his arms, breathing him in as holds you close. Your legs are going numb, head aching, and you don’t know how long you sit there like that with him holding you. He soothes you with quiet whispers, waves rushing in and out, and once your breathing is back to normal you pull away from him with a great sniff. You laugh at yourself, wiping at your face. He smiles gently back, little crow's feet ceasing the corners of his eyes. 

‘You okay?’ He asks. 

You nod. 

‘Yeah. Just gross. Need to blow my nose.’

He shakes his head at you. 

‘You’re never gross.’

You roll your eyes at him, and he chuckles. 

‘There she is.’ 

You shift on the sofa, stretching and popping your joints before hauling yourself up to go to the bathroom. 

‘Do you want anything?’ You ask shyly. He shakes his head. 

‘Nope. Take your time.’

You shut the door quietly behind you in the bathroom, stepping to press your head against the cool tile. You try to empty your mind, but your chest is heavy. Everything that Frankie said, everything that was so easy to share with him. You’d thanked your lucky stars many a time over the last year that he’d bounded out his front door the evening you’d moved in, but now there was something more to it. You roll your head against the cool ceramic and press your fists to your chest. Your dad was a man who believed in fate, in things happening for a reason. Here, in the quiet calm of Frankie’s house, you have a feeling that he pulled some strings. That he knew who you’d need. 

Lips almost pressed to the tile, you whisper to him. 

‘Thanks, dad.’

The words hang in the air, slung out the universe, met with warm silence. Your throat tightens again, and if you close your eyes tight, you’d swear he was at your shoulder. Like you could turn around and he’d be there. 

When the tightness passes, you inhale deeply and turn to the sink. You splash your face with cold water, blow your nose, and make your way back to Frankie. 

He’s right where you left him, the TV on quietly. You flop down into your usual position, and he makes motions for you. You swing your legs onto his lap, and he runs his hands up your shins. Gentle, tender care again. You tip your head back and speak to the ceiling. 

‘Thank you.’

He’s quiet for a moment. 

‘You don’t need to thank me, bug.’

You make a noise of dissent. 

‘You should know. You should know how much I appreciate you. How much I love you.’

You blink at the lights and shadows above you. How easily that slipped off your tongue. It’s never been difficult for you to tell your friends you love them. Hell, you even said it to the lady who served you at the store the other day. But something about saying it to Frankie feels… different. 

Your breath gets caught in your chest, and then Frankie’s thumbs dig into the flesh of your calves. 

‘Love you too, bug.’

You inflate your lungs at the same time as he kneads a particularly tense spot on your leg, and you loose a quiet groan. You’re not sure if you imagine the minute pause of Frankie’s hands before he thumbs the same spot again. 

‘Fuck.’ You hiss. 

This time, he does pause. He pauses and prays you don’t feel the way his cock twitched. 

‘Does that hurt?’

You pull your head back up and find him watching you with dark eyes. 

‘No,’ you say quietly, ‘Not really.’

He nods, studying your face at the next pass of his fingers. Your wince at the tension, but the relief that follows makes your eyes close. This time, he runs his knuckles over your muscles, and you bite your lip, eyes flickering open to meet his. You sigh. 

‘That good?’ He asks. 

You can’t say anything, nothing that wouldn’t betray the flood of warmth sparking in your cunt. 

Mhm. 

He nods, kneading further down your leg. Your head flops backwards again, lip clamped between your teeth, brow furrowed as you will your body not to betray you. You almost have it, almost, fingers flexing against the couch cushions, until he presses his thumbs into the arch of your foot and you moan. You fucking moan. 

You freeze, teeth releasing your lip as you gasp, but he keeps going. Running his thumbs over and over the sore muscles as you let out quiet little gasps, squirming against the couch, soaking your panties. 

‘Jesus Christ, Frankie.’

‘Relax,’ he says, ‘You’re fine.’

You are not fine. Every synapse in your body is firing, every nerve ending alight. You begin to panic, begin to wonder whether you could come from a foot massage alone. Your eyes find his face again, and he turns his head slowly to look back at you, digging firmly into a particularly sore spot. You whine, more pain than pleasure this time, and he presses harder. Hot hurt shoots up your spine, and you whip your foot away from him, breathing heavily. Like dawn breaking, Frankie’s face clears.

‘Fuck,’ he rasps, ‘Sorry, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

You wince, flexing your foot against the carpet. 

‘’S okay,’ you murmur, trying not to pant, ‘Just a little too deep.’

You can’t look at him. You’re so sure that this man does everything from the good of his heart, with the express intention of making you feel better, but you can’t ignore how your body is buzzing. He can’t possibly know how turned on you are right now. Just a friend comforting a friend. Just a friend. Jesus Christ.

You glance at your watch and curse, all but leaping off the sofa. Frankie stares after you, panicked.

‘Bug -’

You whirl around to smile at him, realising just how wet you are with your thighs pressed together.

‘It’s fine. You didn’t hurt me. I should just - I should really get going.’

He hasn’t moved from the couch, hands crossed in his lap like he’s afraid to move.

‘I’m sorry.’ He whispers. 

‘Don’t be,’ you say - too brightly, too quickly. ‘Don’t be. I - thank you. For everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

And you’re gone. Bag grabbed, barefoot, shoes in hand, flying out the front door, across your lawns, into your own house. Dumping the shoes and peeling off your clothes in the safety of your bedroom. You flick the bedside lamp on and yank open your bedside draw, rummaging around for your vibrator, pressing it to your throbbing clit before you’re even on your bed. 

Your body jerks at the sensation, knees giving out as you moan, long and loud, free hand fisting the sheets as you rock back and forth on your hands and knees. Something clatters through your mind, something confusing and guilty, some mix of emotions that stirs in your chest and in your gut, something that tells you you shouldn’t be doing this - again. Shouldn’t be this close to coming already, shouldn’t be so wet, shouldn’t be shaking this hard. Shouldn’t be moaning so loud, so desperately, shouldn’t be thinking of the way Frankie’s dark eyes bored into yours, the way he worked his fingers over your sore muscles, how he’d held you there so you couldn’t escape. What he’d think of you dripping all over his couch from just touching you through clothes. 

You tilt your ass up further, resting your forehead on your arm, feeling sweat gather on your hairline. In your mind, Frankie’s hands are climbing up further than they were before, kneading up your thighs, squeezing and rubbing, all the way until his thumb grazes the edge of your panties. You can imagine how his eyes would get darker as he felt the slick there, so wet it made the closest press of your thighs damp through the fabric. How you’d hold your breath and his gaze as he slipped two fingers beneath the gusset, how he’d sweep them through the wetness there, just spreading it, teasing, enjoying how wet and ready for him you were before slipping both digits inside, easy, so easy -

You clench your teeth against the cry that seeks to force its way past your lips, breath stuttering in your lungs as your body seizes and pulls, cunt clenching and pulsing with your orgasm. Your head slips off your forearm onto the sheets and you curse quietly, betrayed by how easy it had been to come. 

You stand on shaky legs, turning the vibrator off with a click before leaving it on the duvet. You kneel and survey your room, the unread books, the pile of laundry, the freshly ironed shirt ready to wear tomorrow. The window across from you, bare of curtains, looking straight through to - fuck. For fuck’s sake.

Frankie’s bathroom light is on across the dark expanse of midnight grass. You freeze, naked, terrified for a moment that you will see him step into frame and catch you red handed. As if he’d know. As if he’d be able to tell, just from the look on your face, that you’d come so quickly, so easily, to the thought of him slipping his hand beneath your panties. 

But he doesn’t. With an arm over your chest, you whip the curtains over the gaping glass, and get ready for bed. 

Frankie can taste blood.

He barely even registers it, lip clamped between his teeth as he fists his dripping cock in the bathroom mirror. 

He’d sat for a few minutes on the couch after you’d left, trying to will his arousal away, terrified you might have forgotten something and come flying back through the door. Terrified Lucia might be rattled awake and find him to ask what the noise was about. 

When neither had happened, he’d unzipped his fly to relieve some of the aching pressure. He’d turned off the TV and all the lights, something swelling in his chest at the sight of the plate of cookies on the counter, piled high, and hauled his ass upstairs. The movement had made it worse. 

The friction against his cock at every step of his tired feet made him ache fiercely, and he’d forgone his bed, heading straight to the en-suite, where he’d  whipped his t-shirt off and pulled himself out. 

He’s trying to be quiet. Trying so hard as he draws his fist over his tip, spreading the precum down his length, as he twists and tightens his hand. His heart is racing, body thrumming with desire. He’s trying not to think of them, but those sweet, desperate little sounds you made are flooding his mind. He’s fucked. So fucked. 

And he’s weak. 

Weak at the knees at the thought of you laid out on his couch. At the thought of his hands drifting higher, at maybe finding your panties soaked. With his eyes closed, he can imagine your face - shocked, desperate, aching for him the way he is for you. He’d swipe his fingers along your slick slit, and he’d taste them - fuck, he’d give anything to know what you taste like. And when you begged, he’d strip you down and spread you out. He’d lower himself between your legs and kiss every inch of skin he could find. He’d breathe in the scent of you, nose the crease between your thigh and cunt, and he’d eat you. He wants to know what other sounds you make as he takes you apart, wants to lick you from your hole to your clit. Wants to hold you down as you squirm, wants his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. And he wants to make you come. Wants to drink you down as he feels you twitch and pulse beneath him, and then he wants to fill you with his cock. 

He tightens his fist again, barely muffling his groan. He wants to feel you stretched out, gasping as he pushes in. Wants to lean his forehead against yours as he whispers how beautiful you are, how good you’re being, letting him take care of you like this. Wants to see you cry for a different reason, wants to taste the salt on your skin and know it’s him who’s making you feel this good, that it’s only him who can fuck you like this.  

Wants to make you his, wants to feel you come around him, watch your eyes roll into the back of your head - 

He moans as he spills into his fist, cock kicking and jerking with every spurt of milky release that escapes him. Blood roars in his ears and he strokes himself until he whimpers at the sensitivity, panting hotly. 

His mouth is bloody and raw in the glass, eyes wide and guilty. He turns from his reflection in shame, ripping toilet paper and cleaning himself gently, trying not to think of your hands, your mouth, how you might look with his spend leaking from between your legs. 

He throws the paper in the toilet, tucking himself in and pushing the lever. 

He turns after flushing the evidence of his fantasies away, and is fixed with the disapproving eyes of the Star Wars duck on the edge of the bathtub. He pulls a face at it and flips it off.

‘Don’t look at me like that. I bet you do it when she’s not watching, too.’ He says, pointing to the sparkly gold one beside it. 

The duck glares back at him, accusatory, and he sticks his tongue out at it as he swings the door open, flicking off the light before stepping out. He closes the door firmly behind him, and leaves the ducks to their domestic.

Frankie snoozes his alarm the next morning, eyelids fluttering against his pillow as he wraps his arms around his tangle of duvet. He’s warm, limbs languid, still in the haze of a sweet dream, a familiar scent hiding behind the edges of sleep. 

He’s almost passed out again when he jerks awake, adrenaline flashing through his veins as he stumbles out of bed and into Lucia’s room. She’s asleep still, groggy as he gently stirs her, mumbling into her teddy about not wanting to go to school. And despite his best efforts, they’re both sluggish, slow, running late as he dresses her and then himself, as he makes breakfast, as he packs her bag, as he reaches into the refrigerator to grab her lunch - 

Shit. Her lunch. 

He throws a frantic glance at the clock, muttering a fuck too quiet for his daughter to hear as she waits behind him with her shoes, ready for him to put them on. He turns and kneels in front of her, placing one foot on his thigh so he can finish getting her ready. He makes a calculation that includes stopping to get her something from the store on the way to school, but there’s just not enough time -

He whips the door open so quickly it startles you, your hand flying from where it was about to knock. Your stomach is churning, heat crawling up your spine with how fucking weird you must have been last night. 

Frankie looks just as surprised to see you as you are him. 

‘Bug?’ He says, paused in the doorway with Lucia hitched on his hip. 

‘Bug!’ She crows, delighted with the early morning visit, oblivious to her father’s rush. You beam back at her, greeting her with a mornin’, mini Morales, before looking back at Frankie. Something in his chest goes gooey. 

‘I made lunch for you both,’ you say shyly, quickly. Frankie’s eyes drop to the two bags you have held out. ‘I didn’t think you’d have time last night. And I wanted to apologise. I didn’t mean to give you shi- a hard time when you got home. And I’m sorry I ran out so fast.’

Frankie sucks a breath through his teeth, heart rate settling. 

‘You’re a goddamn angel,’ he says, ‘You know that?’

You chuckle a little, looking down at your feet. His heart swoops, and he knows he shouldn’t, knows he won’t, but he wants to ask. 

He wants to ask you why you flew out the way you did. Wants to know why your bedroom light was on so late. Wants to know if there’s some wild possibility you were caught up the same way he was. But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he pulls you in for a one armed hug, and with all the gratefulness he can muster, says -

‘Thank you, baby. Luc, what do you say?’

Lucia grins at you with all her teeth. 

‘Thank you, bug.’

You giggle. 

‘I packed you extra cookies.’ You whisper conspiratorially, and Luc claps her tiny hands. 

You smile up at her, and she reaches out for the bags. You make sure she’s got them handled before turning your smile to Frankie, and he’s sure his heart stops. There’s worry in your eyes still, and it takes everything in him to not swipe a thumb along your cheek, to not press the fullness of his mouth against yours. 

‘We’re going to the beach on Sunday,’ he says, ‘Do you wanna come?’

Your smile brightens, widens. Relief washes over your features. 

‘Please!’ Lucia joins, ‘Pleasecometothebeach - we're gonna build sand castles and bury Papi and swim and eat ice cream -’

Frankie clasps his hand over her mouth, and she cackles against it, legs swinging against his hip.

‘I’d love to.’ You say. 

The beach is a raging success. 

From the moment you’d felt the silky sand brushing between your toes, it was like the stress of the week had melted away. 

Lucia had grabbed your hand as soon as Frankie had dropped the cooler in the best spot he could find, squealing and running all the way to the ocean with you beside her. Frankie had laughed as he ran to catch up, hitting the waves just after you, sweeping Lucia up in his arms as she shrieked with laughter, swooping her low so her toes swept through the water. You swam and paddled together for a while, Frankie only leaving to grab a ball so you could play piggy in the middle in the shallowest shallows.

Now, laid out on the blanket you’d brought, with the sun warming your skin, you close your eyes. 

Everything feels slow - the tick of your heart, the carousel of your thoughts, the way you drag your fingers through the sand at your side. You’re drifting into the arms of sleep when there’s the soft snick-crack-fizz of a can beside you, and then you’re suddenly thirsty.

You peek through one eye at Frankie beside you, and like he feels it, his eyes flick to yours. He offers you the open soda before reaching into the cooler for another. You sit up, groaning a little, twisting to look for Lucia.

She’s still slumped on the sand throne you and Frankie had built her, now fast asleep. Legs planted, arms settled on the armrests like a stately little Lord. Her head tilted back, tiny sunglasses and flowery sun hat on. You can’t look at her for too long before you get the giggles, it’s so fucking cute.

Frankie follows your eyes, mouth lifting in amusement, raising his eyebrows at you.

‘We should take a picture. One for her 18th.’ 

You giggle, and he takes a sip of his drink before flopping down beside you. You take a long pull from your own can before doing the same, turning on your side to face him. Frankies fights to keep his gaze steady, something he’s been trying to do all day. Trying to avoid the skin that had been revealed to him today, trying to avoid how soft you look, how comfortable, how gorgeous. How your skin would taste, how it would feel against his. He closes his eyes.

You watch him. The strong sweep of his nose, the fullness of his mouth. The scruff of his beard, the bare heart-shaped patch before the line of his jaw. Your eyes sweep lower - the wide expanse of his chest, golden skin that seems to go on for miles and miles. It makes your mouth run dry. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen him shirtless before in the hot Florida summer, but up this close, it’s different. The soft band of his belly, the smattering of hair above the waistband of his trunks. The silvery bud of a scar above his hip. 

When you glance back to his face, he’s watching you. Your eyes dart down again.

‘Mexico,’ he says, ‘2016.’

You nod, and reach out your hand. Slowly, softly. Frankie holds his breath, stomach tensing.

You run the tip of your finger along the puckered edge of the scar, and he shudders. You pause, untacking your tongue from the roof of your mouth.

‘Does it hurt?’

‘No,’ he reassures, ‘Just - tickles.’

It’s a half truth. 

It doesn’t hurt. It does tickle. And there’s a burst of heat beneath his skin where your fingers graze him.

‘Was it bad?’

He smiles slightly.

‘Just a scratch.’

You hum quietly, swiping your thumb against it tenderly. He watches you, mouth parted, heart burning. It doesn’t look like a scratch, but you’re not one to pry.

The moment is broken by a soft coo behind you, and Frankie’s eyes lift to it. You roll onto your back.

A woman flashes you and Frankie an apologetic smile.

‘Sorry,’ she says quietly, gesturing to Lucia, ‘She just looks so cute.’

You smile breathlessly, a little flustered. She’s gorgeous. So tan and smiley and stunning.

‘Gets all her looks from me.’ Frankie jokes, and you roll your eyes. The woman smiles.

‘I think you mean her mama.’ She says, nodding to you before continuing on her stroll. You’re still too taken aback to correct her, trying to loosen your tongue before Frankie takes any offence. He laughs beside you, and you roll back to him to apologise -

‘You are literally no better than a man.’

It’s not what you were expecting, and the shock of it makes you laugh, too. You land a soft punch to his arm, a grumbled shut up shot from where you bury your face in the sandy blanket.. But it feels good, the ease at which the jokes come. 

To think, there’d been a night on your porch not long after you’d moved in when you’d mentioned the name Annie and clammed up, panicking about what questions would follow next. The name of your ex-girlfriend - ex-fiancee - had been something which only really existed in your mind at the time. Known, of course, to the friends you’d left back home; friends who had loved her, loved the two of you together. But soured by the reaction of your extended family, the people who had voiced their disgust at who you'd loved, who had been so quick to turn their backs in the face of your happiness, the first you’d found since your dad’s passing. It had made your stomach twist. 

You’d been worried about Frankie’s reaction, couldn’t bear to think of the first friend you’d made - your neighbour - having the same look of distaste - or worse - intense curiosity. 

But he’d done neither of those things. Had marked it with a quiet oh before asking what she was like, where she was, what had happened. You’d told him how you met in college but weren’t brave enough to ask her out until after graduation. How she was an engineer on the east coast - kind and funny and eager to watch you succeed. 

You’d been sparing with the details about how it ended. The breakup had still been a raw nerve, something you had no real desire to discuss. Something which you only found to be the case more and more the longer you spent around Frankie. And then he gave you further reason to be less afraid of what he’d think, whether he had the want to judge.

‘Sounds like my ex,’ he’d said, ‘We were friends first, too. Benny.’

You’re snapped back to the present by Frankie rustling around in the cooler.

‘Have something to eat,’ he says, ‘You’re looking a little shaky.’

You’ve been asleep for most of the way home. 

Hair blowing in the wind of the journey, cheek pressed against your shoulder. You look so peaceful, so beautiful, and something about this - the three of you in Frankie’s truck, Lucia babbling to herself in the back - feels so right.

He’s loathe to wake you. Wishes he could bottle this moment; the sand still clinging to your skin, Luc’s bright smile in the rearview mirror, but you stir all the same when he slows and pulls into his driveway. 

You stretch your arms and yawn, smiling sleepily at him before twisting to look back at Lucia.

‘How you doing, bean?’ You ask.

‘You were asleep!’ She chirps back, and Frankie chuckles.

‘Sure was,’ you grin, ‘Can’t keep up with you.’

You insist on carrying the cooler into his house while Frankie unbuckles her. He holds her hand around the side of the car before she pulls free of him, clattering into the house after you in her sparkling sandals. She passes him in the hall, arms full of toys as she speeds back out to the grass out front, and you smirk at him around the doorway of the kitchen. He shakes his head at you.

‘I don’t know how she does it.’ He says. You grin.

‘She’s four. Give her a few more years.’

He chuckles as he swoops in behind you, pinning your body between his and the counter. He digs in the cooler as you close your eyes against his body heat.

‘Want a beer?’ He says against your neck before pulling away.

‘Thought you’d never ask.’

When you’re settled on his porch, Lucia mimicking the sounds of the dinosaurs she has splayed across the lawn, Frankie bumps your shoulder.

‘You should have asked for her number.’ He grins. You turn to him, still a little sleepy.

‘Whose?’

‘The woman. On the beach.’

You roll your eyes at him despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

‘They’ll get stuck like that, you know.’ He says.

You nudge him back, a little harder.

‘You should’ve asked,’ you chuckle. ‘Gets all her looks from me.’

He snorts.

‘Nah. I wasn’t even on the field. Think you mean her mama.’

‘Should have given her the old I’m the babysitter line.’

He laughs. 

‘God. Imagine. Maybe that’s what I’ll have to tell the guys the next time they ask if I’m seeing someone.’

Your blood heats, a soft pounding in your ears. Imagine. Imagine.

You roll your head on your shoulders.

‘Are you?’ you ask tentatively, ‘Seeing anyone, I mean.’

Frankie shrugs beside you like it’s no big deal.

‘No,’ he says, ‘I kind of… swore that all off after Benny. Didn’t wanna go through it all again. Wasn’t good for me, wasn’t good for her,’ he says, gesturing towards where Lucia is playing on the grass. He’s quiet for a moment. ‘Just don’t think I’m cut out for it. Getting my heart broken again.’

You know how it ended - before it had really begun. A tentative feeling between friends; Frankie falling hard, Benny unsure about the new step. Caught up with the nerves you remember so well in the new turn of discovering himself, scared by the ripples caused within the tight knot of their group of friends. It had been hard on Frankie. Not made difficult by his brothers in arms, who, to all intents and purposes, had seen it coming - but because he was so clearly a man who loved hard. With all the goodness in his heart. It’s obvious in how he talks about him now, in how he talks about Lucia's mother. Love that lingers, that still sees the light.

You watch him as he speaks. The soft sunlight illuminating his curls, turning them golden, chocolate brown, little streaks of grey peaking through. His eyes are bright and flecked with hazel, his lips soft and full. When he talks, they are shaped with sound, with emotion. Expressive and beautiful, moving with the crinkles at his eyes, the frown lines on his forehead. Something pulls in your chest, and you reach out to hold his wrist just above his beer bottle. He squeezes your hand with his free one, and turns to look at you. So soft, so warm, eyes so kind and yet so sad sometimes it takes your breath away.

You can’t ever imagine breaking Frankie’s heart.

He licks his lips, eyes flitting to your parted mouth before resting back on yours.

‘Are you?’ He asks.

You breathe a laugh, something breathless in the sound. You retract your hand and look away from him, back to Lucia, watching her toddle around with her dinosaurs. He studies you, and it makes something spike at the back of your throat. You hate when he gets you like this; like he can see you better than anyone else ever has. 

‘No,’ you say. When you look back at him, his brows curve in a furrow at the sight of your sparkling eyes. You offer him a small smile, take a deep breath. ‘Think I’m the same as you,’ you shrug, ‘Not built to get my heart broken again.’

Frankie dares an arm across your back, squeezing the shoulder furthest away from him. He pulls you into his chest, palm pressing your bicep in comforting sweeps.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says into your hair.

‘Don’t be,’ you reassure him, ‘I’m not - cut up about it like I was.’ You sniff and pull away from him a little to look in his eyes. ‘It just stays with you, like you said before. The hurt and the shock. Everything you had planned. I think it’s just… hard to remember you won’t have that. Hard to not have that future, hard to feel like you’re enough again.’ You smile softly, and he answers with his own. He knows, he understands. ‘Just… really thought I was gonna marry her,’ you whisper, looking down at your hands. ‘Day I asked her, every time I saw that ring on her finger, thought we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. And it made me so… happy.’ Frankie swallows thickly beside you. The feeling of it, of what you’re telling him, so painful, so raw for both of you. ‘And when it happened, when it fell apart… it wasn’t big. She just told me - real kind, real patient about it - that she didn’t love me anymore.’ Frankie breathes deeply when he hears the catch in your voice, the sting of it. 

Your eyes are on Lucia, but you’re so far away that it worries him. He wants you here, safe, having beers with him on his porch, giggling on the steps.

He can’t ever imagine breaking your heart.

You quirk your head, sighing. ‘Spent a long time tryna figure out what I did wrong, but there was never an answer,’ you shrug. ‘I’m glad she ended it, though. Despite it all. I’d have never forgiven her if she’d stayed.’

A strained hum pulls itself from Frankie’s throat as he watches you lean forward to pick at the grass by your feet. He clears his throat, studies your profile carefully.

‘Do you still love her?’ He asks, voice low and hoarse. He finds, to his surprise, that he’s terrified of the answer.

You frown, slowing your pulling.

‘No,’ you say. ‘I have love for her, but we don’t speak. I don’t want her in my life, but I wish her the best. I just found it… hard to rebuild.’

He thinks back to the day you moved in next door, the bright smile that he hadn’t realised didn’t quite reach your eyes, how you’d been a little thinner, looked so tired. How you’ve changed over the year since, so warm, so full of love and light and energy. How you tear around the lawn with Lucia, how you laugh at his kitchen table, how you fit into his side when you’re watching movies. 

Something swoops in his gut, something so huge and unbalancing that his breath comes shallow, that his ears buzz and his vision blurs. A feeling that makes so much - too much - sense.

Fuck.

He swallows, closes his eyes.

When he turns to look at you again, it’s with a heart that knows - really knows. He sees everything you are, everything you’ve been, everything you will be. Knows you for all your good days and bad days, has seen you at all hours, could hold every piece of your fractured heart in his hands and meld it back together again if you let him.

Your eyes find his. He watches your brows raise a fraction at his expression, watches them push together in a question. 

His mouth is dry, but he speaks.

‘You are,’ he says, ‘You are enough.’

Your eyes don’t leave his.There’s a pressure behind them, a pull in your gut, a skip of your heart. Something on the tip of your tongue. 

Frankie’s eyes slip to your mouth. Your breath catches in your throat, and the world stills. The sounds of the evening, Lucia playing, fade to almost nothing.

If you tip your head, you think he might kiss you. 

A small, wild ball of energy crashes into Frankie’s chest, and the moment slips through your fingers. Frankie lets out a quiet oof, wrapping his arms around his daughter. A giggle bubbles out of your mouth, and he grins at you, but his eyes linger. Lucia turns her tiny face up to him, and Frankie rolls his eyes goodnaturedly.

‘Whaddya want, mija?’

‘Strawberry laces.’ She whispers, and you both laugh.

‘Strawberry laces, what?’

‘Strawberry laces, please, Papi.’

‘Alright,’ he says, shifting her out of the clutch of his arms and onto the step beside you, ‘Sit tight, mi amor. I’ll be back in a minute.’

The front door isn’t even closed behind him before Lucia is crawling her way into your lap, wrapping her arms around you. You tuck your hands against her back, pulling away to look at her.

‘How’s it going, mini Morales?’

She beams up at you.

‘Good. The bugs are winning.’

‘Winning? Against who?’

‘The dinosaurs.’ She says, gravely. You nod, just as serious, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

‘That’s good. Bugs have a lot going for them.’

She leans back to consider you for a moment, her face scrunching up in the low lying sun.

‘Miss Lopez called you Mrs Morales the other day,’ she says, ‘Does that mean you and Papi are married now?’

Your heart lurches in your chest, head spinning a little. You laugh, disbelieving. From the mouths of babes.

‘No, baby,’ you say softly, and her face falls. 

‘Why not?’

You can feel your heartbeat in your toes. You pray Frankie is struggling to find those strawberry laces.

‘We’re - we’re just friends, Luc. People who get married are usually a bit more than friends.’

Lucia frowns.

‘But you are more than friends,’ she insists, ‘You’re best friends. And you love each other.’

Jesus Christ. You squeak out a hm, trying to remain noncommittal. Lucia begins to fiddle with the charm on your necklace.

‘How do you get married?’

‘Well,’ you swallow, ‘Usually you have a big party. With lots of friends and family there. And you have to ask each other first.’

‘Have you been married?’

You wince. How is she doing it?

‘No, bean. I haven’t.’

She nods, thoughtful.

‘Neither has Papi. He could ask you.’ 

You choke out a laugh. Frankie’s eyes on yours, on your mouth. The moment caught in time.

Idle thoughts.

‘He could. But I don’t think he wants to.’

Her wide, brown eyes shoot to yours, hands stilling on the chain of your necklace. A feeling creeps up the back of your neck.

‘He does,’ she says quietly. ‘You’re his favourite person, apart from me. He told me s- Papi!’

She cuts herself off in an excitable screech, and you scrunch your face at it. Luc is wriggling in your lap, lips open wide in a toothy grin. Her hands reach out in fists as Frankie rounds your shoulder, the plastic packet of strawberry laces crinkling in his hand. 

‘Open your hand,’ he says, and Lucia obeys, her fists flattening to palms face up. Frankie drops a small handful of the sweets onto them, and she dances on top of your thighs, shoving two in her mouth at once so she can chew them up like snakes disappearing between her teeth.

She flashes you another grin, red blended with white, and wriggles backwards, running off back to her dinosaurs. 

Frankie settles next to you again, offering you the packet. You take it, fingers scrabbling for sugar as the two of you watch her. For a second, it’s like you’re a family. Like you can feel the weight of a ring on your finger, a ring that was supposed to be there some time in the last six months. You shake your head. A silly thought.

Frankie licks his fingers beside you, and you turn to watch him. The sound of the pop as he releases them from his mouth, the smile that dances across his lips as he watches Lucia, the crows feet at the corners of his eyes. An involuntary smile crawls across your own lips.

‘Got another favour you can do for me,’ you say, still chewing. 

‘Hm?’

‘Sink’s a little leaky. Think you can take a look?’

You hold the packet of strawberry laces out to him, and he takes one, lowering it into his mouth. You giggle at the way his tongue curls around it. He grins back at you.

‘Sure can, baby. Luc is at a sleepover Friday night. That work for you?’

‘I think it might, Morales. I think it might.’

[withacapitalp]

Because the girlies really loved my last post about Argyle (and I can't remember if I put this here or not) have some more unconditional jargyle love

“I got a job today,” 

All conversation halted as over a dozens pairs of eyes turned to stare at him. Argyle gave them all a half smile and shoving some more vegetables in his mouth. 

“A job?” Jonathan managed to sputter out, looking at Argyle like he was from another planet. He did that a lot, always had, so it didn't really bug him.

Argyle was fine with being weird.  

“Hawkins Pizza! Gino wants me to start on Thursday, earlier if I can. They reallllllly need the help,” Argyle said with a disappointed shake of his head, taking another bite of broccoli and telling them the whole story. 

He had gone in on an impulse while he was waiting to pick up Robin and Steve from work. He had just wanted a slice, maybe to pick some up for dinner tonight so Joyce didn’t have to cook, but he had walked into a waking nightmare. Half baked mushy dough, tomato sauce that tasted like it came right out of a jar, and a cheese blend that had zero stringiness. 

They didn’t even have pineapple. It was a complete travesty.

The owner hadn’t appreciated his observations at first, even threatened to kick him out, but he had managed to swing the man around by offering to make him a real pizza. 

Twenty five minutes later Argyle had a job offer and a super nice new boss. Turns out the dude was way chill, just overwhelmed by being one of three restaurants left standing after the earthquake. But good pizza made everyone feel better. It was one of the reasons Argyle had loved being at Surfer Boy so much. 

“Y’all won’t be able to handle the sick ass pies I’m about to be slinging,” He said with a lazy shaka and a chuckle. 

Everyone was still looking at him, but not with as much confusion. They all congratulated him,  lowly going back to the conversations they had been having before. 

Well everyone except Jonathan, but that guy was always zonked out. 

“You’re staying?” Jonathan finally asked. 

“As long as its still cool for me to crash on your couch, my guy,” Argyle answered. Shoot. He probably should have asked that first before taking the job, but he had just been excited to get to start making pizzas again. Being in Hawkins wasn’t anything like Cali, and he had jumped at the chance for something just a little bit familiar. 

“Of course it is. Stay as long as you want,” Jonathan answered automatically, not missing a beat, “I just- I-“

Jonathan cut himself off with an irritated sigh, turning to stare down at his plate. Argyle let him have the moment, bopping his head along to the music playing in his head and happily spacing out. 

Jonny needed things like this, moments where he could debate whatever was going on inside. His best friend was ‘cerebral’ as his abuela would put it- he needed time in his head to find the right thing to say. 

Or he needed time to find the courage to say he wanted to say without fear. Either way, Argyle didn’t mind waiting. 

“I guess I just didn’t expect you to want to stay,” Jonathan mumbled out, still keeping his eyes on his plate and not his best friend, “I mean given how insane everything is,” 

It was insane. It was all insane.

Two weeks ago they had been hitting golfballs into old cars and talking about how Jonathan needed to get his shit together, and now they were sitting in the living room of an abandoned cabin halfway across the country, surrounded by people who had only taken ten days to feel like family to him. 

It was insane that Jonathan’s little sister could move stuff with her mind, and there was apparently an alternate dimension full of hell beasts that were determined to break into their world and destroy everything. It was insane that he had known nothing about the guy he swore was his best friend, and it was insane that Argyle still managed to find a way to love him through all of it. 

But sometimes insane was a good thing.

“Where else would I wanna be?” Argyle said instead with an easy grin, slinging an arm around Jonathan’s shoulder and leaning into his best friend’s space. 

[links-in-time]

Sword and Dagger

This fic is for @mmelete and anyone else who wants to see some reconciliation and comfort between Legend and Warriors. They are two of my favourite LU boys and I wish they got along more in people's fics.

------------------------~~~------------------------

"LEGEND!" Warriors voice rang out across the camp.

A smile curled the corner of the Vet's mouth as he continued adding wood to the fire. He managed to surpress his laughter. This was going to be hilarious.

The stomping of boots grew louder as Wars stormed across the clearing towards where Legend was kneeling by the fire. Something solid collided with Legend's shoulder, hard and fast. He dropped the last branch he had been holding and clutched at his arm. Looking down he saw the offending projectile. A squat brown glass jar filled with clear gel.

"Ouch!" Legend grunted, rubbing furiously at his new bruise. "What the fuck?!"

"What the fuck?" Wars echoed, turning the question back on Legend.

Around the clearing the rest of the boys couldn't help but stop what they were doing and turn their attention to this latest argument. Time let out a sigh and rubbed at his brow before turning back to his journal. Wild continued chopping vegetables for dinner. He hated it when the others were fighting, it made his anxiety spike and he would rather be literally anywhere else in the world when his brothers were at each others throats.

Four, Hyrule and Sky pretended to carry on with their own activities. Still keeping an eye on the argument about to break out by the fire. Wind was mercifully down by the stream, and hopefully out of earshot of the screaming match that had already begun. While Twilight was out on patrol.

"You arse! You put glue in my hair gel!" Wars bellowed, pointing accusingly down at Legend. His other fist balled and shaking at his side.

Time couldn't help but flick his eye up from his journal to Warriors. He also couldn't help the minute smile which crept upon his lips. Wars' hair, which was usually kept almost immaculate, was a mess. The left side was stuck down so flat it almost followed the shape of his skull. While the right side was stuck up in the air at odd angles. He looked like he'd been caught in a sudden gust of wind. Except there was no breeze. Only a livid scowl and the pointing finger which refused to leave its mark.

"You mean your hair CAN look even more stupid than normal?" Legend replied nonchalantly. His eyes remaining on the fire.

"You little shit! Now my comb is clogged up with glue and hair and I'm gonna have to get a new one, thank you very much! Not to mention what a pain in the arse this is going to be to clean out. What the hell man? What did I do to you?!"

Warriors continued to berate, oblivious to anyone except the object of his fury.

It wasn't really about his hair. Well, it was almost certainly about his hair. But Wars wasn't as vain as people liked to assume he was. Just because he was considered more handsome than most, didn't mean he was constantly preening himself. Sure he liked to look neat and presentable, but that was mostly from a life spent in the army. A soldier could be seriously disciplined for failing to dress correctly or for having scruffy hair. Every soldier was a representative of Hyrule itself. So heaven forbid that Wars always took care in making sure he was the best goddess damned image of Hyrule he could muster.

His real bug-bare was why Legend seemed to have singled him out for his pranks and jibes. Legend teased Wars for his good looks constantly. Not that Wars thought any of the others was less good looking than himself. Perhaps the Vet hadn't seen himself in a mirror for a while. If it wasn't his looks or his scarf, it was his military service, or his rank, or his loyalty to the crown. Legend could turn any trait of Warriors' into a snide remark aimed just right to get under the Captain's skin. Wars sometimes wondered if it was actually some special talent of Legend's. Like a little dagger specifically designed to be able to pick someone apart all the while laughing at them.

"Oh no, you'll have to spend some of that soldiers wage you keep bragging about!" Legend scoffed, batting the pot of gel and glue away from himself.

"What?" Wars shook his head in surprise. This was not the reaction he thought he was going to get. "Since when have I bragged about my wages?"

Wars finally looked around the camp at the rest of the heroes. Sky unfortunately managed to catch his eye and Wars latched onto his gaze.

"Sky, I don't brag about money, do I?" He asked furvently, still radiating rage and confusion.

"Um, well," Sky stammered, shrinking under Wars' intense gaze. "Not as such. But you're kind of the only one of us with an actual job."

Wars processed that for a second. He'd never considered soldiering to be a job, but it did come with a regular pay packet. So far as he could tell the only one of them who got payed for work was the Smithy. Four was an accomplished blacksmith with his own business. He had to make a decent amount of money for the work he produced. So that couldn't be the only reason Legend had singled Wars out. This couldn't be about money.

"Four has a job!" Wars pointed out.

"Hey, leave me out of this," Four stated firmly. "This is between you and Lege, figure it out without pointing fingers at the rest of us."

Four kept his eyes on the sword he was polishing, but Sky noticed they took on a verdent green hew as he spoke. He wanted to ask about it, but knew now was definitely not the time to be starting other conversations.

"Yeah Captain, why don't you pick on someone your own size!" Legend barked, drawing Warriors attention again.

"Pick on..? You're not that short!" Wars spat back.

"Oh so I am short, but not that short!" Legend retorted.

"Come on boys, please knock it off," Time groaned.

He tipped his head back against the tree behind him and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Your screaming match is giving me a headache. Plus I can't imagine anything living within a mile radius of this camp is thanking you either." Time said with a sigh.

"But he..." Wars began, but Time put up a hand to stop him talking.

"Legend, apologise for your prank," Time insisted, fixing Legend with his one eyed stare.

Legend flicked his gaze away to the ground, avoiding the Old Man's piercing eye.

"M'sorry," he grumbled under his breath.

"Right," Time nodded.

"Really, that's an acceptable apology to you?!" Wars scoffed.

"Wars, I'll buy you a new comb and gel in the next town we find. And in the morning I'll help you wash the glue out of your hair. Alright?"

Time turned his gaze onto Wars, who knew from the look on his face that it was going to be alright whether he liked it or not.

"Fine!" Wars turned on the spot and walked decisively towards his bed roll.

He picked it up and dragged it a few metres further away from the fire and set it down with a resounding thump. Wars quickly shucked his armour and his mail and tunic, before shoving himself under his blankets and all but throwing his head onto his pillow.

The rest of the Chain didn't hear a single peep out of their Captain for the rest of the night. Sulking or sleeping, no one had the courage to go and find out. At one point Hyrule asked Legend if he felt bad about how far his prank had gone.

"He deserves being taken down a peg every now and then." Was his response.

But even as he said the words, Legend felt no real emotion behind them. No truth. He'd taken a strange disliking to the Captain not long after they'd all met. He was rigid and calculating. Absurd in the attention he gave to his looks and infuriating in the way that he never deviated from a plan. Legend felt no spark of curiosity or adventure when he took a peek at Wars' aura. His magic felt strong like the rest of the Links, but it also felt tame and rigid. As though it had been pushed into a box which was too small.

Of all the Links in his company, Wars was the one he just couldn't figure out. And the one who reminded him the most of some of the worst days of his life. So he lashed out. Made jokes at his expense, played pranks he knew would get a rise out of the Captain, because it was a laugh. And what else was he supposed to do with someone who was as stiff as a board?

***

Time didn't get a chance to clean Warriors hair. Hyrule woke everyone up in the middle of his watch to the news that a portal had appeared not far from their camp. He'd felt the unique magical signature the moment it appeared and quickly ran to see what had happened. The dark swirl of black and purple bridged the space between two trees. A void deadening all light and sound around it.

Hyrule had hurried back to camp and quickly roused everyone. Unusually, Wars was the last man to finish packing his gear. And he was at the back of the line as they broke camp and followed Hyrule towards the new portal. While no one could see him, Wars attempted to flatten down the worst parts of his hair, but with little to no success. The glue had done a fine job and he'd worked it through so thoroughly with his comb, that it perfectly coated his hair. Forcing it into its current state. He let out a defeated sigh and trudged through the forest without taking much notice of his surroundings.

The shady woodland was soon replaced by the now familiar unsettling feeling of being pulled through a dark place. Wars had the uncontrollable sensation of nausia and dizziness which was concurrent with a portal jump. He was one of the few who suffered the least from time jumps, but he counted himself lucky. Wind and Four often verged on passing out after walking through a portal. While Hyrule could be left feeling dizzy and disoriented for up to an hour. Not helpful if there was danger waiting on the other side.

As the blackness faded away and the sickening sensations passed, Wars felt the bitter chill of icy weather biting at his skin. He looked up and had to blink twice before he believed what he was seeing.

Everything was white.

Everything except the red, blue and streak of pink hair in the near distance, which could only be Legend.

Wars grumbled, wrapping his arms around himself as he shoved his chin into his scarf. This was not going to be a pleasant day.

"Cap?" Legend howled over the rushing of the wind pelting his ears.

His hair flew every which way and he held onto his cap to prevent it being tugged off his head. His tunic whipped around his bare knees and he winced against the sting of the snow as it hit his exposed legs. Surely the Captain would tease him for not wearing trousers at some point.

The Captain! Legend suddenly thought with a jolt. Where in Din's name was everyone else?

"Captain!" He called again.

Wars wasn't very far away, but still Legend's voice sounded like a whisper rather than a holler. Squinting against the driving snow and leaning into the wind Wars trudged towards the colourful blob in front of him.

"I can hear you Legend. Where's everyone else?" He called in reply.

"No clue. They were right with us when we went through the portal."

Wars heard something about Legend not having a clue. (Nothing new there) And the portal.

"Great," Wars sighed.

This wasn't the first time the Chain had been separated by portal jumps before. Usually they were only split up by a short distance. They never settled on a plausible theory as to why this happened, though Wars had some pretty convincing ideas of his own. However, upon a quick scan of the surrounding empty countryside, Wars couldn't discern any other notable figures in the landscape. Legend and he supposed he himself, were the only dots of colour in an otherwise colourless world.

The snow storm showed no signs of blowing over and even tall trees had been mostly hidden by the onslaught of snow and ice. When Wars reached Legend, his next move would be to look for shelter. Hopefully the sour veteran would be cooperative enough to help rather than hinder Warriors efforts to keep them both alive.

"Looks like we got split up again. And we don't have Wild or the Sailor with us to contact anyone. We need to find shelter or we'll both catch our deaths in this cold." Wars said through chattering teeth.

Legend shuddered at the thought of just trying to walk through the thick snow around them. He could already feel the chill in his core as he pulled his hat down over his ears, and shoved his hands under his armpits to keep his fingers from freezing.

"Any suggestions?" He uttered, struggling to breath with lungs full of ice.

"Let's walk downhill," Wars decided, trying to think logically while his brain was telling him to just stop and get warm. "The cold will be less intense if we reach a lower altitude, and there's more likely to be shelter the lower we go. If we stay up here on the hill tops we'll freeze to death."

"Downhill it is then," Legend nodded.

Wars raised an eyebrow at how easily Legend had followed his suggestion. But he didn't dare question it unless Legend suddenly decided to have an argument about it.

"You want me to go ahead or behind?" He asked.

"You can cut through the deep snow easier than I can, you go first."

"Right."

"Plus, if you fall in a hole I'll know not to step there!" Legend snorted.

"Right," Wars said flatly.

So they began their slow slog down the hill. The wind was mercifully behind them, but still bitterly cold. Wars took a leaf out of Legend's book and pulled his old hat out of his bag. He tugged it tight down over his ears and tucked the end into his scarf so it wouldn't flap about. Wars could feel his steel mail freezing but there wasn't anything he could do about that now. His undershirt would keep it from touching his skin, but it wouldn't do anything to keep him warm. He just preyed they would find some kind of shelter and soon.

They walked for what felt like hours before the ground began to level out. The trees became a more frequent sight and though the storm was still raging, even a meagre tree cover was better than nothing.

"We could stop and make a fire here?" Wars suggested, looking about at the tall pines around them.

"Our stuff will just get wet if we stop here. We should keep looking for shelter. A cave or a cabin or something," Legend replied with a shake of his head. Though it could have just been from the cold.

"How d'you know there'll be one?"

"I don't, but... I'd rather keep looking than stop here and freeze. At least if we're moving we're keeping some sort of body heat." Legend explained.

"Me maybe, aren't you freezing?" Wars scoffed, eyeing Legend's bare legs which looked raw and red.

"Yeah I am, thanks for reminding me!"

"Sorry, I was just thinking you might want to stop?" Wars remarked.

"Because I'm small and fragile?" Legend snorted.

"What? NO?" Wars balked. "Because you're wearing less clothes and you're more likely to die more quickly of exposure than I am."

"It's not a competition Captain!" Legend hissed over his shoulder as he continued to walk in front of Wars. "Besides, I'm far more adaptive than you anyway. Who's to say who would win that competition?!"

"It's not a competition to see who dies first either Lege!" Wars sighed, hurrying to stay with the turbulent Vet.

Their argument died as they continued to walk through the snow covered forest. Icicles hung ominously from tree branches over head. Wind whipped through the trees, shaking loose drifts of snow. The only sounds were the howling of the wind, and their laboured breathing as the two boys marched through the snow drifts.

"Hut!" Legend exclaimed.

Wars head shot up at the sound and looked ahead. A squat wooden structure sat among the trees just a few yards away from them. Legend immediately took off towards it, with Wars only a few steps behind him. The veteran hero threw his shoulder into the door as he turned the handle, but there was less resistance than he had anticipated and the door swung open freely.

It was an extremely modest dwelling and it clearly hadn't been used for some time. There was a single cot in one corner. A fireplace set into the back wall and boarded up windows on the opposing sides.

"I'll be damned, maybe the gods do love us after all," Legend sighed, as he spotted a stack of logs in the corner by the fire.

Warriors quickly shut the door behind them and hefted his pack onto the floor beside the bed. His first instinct was to leave some kind of sign for the others telling them where they were. If this storm didn't break soon, the two of them might find themselves stuck for a while. If the others came looking, Warriors wanted them to find him and Legend as soon as possible.

He pulled out a pouch of berries Wild had picked for him and stared at it, turning the object over in his mind. The colour would stand out against the stark surroundings, but he doubted the juice would stick to the door of the hut on its own. Another thought wormed it's way into his mind and he groaned at how good his idea was.

Wars searched for his old pot of hair gel and found it in his pocket of useless objects he kept meaning to throw away. He opened the lid and was relieved to find it hadn't completely hardened. Wars crushed a few of the berries into the jar and mashed the mixture together with his fingers. When the gel-glue had turned a vivid pink colour, he quickly left the hut.

"Hey! Where are you...?"

Wars heard Legend say as he pulled the door open and quickly used his fingers to write on the outside of the wooden door. It was rough and untidy. But his makeshift paint did the job. The bright pink of the berries having the desired affect. Wars spelled out the quickest and easiest thing he could think of before letting too much cold back into the hut. After he was finished he quickly washed his hands off with some snow, closed the door and threw the jar of paint back into his pack.

"What was that about?" Legend asked incredulously.

Wars sighed contently as he saw the fire blooming into life behind Legend. But he swallowed before answering his question.

"I was leaving a sign for the others in case they come looking for us. Hopefully someone will be able to see it even if they don't notice the hut right away."

"Huh, that's actually pretty smart," Legend nodded, turning to throw some more kindling onto his tender flames.

"Did you just call me smart?" Wars jibed.

"I called you pretty smart, you know, the same way seagulls are pretty smart," Legend scoffed, avoiding Warriors gaze.

"Right."

Wars shook his head and turned back to his pack. He pulled out his bed roll and set it on the floor beside the fire. Legend waisted no time settling himself onto it and rubbing at his legs to stimulate some warmth. Wars pulled out his blanket and pillow and some spare shirts to replace the one he was wearing. It would be wet with both sweat and snowmelt and would quickly make him cold if he didn't change it soon. Speaking of.

"Hey, um, Legend," Wars said tentatively. Hating himself for the next words about to come out of his mouth. "Can you help me for a minute?"

"Help you with what?" Legend groaned.

"I can't take my armour or my mail off, they're too cold to touch. Can you put some gloves on and help me?" He asked, trying to convey as much sincerity in his voice and expression as he could muster.

Legend let out the longest sigh Wars had ever heard. But still, the Vet pushed himself to his feet and crossed the cabin to where Wars stood.

"Well?" He asked impatiently.

Wars quickly found an old pair of gloves in his pack (not fingerless ones) and handed them to Legend. Although Wars had to point Legend in the right direction a couple of times, Legend quickly helped Wars take off his pauldron and laid it on the floor near the fire for it to warm up. His tunic came off with ease but his mail was more difficult. Legend managed to buch it up around Warriors shoulders, then got him to bed over and slid the whole shirt off onto the floor over his head.

"Well that's just insanely stupid!" Legend scoffed, as he picked up the heavy lump of clinking metal.

"It's saved my life more times than I can count," Wars retorted, trying to shake out his hair before rembering he couldn't.

Legend layed the mail shirt out on the other side of the fire and Wars wondered at the care which the Vet showed to something he clearly disapproved of.

"Why don't you just try not to get hit. Then you wouldn't have to wear something so heavy?" He proffered.

"Is that why you stopped wearing trousers?" Wars remarked in return.

"Touche."

Wars quickly undressed and pulled two clean shirts over his shivering body. He wanted to put his tunic back on as another layer, but that was pretty wet as well. The garment and his scarf, joined his armour by the fire and he settled for pulling a blanket around his shoulders instead.

Legend scooted along the bed roll slightly to let Wars sit down in front of the fire. The warmth hit him in a similar way to the snow. His face and hands tingled as his skin came back to life.

"Ahhh," Wars couldn't help the sigh which escaped him. "Nice work getting the fire going."

Legend looked at him sideways but decided not to turn the simple statement into an argument.

"Thanks, and you're welcome by the way, for helping you out."

"Thanks for that, I'm usually alright doing it by myself. But, I've known people who touched frozen mail before and ended up with the pattern burned into their skin by the cold." Wars explained, his expression turning pensive as his memories trickled into his mind.

"Huh, yeah that would suck." Legend nodded.

Legend finally decided to take off his hat and tunic and let them dry out alongside Warriors clothes. He found his own blanket and draped it over his knees. After that the pair fell into an uncomfortable silence as their bodies began to warm. They could hear the storm raging on outside their little bubble of calm, but the hut was fairly draft free. Plus there were enough logs to keep them going for at least a few days if necessary.

Wars didn't want to sit in silence. He'd hated the periods of his life when he hadn't been able to talk. Since being with the rest of the Chain he felt like he could speak his mind or his emotions freely, and without reprisal. For the first time in a long time he had almost felt understood, among other people like himself. But then there was Legend. The impenetrable wall of stoicism and spite. It wasn't that they just didn't get on, they were totally different people. And it was infuriatingly difficult for the two of them to see eye to eye. Two heroes of Hyrule, both forged though danger and courage to defend their kingdoms. A sword and a dagger, both deadly weapons, weilded in very different ways.

To Wars' great surprise Legend was the first to break their silence.

"I am sorry about your hair," Legend uttered. If not for their complete quiet, Wars didn't think he would have even noticed the teen had spoken.

"Then why'd you do it?" Wars asked, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.

"I dunno, thought it would be funny I guess. And it was kinda funny. But after that you were just cross and I knew everyone else would be cross at me for doing it. So, I dunno." Legend shrugged, turning his face away so Wars couldn't see his own confusion.

"Have I done something to make you mad at me for some reason? If I have it definitely wasn't intentional Legend," Wars questioned, searching Legend's posture for some kind of response.

"No, that's not..." Legend tried to push some words out his mouth. But his brain and his lips weren't complying with one another.

Why was he even trying to explain himself to the Captain of all people? He wouldn't understand even if Legend could organise his thoughts. He just knew he wouldn't. So why try at all?

"Forget I even said anything alright. You clearly don't know how to accept an apology."

Just like that Wars watched Legend's walls close in and his mask slip back into place. He radiated the energy of a feral animal, terrified something would come near him. Wars hovered beside him, torn between trying to comfort his friend, and dropping the issue altogether. The hero inside him couldn't bare to do the latter, so he grit his teeth and pushed on.

"Lege, do you hate me?" He asked softly, ready to take the answer he was anticipating.

That made Legend lift his head and face Warriors. A frown creased his brow.

"No, of course I don't hate you?" He said. "Why would you think I hate you?"

"I don't know, the relentless teasing. Hiding my stuff, the glue. You're constantly on my case. It's like you're trying to rile me up so much that I don't want to be with the group any more." Wars rambled on until he had said more than he meant to.

"You don't want to be with the group anymore?" Legend's frown deepend.

"No, I mean yes." Wars sighed, this was coming out all wrong. "Of course I want to be with the group. You boys mean the world to me. But I just get the feeling I don't mean anything to you. Or if I do it's not a good feeling. And that hurts Legend. Everything you do, I know it's little things and if they weren't so often I could brush them aside and maybe even laugh at them. But what you're doing to me, it really hurts. And I don't know why else you'd hurt me if you didn't hate me."

Wars closed his eyes and curled in on himself, his fingers dug into the blanket, knuckles turning while. He only realised he was crying when he felt a drop slip down onto his lip.

Legend sat stock still. He was so stunned he had to give himself a mental slap across the face and grab hold of the situation in front of him. The Captain, Warriors, their chief planner and strategist, his brother, thought he hated him.

"I don't, hate you," he said slowly.

Goddesses he was terrible with emotions. Turns out he was terrible at reading certain people too. Legend thought Warriors was all stoicism and army and, 'look at me aren't I so smart and better than every one!' How could he have got it so wrong.

He knew how.

Months of being hunted by royal soldiers haunted his nightmares. Days and nights spent on the run, accused of a crime he hadn't committed. A crime he was trying to stop for Din's sake! Shining steel and the sound of clinking mail made his skin crawl. Just helping Warriors take his off had sent him to the edge of reliving those memories. But he'd done it because his brother needed his help. Now he was hearing Wars doubted him so completely.

Legend was a difficult person to love. He knew that. He was all hard edges and scepticism. How Ravio not only put up with him, but genuinely loved him, he'd never know. The crazy merchant had latched onto him and never let him go. Ravio had opened his heart to the possibility that he could actually love and be loved in return.

"I didn't take to being the hero as easily as everyone thought I did," Wars said softly.

Legend raised an eyebrow, not at the words, but at the fact that Wars had spoken first. He was almost ready with a speach and everything. But Wars sounded like he was about to get something off his chest, and Legend was happy to hear him out.

"The war had just started. Cia's monsters were ravaging the lands. The Hero was on everyone's lips. And then the Hero was me. I was the one she was after. The spirit of the Hero lived inside me and she wanted it for herself. The lengths she went through to try and claim me, I shudder now to even remember it. I knew how to be a soldier. A Hero was something different. It's alright for a soldier to fail. That just means the enemy was stronger and better prepared than you. You can learn something from failing and do better in the next fight.

But as a Hero, you're not allowed to fail. You win or you lose and if you lose you'd better prepare for people to turn against you. When you're an image people cling to in times of dispare, you do everything you can to help and to live up to their expectations. I tried so hard to be everything people needed me to be. I hardly ever let myself think about what I wanted. Because it didn't matter. I had a job to do and that was all that mattered."

Wars paused and sighed, his chin resting heavy on his arms as they crossed over his knees. Though his voice sounded steady, tears slowly streaked down his face.

"I guess I still have it in my head that everyone needs me to be perfect. If I'm not, then I'm letting someone down. It doesn't matter how good a swordsman I am, or how many enemies I defeat. If I put a foot wrong, if I fail somehow, I fail Hyrule."

"I have a thing about soldiers," Legend sighed. If they were sharing he probably aught to do his bit. "On one of my adventures a guy called Agahnim accused me of kidnapping Zelda. He had some kind of hold over the soldiers and he made them come after me constantly. They put up wanted posters and ordinary Hylians saw me as the enemy who kidnapped their princess. I was on the run for months. Soldiers tried to grab me everywhere I went. I don't know if they had orders to kill me but they certainly weren't gentle in their efforts.

When you first showed up on this journey, for a brief moment I thought you were the enemy. The thing Hylia had sent us to fight. A knight gone rogue. I don't think I ever really got over that feeling. The idea that, at some point you were going to turn on me. So I kept you at a distance, kept pushing you away."

There was a brief moment of silence before Wars chuckled. He snorted a laugh as Legend shot him an incredulous glare.

"Sorry, I'm not laughing at you. That sounds like a nightmare. But it's kind of ironic," Wars tilted his head as the thoughts swirled.

"Ironic?" Legend parroted, utterly bemused.

"I had my fair share of betrayals during the war." Wars replied, his tone souring. "During one battle, half my troops turned against me. They called me a traitor, claimed the war was my fault. I had to-to fight men and women I had fought alongside for years. They gave me no choice. I still hear their screams.

So it's ironic you thought I was going to turn out to be a traitor. When I've spent most of this journey trying to convince myself that all of you won't turn against me at some point. None of you ever gave me reason to think you would, but the memories still haunt me. So when you push and you tease and you torment me, it feels like..."

"Like your fears are founded in something?" Legend filled in, the bottom falling out of his heart as he spoke.

"Yeah, and when the others laugh and join in with the joke. Sometimes it's hard to make myself believe they don't mean it." Wars paused and turned his body so he was facing Legend more directly. "I'm sorry I make you feel nervous Lege. If I'd known I would have done something. Changed my clothes, I would have lost the scarf, the armour. If it stopped you thinking I would turn on you, I'd have done anything."

"You're sorry?!" Legend barked a laugh. He could feel warmth behind his eyes. But he hoped he would be able to keep speaking before he started crying. "Cap, Wars, I never thought about how what I was doing would make you feel. I - I suppose I did a bit and watching someone like you, a soldier, make a fool of themselves made me feel good I guess. I suppose that makes me a terrible bully." Keep going, deep breath, almost there. "And I know I can't take any of it back. Farore knows I wish I could. But since I can't I want to say how sorry I am. I'm sorry I singled you out. I'm sorry I made you feel betrayed, and I'm sorry I made you think I didn't love you."

"You love me?" Wars frowned as he sniffed.

"Of course I do you big dumb idiot!" Legend smiled, as tears began to overflow down his cheeks. Damn it.

"Haha, that's really sweet of you!" Wars laughed, but the sarcasm was clearly received.

"Sorry, I'm not good at emotions," Legend shrugged. "But I do mean it. I love you, and all the boys, and I will try my very best not to let you feel hurt by my awkward nature again."

"You really do mean it, don't you?" Wars said slowly, searching Legend's eyes for any sign this was another joke of his. He just hadn't reached the punch line yet.

But there was nothing but warmth and sincerity to be found. Wars hard hardly ever seen the Vet cry. But that wasn't important, he was crying too after all. Legend had opened up to him. Explained himself at last. All the pieces slotted into place and at last Wars could see Legend for who he really was. A frightened kid lashing out in order to protect himself. A kid who had seen more horrors and been through more hardships than any of their brothers. Perhaps more than all of them combined. And yet he had enough love left inside him for all of them. Even for Warriors himself.

"I love you too Legend."

Wars dropped his knees and spread his arms wide. Legend sniffed back a sob and crawled his way into Warriors embrace. Wars wrapped Legend up in his blanket, Legend's sightly damp hair tickling his neck. But he ignored it. They were both hurting and it meant the world to both of them to be able to comfort each other. Legend clamped his arms around Wars' waist, his face buried in Wars' shoulder. The warmth of the blanket and Warriors body heat spread through his frigid limbs and kindled a fire in his heart.

"Let's never fight again," Legend mumbled after a while. He felt more than heard Wars laugh against him.

"Yeah, like that's ever going to happen!"

"Alright, let's never fight over anything stupid again," Legend corrected, wiggling out of Warriors death grip slightly.

"Right, nothing stupid," Wars nodded.

The motion drew Legend's attention to Warriors hair. He really tried not to smile. He really really tried, but it was just so stupid how it was all stuck up on one side, even after being stuffed into Warriors hat.

"Would you like me to try and fix your hair?" Legend offered, already afraid Wars was going to shut him down.

"How? It's going to take days of washing to get this out?" Wars sighed, deflating a little.

"If I brush it carefully, I can stop it sticking up like that. Then we can wash it properly when we're out of, wherever we are!" Legend insisted more fervently. "Ravio did something similar to me once after I accidentally burned his favourite scarf. He helped me get the worst out of it."

"But I ruined my comb," Wars groaned, remembering the matted clump which had been thrown on the camp fire.

"We can use mine," Legend offered. "We already need to buy a new one for you, what's one more?"

Legend and Wars spent the rest of the evening huddled together by the fire. Though the storm outside showed no signs of letting up, and they hoped the rest of the Chain had found their own shelter somewhere, their little cabin remained cosy. Legend was true to his word and dutifully brushed the worst of the glue out of Wars' hair.

After he was finished, Warriors hair felt softer and was no longer stuck to the side of his head or sticking up in spikes. As Warriors ran a hand through his hair, he could still feel clumps of glue against his fingers. But at least it was workable. The simple act of kindness and repentance Legend had shown filled his heart. Maybe things would be different between them from now on.

"What did you write by the way?" Legend asked, as he sat back down by the fire.

"Write?" Wars frowned.

"On the door of the cabin," Legend reminded him. "You left a sign for the others to find. What did you write? Some kind of code?"

"Ah, no. Not exactly," Wars uttered, cheeks flushing a little pink.

"A symbol?"

"No," Wars sighed, a symbol would have been a good idea. The triforce would have been easily recognised.

"Then what?" Legend prompted, giving Wars a nudge with his elbow.

"I was in a hurry so I wrote the first thing that came into my head," Wars admitted.

"Right, and that was?" Legend urged.

"I um, I wrote Link."

"Link."

"Yep."

... "It's a good thing you're pretty."

---

Once again this became so much longer and went so much deeper than I intended it to go. I should probably go to therapy instead of venting all my stuff into these characters. But therapy is expensive and posting fanfics on Tumbler is free! So you guys get to enjoy my therapy with me, yay!

(Cries internally)

If you want to read more Legend and Warriors then my fic Hobby Boys is much shorter and has way less angst!

[sehtoast]

Aphrodisiac (Homelander x OC)

18+ | 5k, marathon sex, mild degradation, face fucking, aphrodisiac use, aggressive sex, ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, ceiling sex, floor sex, couch sex, bed sex, window sex, every flat surface sex basically, semi-public sex, elevator groping, multiple orgasms, overstim, dry humping, thigh humping, Homelander being Homelander, spidersona oc, porn without plot | Fic Directory

Inspired by the spider lotion debacle

There was never a day where the incessant bitching didn't grate on his nerves. Every fucking minute around Ashley seemed to consist of listening to her grind an entire department to dust over product error or oversights that even the world's least talented dipshit could notice. 

On one hand, he enjoyed watching her get worse. Seeing each and every little strand of hair fall out, piece by piece, literally pulling it out over her role as manager. On the other, it was fucking annoying. 

Until now. 

“And it's attracting horny fucking spiders!” Ashley shrieks into the receiver. “I don't care if you have to stay here all night– fix it now! If I see another wolf spider running around R&D to go fuck a bottle of lotion, you can forget giving your kids a Christmas this year.”

The words went in one ear and right out the other, but he did catch one phrase in particular that was oh so relevant to his needs and wants. 

Horny fucking spiders!

Not in the literal sense, of course. The last thing he needed was those eight legged pests vying for a piece of him, but he did have one spider in particular that he was more than happy to attract. 

One spidery man named Benjamin, that is. 

“What was that?” He asks with a lilt of amusement and true curiosity. Only one of those wasn't fake. 

“Oh, sorry, sir!” She shrimps away slightly. “Those idiots in research and development were making a new lotion for Spider-Man's upcoming cosmetic line, but, for whatever reason, it's attracting a bunch of spiders– I hope you're not arachnophobic!” She gives a nervous laugh. “Look up some time, there's cobwebs everywhere!”

He hums and purses his lips, shaking his head with a roll of his eyes. 

“Ashley,” he says lowly. “Do apex predators need to look up?”

There's that spark of fear, that helplessness that he fucking loves. She squeaks a negative noise. 

“No, sir.” 

“Then why the fuck would I care about cobwebs?” He snaps. “Or bugs for that matter?”

As he turns on his heel to go do his own research, he can't help the devious grin on his face. 

Horny spiders? What kind of cocktail of mistakes attracts such unpleasant pests– and, better yet, what are the odds that it would work on his spider?

The nerds in the lab give him some long winded explanation about chemicals. Something about compounds mimicking pheromones in sexually responsive female spiders, but his smile grew like the cat that got the cream. 

He plucked a jar of it from a staging table, giving it a deep, savoring whiff. 

It didn't smell half bad. Citrus scented, like Benjamin prefers his products. Lime and a hint of something… herbal– basil, perhaps. But, overall, very soft. Gentle even on his bloodhound nose. 

“Not bad,” he shrugs. “Mind if I keep this? I don't really give a fuck about the spiders.” 

The lab rat had little to say in the way of protest. Really, though. Who the fuck was going to tell him no? 

Homelander decides to grab a second jar on his way out. 

Back in his penthouse, he strips down in front of a mirror.  Stares for but a moment to take in the sight of himself.

The contradiction between his suit and his real body always did disappoint him, but he’s a little less harsh on himself these days.  Benjamin’s influence, he supposes.

With a sigh, he dips his fingers into a jar and pulls out a healthy glob of lotion.  He slathers it on his neck, where he knows his skin will remain exposed.  Homelander applies slightly less on his upper body, and barely bothers with his legs at all.  He does, however, apply it heavily to his core, painting his inner thighs, his cock, his sack, even his hole and cheeks with the gentle scent.  He can already sniff out the unique bond it creates with his natural smell and he hopes with every fiber of his being that his plan will work.

For good measure, he rolls his slicked body around in their bed a little.  Maybe the lingering scent will help him get lucky again when they lay down to sleep at the end of the day.

He doesn’t have to wait long at all to test his plan.  Tuesday was generally considered a boring day, full of meetings and stupid shit that none of them ever liked to bother with.  However, it couldn’t possibly stoke more excitement in Homelander at the realization he’d be standing before his little spider discussing boring old numbers.  It was the perfect opportunity to see if it works.

It didn’t take long at all for the team to trickle in.  Benjamin, with his mask on, greeted him with a hidden wink and a wave before taking his seat beside Noir.  The stragglers trickled in and he began.

“Now, you guys,” he started.  “I’m not one to lecture, but can any one of you tell me what the fuck is going on that we all collectively dropped a percent?”

The Deep raised his hand– because of course he did.

He hardly listened to anything that fish fucking moron had to say, instead focusing on the sound of something so very beautiful.  Something that was picking up in intensity bit by bit, damn near unnoticeable at first.

Thump thump.

Homelander’s almost kicking himself by the time he realizes.

Thumpthump. Thumpthump.  Thumpthump. Thumpthump.

When the deepened breaths kick in, he knows.

While A-Train and The Deep begin to bicker over whose most recent stunt was at fault for tanking their numbers, Homelander instead takes a minute to peer over at Benjamin.  He lets only the faintest smile crack his all-business expression.

Even those cute little emotive lenses were wide.

Benjamin’s heart rate had gone up quite a bit– blood pressure, too.  Underneath that red mask were a pair of cheeks flushed damn near the same color.  Dilated eyes.  

He can practically hear the bug gulp.

The web-head was more than well aware of his innate ability to clock his arousal at any given time.  God knows Homelander abuses the power on the regular, but it plays a special role today.

It makes him far more excited  to see how this goes. 

Homelander meaders innocently around the V shaped table for a time as he takes over the conversation once more, making his way to stand behind his little spider.

“Tell you what, though.” Homelander smirks.  “Bug boy here has been doing a great job with his assignments.”  He drops his hands on top of Ben’s shoulders, giving light squeezes that surely felt much more powerful to the receiver. He takes a deep breath, inhaling the sweet scent of Benjamin’s arousal.  “Does everything I say, never misses details.  Doesn’t launch fucking dolphins out of windshields.”

Across the room, The Deep averts his gaze to the ground.

“He’s a good boy.”

Benjamin begins to sweat at the mere fucking contact.  Something was different, something was very fucking different, and he wanted to jump Homelander’s bones like never before.  Whatever it was, he couldn’t name it.  At first, maybe he thought it was something about his appearance.  He did look extra handsome, but nothing seemed… different?  Same undercut, same suit, same handsome smile.

He still dominated the room just as he always did.  Still toyed with each of the members in his own cruel ways– well, playful ways with him, cruel only to the others.  

Ben simply couldn’t figure it out.

Until he said that.

The way he moved when he said it.  Homelander had leaned down to say it right next to his ear and he’d caught a whiff of something.

He had no idea what it was, no clue at all, but the intensified smell made his entire body go rigid and his cunt clench.  Ben tried to be subtle about his building arousal, but he knew that extra deep inhale didn’t go unnoticed.

Not with the way Homelander winked at him as he took his place at the head of the table once more.

Worse yet, now that Ben had caught that scent, he couldn’t stop smelling it.  It seemed to permeate the room.  It was everywhere.  Like it had embedded itself into his olfactory bulbs and it was all he could fucking smell.  Not even the complimentary Vought brand coffee with its typically overpowering odor could dominate his senses.

He squirmed through the whole meeting. Crossed his legs, clenched them tight.  Heard his heartbeat in his ears for the whole duration.  By the end, he knew he’d soaked a small patch right into his suit, and thank fuck the fabric was dark enough that it wouldn’t be visible or he’d be truly mortified.

Benjamin remained in his seat as the others left the room.  Used to be they’d give him sympathetic looks every time Homelander directed him to stay afterward, but it had become the norm over the past year.  Once they’d all left, he pulled his mask off.

“Did you hear a word I said?”  Homelander teased, pressing a button on the table to lock the conference room doors.  “Or were you too busy leaving a snail trail on your seat to notice?”

“I did, I–” Ben stopped as soon as his voice quivered.

“Really?” Homelander inquired, stalking over to stand behind him.  “On your feet.  Tell me what today was about.”  He was thrilled to the point of bursting to know it was working.  Oh the fun he was going to have with this…

Ben rose from his seat, head light and clouded with lust.  The wet fabric of his underwear grazed his hardened clit and he all but stumbled.  Before he could even speak, Homelander’s hands were upon him and that scent was fogging his senses tenfold.

“You can’t tell me, can you?”  John smirked, pressing himself against the web-head’s rear.  He discards his gloves and reaches around to swipe his fingers over Ben’s clothed cunt, chuckling darkly at how wet he was already.  The other hand trails up to lodge his thumb in the bug’s mouth and he feels Ben’s entire body react to the taste.  “Feels like you were too busy making a mess of yourself to care.  You’re fucking drenched.”

Ben’s hips rock back against him, head tipping to make room for the lips beginning to peck at his neck.  The taste of Homelander’s skin is sweeter than he normally tastes. Sweeter than anything he’s ever had in his life.

He moans around the digit.

“Pretty little thing with my finger in your mouth.” Homelander purrs in his ear, fingers rubbing at his soaked core.  “Bet you wish it was my cock instead, right?”  He presses down against Ben’s tongue.  “Answer me, pretty boy.”

The bug nods furiously, hips pushing forward to seek more pressure from the hand between his thighs.  He bites against Homelander’s knuckle, drawing forth a deep, dark laugh from the man behind him.

Within seconds, he’s forced onto his knees and Homelander’s cock is lodged firmly between his lips, pounding the back of his throat without any buildup.  He gags twice, but ultimately takes little time at all to adjust to the girth filling him, moaning with every opportunity for breaths, hand dragging Homelander’s pants down enough to toy with his balls.

The taste from before is infinitely stronger and Benjamin feels his slick pool even more through his drenched underwear. But he wants this, wants this so fucking bad he can hardly stand it.  He wants to get used, wants to be fucked in every way imaginable.  Something more powerful than his own mind demands it.

“That’s right, fuckin’ choke on it,” John grits as he rams in hard, holding himself there.  “Fucking slut, all wet for me in a meeting of all things.”  He reaches down and lovingly taps against Ben’s cheek.  “Bet you’re so horny you’d have let me fuck you in front of them!  Claim you, take you apart with an audience.”  He draws out and drags his shaft across Ben’s flushed face.  “You were made for me– made for my cock.”

Ben nods, mouth open and tongue wagging out to catch his length once more.

Homelander begins to jerk himself off, tip pressed firmly to that needly little tongue that was just begging for his load.

“That’s it,” he growls between slick strokes.  “S-Swallow every drop and show me!  Show me how good you take it– ah!”

He moans freely through his orgasm, eyes fighting to stay open so he can watch every spurt that paints his lovely little Benjamin’s mouth and face.  He watches it pool along Ben’s tongue, shoot onto his upper lip, a little on the flare of his nostril.  With a hand in his hair, he tips Benjamin’s head back.

“Swallow,” he orders, pleased as can be when his little spider does so without any objection and shows him an empty mouth.

With a pleased pat to Ben’s cheek, Homelander pulls his pants up, smirking wickedly at the desperate, whining complaint from his love bug.

“Oh, you didn’t think I was gonna fuck you after this, did you?”  He muses playfully.  “I know I said you’re a good boy, but you’re too good.  Y’see, you ranked higher than me this month and that, babe, just hurts my feelings.”

“Wh– I didn’t mean to!”  Ben says desperately, crawling toward him on his hands and knees.  “Please, Johnny!  I need–”

“Mmm, nah.” He sighs theatrically.  “I don’t think I can right now.  Besides, the board of directors are gonna be using this room soon.  They’re probably already outside the door, so you should probably get cleaned up…”

With a whine bordering on truly pathetic, Benjamin wipes his face clean of come and saliva and rises to his feet.

“What a shame… I’d have liked to, though.  You just had to be such a good boy and outdo me.  Oh well,” Homelander lilts, unlocking the door and making his way out.  “Maybe next time.”

Next time comes fairly quickly, as does he.  Roughly an hour later, Benjamin cornered him in a hallway and dragged him into some random broom closet.  Webbed the door shut, jerked him stiff– not that it was difficult to do– and begged to get fucked.

So Homelander did exactly that.  Fucked him hard and fast against the wall, pace brutal and unrelenting, catering only to himself.  He spilled a thick load and slipped out, watching with satisfaction as it leaked from Ben’s sopping core and splattered onto the ground.

His little spider begged him for more, of course.  Begged for anything– fingers, his mouth, anything at all, to no avail.  Homelander left him there, desperate and nearly unhinged, to bring himself to an unsatisfying climax.  

Even then, it wasn’t nearly enough.

Homelander went about his daily bullshit duties for a time, relaxed and in such a great mood from having gotten off twice in one morning.  His little scheme had been more than rewarding and anything that came after was simply a bonus.

He slips into the elevator, deep in thought, but is pleasantly surprised to find his little love bug in there as well.  A glimpse through the mask lets him see just how feral the look in Ben’s eyes had become.

The elevator shuts.

“Lovely weather we’re ha–”  He tries to jest, but Benjamin pounces on him in an instant, forcing him back.  Homelander grins gleefully at the way Ben clings to the wall, effectively caging him.

“We’re going to your place,” Ben all but pants.  “And you’re going to make me come as many fucking times as it takes.”

What a delicious offer.

“Am I now?”  Homelander teases.  Ben lifts his mask just enough to expose his mouth before diving in on his neck.  Teeth sink into his flesh and the sensation tingles right down to his groin.  Never enough force to puncture, but just enough to make him fucking feel it.  “What’s got you thinking you can make me?”

The elevator was rising and anyone could come in at any moment.  They’d be caught red handed, but neither seemed bothered.

Those teeth bite even harder– probably as hard as his little spider possibly can– and he chuckles darkly.  

“Oooh, a bug bite,” he muses.  “Maybe they should call you Mosquito-Man inste– oh!”  He bites off a gritty moan.  In the midst of his tease, Ben reached down, pressed his fingers back to his taint, and pushed hard.  “Oh ff–”

The elevator dings and the doors open to the floor of his penthouse.  Benjamin, smirking, drags him down the hall.  As soon as they cross the threshold, the bug throws him against a wall.

“Do you,” Ben purrs with a trembling voice, “have any fucking clue how horny I am?”  He buries his nose in Homelander’s neck and takes a deep, long sniff.  “You smell like fucking sex!  That doesn’t even make sense, but–”  He licks a thick stripe from jugular to jaw. “You fucking do.”

With a dark chuckle, Homelander rips the mask off Benjamin’s head and takes a handful of his mussed hair.  He forces Ben to back up and throws him onto the leather couch, admiring the view of his spread legs and the darkened patch of slick soaking between them.

He leans forward until he’s crawling up the length of Ben’s body like a predator stalks its prey, fangs bared and eyes dark with the thrill of the hunt.

“I can still smell my come in you.”  

The statement alone is enough to make Ben’s cunt flutter with excitement.  In a flash, his suit and underwear are torn from his body and his dripping pussy is exposed to the voracious man before him. 

Homelander’s tongue swipes between his folds before he even has time to beg for it.  Ben’s head falls back with a cry of bliss, relief and excitement swirling in his head all at once.  His thighs are pinned to his chest and John makes the loudest fucking slurping sounds with every pass.

“F-Fuck!”  He mewls, trying desperately to rut against the tongue washing over his bud– but Homelander holds him in place.  When that warm, wet muscle delves into his hole, he keens and thrashes his head back and forth.  Ben’s hands grab desperately for anything, anything at all.  “Johnny, please!  I– No!”  He cries when it all halts abruptly.

Homelander comes back up with a slick soaked chin to kiss him, slotting right between his legs.  He swallows Benjamin’s complaint with a messy kiss, licking his taste inside.  Homelander was not a giving man by any means, but he wanted his little spider to indulge in the delicacy of himself.

He rocks his hips forward, mind hazing at the grind of the cup in his suit against his cock.  He mimes the act of flat out fucking Benjamin, grinding and humping against him with an otherworldly force.  If the bug were anyone else, his pelvis probably would’ve shattered by now.

Ben tangles his hands in Homelander’s hair and tugs harshly.  His hips rise and fall to meet each thrust and every brush of John’s suit against his clit makes him see stars.  He moans freely, unabashedly with each stroke and, oh, it feels so fucking good! 

He changes direction to start prying that stupid fucking suit off of Homelander.  All but shreds the cape, peels the top layer off and that scent hits him full force again.  With his legs around Homelander’s hips, Ben rolls them onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Oooh,” John lilts.  He puts up no fight when his boots and pants are tugged free, and especially doesn’t complain when Ben suckles the tip of his cock through his briefs before ripping them clean off.  In seemingly a flash, the tip of his cock is breaching Benjamins’ cunt and that heat transcends his body and floods his mind.

With a needy little moan, he grips Ben’s hips and impales him in one sharp thrust.  His ego swells at the noises his little spider makes at the adjustment.  Ben is so wet he practically slid right in.  It’s always good, but now?  Seeing him so desperate, seeing such an unhinged look in his little spider’s eye– god, it made it even fucking better.

Benjamin starts riding him desperately.  There is no coordination to his movements, no sense of dignity or pride to be upheld with the frenzied way he fucks against him.  His eyes roll back, his head lolls around, and he moves like his life depends on it.  When Homelander tries to sit up, he shoves him back.

Ben digs his fingers into the tufts of hair on his love’s chest and lets the setae in his digits embed.  A dizziness rises from his cunt all the way to his head and the room fucking spins.  His breaths leave in frantic, heaving gasps.  He’s close, he’s close– he’s so fucking close!

Hands come down hard against his ass and grip with a punishing force to direct his movements.  He tries to fight it, tries to keep his own pace that was going to be enough, but Homelander would always win in a game of strength. 

His whimpering complaint becomes a pathetic moan as the cock filling him begins fucking him at a pace far more brutal that what he could accomplish himself.  Homelander fucks deep, fucks hard and furiously, strikes his cervix damn near every time and it hurts so good.  Ben falls against his chest, mind drifting away until he’s being rammed against a cold surface.

He peers from under heavy eyelids and the whole fucking room is upside down.  He’s pressed to the ceiling, whining and keening as he’s fucked raw.

“Think you’re gonna overpower me!?”

He doesn’t have it in him to even shake his head.

“Think I can’t take control from you in a fucking second?”  John grits between snaps of his hips.  Ben’s helpless sounds are like a fucking melody in his ear.  He reaches down and presses against Ben’s clit and gives the slightest rub that sends him over the edge.  His melody is a symphony screamed for him, only for him.  He doesn’t stop rutting, doesn’t stop fucking into him hard and fast even as Ben’s cunt flutters and clenches over and over again. By all means he should fucking let off and make Benjamin suffer the rest of the day for shoving him back like that.

“Think I can't take whatever I want!?” 

But he doesn’t.

Homelander drops down to the floor, keeping Benjamin impaled on his throbbing cock with ease.  He walks them to the window and slips out just long enough to spin him.

“Bet those fucks in the building across the street can see you,” he snarls.  He rams his cock into Ben so hard the glass creaks in protest.  Each thrust is pointed, accentuated by his words.  “Little.  Fucking. Slut! Show the world how good you take me. Let ‘em all see what a little whore you are!”

The cold from outside seeps through the fogging glass, penetrating Ben’s skin with an icy chill that contrasts the fire burning inside him.  He wonders if anyone can really see him like this.  Oh, if they only knew that their beloved Spider-Man was getting railed by The Homelander himself.  

Homelander leans back to take two bruising handfuls of Benjamin’s hips to push and pull him back and forth on his cock.  In turn, the web-head shoves his hands against the glass to push himself back into it.

“God, it’s fucking pathetic how bad you want me,” Homelander grits through clenched teeth.  “Dripping onto the fucking floor!”  

Ben squeezes his eyes shut and shoves back with all of his might, audibly cracking the glass and sending them both stumbling backward.  John catches him by the waist but doesn’t interrupt the motion.  They collide with the statue of Atlas, sending it and all of its beauty to the floor to shatter.

Homelander slips out of Ben and lifts him with one arm to the bedroom, shoving him onto the edge of the bed and yanking him just right to ram back inside with a throaty groan.  He reaches down and grasps a handful of those unruly brown locks and makes Ben stare into the mirror on the wall.

“Watch yourself get fucked.” He commands with an exceptionally sharp snap of his hips.  “Look  how fucking helpless you are!  I can do whatever I want to you, and you fuckin’ love it!”

Ben stares through lidded eyes.  He’s drooling, he’s got tear tracks down his face and handprint shaped bruises already forming at his hips.  And Homelander?

He looks like a fucking animal.  His eyes glimmer with specks of gathering crimson.  His fangs are bared, his brow is knit, and every muscle in his body flexes with restraint.

“Look at me!”  He demands.  As soon as Ben’s eyes meet his in the reflection, he slams into him hard once, twice, and a final third time before blowing his load deep inside.  His jaw tenses hard and his eyes screw shut.  A tense, rattling moan emerges from within his chest and he presses tight against Ben’s rear.  “That’s it– oh, fuck yeah!”

In Homelander’s blissful stupor, Ben seizes the opportunity to shove back and escape his grip.  There is always, always a point when John comes in which he is totally at ease– and the flicker of red behind his eyelids gives it away all too well.  Ben splays him out onto his back, right along the edge, and bends his legs toward his chest juuust enough to–

“O-oh, fuck–” Homelander keens.

Benjamin presses forward, taking his cock to the hilt in a position miming missionary with a special twist.  A reversal of sorts.

Maybe he’d let the switch up slide for a minute.  He always did like this position.

The web-head ruts forward and fucks John’s cock into himself with practiced ease.  Homelander’s legs wrap around his waist and the strokes deepen.

He can feel slick drooling down his balls and Ben looks like a glorious, fucked-out mess above him.  The bug’s clit grazes the base of his groin with each shallow thrust and he swears he sees something nearly rabid dance in those sweet, chocolate eyes

“Good boy!”  Ben gasps. “Lettin’ me fuck you– lettin’ me take what I want!  Knew you would, knew you’d let me have fun too– mmm, fuck!”

He wants to roll his eyes, but Benjamin feels so fucking good at this angle that he doesn’t know what to even do or say.  

“S-So good, baby,” he coos.  “So fucking hot!”

He relaxes a leg and shimmies a hand between to stroke his little spider’s nub and the stutter of his hips satisfies him to no end.

“That’s– ah– that’s good…” Ben mewls.  “Oh, fuck, rub my cock, baby!”

His fingers dance through the threads of come and slick between their bodies as he brings Benjamin higher and higher.  He watches his little love bug begin to hold his breath and thrust faster, harder, more and more until–

He all but screams, hips stuttering and legs quaking while his body practically fucking convulsed from his orgasm.  Ben heaves a sharp breath and his mind all but completely shuts down when that scent somehow floods his senses tenfold.  He collapses forward, engulfed entirely in the aroma.  His limbs twitch, his lower lip quivers, and his cunt doesn’t stop pulsing.  “Wh– what– I…” he tries, but no other words come out.  His vision starts to fade and the sheets hit his back.

He feels Homelander moving inside him again and he can’t even think.  He’s lost in the haze, lost in John, lost in whatever that fucking scent was.  Whatever it was– all of it– he just knew he fucking needed more and more.  Even when his vision whites out from his next climax, he needs more.

When he’s fucked with his head hanging off the bed, blood rushing to his skull, he needs fucking more.

Even when his cunt is overflowing and come soaks the mattress, when Homelander nearly lasers his fucking head off, when the walls are charred, when he’s confident he won’t be able to stand, when he’s fucked and eaten so raw he can’t even feel between his legs, he still needs more.

“Wh– What the fuck…” John pants weakly in his ear.  He’d finally collapsed, finally gone limp. Even his legs were beginning to tremble. “It was just fucking lotion, how are you–”

“Wha..?”  

Lotion?  

“The f-fucking– you know!  The cosmetic line. Your stuff.”

Ben peered up at him halfheartedly, barely coherent but just enough 

“S'fucking, I dunno. Hold on…” Homelander slung his arm over to the nightstand and palmed around for the jar. When he found it, his fingers dipped into the opening. He forgot to close it. 

Ben's eyes shot open the second the jar came near. 

“It's… Those dipshits in the lab fucked up. It's a horny spider magnet.” He explained with a weak grin. As if unconscious of his actions, Ben began to grind weakly against his leg. “I didn't think it'd work, but fuck… It worked.”

Ben looked at him in disbelief, but the way his body reacts to the simple change in proximity tells him it’s true.  How fucking funny, too, that the jar would sport his V-bodied spider crest.  Almost like it was designed specifically to reduce him to a begging wreck.

“You m-mean you– John!”  Ben whines and buries his face into Homelander’s neck.  The scent lingers strong there, making the throbbing between his legs begin once more.

“Not my fault you’re so fucking insatiable, babe.  That’s on you.”  He snorts a laugh.  Homelander trails his hand to Benjamin’s lower back and rubs soft, soothing circles.  “And no, I don’t know how long it lasts.  I just snagged it from the labs and uhh… slathered it all over myself… And rolled it onto the covers.”

“I’m gonna kick your ass– but later,” the bug promises playfully.  He slides his slicked core against Homelander’s thigh with languid rolls of his hips.  “Just… Lemme–”  If Homelander was somehow tired, then he’d just have to help himself.  “Fuck...  Thigh for now, dick later, okay?”

With a yawn, Homelander nods in agreement.  “Deal.”

It was going to be a long night.

[iamthecomet]

Comet

Comet

I can't do this anymore Per can't keep getting away with this I'm so sick of him and that God damn tattoo - Mr 30 hours of pleasure shut the fuck up I'm gonna shake you out like a rug this is entirely unfair and unjust and I'm simply a little gay man

Im

Doing so fine over that picture, can you tell :)

- Void

You get it Void. We're in this together. We're both doing fine. Totally normal about that picture. It hasn't irrevocably changed our brain chemistry at all RIGHT!? I think we should put him in a jar like the bug he is and shake it, just a little. Just enough to get the point across. I want to snap him in half over my knee. I want-- hhhhhhnggggggg.

[cha1cedony]

Just woke up in the middle of the night and about to try to get back to sleep again but: if Grant Wilson had the chance to live as any kind of bug for idk 24 hours? What kind of bug do you think he’d choose and, if it’s different, which bug do YOU think would suit him best? 🥰

OH MY GOODNESS. This is the best thing anyone’s ever asked me HAHAHA. For context… I love bugs (and Grant ofc) SOOO much

Ahem. Okay. Okay. This is a multi-faceted question. And I plan to be very annoying about it 😁‼️‼️‼️ I’m going to put it under a break bc I actually spent (too much) time rambling and overthinking this lol

WARNING: Very long and nonsensical Grant bug ramble below. Also, there are images of insects and spiders!

The Grant Bug Post

24-hour bug survival (lmao)

As much as I love bugs (using that term very loosely in this post btw), I doubt Grant would WANT to be a bug for a day (because he is no fun!!! 😤👎 /lh). However, let’s say he’s fighting an entomologist acolyte (who used to be one of Henry’s co-docents at the natural history museum or something lol) and is turned into a bug for 24 hours, but he gets to choose the bug beforehand.

In this situation, Grant would go for a tactical bug, but he probably also has limited knowledge of bugs (again, no fun). His pick would need to be resilient and small enough to hide/run quickly. I don’t think he would go for something that can actually do much damage; he’d rather wait out the 24 hour period. Cockroaches infamously can take a few stomps, can hold up to radiation (which mayyy have been important in pre-Code Purple apocalypse Earth?), and can kinda scurry around and hide and survive on trash for a day. They also live for about a year (not that Grant would probably know that), so in case something went awry and he WASN’T immediately turned back after 24 hours, he would live longer than other bugs, giving the other kiddads enough time to hopefully figure something out (although, if Nicky’s problem-solving skills are any evidence, they probably would NOT figure out a way to turn Grant back 😔 lol)

If Grant was in a similar situation, but he NEEDED to defend himself/others (instead of just running and hiding), I can imagine him going for something that both flies and stings, like a bee or wasp: feels sniper-y, satisfies both his violent and self-sacrificial tendencies, etc. Unfortunately, one sting is not gonna get the job done, unless maybe the acolyte is allergic to bees :) Grant is very headstrong and unfortunately would definitely launch himself into battle as fuckin bee if he was in a bad mood. Hopefully, in this situation, the other guys would be there to hold him back from becoming a bee and immediately dying 😭

I was also trying to think of bugs (or bug-adjacent creatures) that shoot projectiles of any kind (because sniper lol), but I can only think of bombardier beetles, which shoot explosive liquid out of their abdomens (very cool, but Grant would not know about them).

PS: Snails can also shoot hormonal projectiles called “love darts” that are used to determine assert sexual dominance and which snail will be male/female for reproduction (since they’re hermaphroditic) but. That’s definitely not applicable here 😭😭 I just wanted to share. They also have bad aim, so Grant could never be a snail 🙄 hehehah

For fun :)

Aside from missions or life/death situations, the only time I think Grant would willingly become a bug for 24 hours (<- CRAZY phrase LMAO) is to make Lincoln happy :) Link’s favorite animals are caterpillars, and I can imagine Grant finding some kind of item/spell to turn himself into a bug and IMMEDIATELY dropping everything to be Link’s pet caterpillar for the day hehe. Some kind of friendly, cute caterpillar who won’t make Lincoln itchy… or turn into a butterfly and fly away 🥲 He would even let Link shake him around in a jar for a little while (he always scolds Link for trying to keep bugs in jars hehe). That way, he gets to encourage Link’s interests in a way that is VERY safe for all parties involved. If Grant had to pick ONE bug for to become, I think he would go with a caterpillar, unless he was in the special situations I described above. (Maybe I should’ve put this paragraph higher up! :p)

Google (more specifically, this website—that’s right; I’m citing my sources in the Grant bug post 😎) says monarchs and anise swallowtails are common in southern California, and they’re both big and cute and not too prickly, so I can imagine those being some of Link’s favorites :) I think his favorite is the monarch specifically (the yellow stripey one below) but Grant likes the swallowtail (the green spotted one)

Kid/teen Grant

As a kid, I think Grant was probably grossed out by bugs and would NOT want to be one (again, boring smh). I was trying to think of a soccer-related bug, but the best I can come up with is a dung beetle 😬 He would NOT want to be a dung beetle. There are unfortunately no gamer bugs (except maybe the Pikachu spider shown below, but Grant would not like spiders, nor would he really care about Pokemon). Bugs should try playing Fortnite, I think

Assigning him a… bugsona? lol

OKAY. On to the more important question… What bug do I think Grant would be? I’m actually shocked I’ve never thought about it before because, in past fandoms I’ve been in, I have a history of making lists of what bug each character would be. Very self-indulgent, I know. Shush. I’m being self-indulgent right now 😤 I think I’ll make a list of potential bugs for each DnDads character… ANYWAY

My immediate reaction to this question was some kind of beetle. Grant actually has always reminded me a LOT of an old anthropomorphic beetle OC I had in high school :) He was a green stag beetle—Lamprima adolphinae—and I think it suits Grant really well!

As a character, Grant generally feels very beetle-ish to me; he is very big and imposing with a tough exterior, both physically and metaphorically. BUT he can also be very lovey, easily embarrassed, bookish, a little geeky, etc. which I associate with these beetles in particular mostly just because of that old OC I mentioned before. And they’re GREEN! Grant is green (in my heart and mind hehe). It’s perfect B)

I know my initial cockroach mention might’ve sounded funny, but I can definitely imagine Grant as a roach o_o !!! Again, they’re wide and sturdy and headstrong, but flighty/skittish at the same time. Very Grant. I also could see him being an assassin bug. The name works for him too haha 🥲🥲

I could also MAYBE imagine him as other similarly sleek bugs, like a bald-faced hornet, but I think beetles or true bugs (assassin bugs, cicadas, etc.) suit him best. I can’t really imagine him being a small bug

Okay. Okay. Phew. I cannot believe I wrote THIS MUCH about bug Grant. If only I could write this much of my fic this fast lmao 😭

MY FINAL VERDICT…. 🥁🥁🥁

I think Grant would choose to be a cockroach 🪳 for survival purposes, but he would easily be a caterpillar 🐛 to make his son happy. If I had to give Grant a.. bugsona?, it would be a stag beetle 🪲 for sure! :)

If you actually read all of this, uhhh thank you???? 🐞 <- here’s a lucky ladybug for you. PLEASE tell me your DnDads bug opinions if you have any I’d love to hear them 🙏 Maybe someday I will draw the main characters as anthro bugs (bc that’s like. the only thing I can draw heheh)

Thanks so much to Isadora for sending this ask omg!!!! :’) I saw it a little bit ago while doing schoolwork, and I was super excited to write this silly post, so it helped motivate me to finish. Feeling a lot better :) Sorry I wrote such a long response haha! PS: I hope you got some sleep!!! >:0

[plantsjustwannahavefun]

I don't really remember when exactly my interaction with the OFMD fandom became so limited to the Izzy Enjoyer Corner of it... It's not like I'm not rooting for Stede and Ed too, I absolutely am, and they're the reason I fell in love with this show at first. I didn't get into Izzy's character until my third or fourth rewatch, but I never would have, had it been for all those amazing, insightful meta posts that helped me see beyond the surface and discover all those details I'd missed, all those hidden layers and multitudes... And it turned out that Izzy contained so many of those, he ended up becoming the most fascinating character in the show for me. I just wanted to learn more. I understood exactly, viscerally, what all those people saying "I want to shake him in a jar and study him under a microscope like a bug" meant.

But eventually it became more than that. For some reason I kept finding so much compassion and acceptable in that weird little corner that seemed to encompass the essence of what drew me to OFMD in the first place. It certainly seemed ironic at first that many of the nicest, kindest, funniest, most accepting people in the fandom clustered around this angry pathetic gremlin man, and that fascinated me as much as the character himself. At the time I wasn't aware of this whole rift between the "mainstream" part of the fandom and the "Izzy Enjoyer" part, but something about the latter just made me naturally gravitate towards it before I learned that apparently the "mainstream" part can be more of a minefield...

But then I realised something. I've always been drawn to characters like Izzy, in every fandom. It's just that none of those other characters went on to inspire a "sub-fandom" of their own. In every other fandom, characters like Izzy are only ever treated either as comic relief or as flat antagonists, and most of the fans see them that way too. But this fandom somehow had enough people who saw deeper into this character and created their own corner where liking him was validated. I can actually engage in discourse about my favourite character with other people and not get ridiculed for taking an interest in a "minor" character who's technically an antagonist, but not one of those cool suave mastermind ones that are socially acceptable to like because they're competent and conventionally sexy, but just a regular middle-aged guy with very realistic reactions that aren't always palatable but feel so, so very human and painfully relatable. In other fandoms characters like him don't get thousands of fan fics where they get to have sex and real relationships and character growth because people found them compelling enough to take them seriously as a character, even if the process does involve peeling him to the core like an onion to reconstruct him again, and cackling when he gets mad about it.

I still hope that S2 will somehow close this rift and unite the fandom by satisfying "both sides". In the meantime I'm probably going to keep chilling in this corner for a while.

[a-crash-in-time-collection]

Chapter 56: Ivy's Little Trip

Ivy normally didn't mind the cold, but this time of year always bugged her. Even with the phantom ruler's attempt to keep snow from even trying to settle on the ground, the world itself got colder. The wind, the air, the ground, the water. Even that of her swamp was never safe. She could still swim in it just fine but, it always brought a shiver to her spine. She would minimize going out of the little hunt that was her home, mostly saving it for trips to get food on the occasions she fell for hunger.

Things were warmer this year, though. Now that Snatcher knew of her existence, he had placed little poles with 'eternal flame lanterns' along the swamp for her to swim near for warmth, as well as making sure she had one at her hunt. He claimed he was just doing it to light up the dark but, she knew. Still, there were many areas of the swamp that were cold. And sometimes the cold was a little too much for her. She couldn't stay by the warmth of the lanterns forever, she didn't have the patience for that. Maybe if she felt warmer inside...

She knew it was early in the morning, decently early. She knew most of the ghosts were likely to still be asleep. She was honestly confused about why they used a similar sleeping schedule to the living. They were ghosts, they drained less energy from themselves, right? She took a glance around as she approached the edge where the swamp met the land, climbing up as she got to it. She took a second to warm up by one of the lanterns, wiping some of the water off her clothing, a faint hiss from each drop that made contact with the ground.

She glanced over at the tree and began to head over, quietly. She didn't want to risk waking Snatcher up if he was asleep. This time of year didn't seem to be the best for him, and she didn't know why. He just seemed to be more put off by, well, everything it seemed. It confused her, a lot. She glanced inside, seeing him asleep in his chair, a hand on some spellbook. It didn't look like he had fallen asleep reading it however. It felt more like he was holding some sort of weapons. In case a monster came in the middle of the night.

She tiptoed across the floor. She felt odd about the ghost. He seemed sadder, more tense. Was it because of the stuff with the Moonjumper? She spoke to Badge about it but hadn't talked with Snatcher... She shook her head as she carefully came up the stairs, pausing when she got the room, seeing Shadow kid asleep in bed, a candle by her side with a glass jar placed around it. Ivy looked around and saw a similar set up with the rest of the room. It was warmer here than in any part of the forest, it felt like.

"Did he use most of the spells in here?" She whispered to herself as she walked up to the one the jars. The candle's flame had an odd glow to it, one that seemed unnatural. She backed up slightly, the image of the fire spirits appearing in her mind for a moment before she shook her head. Snatcher wouldn't use their magic, especially near his own daughter. At least, Ivy hoped... She looked over and headed over to the edge of the bed. "Shadow?" She whispered as she tugged on the blanket slightly. "Can you wake up?" She asked, getting a small mumbled in response.

"What if I don't wanna..." Shadow stated as she grabbed her pillow and pulled it above her head. Ivy crossed her arms and gave a small huff as she walked to the side of the bed, taking the pillow from her hands. Shadow's tired eyes locked with her for a second, before they widened and backed up, only to take a breath after. Ivy blinked confused, before what she did processed. "Ivy, don't do that without at least a heads up next time." Shadow whined quietly, shaking her head as she looked at her.

"Sorry. I just wanted to stop by." She said as she glanced around. Shadow kid's room wasn't the biggest or most grand, there was only so much you could do with the top part of the tree. But it sure felt like one for royalty, it felt much bigger than it actually was. There was a small bit of books and a box with toys that looked in surprisingly good condition, all things considered. "Huh, did Snatcher redecorate? I think things look different then when I was last here." She claimed as she looked at Shadow. "You think I can take a candle but in liquid form?" She wondered aloud.

"Are you talking about candle wax?" Shadow questioned and Ivy shrugged. "Papa told me how he tricked someone into drinking that stuff once, and then they died." Ivy nodded, a bad idea it seemed. She paced back and forth as Shadow yawned, pulling the blankets off her so she didn't risk falling asleep again during the conversation. She tilted her head as she watched. "I don't know how it would work for you but I think it's too much of a risk... Why do you wanna drink it anyway?"

"I just feel like it would be warm. Or at least warmer then the swamp." Ivy stated, Shadow giving a small nod as she thought about it. Water was cold by nature unless warmed, so water filled with souls during winter seemed like it would be a nightmare. Like stuck inside the coldest rooms of the ice queen's manor... Shadow shuttered as those memories came back to her. "You ok?" Ivy asked as she looked over, getting a nod from Shadow. "Do you know of any soda candle drinks?"

"If you want a warm drink, I don't think you need candle wax." Shadow Kid claimed. Ivy gave a small nod. She supposed that was true. She just didn't drink much of anything, wasn't a main issue for her. And the few times she needed to drink, at least to her memory, she was just able to stop by the well and get water from there... She paused as Shadow Kid chuckled. "There's these two toppats that used to fight for which warm drink was better, hot chocolate or coffee. I think they're dating now, actually."

"Oh yea, those guys." Ivy stated. Outside of Hat Girl and Platinum, she didn't really know the Toppats super well. The only time she had been to the station was that meeting about that weird piece of fabric, and even then she didn't pay much attention. She didn't even want to be there, Snatcher just brought her along since they had just met and he seemed to want to know more about her, or something. "Do that all have to wear those weird hats? At least with the dwellers the masks look cool."

Shadow gave a quiet giggle. "I think they're called the Toppats for a reason." She started as she rubbed her eyes slightly. "Although, now I'm wondering if they used to be the tophats."

"Is that what they wear is called, it has a name?" Ivy asked, getting a nod from Shadow, before she pointed at her's resting on the dresser beside her bed, waiting to be garbed in the morning. Ivy shook her head a bit as she glanced around as she thought. She really didn't know much outside of the forest did she? She always felt the urge to stay close to it, especially by the swamp. "Hmm.. Aren't they working on fixing their big house? The giant metal tube? Why did they design it like that?"

"It's an orbit-all station." Shadow Kid claimed. "It's supposed to float around planets but it broke." Ivy tilted her head. Man, she hated to admit it but she was getting really curious now. It felt similar to the curiosity she gained for Badge but to a much, lesser scale. She didn't feel the need to go there, per say. But now she wanted too, mostly to see what they were doing. "But I think they got everything made for heat working, I haven't heard them complain about it being cold inside their station."

"Is it possible for it to be warmer there than here? Because your Dad set up well." Ivy stated, Shadow Kid giving a shrug. She hadn't been back to the station in a while. She hadn't really heard from the toppats in awhile as well, even Hat Girl which was... a little odd to think about. Ivy gave a nod as she made up her mind, walking over to the dresser and putting Shadow's hat back on her head. "Come on then, let's visit the toppats and see how they're doing the warm stuff. See these warm drinks myself."

Shadow shook her head as she took her hat off. "I would love to see them, really, I would! But I'm, very tired." Ivy started to speak but Shadow cut her off. "And even if I wasn't and went with you, that would give Papa a heart attack when he woke up and I can't do that to him." She said, looking to the side as she placed the hat back on her dresser, garbing her blankets again. She pointed in a seemingly random direction. "The station is that way, just be careful you don't get hurt."

"I can bite at anything that tries to attack me." Ivy said, waving a dismissive hand. "You want me to bring a warm drink back for the village?"

Shadow's eyes lit up. "I think that would be a good surprise!"

There was a grumble from downstairs, both girls pausing as they waited for the phantom ruler to awake. But he didn't come up the stairs, allowing them to breathe a sigh of relief.

Ivy took it as a sign to leave, giving Shadow a quick thumbs up before she began to head down the stairs. She better not be disappointed.

-------

Shadow at least could have warned her snow existed the further away from Subcon she got. Sure, Ivy had an idea of it, but it didn't quite hit her until she was walking with it almost up to the tip of her socks. It almost felt worse than the coldest the swamp could get. She thought 'almost' because she couldn't tell if the shock factor was making it worse then it realistically was. It looked so peaceful from the other side of the broken bridge that led to the snowy areas of the forest.

She did eventually spot the metal building in the distance. Although she had to blink twice to make sure it was still the same. They had gotten a lot more work done on it now, it seemed. She barely recognised it. Sure there were some areas with obvious disrepair but they were few and far between. It took her about a minute of walking close before she even spotted a piece of metal lodged into the ground. It felt like they were everywhere when she first came by. They must be getting close to leaving.

She…wasn't sure how she felt about it. She should be indifferent, she barely knew more than two of their members but…she had an odd feeling she would miss them. Or at least miss Hat Girl.

"Ivy?" The sudden use of her name surprised her. She scanned around before spotting the man nearby. Reginald, that was his name right. He ran this place from the little she remembered overhearing of the meeting. He walked over with a confused and concerned look, bending down slightly when he got closer so they were more on eye level. Even for an living adult, he was tall. "That was your name, right?" he asked, getting a nod. "What are you doing all the way out here, without even a coat?"

"I didn't know it would be this cold outside." Ivy stated. "Shadow said you had warm drinks and I wanted to try one." Reginald offered his hand to the girl, and she just looked at him. He waited a second, before beginning to head to the station and jestering her to follow, taking off the scarf he was wearing and letting her catch it. It felt weird around her neck, she wasn't sure she liked it. "I never touched snow before." She looked up at Reginald. "I'm surprised you remember mine-"

"There you are, Chief." A voice called as they got up the station stairs. Well, they weren't really stairs since it was flat, but Ivy didn't know what else to call them, especially since she was surprised by the lunar being that floated over, Reginald turning his attention to the voice. The 'Moonjumper'. Right there in front of her... he didn't seem that grand. "Sven's been looking all over for you and-" He paused when he saw the girl, concerned about taking his features. "Who is this? And is she ok?"

"This is Ivy. She lives in the swamp of Subcon, or at least that's what Snatcher claims." Reginald stated as he moved past the 'deity', him following the group as they got inside. The heat 'magic' hit her once she stepped in, allowing her to breathe a sigh of relief as she could already feel herself warming up a bit, Reginald checking over her a moment to see if she was hurt. "Ivy, this is Randy." Reginald mentioned, jestering to the lunar being. "He's a past leader that got dragged into the prophecy."

"Man, what’s with this planet, that's the term right?" She quickly asked with a slight shiver, getting a nod. "Ok, what's with it and dragging you guys into certain parts of it. I only overheard things and it sounds wild." Reginald gave a small, unsure sigh as Randy shrugged. Ivy glanced at him as he tilted his head. He lowered down to where he was actually touching the floor. "You aren't as scary as the stories tried to make you sound." She said, earning a small chuckle from the man.

"I mean, I didn't plan on changing my personality... I didn't plan this at all which, is usual for me." He said as he glanced to the side, making a hum. He got a nod and small chuckle from the girl, while Reginald excused himself and left the area. Randy gave an odd blink and Ivy did too. Something felt off in the air... it almost reminded Ivy of when she ment Badge. "Say, are you related to the original Moonjumper in any way?" Randy asked. "I'm getting a similar feeling with you as I did with the Moonjumper pieces. But I was only told there was four of them."

"Not to my knowledge... and the moon what-ers?" Ivy asked, tilting her head and pushing some of the hair that fell into them out of her eyes. Randy gave a nod and she gave a tiny huff, tapping her foot against the ground slightly. "I asked a question." Randy gave a small chuckle at that, leaving her confused. Was it what she said? The way she said it. She gave a small glare. "I'll bite you." She warned. Randy shook his head slightly as he floated over. "I can still bite you sir!"

"Oh, I have no doubt you can. I'm just not interested in learning if my blood is still red." She crossed her arms as he chuckled. He couldn't help it, she was just so oddly cute. "The Moonjumper pieces are beings made from what remained of Moonjumper's magic. Well, the first one." Ivy gave a small nod to that. Did Badge mention something about that idea to her? She had a vague idea but..couldn't remember the exact details. "Either way, you have some odd magic to you."

"Isn't all magic odd to us?" Reginald asked as he came back in, a cup with steam coming from it faintly. Ivy locked eyes with it as he pasted it down to her, her taking it and looking at the brown liquid inside, before bringing it to her mouth. She swore her eyes had to have sparkled for a moment because it was just that good. She took a larger sip as Randy held back a laugh. "Careful, you'll spill it or burn yourself!" He warned, before pausing. "I'm giving her a sugar rush, aren't I?"

"Oh almost definitely." Randy said, rolling his eyes (or at least the one with a visible pupil), Reginald giving a small sign as Ivy pulled the cup back as her mouth started to get full, swallowing in and wiping the laid off her mouth. She looked at the mug and started debating if she should drink the rest of it right this second, or save it for later. "Don't worry, I'll handle it Reg. I dealt with Java on a sugar rush."

"I wish you luck, I need to go hear about whatever issue Sven needs me for if he was looking for me."

Ivy watched as Reginald left with a sigh, pausing as she reach for her neck. "He forgot his scarf..." she shrugged. "I guess it's mine now." she said as she looked up at Randy, who just chuckled a little. He paused and offered his hand, she looked at it confused. She reached for it, and grabbed onto it. Randy hummed as he pulled away. Her hand, or at least her fingertips, were still cold. "What are you thinking?" She asked as she looked up at him, the man tapping his fingers together as he thought.

"I can't let you go back to subcon without something remotely warm." He claimed, Ivy tilting her head. There was something that could conveniently keep her warm. Was he going to give her more of the strange yet wonderful brown liquid? He floated down the hall slightly, jestering for her to follow with a small smile. She tilted her head as she slowly headed that way. "Come on, let's head to me and Java's room. Java knows a good bit of sewing."

"Huh, did I hear that name somewhere before?" Ivy questioned herself as she took a small sip of what remains of the hot beverage. It was slightly colder now. Still warm but she noticed it. She quickly finished the rest of the drink as she walked, Randy giving a small chuckle as he watched from ahead. She raced up to him to hand over the cup, a little bounce once she got close so she could reach him. "Can I have more of that candle wax?" Randy had to hold back a shout of laughter.

"It's called hot chocolate, little friend." Randy stated and Ivy just gave a small, slightly confused nod. So candle wax was definitely deadly then, noted... yet at the same time she could survive the swap that could apparently harm ghosts. So maybe she could survive... she kinda wanted to try. Her eyes gained a small sparkle as Randy shook his head. he could practically see the intrusive thoughts in her head. "I can make you more. Would you like to try it with marshmallows this time?"

"What's marshmallows?" Ivy asked. Randy seemed shocked for a moment, before taking a breath. Different planet, remember.

-------

Oh, so this is what it's like to have sugar in your system. Maybe it was just because she was in a smaller space where she couldn't get away with running around but she felt more, antsy. Randy tried to keep her entertained as they waited for Macbeth to come back but it was starting to get a little boring after awhile. There were only so many rounds of uno Randy could purposely throw for Ivy's sake before it became stale. At some point he thought about letting her run off the energy in the halls and accept any consequences of that.

Ivy did eventually get a hold of a device and after a..rough explanation from someone still getting used to modern tech, was playing a game as she waited. Sure she was still in one place but at least she could spam the buttons all she wanted and could swing her legs back and forth while on the bed's edge.

"You claim there isn't much magic where you came from, but you got things like these?" Ivy said as she glanced over at Randy, who was by the stove of the kitchen, making sure the pot he had on and what was inside didn't boil over. Randy gave a small shrug, it was all magic to him. Mainly because of how sudden it was since he had been dead for thirty years. "Odd. It seems just like a bunch of magic in a box. I wonder how people made these things." She stated with a hum.

"Oh it's a process that sounds really boring, at least of what I heard." Randy stated, pausing as he turned off the stove part and went to the cabinet, Ivy's eyes sparkling as she waited. Her teeth were almost sore from all the sweets but she couldn't help it, it was just so good. She did pause however as the pot seemed to shift slightly on its own. Randy seemed to notice it too. "What in the-" he said, before a big butterfly creature appeared beside it, shaking its head slightly. "Oh! Are you ok little Overseer?" He asked the bug.

"Overseer?" Ivy asked as she looked at the bug, who seemed to nod a bit, before flying up and going to rest on the fridge nearby, its big eye closing. Randy looked over at Ivy and gave a nod, before quickly pouring her a cup of hot chocolate and one for himself, her placing the game to the side as she took the mug, taking a quick gulp as he sat in a chair near the bed. "Is that what those things are called? I think I heard Snatcher mention them before but I didn't think they had a name."

"Well, they didn't until recently." Randy explained. "They were made by the original Moonjumper for, basically me, and left the name up to me. I figured that name fit them well." Randy explained as he looked at the sleeping bug with a smile. It was an odd thought. Like he had something going though his mind that kept him from truly smiling. It felt odd. "It's so sad to think about, in a way. He gave up a lot in his the days leading up to his final, I don't know how he did so."

Ivy paused as she thought of that. How hard must it have been for him? How could he not fight back?

"Did Moonjumper not really love Subcon?" Ivy asked, looking at Randy who seemed surprised by the question. "I mean, he just seemed to give up. He was basically a god! Couldn't he fight back?"

Randy gave a sigh. "I’ve been asking myself that a lot, kiddo." He said as he glanced over at the resting Overseer. "He had the ability to create life, yet not save his own..." He sighed as the stress came back to him. Just for a moment. "If he could have, I think he would. But maybe he saw this future and thought if he fought, he might ruin what good there is."

That just made her more confused. Sure, Subcon wasn't a place that was bad to her, but she heard stories of what the forest used to be. Did Moonjumper fear a worst fate if he chose to fight? There was no way he could have seen how things turned out and decided it was acceptable... did he just have faith? She shook her head, and turned her attention to the sound of the opening door nearby.

The ghostly train conductor rubbed his tired eyes as he walked in. "Sorry it took so long, Rand. Cross was draggin' everythin' out so necessarily." He said as he took his hat off a moment, letting Alexsandera fly out and rest on the bed they had, a small heater placed by it to go against the cold. Randy waved a dismissive hand and Ivy gave a small wave, causing him to pause. "Ivy, what are you doing here?" He asked, tapping the side of his head like a broken mic. "I didn't even know Snatcher was awake yet."

"Oh, he isn't!" Ivy said as she took a sip of hot chocolate. "I came here all by myself!"

"Don't drink and talk at the same time on my bed, I don't wanna clean up stains later." He stated, before his eyes widened slightly as he glanced around the room. "Did you not even have a coat?"

Ivy gave a nod as Randy floated up to get another cup for her, while it was all still hot. "I was hoping you could help in that regard. Even if we could grab an old coat from storage, I don't think we have any suited for winter." He asked as he glanced over.

Macbeth sighed as he dragged a hand across his face for a second. Ivy gave him a worried look and he shook his head once he noticed. "No, don't worry, I'm not upset at you. I just assumed Snatcher would have given you one by now, since he knows you live in that swamp. It seems like a case of hypothermia waitin' to happen... Or whatever the ghostly water version of it is."

Ivy just gave a small nod. Hyper-foma-a? Was that what he said? Strange name for a case, a case for what? Glasses? She didn't need those. Or was she miss understanding things like with the candle wax.. Either way, she took the cup of hot chocolate when it was offered to her, smiling. She saw Macbeth give Randy a questioning look, mouthing something that caused the lunar figure to give a sheepish shrug. He rolled his eyes as he went to a cabinet, mumbling something about spare fabrics.

"Hey, Randy." Ivy asked as she glanced over at the man, who looked over. "You mentioned something about party's right? You do those?"

Randy gave a small chuckle. "Well, I haven't gotten around to any since my revival. Hasn't really been anything to celebrate... Though the winter holidays are coming up, I suppose. Maybe Reginald will let me do something small for those..." He said, bringing two fingers to his chin as he thought.

Ivy's eyes lit up. "You should use the Moonjumper magic to make games! Maybe a fight with snow magic."

"We already have snowball fights, no magic required." Randy said, though he did garb a book nearby. "That said, it would be interesting to make it more... spicy."

"Randy, please, for the love of whatever god is out there." Macbeth said as he looked over. "Don't, I love your ideas normally, but don't. Snow is already a cold-bomb as it is."

"Oh come on, can't be worse than us then fire..." Randy stated, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe you can find a way to mix fire and ice! In a... safe way." Ivy added at the end, her voice quieting as she grabbed her arm. Macbeth gave her a brief, worried look.

Randy patted her on her shoulders as he sat beside her, Alexsandera coming over and resting on his shoulders in a bit of curiosity at the situation. "Well, I would think that would just make water. But who knows." He said as she let him read the spells in it. "Maybe something else would happen..."

-------

The orb's light faded, the smiling Moonjumper and child fading to the dark, the orb falling into the guardian's hand as he watched.

He felt frustrated, but could do little more than sign. He wanted to see just a little longer...

It never lasted long. The beings who assigned him this purpose never wanted him to lose focus. Always wanted him to be prepared in case someone somehow found their way to the tower of flame. Whether they were friend, or foe. It was his job to protect the secrets of fire, and the magic tied to it.

Both the good, and the bad.

It was so funny when he thought about it. In life it felt like he spent every waking moment studying the creatures that killed the first. Every second not spent with the kingdom or his family was spent in scrolls, books, speaking to wizards and others of the magical talents. Even trying to reach out to the gods above to answer his pleas so he could rest easily, knowing all the fox-shaped beings were capable of.

They must have heard him, in some way. They thought his care made him a better suit for the tower of flame then any deity they could make on their own. And with the access to the tower's knowledge, as well as the new instant of the flame, he got his wish. He knew how they worked. How they were designed.

And it terrified him.

But he had a job, a job that prevented him from interfering with the outside world. From trying to warn those there. If he could, he would have spoken to the icey queen long along, made her steer clear of her path.

The parts from the slaughtered Eversteads weren't garbed to stabilize their unnatural existence. Or to make sure they could do the job they were made for. If that was the case, they would have been the first thing added, not a last minute decision with barely any time to waste on the day of Moonjumper's death.

No. Ezra must have realized no matter what, he would have been found, defeated, and sentenced to death. No doubt his soul sent to suffer for eternity.

So he planned a way to return. And the fire tower's keeper could do nothing but wait.

Even if he was asleep when it would happen, he would know...

And he could only pray the Moonjumper would be able to fight back.

Against both fire, and ice.

The guardian sat in the window of the tower, looking down at the forest and the little he could see beyond, knowing full well what would break out soon...

He opened a book and began to write.

[catboygretzky]

I want to put mason mctavish in a jar and shake him i want to keep him in a shoebox With Some Leaves and dress him up like a polly pocket ! i want to put him in a locket and keep him around my neck i want to grab him by the face and shake him until coins fall out of him like loot in a video game he's my best friend he's my greatest enemy he's effervescent he's euphoria defined he's just some guy he's the lyrics to my favourite song that i thought i forgot but didnt he's a horse girl he deserves to be a human snowglobe he’s my pal. He’s my home-boy, my rotten soldier. He’s my sweet cheese, my good-time boyeh. He's a little boy a baby girl a pretty princess the trash i found under my fridge when i moved it the other day he IS TRULY the ONLY human being(?)

I want to study him like a bug. he fascinates me endlessly

[babydxhl]

From @divingdownthehole.

I know we have yet to actually write a thread together yet and we're just kind of tossing prompts at each other like a game of hot potato, but BRI. <3333 I am already invested, and I am in love with your writing style.

👫

send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship.

I've already told you I adore you so we can keep playing hot potato for the rest of time lollllll

I think the way she views him right now is so interesting because it has the vibe of a mean kid shaking a bug in a jar, like she understands that he's odd but he's odd in a way that's intriguing, in a lot of ways she wants to wind him just to see what he'll do

yes I did go back through your headcanons for inspo and I saw you saying he's chatty when he's been drinking, which is a FUN little trait they share. two people who are quite bitchy to each other (and in mary's case to the world at large) but who have been spotted talking at each other a mile a minute. he might be a gentleman but mary's not — she will never pass up the chance to gossip about everyone in the room at an event

I loooove the idea of it not being mary and jervis who crossed paths before they turned to crime, but mary and sylvie? not in any close way — but both growing up wealth in gotham, running in the same circles. 'we're like in-laws', she tells jervis when she finds out, 'like cousins twice removed'

I don't think she's opposed to helping him with things, she's just invested in bitching and moaning about it beforehand and then lording it over him afterwards

[petrichorium]

PLUV I have finally caught up with wha (at least I hope I have, I could only find up to chapter 70) and…many thoughts very many thoughts

I’ll start with Dean—I for some reason was not expecting him to have a wife and then she appeared and the way that man MELTED stop it stop it he loves her so much, they love each other so much it’s so sweet. But his little altercation with Beldaruit…..Jesus Christ he pissed Beldaruit off so bad but understandably so. That was such a brazen move to ask about exchanging information when Beldaruit was in a vulnerable position. You’re right, I can definitely the see the potential for him being an ultimate antagonist later on…him and his son

Oruggio of course looked so good doin his lil thing, I am still stuck on the scene where he was getting really defensive over how Qifrey should just leave Coco and Tartah alone and not to embarrass them like PLEASE I have to know who hurt this poor man when he had a puppy crush on someone as a boy

And QIFREY…..pluv get him away from me before I shake him senseless, smack him silly, dig my claws into him. That fucking panel of him laying facedown in the water……….so speechless. Literally stared at it like “no way. no way is he going to die by the thing he hates the most.” And while I am SO relieved that it was just a smoke illusion, that was such a brutal scene. Not to mention Coco injuring her eye, literally a mirror to Qifrey’s injury…….so cruel

As for the girls, their character arcs have come so far, Aggot’s especially, she holds a special place in my heart

Just. Mentally pulling at my hair and rocking back and forth in a corner, this manga keeps pulling my emotions in every which way I don’t even know what to do with myself

okay u need to send me where youve been reading bc i can only find up to chapter 68 (dw, u didn't spoil anything) BUT YEAHHHHHH

okay the WIFE THING AHHHHHH im genuinely wholeheartedly obsessed with her And his utter adoration for her. like when i first saw her i swooned ofc but then her lil scene later on where it's clear shes Also very smart and capable and not like. just a sweet/maternal figure which i kinda expected...... whew. until proven otherwise i am going to make up a zayamaia in my head who is a true partner in crime for all of dean's fucked up schemes 🫣

ORU'S LITTLE TALK HAD ME CRAZY TOO SDJFHBV when i first read that i went running to my friend like "hes having flashbacks to when he and i got caught together as teens </3" SHDFBSJDKHFB but also </////3 qifrey's response to that <//////////3 SHATTERED me truly

the parallels between coco/qifrey make me absolutely rabid foaming at the mouth putting him in a jar and shaking him like a little bug. watching coco steadily going down the same path as him while he's so blinded by his own desire for revenge......... oh qifrey i want to dissect u

the thing that truly made me weep that i kept talking about btw was the plotline with galga (specifically when, after his memories are wiped, he tries to help the girl who wiped them like OHHHHHHHHHH my god OH MY GODDDDDD he is A Magic Cop who got his personhood wiped away because of it thus removing his corruption as a magic cop and with that stripped away!!! he instinctively chooses to aide a little girl oh!!! my god!!!!! oh my fucking god!!!!!!!!) and also everything w custas and dagda my poor heart my poor poor heart............

[yolki-palki]

Harbinger for yon WiPs, please!! 💞

Harbinger plagued me for quite some time. In fact, I started Beast just to get away from it for a while. I made a solemn vow not to work on Harbinger until Beast was done. Then it turned into a 150k+ monstrosity and I haven't written on Harbinger since. I really do want to finish it after Beast is done though.

Please enjoy this very early scene from Harbinger.

“Let me tell you a story, my little insect. You always did love to hear my stories.” She walked across the room to a small desk. The glow of the hearth cast warmth on her milky skin as if she were made of wax. She moved aside a ledger and a bottle of ink to pull a small glass case from the desk with a dark wood base. Gracefully she turned and walked to the foot of the bed where Jaskier lay. “Do you like it? It’s particularly exotic, the last of its kind some say. They are only found on a small island far off the western coast. They call it the cypris.” She held out the glass jar, casually crossing her feet as her head fell to the side.  Jaskier tried to focus on the insect as it flitted around inside the glass. It was quite beautiful, a little thing with creamy wings that were splotched in deep velvet blue.  “Once upon a time there was a little girl. She loved beautiful things and wanting nothing more than to see all the wonders of the world around her. One day she saw a butterfly fluttering about in the gardens and she caught the thing. She loved the silly little bug for all its curiosity and all its beauty. She built it a glass castle, made of the most beautiful, little plants and the finest bobbles she could procure. But one day, the lid was left askew and despite all her tender care the butterfly escaped.”    To illustrate her point the countess lifted the glass from the wooden base and let the butterfly flutter out into the open air. 

“The girl was heartbroken, devastated, furious — after all, she had done nothing but love a thing for its beauty and lavish it with all she knew how. A garden of glass she had built for the insect and yet given the first opportunity it flew away.” Her voice grew dark and her lips curled into a nasty snarl.  With frightening speed, she plucked the butterfly out of the air and held it in delicately by the wings. She looked at the squirming thing with an odd hunger in her face and Jaskier tried not to grimace, concerned for a moment that she was going to put it in her mouth. “When the girl found her precious butterfly it was perched on the windowsill as if to fly out into the world beyond. With care, she caught it and brought it back to the safety and comfort of its garden of glass. Try as she might, she could not forget the betrayal. For she had loved the thing and now knew that it could never love her in return. Mindless things that it was, the insect, could not feel loyalty or love but the betrayal was all the same.”

She stepped closer and it took everything within him not to recoil. Still tangled in the bedsheets he leaned back against the headboard. The countess climbed carefully onto the foot of the bed and crawled forward on her knees until she sat straddling his hips. He could feel her warmth through the sheets.  No, please no. Please.  He found himself shaking his head desperately, hearing his breathing deepen as he stared at her.  Please. Not this.  “The girl wanted nothing more than to care for her treasure. She would keep it there, in its glass garden, and be certain it could never escape again. Now perhaps, you’re wondering how she made certain it could not fly away. After all, not even the finest of things could keep the butterfly from roaming.”  Jaskier gasped in horror as she ripped the wings from the insect. The wingless thing wriggled helplessly in the palm of her hand. Her eyes wandered from her hand to Jaskier’s face. She leaned forward to whisper against the skin of his throat.  “I will see my kingdom reduced to ashes and soot before I set you or my cub free, little butterfly. That which I own, that which I command is mine and mine alone. If I cannot have it then I will destroy it.” She looked him in the eyes, unyielding and full of fire as the wingless butterfly fell from her hand to Jaskier’s lap. It writhed on the silk sheets for far too long until mercifully, it fell still.

[celestialmango]

1) So I watched the grub side quest for hollow knight and saw that you could save all these grubs and return them to an elder grub, but once you do and leave, then return; he's eaten them all. However I heard that was so that he could act as a cocoon for them, especially since you can hear them alive in his belly. It made me think of what if the hollow knight boys had come across reader without a disguise (probably from losing it in a close encounter) and become very curious over this strange,

2) soft and small creature, think that they're some kind of grub and decide to nom them to protect them and act as a cocoon as well (Gastric brooding frog would swallow it's young in real life too, with the young developing in the stomach), so that they can develop safely; but of course reader isn't an actual grub so they're scared of being nommed (I guess confusion can be easily sorted if they can communicate, but if it's a different version maybe they have a language barrier idk XD) ~Shy

🥭: Well they'd realize very soon(if the boys already know them) who reader actual was once they hear reader's very familiar voice. Glitch wouldn't count for this though as he already knows reader has been wearing a disguise after the whole kidnaping thing. Lunar doesn't either because he's also seen reader without their mask. This runs true whether there's a language barrier or not due to reader being rather vocal sometimes.

In a different version though where there is a language barrier and they've not met before? Well, with the grub father the truth of what happens with him like most bugs that used living organisms as cocoons is once the transformation is finished is actually quite gruesome. And what's more likely to happen due to the rather hostile environment hollownest currently is Sun and Moon seeing reader as a threat/enemy creature upon first contact.

This leads to reader running for their life from the twins and catching the interest of the hunter who is definitely a threat to them. Lucky for reader Glitch finds the strange, terrified creature and as the collector does and as he did before in the other version. He takes them, investigates them, ends up shoving them into a jar with Lunar who also investigates the small strange creature who seems very very scared but not threatening or violent.

Lunar makes attempts to soothe the smaller soft defenseless creature and show he's not a threat to them and he's successful, but this leads to reader clinging to him for safety and Lunar then feels like it's his duty to keep his new little friend safe no matter who the threat is.

It also becomes clear to reader that Glitch means them no harm seeing as all he's really done is nom them, give them food and keep them trapped in a bottle with Lunar so they start to relax around him too, things go sour eventually in this au of the au.

Glitch ends up stumbling into the room he keeps Lunar and Reader's jar in, severely wounded and with the last of his strength, due to his own fear and knowing how Lunar seems to want to keep the sweet little not-bug safe too, he breaks the jar before collapsing as a sword pierces his chest. Behind him stand Sun and Moon, they're surprised to see the other vessel alive and even more so the strange creature they attempted to kill in the vessel's hold.

Reader is shaking and Lunar can tell they're scared of the pair as reader clings tighter to him and attempts to make themselves smaller while he holds them and they both stare as Glitch's fallen form, Lunar has already made his choice on what he's going to do. He grasps reader as tight as he can as Sun and Moon begin to approach, then he smashes through the window behind him and reader, running off instead of interacting with his 'brothers'.

Sun and Moon are confused about the not-bug, confused about why it held onto Lunar like a lifeline, confused about Lunar's attachment to the not-bug and why he ran then they get the feeling.... They somehow fucked up if Lunar chose to run away with the not-bug instead of interacting with the brothers.

Lunar continues to run holding reader close as he figures the best thing he can do to protect them is to keep running, find them a disguise or something. He gets jumped by the hunter however who injures reader... Then Lunar loses it going berserk and where Lunar was a pacifist who didn't want to hurt anyone once stood, Blood Moon is born and he. is. VICIOUS.

The hunter is slain before he can even take a single step closer to Blood Moon's prey. Even as murderous and blood thirsty he is in this state he still has some recognition of who frightened, fragile and injured reader is....and that reader is important to him. Carrying them in his arms didn't keep them safe enough, so he swallows them then kills the creatures he once avoided while he continues his travels till the red rage subsided and he becomes Lunar once more.

And Lunar feels really really bad that he scared reader like that, after he finds a somewhat safe location, he lets reader out and cuddles them till they also calm down, neither of them know during that small break that both are thinking about Glitch and hoping he lives because despite being their captor they could both tell something drove him mad and his attempts to protect others became well, misguided.

Meanwhile Sun and Moon arn't sure what to do, they found another like them alive but Lunar ran from them, taking that strange small creature with him and when they turned to finish off Glitch he had mysterious disappeared while the pair were distracted by reader and Lunar.

A still injured Glitch has learned something from this encounter, storing people away does not keep them safe, instead it makes them easier targets. The rest of those in his collection were mostly killed off by Sun and Moon before Glitch ran to release Lunar and reader. So now a slower, injured Glitch tracks them, following the path they took he comes across the Hunter laying dead.

Lunar and reader are relieved to see him alive when he finally catches up, but Glitch brought something with him as he came to them, he found a disguise that would fit reader to help keep them safe. Together, the three leave hallownest and it's inhabitants behind.

Sun and Moon, knowing now that Lunar is out there somewhere with a creature they may have misjudged decided after they have saved Eclipse, to look for Lunar, Eclipse learning about their encounter with Lunar, decides he'll look for him too.

They go separate ways, it's Eclipse who finds the trip first during their travels when they've made camp and reader took their mask off. Glitch and Lunar who've learned a bit of reader's language and about reader's run in with Sun and Moon both immediately become defensive when Eclipse approaches them and the unmasked reader.

Eclipse can immediately tell something is up and he wants to know what the hell is going on, once told well, now he's upset at his younger brothers. Sun and Moon are going to be in quite a bit of trouble when they finally find the group. Their needles are going to be confiscated and Eclipse is going to put them on timeout.

[yoke9494]

Selling your virginity to Kokonoi. And other shenanigans...

From Wassup Mikey? (Can be found on AO3/Wattpad)

Pah and Peh are teenage dads.

Day after Y/n's birthday disaster.

I love Pah-chin. I really need to write him his own fic.

Emma and Draken are going through a bad breakup.

Shin and Mikey like pickles

Ran is a dirty birdie. Koko too.

Good amount of crack... It's what I do best.

Sexual content is always marked +++++

Never proofread...

______________________________

The next morning....

Or should I say afternoon?..

You woke up with heavy eyelids and a splitting headache. Your mouth was dryer than a stale cracker and your tongue felt like sand paper..

You threw yourself back into the soft surface you laid on. Already noticing the light blue ceiling.. you were back in yours and Draken's apartment..

"Fuck... I'm never drinking again."

A quiet groan went off beside you. "Shhh. Y/n stop yelling please.."

You lazily looked to your side to see Hina laying next to you.. Your bed was full of bodies..

Hina to your left, Sanzu to your right.. and Takemichi laying at everyone's feet, using Hina's tiny feet as a pillow..

You slowly wiggled out of bed.. No doubt everyone felt how you did at the moment. You needed water!

You could see Draken's hair splayed out everywhere as half of his body was leaning off his couch/bed..

If it wasn't for Kazutora holding onto him like a teddy bear, he'd be on the floor by now.

Baji and Chifuyu laid beside them, back to back hogging all the blankets. Mitsuya was snoring on the recliner. Pah and Peh were both laying on the floor.

You should probably wake up the daddies first. Before their ladies get worried...

The second your hand touched Peh to shake him awake. The door swung open and bounced off the wall.

Everyone jumped and groaned. Draken's body fell to the floor...

"Y/N!!!! OM MY GOD! Y/N!!!"

Emma's body crashed into yours. You nearly fell on top of Pah who was trying to find his cell phone.

You wrapped your arms around her to keep from falling. But she was shaking and crying.

Even though it hurted to yell. "What?! Are your okay?!"

She shook her head. But before she could mumble a word.

"Shin and Mikey were arrested last night.. Emma let me fix them up first before you start yelling again."

Wakasa walked and and looked around. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but instead he looked at you.. He opened up a plastic bag and threw you a bottle of generic pain pills.

"Take 3, and eat this."

A burrito that was sloppily wrapped, dripping with grease, and nearly falling apart was placed in your hand.

"Don't worry, Benkei made them. He's a good cook but can't roll a burrito or a joint to save his life.."

Wakasa walked around to make sure everyone was still alive. This would have been Shins job but y'know..

Sanzu stumbled in and scrunched up his face when his eyes landed on Emma crying into your neck. Draken sat as far away as possible and didn't seem worried. He ate and was talking to Wakasa who was explaining what happened last night.

He pointed at the three of you while looking at Mitsuya.

"What did I miss?"

Mitsuya rolled his eyes and waved him off. He mouthed the words. "Tell you later. Long story.."

"Alright... How much money can you all pull together? We need to pay for their bail.. at least Shins."

Everyone looked at Wakasa..

(Takemichi) "Just Shin?! What about Mikey?!"

(Baji) "Yeah you sleepy bug eyed fuck! Have you not seen the way Mikey eats WHOLE pickles out of the jar?! Little shits gonna be split open from the mouth down!"

Your eyes widened... "He's right! Mikey just sucks that shit out of the jar and swallows.. We can't leave him with a bunch of pussy deprived dudes!."

(Draken.. with a distance look on his face.) "He eats it like he's a fuckin penguin..."

Chifuyu shivered. " You can see the lump travel down his throat.."

Wakasa smirked, Shin does that too.(To him or pickles you may wonder?.. we'll never know...)

"Well, if you want to bail the both of them out.. That'll be 2 grand. Between me, Takeomi, and Benkei. We could only pull $700. We need another $100 for Shin."

Kazutora almost choked on a piece of bacon. " Why is Mikey's bail $1,200?!"

"He attacked a cop.. jumped on his back when he was trying to hold Shin down. Little dude went feral so they had to tase him..."

(Sanzu) "Did he pee himself?"

You slapped the pinkette on his arm. It was easier said than done since Emma was still holding onto you. You've been giving Draken looks to come get her but he was pretending not to see you.

Scoffing you sat down with Emma falling with you and latching onto your arm. You could feel her snot running down your skin. "You Sanos are so clingy... What's wrong with this one then?"

Wakasa snorted. "Grandpa said he wouldn't be able to help since he spent all their money and extra on bailing out sticky fingers there.. Plus his emergency credit card went "missing" so he couldn't use that.. She feels guilty I guess?"

Emma nodded her head. You rolled your eyes and patted her back. "Emma stop crying.. it's not your fault and you really should give Grandpa his card back. He uses that for late bills."

She let out a meek "I will... But it's maxed out.."

(Hina sighed with disappointment) "Alright.. I think we should all head home and just see what we can put together. Even if it's just loose change from the couch. Every little bit counts.."

Everyone agreed. Even Pah and Peh... You all tried to tell them to save their money for their babies but they wouldn't take no for an answer.

(Peh) "Mikey's technically all our first baby anyways. I mean, look at Pah. When his little girl throws a fit, he knows how to calm her down within seconds. All thanks to being around Mikey."

(Pah) "Our sweet baby boy.. Where did we go wrong?"

They both told you it wouldn't be much but again.. every bit counts.

That left you and Draken.

He had a bit and since rent was covered for a while.. He watched you while you dumped your jar full of change and a few crumpled up dollars down on the coffee table.

"Damn.. I should have asked Wakasa of they had coin wrappers or something.. I guess we'll have to take this to one of those machines? Though I'm sure it'll take a good amount of it out.."

You looked up to see Draken staring at you... "What? Something on my face?"

He shook his head. "You should take the advice you gave to Emma."

"What advice?"

"It's not your fault either you know.."

You looked down and bit the inside of your cheek. "If I wasn't so moody about my mom and Izana.. Shin would have never planned a party to cheer me up. If I was my happy self I would have been just fine with eating cheap pizza while watching Shin do his drunk impression while we ate cake that Emma baked.. But no.. I made him worried and I knew better. If one of us is in trouble or going through something, it's always Shin who worries and breaks his back to make it better."

Your eyes watered a bit. Draken sighed and threw his arm around you. "No one blames you.. Even if you were your normal self, Shin would have still went all out. It's was your 18th birthday. He made every single one of ours a blow out."

"... No one's ever been arrested though. Or tased."

Draken laughed. "Okay but remember my birthday? Baji's hair caught on fire, and Chifuyu's eyebrows still grow back uneven. Or Mikey's? We all got high on accident and got stupid matching bellybutton piercings that all got infected. Or Mitsuya's? Kazutora still has that limp when he runs.."

You smiled. "Remember Takemichi's? I still can't look at his mom without feeling flustered.."

Draken let out the loudest laugh. "See? At least your own mom wasn't the stripper to show up at your own party... And don't even get me started on Sanzu's.."

You nodded, the old trauma slowly came back. Like old war flashbacks. The sounds of screaming and bombs dropping went off in your head. "Takeomi's weiner.."

Draken sighed. ".... Why did it look like that?"

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

$52...

That's what you and Draken were able to put together..

Pah and Peh were able to put in $10 each.

Kazutora busted his piggy bank open.. $10.17 and an earring that he thought he lost.

Baji and Chifuyu pulled together. $6.75

Mitsuya. $10

Hina and Takemitchi. $15.10

Sanzu. $5

$119.02...

All together that was $819.02

(Baji) "We still need $1,081 more and some change.."

(Mitsuya) "$1,180 and 98 cents.."

You smiled at your vampire. "But good job Baji! You almost had it right. I'm proud of you!"

Baji smiled while Kazutora patted his back. But it quickly dropped... "Holy shit! That's still a lot! Where are a couple of broke asses like us going to get that kind of cash?!"

(Hina) "Maybe we could have a yard sale or something? Oh! I have a couple of earrings I don't wear!"

(Kazutora) "Or hear me out... Y/n and Hina donate their used panties and we go sell them to some old pervs?"

(Takemichi) "absolutely not! Sell your own panties."

"Who the fuck told you about that?!"

(Chifuyu) "My mom used to sell feet pics.."

(Sanzu) "Does anyone have sexy feet? And are willing to do some freaky shit? Like step on some dog shit or something?"

(Peh) "What the fuck? People like that?"

(Pah) "I can pick up some dog shit..."

(Draken) "I could sell the bike parts I was saving? I don't really need a bike at the moment. The bus is fine.."

(Mitsuya) "I have some jackets I was making for your next gig.. though no one really dresses like us, and the few that do are broke as shit too.. We can try though!"

While they brainstormed you couldn't help but let that guilt eat you up again. You could sell your drums but the thing was falling apart. You wouldn't get too much from it.. you even bought it second hand and had to do a few favors for the guy. You paid $100, cleaned his garage, pulled weeds and mowed his lawn for a month.

Your brain went to a certain someone... He never gave you a price. But he basically just gave you $100 bucks the last time he saw you..(you already spent it) Koko wasn't know for being cheap. That's why a lot of girls tried to hang off his arm... The guy had money, he was just a little picky on what he spent it on...

"What's up with you?"

You hadn't noticed Pah had sat next to you. He was the closest thing you had to an actual grown up right now..

In a low voice. "I think I know where to get the rest of the money.. or uhh at least some of it?"

His eyes widened. "What!"

You had to cover his mouth. It was a good thing Draken and Sanzu were yelling at one another.

"Don't call attention to us. A lot of them won't like it. Especially Draken.."

Pah furrowed his brows and frowned at you when you let go of his mouth. "What are you talking about? Y/n it better not be anything stupid."

You shrugged your shoulders. "Remember that stupid game the Haitani broth-- Ran started? The one where they use a point system with girls and all that?"

Pah scrunched up his nose. "They still do that shit?"

You nodded. "Virgin's are a high score now.. I still don't know what they play for but it must be more than bragging rights.."

Pah's face changed. The lovable dumbass he usually was disappeared. "Are you still? Y'know.."

Again you nodded. "Kokonoi asked to buy it from me... It's not like I need it."

Pah shook his head. "As your friend.. I say, I'm surprised you haven't done that with Izana.. Loser. But it's your body, do what you want..."

You smiled but it dropped when Pah continued. " But if it was my daughter I was talking too.. That's something you can't get back. It's something that you don't need to get rid of right away. You should at least do it with someone you care about, with someone who cares about you... You're not something that can be bought and you should learn to respect yourself enough to understand that.."

Damn it... Why couldn't Pah just tell you to hoe out? He really had to go daddy mode on you..

Pah got up and slapped the back of your head. "Alright that's enough mushy shit. Hoe out Y/n.. Spread legs, not hate.."

You snorted.. "Can you read minds?"

"Huh?"

----------

Everyone was still trying to brainstorm. Sanzu and Kazutora had their feet out and were trying to get good angles off of Peh's phone.

You tapped on Takemichi's shoulder and he jumped.

"Sorry Michi... But can I use your phone?"

"Uh.." he reached into his pocket. "Go for it. My minutes are free on the weekends."

You thanked him and went into your room. Scrolling through his contacts till you found who you needed to talk to...

Yamagishi..

It rang only twice before you heard shuffling. The muffled sound of shooting? going off in the background.

"What's up Takemichi? You home already? Come over, we need another player.."

"It's Y/n, Yamagishi.."

He groaned. "Did he hurt himself again? Or is he crying? Where do we pick him up?"

You laughed. "No he's okay. I actually needed your help with something.."

Yamagishi made a weird owl sound (whowhowho) before your heard shuffling again. "I'll be back guys. My baby girl needs me!"

(Takuya) "Tell Takemichi I said Hey!"

Ignoring them, it got quite before Yamagishi spoke again. "Whose body do we need to chop up and throw into the sewers? We can run away to Mexico and live happily ever after as Juan and Marie."

You held back a snort. Yamagishi was a real one. "No, we don't have to resort to that yet.. but uh.. I feel really bad for asking. I know you promised your mom.. and that one judge.. you'd stop the whole stalker thing but, I need your help finding someone?"

Yamagishi chuckled on the other end. "Oh Y/n... You think I actually meant that? Who am I looking for?"

" Kokonoi Hajime..."

*Gag* "Ew.. give me a minute."

All you could hear was tapping, mumbling, tapping and Yamagishi click his tongue.. "Damn I'm good."

He praised himself while you just sat there and looked around your room.. "Yamagishi?"

He cleared his throat. "So I found out from this one chick, whose brother knows that one dude with the orange hair. Remember he crapped his pants in middle school?.."

You had no clue.. "Uh, yeah sure?"

"Well he gave me Sherri's number. You know Sherri right?"

Again you had no clue. "Noo?"

"Sure you do! She has that thing for Akkun but he's too scared of her. Big lips, chicken legs? Chewed off a dude dick because her braces got snagged on his foreskin.."

It was coming back to you. "The piranha?! Darla 2.0?!"

"Yeah!"

You both laughed but then it hit you. "Oh shit... We're going off track here.. Did you?"

Yamagishi sighed. "Ah, right.. I'll send you an address. Darla 2.0 has eyes on him as we speak. He's at a party or something.."

A party? Oh how God was punishing you.. You'd have to find Koko in a sea of his own people and literally beg him to give you money for your coochie... I guess this was punishment for comparing the big man upstairs with someone like Taiju all the time. The Lord had a twisted sense of humor...

Once you ended the call with Yamagishi he sent a random address to you in seconds. You begged him not to tell Takemichi what you had him do for you and he made sure to cross his heart and hope to die.

You copied it down before deleting the message and giving Takemichi his phone back. Everyone else was still trying to come up with ideas or trying to get ahold of any buyers for things they were going to sell.

You caught Pah in the small kitchen and convinced him to drive you and only you..

If you told anyone about your plan they all would have forbid you to go. They would have convinced you that this was something Mikey and Shin wouldn't approve of. But your mind wasn't in the right place..

The drive to the mystery spot was eerily quiet.. It wasn't until Pah stopped infront of a loud house that he finally spoke.

The house had its own pulse from the bass of the music coming inside. Random bodies were flooding in and out all stumbling and laughing. Red cups and beer bottles littered the grass and drive way.

"I don't know how I feel about this.."

Pah watched two guys drag a drunk girl over to a car. They threw her in the backseat and both climbed in after her. Another guy came out and lazily leaned against the car and brought out his phone to mess with. You both could see him tell the two guys something before he returned to his device.

This didn't really feel like a good idea after all. Nothing really scared you but you felt a bit of fear creep up.

"It's the fastest way to get Mikey's bail though.."

Pah sighed. "I know he's our best friend and all but this isn't you. Out of all of us, you're the cleanest one--"

You cut him off. Your mind was already made up, plus you just happened to see someone come out who'd know exactly where Koko was. "I'll be fine, Just don't judge me Pah. I've never done that to any of you."

He couldn't argue with that. He's done things he wasn't proud of, hell some stuff Peh didn't even know about. But once he spilled it to you.

You never looked at him in disappointment. You always made sure to tell him you loved and cared about him like a brother. He'll just have to swallow the worry and do the same for his big hoe of a sister?

Pah watched you get out of his van. "Be safe.. Do you want me to stay out here?"

You walked up to his window and shook your head. "Nah, I'll take the late bus. You better get home and check on Mori and the baby. You've been away from them for a while now.."

He nodded but watched you walk away. That worry increased when you walked up to some blonde guy fixing his heels?

___________

Inupi needed air...

Warm bodies dry humping to the sound of some song he's heard a million times. Rindou's music honestly started to all sound the same. Inu wished that he'd at least throw a different genre in there..

Koko was busy with two girls sitting on his lap so that gave him enough time to set foot outside for a few minutes or so. The halls were a tight fit but he managed to get through. Some girl had tripped over his feet and knocked his ankle strap loose. He was thankful he didn't wear his expensive heels today, but he was still annoyed the girl scuffed them up a bit with her ugly flats.

He sat on a small concrete slab to fix his buckle. The cool air felt nice and cleared his lungs of all the BO, weed, and body spray.

"Those are pretty ones. How come you never wear those to school?"

His eyes shifted to your feet. He could count on one hand how many shoes he's seen with spikes on them.

"Thanks. These are my party heels. They're too nice for that dump. No one will appreciate them there. Plus it's not fun to walk up all those stairs with stilettos on."

You shifted on your feet. "And they appreciate them here?"

He chuckled. "You're the only one so far."

He looked up after adjusting his strap. "Izana's up in one of the rooms. I wouldn't go in without knocking though.. he's with someone.."

That hurt a little.. but you couldn't be mad. You were here for the same reason, just for someone else.

"Uh, well I'm actually looking for Kokonoi? You're always together so..."

Inupi was just in shock for a second. He almost wanted to tell you to go home.

You two weren't friends, but you both knew of one another.. He had been put into a group project with you during the first year. He made the mistake of hanging around with you after school.

He blames himself for the small obsession Kokonoi had with you. (That you didn't know about) If he stayed away then Koko probably would have never laid his eyes on you. But it was too late.. Next thing he knew, when Ran created his little game he saw Koko staring at you a little too long. Your name was put on the list.. It wasn't so high at first but after finding out you didn't open your legs for anyone, you moved all the way to the top. They liked a challenge..

He really wished his sister didn't move and go to college in New York. If she was still here, Kokonoi would still be following her around like a lost puppy...

He sighed and stood up and motioned for you to follow him. Fighting with himself as he walked you through the crowd of drunks.

Was it hot in here? It felt like it was hard to breathe. You wanted to blame all the smoke but really, it was just nerves.

Your eyes scanned your surroundings. You saw Ran taking shots with a couple of people, his braids long gone that you almost didn't recognize him. Rindou wasn't too far away but he seemed to be smoking with a girl who was obviously getting a little annoying.

You dropped your head when you saw Shion walk up to Ran. Somehow you felt a little embarrassed..

You passed what looked to be the living room and tried to hide your face by quickly looking the other way. Familiar white hair flashed you but he was surrounded different people. You only looked for a second but saw that he stuck a rolled up bill in his nose...

Inu had a Koko radar and found him easily. He had moved from his previous spot to a room that was all the way at the back of the house. Koko was laying down with some girl who was trying to get his attention by messing with his curls but he looked like he was sleeping.

"Koko!"

He jumped when Inu called out to him. Carefully rubbing his eyes so he wouldn't mess up his liner.

"Where did you go? I'm ready to leave this damn party. Everyone here is fucking bori--"

His eyes could make out a dark smudge that stood behind Inupi's. Once his blurred vision cleared he sat up so fast that the poor girl that was clinging to his stomach nearly fell off the bed.

His smile made you feel a little uneasy. And you couldn't figure out why..

"Hello, Y/n."

His tongue stook out for a second before he turned to the girl beside him. "Get out."

She looked so offended. But she didn't argue with him. That didn't stop her from staring you down as she left the room. You could feel her gaze trying to burn you alive.

'Shit bitch.. I don't want your snake man... I wouldn't even be here if I didn't have any other ideas.'

Too bad she couldn't read minds... She was already on her way to bad mouth you to her friends. They were already taping away on their phones to see who the hell you were..

Koko leaned back on the bed, resting his weight on his palms. He made sure to tap his lap but you stayed behind Inu.

Sighing at the rejection. "Well?"

You sucked in a breath... All the pride you ever had made a break for it and left you feeling pathetic.

Just coming out and saying it. "Dose your offer still stand? Buying my virginity?"

You saw Inu stiffen up... He was probably judging you to hell and back in his head.

Koko smirked "It dose."

You nodded. You honestly had no clue how to have this kind of conversation?

Koko chuckled. "How much?"

Thankfully he was taking the lead. To be honest, he just wanted to hurry up and get you under him. You were taking too damn long..

You thought for a second. " I want the same amount of points I'm worth in your game."

He chuckled. " Hmm.. That's a big number.. I don't usually carry that much with me."

He reached into his pockets and pulled out a set of keys before throwing them at Inupi. Who caught them with ease. "Go to the house and get what she wants."

It came out as a demand but with the look Koko was giving Inu... It just screamed. ' Hurry! Before she changes her mind.. '

Before Inupi could turn Koko held up his hand. "I'm taking 500 hundred off. Consider it your punishment for giving Shion a taste of what was supposed to be mine."

That left you with $1,500.

It was still more than enough. Inu and Koko both stared you down.

"Sure."

++++++(Marking here but the smut is split in two. Not very detailed till the second half.)++++++

Inupi left as soon as that word left your mouth. He didn't want to stick around and have to guard the door or something. He didn't want to hear those sounds coming from you and Koko.

Koko had dragged you to another room. He claimed it was the only room with a functioning lock.

Who's fucking house was this?!

You expected Koko just to shove it in and have his fun. You mentally prepared to be uncomfortable and in pain for a few minutes or so..

You pushed down the fear and mentally prepared to just let whatever he wanted happen. You talked like a pervert so you might as well tit up and live like one..

But this felt a little too... Nice?

Koko had striped you both naked the second the door had closed and clicked when it locked..

Everything was thrown messily on the floor while Koko's hands tickled your body. His lips haven't left yours since he threw your naked form onto the soft bed.

You were thankful he didn't look down when he Spread open your legs and made himself comfortable between them.

' Soft and warm ' were the words that repeated in his head while his tongue swirled around yours. To him, you were the sweetest kiss he's ever had. It was almost as sweet as the little muffled moan you let out when his hips grinded into you.

His dick skipped between your folds. the underside of his length massaged your clit. Causing you to slightly buck your hips to feel a little more pleasure.

Wet... But not as wet as he needed you to be..

There was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to taste and feel.. He's been dreaming about this day for at least a year now..

But time wasn't on his side. All bets were off Sunday morning.. 12am and it was already 10:58pm when you showed up.

That's why the Haitani's threw this damn party. Ran was a few points ahead, Rindou right behind him.. they wanted to rack up as many points as they could.. but Koko knew you'd be looking for him.

Well ... he hoped you'd be.

Even though he didn't want to, Koko had detached himself from your mouth and left sloppy wet kisses down your jaw. He lightly bit and sucked the sensitive skin on your neck, not too much but a little proof to show he was there.

He sat up on his knees and finally got a good look at you. Your chest was rising and falling, lungs trying to suck in all the air he was denying you.

He struggled to hold himself back, so much that it made his dick hurt just thinking about the fact he needed to take it slow with you.

"You ready?"

Your hands griped the sheets. Heart racing, your mind telling you Koko wasn't Izana.. it was supposed to be Izana...

"I'm ready."

It came out so quiet that if Rindou didn't stop the music's to change it up a bit. Koko wouldn't have heard you..

Koko brought your hips closer and pushed open your thighs as much as he could for him. He wanted to watch himself enter you, no actually he needed to ask you two more things before he could.

You looked at him like he was crazy.....

"I'll pay extra."

--------

He didn't want to wear condom?... That was the first question. You weren't on the pill so it was a hard no. But Koko knew how to persuade you. He had shown you the message he sent to Inupi about getting you a plan B.

Fine.. no condoms.

Second was... If he could record himself fucking you?

Again no!

But he had told you he needed proof if you wanted to get paid. It was either a video where he'd only show your face for a second. OR you could stand in front of everyone (including Izana) and admit he took your virginity in Rindou's bed..

Video it is then...

Lining himself up to your entrance, Koko hissed when the head of his cock felt your warmth around it.

You let out a pained whine and your body tried to push away from him on its own. Koko held you down and leaned over to kiss your cheeks when your tears started to spill.

"It's gonna hurt for a bit. But I got you."

He kissed your lips one more time before returning to his previous position. This time he held onto your thigh with one hand while he held onto his phone with the other.

He bit back the moan the crept its way up to his throat. You were clenching down on him so hard that he could come with only his tip halfway in.

"You need to relax for me baby. Or I'm going to have to shove it in.."

You were trying but it burned. You felt every bit of him trying to push in..

"I can't.. I'm sor-"

A moan escaped your lips when Koko's thumb started toying with your clit. He was willing to try anything to get your mind off of the pain. His little idea had worked when he was able to slip in all the way. A sigh left him when his hips met the back of your thighs.

He slightly trembled when your walls fluttered around his cock. They were struggling to get used to the foreign object that bullied itself into them.

"T.. tell me when you're ready. I promise I won't move till-- fuck." Koko buried his face into your chest. He didn't want you to see the blush that was coating his face.

His voice was shaky but you didn't really care. You tried to relax as the burning feeling started to die down. It was like you were ripped in two.

Koko left small kitten licks on your chest. His tongue played with your nipples while he waited. Trying to get you as excited as he was..

But something was happening. While he sucked on your tits like a starved child. Your body was shaking and you didn't understand what was going on.

You were about to push Koko off of you but it was too late. Your vision went white and you felt a gush of something come from your pussy.

You couldn't explain the feeling but it felt like you just came... It was too wet.. How embarrassing! Did you just pee on Koko?!

Leaning back And pointing his phone down Koko felt heat travel from his stomach to his dick. Teasing your chest made you wetter, no it did something else... Your slick was running down his thighs and it was slightly crimson tinted.

Damn.. red always looked good on him. But that wasn't the best part... You weren't only sensitive but you were a fucking squirter!

It only took his tongue flicking against your stiffened buds. His dick hasn't even moved an inch!

Oh great... Koko was more than obsessed, he was completely in love with you now...

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Koko's heart was still racing..

The sweat that covered him was now drying in the cool air. But his lower half was warm from the blanket he just pulled over the both of you.

Legs still tangled together he could feel his release slowly dripping out of you and onto his thigh. Just the thought of it made him want to have you again.

Your body laid limp next to his. He had taken so much out of you that you asked if you could rest for a minute before leaving.

He didn't want you to leave.. Why were you trying to leave?

"Rest for a bit princess. I'll wake you up in a bit."

He lied... if anything he hoped you'd stay asleep just so he could sleep next to you.

Koko's body moved on its own and brought you closer to snuggle up on him. Your skin was soft against his, your warm breath tickled his neck and it made him shiver..He could get used to this.

Pulling out his phone he pressed his lips to your forehead. Cursing at himself when he forgot to turn off the flash.

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

The party was still going strong. Rindou had taken a piss break and just happened to see a few unread messages. He thought maybe it was Ran and he got too drunk to walk again. He lost sight of his brother after he took some girl to the bathroom with him...

He was surprised to see it was Koko messaging him..

"The fuck do you want?"

Rindou almost raced out of the bathroom when Koko told him he'd be taking over his room for the night.

Before he could go and pull Koko out of his bed by his girly ass weave.. A picture popped up and it almost made his buzzed self fall.

"No fucking way."

He typed a misspelled message, claiming that he must have photoshopped that shit. Their was no way you were in his bed, naked and crashed out against Koko's chest.

Kokonoi: If you let me take over your room for the night. I'll send you proof.

Okay... Now he was curious?

Agreeing to let him stay a video popped up a minute later. Before he could press  the play button..

A loud knock came from the other end of the bathroom. Groaning he opened the door only to be pushed aside by some chick who smelled like throw up. She didn't even tell him to stop looking and close the door before she pulled her panties down and started peeing.

Rindou made a face and slammed the door closed. "No fucking class.."

-----------

Ran's room...

It was unoccupied and Rindou made himself comfortable before paying the video.

He was only 10 minutes in when his brother swung open his door. His face dropped when he saw his younger brother in his bed under his covers.

"What the fuck?"

The girl who Ran had on his arm lit up when she saw the younger Haitani. Assuming she was going to get dicked down by both she squealed.

Poor girl shut up real quick when Ran threw her out to see what was wrong with his brother. Rindou was breathing hard and his face was red. Sweat was built up at his hairline and dripped down his neck.

"What's wrong with you? Did you take something?!"

Without a word Rindou tossed his phone to Ran and got up. He shoved his dick back in his pants and stumbled a bit.

"Were you just jacking off in my bed?!-- Where the fuck are you going?!"

Before he walked out the door Rindou shrugged. "I cleaned my mess, calm down. And I'm going to tell everyone we lost."

"Huh?"

A muffled "Watch the damn video!" came from the other end of the door.

-----------

++++++++++++++++++++++

Kokonoi Hajime... What a damn snake..

But Ran couldn't help but rewind the video back to his favorite part.

He squeezed the base of his dick while the video continued. Whinny moans left your mouth while your back arched off the bed.

Your perky/cute tits bounced with each thrust, it made his mouth water.

Ran drowned out the sounds coming from Koko as he pounded into your tight cunt. He groaned when a ring of white started to make itself visible. Your hands gripped the sheet under you as your body started to shake.

Ran had to give Koko props..

The way you sounded, How your body shook and twitched with each thrust... the way your cunt struggled to take Koko. Ran could only imagine how badly you'd be crying if it was him.

And that's what he did..

Koko picked up his speed and ran did the same. He tried to match every pump with your breathy moans. His own covered Koko's so it was easy to imagine that he was there with you.

When you both started cussing under your breath he knew his favorite part was coming. Koko was ruthless and started bucking his hips like he was trying to break you. His cock was buried deep inside and his thumb was rubbing on your swollen clit.. Ran would kill just to have your little nub in his mouth right now.

"Come on baby, just one more please... Cum on my cock one more time for me..."

Ran would have made fun of Koko for sounding so desperate. But then again.. he'd just be a hypocrite, Ran knew damn well he'd be saying the same shit.

Ran paused the video and squirted more lotion onto his hand. Rindou's bitch ass squeezed the small bottle of lube he kept around dry.. Stingy fucker..

Pressing play he continued to pump his length, his thumb pressed and swiped over his tip. The wet sounds coming from your pussy helped him imagine your body on top of his.

No longer paying attention to the video, the older Haitani leaned his head back onto his beds headboard and closed his eyes. His hair stuck to his forehead and neck but he didn't care right now.. he was close..

You looked so good bouncing on his cock. Soft s/c skin glistening with sweat.. Your nails felt good as they dug into his shoulders. Your cunt sucked his cock in like you didn't want to let him go..

"Fuck.. Almost there Angel. You're doing so good for me. So fucking good.."

A small scream replaced your heavenly moans and brought Ran's attention out of his imagination and back to the screen.

Your thighs shook and your face scrunched up in pleasure. Koko slipped his dick out of your sopping entrance and..

Ran let out a choked moan when his cum painted his stomach. He came right when you squirted all over Kokonoi while his own release leaked out of you..

Ran tried to catch his breath while he chuckled. "Fucking lucky bastard... I knew he had a weak pull out game."

++++++++++++++++++++++++

............

[kissitbttr]

eddie munson dating a mean fem!cheerleader who’s only nice to him <3

-

“sorry I didn’t hear you bitch, what?!”

the loud bang and voice causes the conversations amongst the cafeteria starts to quiet down. all heads turning to the source where the voice coming from. including eddie, who has his eyes bug out like a kid getting caught sneaking his hand into the cookie jar. immediately knowing who that voice belongs to.

it’s you.

you have your hand on a somegirl’s head, pressing it against an empty table. it draws so many peoples attention with their terrified expressions written on their faces. some of them are even whispering to each other wether or not to help the poor girl out and take you away, but they know better than to upset you.

“dude… you should go there” dustin leans over to eddie with a soft whisper, as if he’s afraid that you’ll hear him. “she’s gonna kill her.”

“eh” he munches on his fries, a proud smirk plasters across his face, eyes never leaving you. “let her. she’s fucking hot when she gets feisty.”

dustin gapes at him, “what kind of boyfriend would let their girlfriend kill another girl?!”

“me” he simply answers, feeling himself growing more turned on when he watches you furrow your brows in anger and teeth gritting, while putting your mouth close to the girl’s ear, threatening her more.

oh he’s definitely fucking you from behind later,

“I-im sorry” the blonde girl chokes out, her eyes are shut in fear and body won’t stop shaking due to your rough grip around her shitty ponytail. “i promise … p-please-“

“yeah, you promise right? because if i saw you do what you did again, i will fucking come for you, you stupid fuck” you harshly say against her ear, throwing her shaking body to the floor, earning loud gasps from around. “racist bitch.”

with that, you fix your skirt and sleek your messy hair back and turn around. seeing a bunch of bewildered looks on students making you scoff and roll your eyes. “the fuck are you guys looking at? go do something!”

in seconds, the crowd begins to break. not giving you nor the girl laying on the floor any more attention. though the tension is still there.

you begin to scan through the crowd, trying to find your boyfriend. and the moment you lock eyes with him, your frown is replaced with a bright smile, squealing as you hurriedly walk over to his table in your gogo boots. he instantly stands from his seat, mirroring your expression with his arms wide open.

"puddin!" you call, quickly jumping onto him.

"hi baby" he chuckles, keeping a tight grip around your waist. "quite a show you put on there" he nods to the crying girl.

"oh, that?" you innocently point out, "well she did something bad so I had to talk to her."

he sits back down in his chair, patting his lap for you. "talked? think you did more than that, sweetheart."

"oh well." you shrug, crossing your legs as you keep your arms around his shoulder, playing with his chocolate curls. "she deserved it."

"what did she do?" gareth pipes in, glancing down at your exposed thighs. gulping as he begins to check you out.

unfortunately, eddie notices, frowning in disappointment. "hey! eyes off my girl you little shit" he warns, pointing a finger at him. glaring at the curly-headed fellow.

gareth's eyes widen, face turning red in embarrassment as he looks away making you giggle.

"oh don't worry about him gar-bear. he's just a little protective." you cup eddie's cheeks, turning him to look at you. "you're still my man, baby." you plant a kiss on his lips, causing the table to groan in disgust.

"oh shut up. if you had a hot piece of ass for a girlfriend like y/n. you'd let her do whatever she wants to you." eddie slaps your ass a bit, making you jump.

"yeah yeah, you have a girlfriend now. we get it." mike waves him off, eyes rolling. "you didn't answer the question, y/n."

"what? oh yeah! she was making fun of your club. and said some very very offensive remarks about eddie and lucas." you shrug, twirling one of eddie's locks. "I had to do something, obviously. can't let that bitch get away with what she said. i had to get physical."

"it was?" eddie's heart begins to warm. never in his life had someone defended him like that. "oh sweetcheeks, you didn't have to."

"uhm, yes i did have to." you reply in an obvious tone, "you mean a lot to me. and I know these guys and the club mean so much to you, baby. so that makes them important to me as well."

“i fucking love you, you know that?” he sighs dreamily, tucking away the loose curl from your face. “if i could take you right here-“

the hellfire kids immediately groan, covering their ears as they complain to their ‘master’ about his sexual implication. hearing that only makes you laugh even more and for eddie to roll his eyes back.

“woah woah dude, not at lunch please. it’s gross.”dustin begs, shaking his head in disgust as he points down at the meal.

“well” you start, biting your lip while standing up. “i saw chem class is free, you wanna go there with me so we can-” you’re immediately cut off by eddie jumping off from his seat right away nearly tipping the chair down. eyes wide in excitement as he nods vigorously

“yes. fuck yes. i need you right now, you don’t need to ask” he desperately begins, hands wrapped around your waist as the go down to squeeze your ass. not caring that people are probably watching. “think i can get you off in fifteen, baby?”

“i like to see you try” you purr, batting your lashes at him. “because i’m planning to get you off in ten.”

he lets out his shaky sigh“jesus fuck- i gotta go guys. move the meeting later after school.” he turns to say to his friends while grabbing your arms tight and rushes away with you who’s giggling like crazy.

“what- no! eddie!” dustin calls out his name, watching the two lovebirds disappear from the cafeteria. he sighs in frustrations, hands on his hips as he hears the piles of complaints coming from the guys.

“fucking horn dogs”