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sunlightmurdock · 2 days

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AETERNA | Prologue

SYNOPSIS: WHAT’S THE USE IN MAKING PLANS? IT’S ALL INEVITABLE ANYWAY.

WORD COUNT: 2550

MASTERLIST

MOODBOARD

PLAYLIST

quick lil a/n: this isn’t an OC fic, audrey will just be a recurring character who is mentioned through the fic and this spooky lil prologue is her origin story I guess 🫶 we meet reader in chapter 1

…

Audrey Weiss began her last morning the way that most people do: unknowingly. Unknowing in the sense that it was the last time she would bark at her sister to get out of the bathroom, or sigh too loudly when her mother asked her to take the trash out.

Mere weeks from graduation, her focus should have been college in the fall and summer trips and prom. Instead, she was thinking much shorter term — simply of her plans for that evening.

She had ducked out of her parents’ three-bed ranch style in the middle of Saturday morning breakfast, headed for the indubitably more important venture of tackling La Mesa Shopping Mall with her best friend, Suzie Clarke. Once Girl Scouts together, Audrey and Susanne were attached at the hip even now that they were all grown.

Suzie Clarke was the first person the police would speak to the next day, after Audrey was reported missing.

Exactly three weeks and four days from her high school graduation, big things were on the horizon for Audrey. She had been accepted into some pretty good schools for that fall, but her pick was Mount Holyoke — she was going to be a lawyer.

At the mall, she had found the most gorgeous jumpsuit. A peach color that made her brown hair look like pure silk with a crochet floral middle and bell bottoms that made her legs look a mile long. Something awful grown-up for a girl like Audie, but that was the point.

Then, back home, she had considered leaving her large, round wire-framed glasses on their vanity. They made her eyes look ten times bigger and unnatural, and her mouth look small — but she probably wouldn’t look too stellar if she couldn’t see either. These opinions were her own, formed by middle school boys from years passed.

To her baby sister, her glasses made Audie look awfully smart. There’s an old People magazine in their mother’s dresser that shows Barbara Streisand in a dark-framed pair of eyeglasses; Audie could look just like that if she combed her hair a bit.

To make matters worse after deciding that her glasses would make the cut, before she could make it to the safety of Stacy’s car, Audie’s mother had forced a denim jacket over her shoulders and told her to mind the weather. Like it was ever that cold around there.

Still, Audrey’s confidence was unwavered. She looked dynamite in her new jumpsuit, and four weeks into the long stretch that eighteen years old was supposed to be, she looked grown-up for the very first time, even with the glasses.

For the sixth time since March Third, 1977, Audrey Weiss bought a ticket and visited the circus on the outskirts of her hometown.

Santa Paloma, Arizona, was a safe place and only a stone’s throw from Phoenix. It had a movie theater and a couple of arcades, plenty of playgrounds, and a roller rink. Still, Audrey wasn’t interested in hanging out at any of those places.

No, she had her sights set bigger. Older. She wanted more than the other girls her age. Maybe if the boys her age had been kinder, this wouldn’t have been the case.

That’s why she was here, and why this sixth visit was going to be special; she had met a guy. In her killer new jumpsuit, with her hair done like Farah Fawcett, and her Mom’s lipstick coating her lips — her mind was all made up, tonight was the night that she was going to make her move.

Restless in every sense of the word, Audrey had lept out from the backseat of Stacy’s bubblegum blue MGB roadster first, her heart aflutter and her friends in tow. The late April sky was ablaze, orange and pink. It was quite the send off.

Children laughing and screaming, Audrey knew her way around the circus attractions well by now. She bid her friends goodbye with knowingly exchanged giggles, and started to walk. They had discussed Audrey’s plan in great detail by the point of its execution.

Brown leather sandals, barely leaving footprints across red dirt; she was gentle like that. Neon lights surrounding her, she passes by the carousel where she had first seen the man of her dreams for the last time. Its chimes sing her a goodbye as she disappears deeper into the Friday night bustle.

Eager, grinning faces surround her in a blur as Audrey strolls down the midway. A nervous, fast-feeling energy buzzes through her trembling limbs. The ring toss to her right, the shooting game to her left, her sights set straight ahead.

She had been too nervous to pick at the meatloaf her mother had made, and the air had smelled of warm popcorn and sugar. Her stomach growled, leaving no room for butterflies.

Amidst the epic orange and pink, the sky threatened to grow dark behind the looming, spinning ferris wheel.

Audrey left behind the painted faces and the smiles, the smell of sugar and the sound of shrieking laughter. Echoes of the excitement rang out behind her as she left it all behind. Her destination was beyond the fair, behind one of the big, red and white glossed storage trucks. Even in her killer new jumpsuit, Audrey had gone unnoticed.

One confident foot in front of the other, she squared her shoulders like the older girls do and kicked through that soft red dirt. Weaving between caravans, campers and trailers, restlessly brushing her hair back off of her shoulders and bringing it back in place.

A familiar whistled tune guided her where she intended to go.

Jake can usually be found whistling an Elvis tune.

His shirt slung over his shoulder, he passed between the lodgings coolly, headed to his camper to prepare for the show. Maybe he heard her coming, maybe he saw her feet under the caravans. By the time Audrey had rounded the corner, he had stopped and was staring at her.

He animated again, after a moment of static.

Jake was the star of the show, and to Audrey Weiss on that night in particular, he was just about the center of the universe. Tall, and gorgeous, with a strong jaw and a long, straight nose. Blond hair and golden skin, and green eyes. Muscles like something out of a comic book.

And despite being all of those things, Jake was nice, too.

“Hey, Aud-Ball.” Like odd-ball. But his way of teasing her wasn’t cruel like everyone else’s. He shot her a cool grin, his broad shoulders making his white tank stretch taught as he passed by her with no intention of stopping for a chat; again, in the kindest way. “You lost?”

This was far from their first conversation, but it was the first time she had gotten brave like this. There are signs all over the place saying staff quarters are off limits. She shouldn’t have been back there. She should have waited until after the show — Jake always came out to hang out front after the show was done, she could have found him then.

“No,” She wavered. A pit in her stomach and a lump in her throat, she looked down at the dirt and her glasses slipped a bit on the bridge of her nose. “I… wanted to see you.”

Jake can be real friendly. Too friendly, if you were to ask some of the folks around camp. Too friendly with ladies sometimes, too. That’s not what this was. When Audrey showed up for the second weekend, after Jake had complimented her glasses and told her she was funny — he had known she needed a friend. That’s all.

He played dumb.

“What for?” He stopped by the door of his trailer and took a moment to look at her. A slight heel to her sandals, a brand-new outfit, and magazine-worthy hair. He knew exactly what for.

She kicked and toed at the dirt, her eyes on the ground in a sheepish manner that tarnished all that work she had put into looking grown-up. “… I dunno.”

He looked behind her, and then around the two of them. The bustle of the fair sounded so far away. His grin settled into something friendly, but detached. The kind of look you get from a waiter when it comes time to decide on how much to tip.

“You lose your friends?” She never came alone. She had come with her parents that first weekend. She had looked so sad.

“No.” In her kicking and toeing at the ground, Audrey had wandered a bit closer to him. Close enough that he could smell her mother’s perfume on her neck, because she thought it was more mature than her own.

He took his shirt from his shoulder and wrung it in his hands, bootprints in the mud as he put some distance between the two of them. “Look, you know you’re not supposed to be back here. House rules.”

She looked up at him through those big glasses.

“Well, I mean—“

“Really. You should go.” He said more firmly. He was looking at her differently. The kindness in his eyes was gone and all that’s there was pity. In an instant, Audrey Weiss is crushed.

This wasn’t the first time she had been hurt by a boy. She had a tendency to read too much into things, to want things too much. There was a boy in ninth grade, he hadn’t ever liked her — she had convinced herself that he did. She had been so humiliated.

Jake watched her face crumple completely before him, and he was reminded of exactly what he saw in her that first weekend. A scared little girl with a heart full of sadness. He looked to the ground, feeling like he had knocked her to the dirt himself. She did look sweet in her new get-up.

“I’ll find you after the show.” Jake had offered.

Dejected, Audrey fiddled with the leg seam of her jumpsuit. She looked at the ground, and despite having no children, Jake got a glimpse at what it might look like if he had one to scold. She nodded her head weakly.

His lips twitched, his smile almost apologetic as he tapped at the side of his trailer and swung one foot in. “Alright.”

She presses her lips taut, staring at the indent she had toed into the dirt.

Jake hesitated by the door. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting her go, looking so sad. “Thanks for stoppin’ by— your hair looks killer, Audie.”

And so, Audrey had sulked back through the site and found her friends. With her being back so soon, and looking so cheesed — they hadn’t asked questions. They had bought her a coke, and taken their seats inside of the Big Top.

He said he would find her after, but to a girl like Audrey, that could mean a lot of things. Most of them were not good. As the lights dimmed and the familiar introductory drumbeat rattled out, Audrey just wanted to go home.

As he had five times before, the ringmaster burst out into the center of the area and threw his arms into the air, starting the evening with his usual speech. Audrey sipped sadly at her Coca-Cola from the stands. Jake comes on second for the first part of his act, right behind the ringmaster.

Audrey knew his routine like the back of her hand. Once again, she was not picked to be his assistant. As always, he was incredible.

At 9pm, the show had finished and the crowds were filing out. The fairground was even more abuzz than it had been earlier, the sky was a deep indigo, and Audrey really wasn’t in the mood to listen to Jake tell her that she just wasn’t his type. She wanted to be, so badly.

”I’ll pull the car around.” Stacy had told her saddened friend, already thinking that they could stop for milkshakes on the way home to cheer her up. Audrey had nodded absently, wondering where Jake had planned to find her.

“Come on, watch me hook a duck. I’ll win you something.” Suzie was Audrey’s best friend for a reason, after all. She looped her arm through Audrey’s and led her over to the attraction. She had just let go for a second, to take the pole from the attendant.

Audrey had just looked away for a moment. Well, maybe a few moments. It hadn’t felt like very long.

She stared across the sea of people, finding him in the spaces between. His eyes were settled right on hers, green and as kind as they always had been.

Standing over by the house of mirrors, Jake was wearing the same clothes he had been earlier, his shirt discarded over his right shoulder and his white tank stretched across his chest. He had gotten changed out of his show clothes quickly. Maybe he was excited to see her.

She bit at the inside of her cheek, nervous tingles making her fidget on her feet.

He straightened up, and cocked his head sharply to the side. The right side of his mouth tugged toward his ear like something was funny. He untucked his hand from his pocket, and pushed away from the support beam.

There was no goodbye, no ‘I’ll be back in a second’ — the plan was clear — Audrey hadn’t felt the need to waste time bringing her friends up to speed, that could be done in the morning. Light-footed, her brown sandals barely marked the soft dirt beneath her feet.

He had turned and reached for the door, watching her over his shoulder. Her eyes scanned across the neon red signage above him as he disappeared into the Hall of Mirrors. The door fell shut behind him.

Audrey’s heartbeat hammered like a snare drum. Her entire nervous system could keep easy pace with a Lynyrd Skynyrd record. Her dad loved those guys.

The sky darkened behind her, the metal handle cold under her palm as she opened up the door. She leaned inside, and peered around, half-way inside. “Jake?”

The halls between all the mirrors had to be lit somehow, and someone chose blood-red bulbs. Darkness in the corners of the reflections, red illuminations right through the center. Audrey took one sure-footed step inside, her mouth twitching toward a nervous smile.

She let go of her breath and smiled. Sticking her fingers out, she touched her own reflection right in front of her. Filtered red, she looked so different. Her hair really did look killer. Her glasses hadn’t ever looked that awful. She trailed her hand softly along the glass as a marker, following the whistle tune.

Butterflies tickled her tummy. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and let the door fall shut behind her, her second step less-certain. “Jake, are you in here?”

Of course he was, she had just seen him walk right in. To banish her doubts further, a whistle rings out from deeper within the maze. Unmistakably the first eight notes of Elvis’ I’ll Never Fall in Love Again — the song Audrey listened to in her bedroom when she thought of him. How incredible, that he had picked that song.

She bit at her bottom lip to keep from smiling, and called out one last time. “Jake?”

NEXT CHAPTER

TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT

tags: @sunflowercharlie13 @spinning-away @eloquentdreamer @a-reader-and-a-writer @breezyweazybeezy @mel119g @blaircharlotte @hersuitisbanana @aragorn-02 @one-sweet-gubler @chrysalismuh @xzyzycxdd @atarmychick007 @ximehs @ah9242 @gleefulleve @nnatel @topherwrites @princesskreator @seitmai @d0main-expansion @yepyeahuhhuh @cherrycola27 @ohtobeleah @roosterbruiser

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake seresin #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #jake hangman seresin #Jake hangman seresin x reader #Jake seresin x reader #Jake seresin au #top gun: maverick au #bradley bradshaw au #aeterna #aeterna: updates

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ellecdc · 2 days

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🧺

Lovely Mother, congratulations!!! You worked so hard, you deserve this 🥰

Can I request Barty sfw C H J M N please??

I am actually 100% convinced I could not have done this without you so thank you for all you do to help me and this blog, truly!

Without further ado....

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

I see Barty very tactile and touch starved so he lives for cuddles. I think one of the only times he's calm and quiet is if he's in your arms.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

this kind of goes with the above, but I think he'd totally be one of those annoying dudes in high school who goes "lol where's my hug?" every time he sees you in the halls lol. but when he's being serious, his hugs are tight and long - like he's holding you together (or maybe you're holding him together) and he's afraid to let you go

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

the world doesn't know jealousy until they know Barty Crouch Jr. even in potter!reader fics, I have him be a little jealous of James (which is, of course, unreasonable but we never claimed Barty was a reasonable person). I answered this in another alphabet ask but basically he bounces back and forth between "everyone look at this fucking ten I bagged!" and "everyone close your fucking eyes, no one is allowed to look at my Treasure but me!"

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

crackhead energy - he gets up in the morning with a taste for chaos and begins his todo list immediately. debates between waking you up because he misses you and also watching you sleep because you look so cuttteeee

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I see him getting really soft and needy at night? like wants you to just talk to him and tell him about things, wants to curl up with you and be quiet and sweet, just wants to be close to you. idk why!!

#elle's celebratory 2k picnic #sfw alphabet

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fuckyeahisawthat · 17 hours

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I was thinking about the Voice, and how much people outside of the Bene Gesserit actually know about how it works, and how much Chani understands about what's happening to her while she's being controlled by Jessica, and now we have fic. (pspsps more Paul x Chani here if you like this.)

Just imagine this is one of the times they come back to the sietch, some time before Paul drinks the Water of Life.

"What is the Voice?" she asks, trying to keep her tone casual.

They're sitting in her yali, both of them with their battle kit spread out on the floor around them, cleaning and repairing and restocking what's needed after weeks in the desert.

Usul has his own rooms, in a branch of the sietch near his mother, but there are always...hangers-on lingering outside, waiting to catch a glimpse of the Mahdi. Those people have learned by now that she won't hesitate to draw a knife on them if they come around here.

His gaze flicks up when she asks the question. But he doesn't ask where she heard about it, or why she's curious now.

"It's a Bene Gesserit skill," he says, eyes focused on the rip in his stillsuit he is mending. "A way to control people. Make them do what you want."

"So your mother can do it?"

"Yeah. She's a master at it."

"Is that what...all this is?" She gestures vaguely around her, to the corridors where increasing numbers of people keep wanting to bow to him.

"No." He gives a rueful smile. "That's just good old-fashioned propaganda. The Voice doesn't work on large groups of people. It's individual. Everyone has a specific pitch that reaches them."

He seems to know a lot about it. "Can you do it?" she asks.

For a moment he doesn't answer. Then he says, "Yes. Sometimes."

"Let's see it, then."

"What?" He looks up sharply this time.

"Go on, I'm curious," she says, leaning back on her hands. "Voice me."

"No." He has that little half-smile on his face, the one he gets when he's nervous or embarrassed about something.

"Why not?" she asks, because now that he's refused so flatly she is curious. He is usually so eager to share, to teach and learn. She's not sure why this is different.

"You'll hate it," he says, and now she has to make him do it, because she'll decide that for herself, thank you very much.

She goes straight for the argument she knows will convince him. "If it's a weapon, I should know how it works. Right?"

After a minute he sighs and says, "Yeah. All right."

He sets his stillsuit and the patch kit aside. Sits with his hands on his knees for a long moment, watching her with an unreadable expression. She holds his gaze, because she's used to other people finding him a little uncanny by now, but he's always seemed like just a person to her.

The longer she watches him, though, the more it feels like there's a charge building in the air around them, like the crackling feeling on the wind that tells you a sandstorm is coming before you can see it.

"I'm going to tell you to stand up," he says, his voice quiet and even.

"Okay. Can I resist?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "You can try." He exhales a long breath and lets his eyes drift closed.

She's ready to be indignant about that, but then he opens his eyes and says, "Stand."

His voice is hardly louder than a quiet conversation, but it reaches into her like a physical force. Her muscles simply move without her input. She is on her feet before the thought of resistance occurs to her.

The jarring feeling of foreign control is gone as instantly as it arose. She stares down at him, and the surge of sick horror in her gut must show on her face, because he winces.

"I told you," he says. He shifts uncomfortably, pulling his knees up to his chest, turning his face away.

Her heart is pounding, adrenaline flooding her bloodstream, like her body knows something hostile has been done to it. She forces herself to take deep, calming breaths. There is no danger here, just Usul sitting on the floor looking miserable next to her.

She makes herself sit back down, landing heavily on the low step up to the bed platform behind them.

"Have you been able to do that this whole time?"

"Kind of." He's still not looking at her. "It doesn't always work for me. It takes years of study to learn to use it the way my mother can, at any time on anyone."

She shivers at the thought.

"It was easier with you because I know you." His voice is low and guilty. "I knew the right pitch."

"How?"

He shrugs. "I can't really explain it, I just knew."

She realizes now that his hesitance hadn't been secrecy or false modesty, but fear.

She gets up off the ledge and moves over to sit down next to him, her shoulder bumping against his.

He turns toward her suddenly. "You know I would never...for real--"

"I know," she says. He's still searching her face urgently for reassurance. "I know that," she says again.

His hair has fallen in his face. She tucks an errant curl behind his ear. "I know you would never hurt me," she says. Even though, for the first time, she's convinced that he could.

#dune #dune part two #tumblr fic #paul atreides #chani kynes #paul x chani #chani x paul

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my-status-single · 3 days

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The One Where Peter Parker Has a Baby: Chapter 1

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. They won’t let him run to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe. His name is Ben. He’s four. He’s Peter’s.

She had been pregnant.

It had been early.

So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included.

And months later she had given birth to their son.

Their son.

Ben.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

Notes: This is a Peter Parker/Reader fic. It jumps back and forth between the "present" (after the blip is reversed) and the past (pre blip reversal). The main focus is Peter and our girl Y/N, but there will be exploration into other relationships as well. These include but are not limited to Tony/Steve Peter/Harley Harley/Harry Peter/Harley/Harry Steve/Bucky Tony/Stephen. Each chapter will have content warnings listed that are specific to the chapter just for added security, there will also be a summary of the chapter if the content is something you don't want to engage with but would like to continue to the next chapter. There will also be a comprehensive list of warnings. The severity of these topics varies from very intense to simply implied. Be sure to check the individual chapters for more detailed descriptions of how these themes are used.

Fic Content Warning: Underage sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, polyamoury, child abuse/neglect, parental death, suicide, self harm, Tony Stark in Endgame Chapter Word Count: 1743 Chapter Summary: This chapter sets up the premise of the story. Touches briefly on Peter and Y/N's relationship, as well as introduces us to Y/N's powers. Chapter Content Warning: Teen regnancy/unplanned pregnancy-We discover that Y/N was pregnant during the blip. Peter and Y/N are in high school at this point. Blip-The Blip is a part of this series, the way Peter was blipped is mentioned Mentions of anxiety/depression-It is implied that Y/N struggled/struggles with mental health Parental death (not Tony)-Peter has dead parents Descriptions of injuries-After the battle with Thanos many characters are injured, Tony and Y/N's are discussed Medical themes-Tony and Y/N are in a medical centre, Y/N is in a coma

Please, if there is ever something in this or any of my fics that you feel needs a content warning, feel free to message me and I will make sure to add it. I want this to be a safe place for everyone.

May 2023

Peter has known her for as long as he’s known anything.

Back before his parents died, they had been prominent members of the Oscorp Foundation. They worked directly with Norman, and so Peter grew up spending a lot of his time with Harry Osborn. Occasionally, though, there would be a collaboration between Oscorp and their largest competitor, Stark Industries. With S.I. came Tony Stark, and with Tony came his daughter.

She was about a year younger than him and Harry but she held her own just fine. She was smart as a whip and full of fire.

He’d been in love with her for longer than he knew what love was.

They had taken such a liking to each other that Tony made the effort to get them together as often as possible. Eventually, moving them to New York full-time after Peter’s parents died. Tony made an effort to keep up the relationship even then. He did it for his daughter; she’d become so attached to Peter. And he had done the same.

The sun rose and set with Y/N Stark as far as he was concerned.

The bond between them grew as they did. They became halves of the same whole. One rarely without the other. He held her when she sobbed, broken and exhausted, after spending the court-ordered time with her mother. She calmed his overloads after he was bit. They knew each other instinctually. Better than they knew themselves in some ways.

And yet, there was never anything romantic.

Until there was.

They both knew. When they’d grown old enough to understand what love, marriage, and dating were, they knew it was inevitable. That there was no Peter without y/n.

And that is a very daunting thing to face at such a young age.

And they understood that there would be no going back once they crossed that line.

They knew they would cross it eventually.

But they had all the time in the world to cross it. And now, when they were so perfect as friends, neither wanted to risk what they had.

And so they didn’t.

There was flirtation that couldn’t be helped. There were touches that toed the line between platonic and romantic, touches that lingered. Nights where they would fall asleep next to each other and wake up in a state where you couldn’t tell where one started and the other ended.

But it never went further.

Until it did

They were good kids, really. Good students, excelling in their studies, involving themselves in extracurriculars, making a difference in their community. They were good avengers as well. They weren’t officially on the team, certainly were never put in harms way. But Tony allowed them to patrol the city in the evenings, and to train with the team at the compound on the weekends. They excelled there too.

But everyone has times when they just need a break.

It happened the first time during one of those breaks

They had finished midterms, Natasha had been kicking their asses in training for the last month, they were tired.

And so they snuck into the hangar and hacked one of the jets. Because she could override her father’s protocols without even blinking. Spain. She had wanted to go to Spain. He’d remembered her talking about it, so he puts in the coordinates and settles in for the ride.

They’ve shared a room, a bed, countless times at this point and yet somehow this is different. Somehow this leads to their mouths on each other and their virginities lost to each other.

Things change after that.

It takes a while for them to get over it. To admit “I want you” and “I always have” and “I don’t want to wait anymore”. But once they do, once they allow those walls to be broken down they are inseparable.

The funniest thing about the whole ridiculous situation is their behaviour barely changes.

They simply kiss now. Because they already spent nights in the others bed, they already were always touching the other somehow, they already could read the others mind and anticipate their needs. So at school, no one noticed they were dating until Peter gave her a quick kiss before running off to some sort of internship activity.

Its been years now. They are perfect. Ideal. He loves her with everything in him.

And that’s why, when the invasion starts, he webs her to the bed so she can’t follow after him as he goes toward the battle.

Why he goes to the battle despite her screams, her begging, her pleading. Why his last words as he disintegrates in Tony’s arms, after pleading whispers of “I don’t want to go” are “I don’t want to leave her.”

He spends five years living a life with no memory of his previous one. No memory of her, of Tony, of Spiderman.

When the dust finally settles after that final battle, he’s the one screaming, begging pleading. Because his girl, his brilliant, beautiful, reckless girl, simply refused to let her father die.

She’s always had them. The powers, the enhancements, that were so graciously forced upon her by her mother.

She hated them, hated why she ended up with them. But they gave her the ability to save Tony’s life, despite it being at nearly at the cost of her own.

He’s held back, not sure by whom. He hears Steve yell for assistance to get them both off the battle field and to get them immediate medical assistance.

Her powers are…complicated.

Her ability to heal is incredible. Whether it be herself or others. But it comes at a cost.

Healing takes energy. She’s able to choose, when healing injuries, whether to use the injured person’s energy or her own. The severity of the wound would usually influence her decision.

She was comfortable using someone else’s energy for smaller things, scrapes, bruises, most of Peter’s injuries because of his own accelerated healing. But bigger things…she would use her own “Because I heal better” she would say.

Like after he’d taken the weight of a building their sophomore year, she’d used her own energy to heal that. He watched the colour drain from her face, watched slashes and bruises come and go across her skin, watched her exhaust herself right in front of him as the pain eased from his body.

After a fight like this neither had the energy to heal something as severe as this. But she did it anyway.

She does heal better. Quicker, more efficiently. It’s hard to leave any kind of mark on her because her body just rids itself of it.

So she lay in a hospital bed, half dead, as her body begins to repair what should be fatal.

Tony was exhausted, on the brink of death, he’d had nothing left to use up. She herself had been spent. So she took, and she gave. She gave what little energy she had left to Tony and took as much pain and damage from him as she could. Took as much as she could until her body gave out.

Tony woke later that night. Exhausted. Badly scarred. Weaker than Peter had ever seen him.

But alive.

Peter is sitting at her bedside now, holding her hand in his. Needing to feel that it’s warm, needing physical proof that she’s alive. He’s fading in and out of consciousness. Fighting sleep because he can’t risk something happening while he’s asleep. It would be a restless, nightmare filled sleep anyway.

“Tony, we shouldn’t be arguing about this; you’re exhausted; you need to rest. We can talk about this la-“ He can hear Steve’s voice in the next room.

“We’re talking about this now.” Tony responds.

Peter, even with his heightened senses, can barely hear him. He tries to tune them out, focusing instead on her heartbeat. A comforting, familiar sound that lulls him into a sense of security.

But the next words he hears make his blood run cold, and his head snap up.

“He’s my grandson. He’s likely scared. He can’t have his mother, so let me see him.” Tony sounds angry despite his severely weakened state.

“Tony…” Steve says gently. “Look at yourself. You’ll only scare him more. He’s my grandson too. Let me look after him.”

Peter takes a moment.

Grandson.

Tony has no biological children other than y/n. There is Harley…a boy Peter’s age that Tony had taken in when they were thirteen. They’d been fast friends. And…maybe Harley could have had a child in the five years Peter had been gone…except he’d been in the same place as Harley for the last five years, and there was no child.

So…so that must mean that y/n had…that she’d had a child.

Sometime in the last five years she’d moved on…gotten pregnant…had a baby? He shakes his head, his chest aches. His feet move before he’s fully aware of it. He walks into Tony’s room. He stands there silently, until Steve notices him.

“Peter.” He whispers, a sigh in his voice.

Peter laughs weakly, tears on his cheeks that have no right to be there. It had been five years, he had no right to have expected her to wait five years. “I um…” He clears his throat, sniffing. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…it’s just so quiet here.” He says quietly.

“Kid ther-“ Tony starts but Peter holds up a hand.

“Don’t…don’t. It’s okay. You don’t need to defend…just…if there’s a way I can help? I could call his father, if someone hasn’t already or…or go pick up anything that he might need…or…or I can fuck off if you think that would be bett-“

“Peter.” Tony says as firmly as he’s capable of. Peter looks up. “Come sit. We need to talk.” He says, gentler now.

She had been pregnant.

It had been early.

So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included.

And months later she had given birth to their son.

Their son.

Ben.

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cevansbrat0007 · 17 hours

Note

Hey Britt☺️!! Hope you’re having a good weekend and are relaxing/getting plenty rest🌸! So from the list of questions I have two:

First for Duchess and Beast, describe their first date (I’m not sure if this has already been discussed👀). Or if it’s a potential spoiler, then I completely understand if you don’t want to answer and then pose the follow up question, what do they dislike about each other most?

Of course I can’t leave out my other fave couple, Babygirl and Andy so my question for them would be what do they love about each other the most?

Describe their first date:

Well, if you listen to Bird, then she and Ari's first date took place at Sloane's Tavern, which is a little bar down the street from her house. I can't go into a lot of specifics because that particular fic is coming up very soon (provided I continue weaving in new prequel chapters into the current storyline), but I can tell you that Ari vehemently disagrees.

He DOES NOT want that to be their first date. Which is why he's been working very hard to plan something special for his lady before he goes away on a job. Unfortunately, he suffered from a particularly bad night terror the evening before the big date, so now he feels like he has twice as much to prove.

That story will also be coming down the pipeline relatively soon. You can expect it to fall after the fic, Worthy of You.

What do Bird and Ari dislike about each other the most?

At first, the fact that Bird could be a little uptight initially bothered Ari. That is...until he discovered just how much he enjoyed showing his girl how to unwind. If he had to pick something, it would probably be the fact Bird tends to run late. Constantly. Drives him up the wall.

Meanwhile, Bird has to resist the urge to strangle her man every time he misplaces his phone, wallet, keys, etc. Not because she's never done it, but because it happens all the time. She's even tried things like putting several hooks by the front door. And when that didn't work, she upgraded to a decorative bowl on his kitchen counter, as well as his nightstand.

It still doesn't stop him from bugging her about their whereabouts while they're trying to get reading in the morning. If she's being honest, she has no idea how he's survived on his own for this long.

What do Andy and Baby Girl love about each other the most?

Even though he sometimes acts like he doesn't, Andy adores his sweet wife's sense of humor. While it's true that she can be a bit of a brat at times, his life is never boring with her. Not only does she make him laugh, but she is also able to get him to laugh at himself. Which is something he's struggled to do in the past.

He also loves her cooking. That's a big one as well.

As for Baby Girl, she loves that Andy makes her feel safe. She can be her most authentic self with him and never feel judged for it - which is part of the reason she feels free to be such a goofball.

She also loves how he manages to smell ridiculously good like all of the time.

___

Thanks for playing the Ship Ask Game!

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eomma-jpeg · 15 hours

Text

trigun fic rec list - from lace!

alright, FINE, twist my arm

FIRST UP: @squid789 Blank Ticket - vashmeryl/milivio

so i have a personal fanfic like... catalog LOL and i make little notes as i read and here is the note i left on BT right after i finished it about a year ago

seriously sooooooooooooooo good. squid does an incredible job at post trimax work

blank ticket is so good if you like post trimax stuff (like I do >:)) and squid is so good at representing vash as he ought to be (a brat with a bad attitude and abandonment issues)

Sea Foam - vashmeryl/millywood

once again i have notes from my catalog LOL

PERFECT STUPENDOUS INCREDIBLE I LOVE SQUID AND THE DRAMA AND TRAUMA THEY GIVE ME

SF is a mermaid au and i adore ANYTHING THAT GIVES ME MERMAIDS. It is such an amazing exploration into so many characters, and especially knives WHOM I LOVE TO HATE IN THIS FIC. hes such a brat and yet is just a kid who never got to be a kid and i love him

After Eden - vashmeryl/milivio

I don't have this one in my catalog !!!!! a tragedy !!! (i stopped updating my catalog when i started writing what a shame T-T)

But i can chat about after eden bc i was there for its conception!!! and I beta for it teehee

but its an exploration of BT and i just

it hurts me

squid loves to hurt me

but it hurts so good T-T

if you love to see manga vash act like a spoiled brat and enjoy meryl whump, you will LOVE after eden

Not a Chance - vashmeryl

a lil fic written in the in the meadow universe and its by squid and i love squid and this is my favorite thing in the world

meryl contemplates why she had to fall in love with this doofus

Now, for just a HUGE line up of fics !! these will include my initial thoughts that i have saved in my catalog teehee:

vashmeryl

Truth of a Memory by @fullcry

Vash and Meryl experiment with Vash’s telepathy and memory sharing.

one of my favs just because meryl and vash are so sweet to each other T-T

The Art of the Date by fullcry

Meryl and Milly pity Vash for being a terrible flirt, and Vash dares Meryl to a date to teach him to do better. Vash does better than anticipated.

i go back and reread this one often lol

Memories on Film by fullcry

okay.... this one is spicy and I'm not a huge fan of explicit content....

BUT THE GROWTH AND THE SWEET TENDER MOMENTS AND VASH BEING OBVIOUS MAKES ME SWOON ITS SO GOOD

Other Ways to Speak by fullcry

Meryl kisses each and every one of Vash’s scars

inspired by this

OH BABY THIS ONE IS SO GOOD.

No Reason by @eilwen

this is more of a collection of one shots rather than a complete story, but it has some very cute chapters.

LITERALLY ONE OF THE BEST TRIGUN FANFIC AUTHORS OUT THERE !

Seriously one of the best fics. I'm still not completely caught up bc i have zero time, but its so incredibly written. i wanna be like eilwen when i grow up

Distractions by eilwen

eilwen at it again !!! their stuff is so good !!!!!!

this is an incredible exploration of meryl’s character and the growth of their relationship through the books she reads.

The End by @ginger-mosaic

Long fic. It is a vashmeryl fic but it is MORE of an exploration of Vash and Knives’ relationship after the events of the manga.

currently unfinished and I want to die because I need more. I love Livio

ITS ALMOST DONE AND AHHHHHHHHHH CHRONICAAAAAAAAA

seriously an INCREDIBLE FIC. it is a book that could be published at this point its so good. not incredibly vashmeryl heavy, but it is there and i adore it sm T-T

The thomas in the room by @anime-grimmy

Paired with a comic by the author, this takes place after the events of the movie Trigun: Badlands Rumble.

Meryl is acting weird and Vash is determined to figure out what he did to make her so angry at him.

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH THEYRE SO DUMB AND SO IN LOVE GRAHHHHH

Saving Grace by anonymous

TRIGUN SPOILERS - biblically accurate vash. big angel boy

Meryl gets injured and vash tries something new in order to help her

uhhhh if you like monsters and big angels and kisses then uhhhhh this is for you

Roots by @magadauthan

Meryl and Vash have a… whirlwind of a relationship. Vash notices something strange about his hair. Meryl makes him clean the bathroom.

soooooooo silly and domestic and dumb they heal each other its cute.

Interjacence by herdedcats (jaina <3)

Vash and Meryl can’t sleep and decide to make donuts in the middle of the night. Unfortunately that also leave a lot of time for evaluating feelings and confessing thoughts.

no comfort :(

this one is SO GOOD BY WHY DID IT HAVE TO HURT ME SO

Flying or Falling by @madnessmadness

MAXIMUM RIDE AND TRIGUN MIX AHHHHHHELFJFLEFJELKJFLEKJFLJE

my two niche interests slammed together and its so good aldkjfsljdflkj

Bluebells by @needle-noggins

once again, i don't like explicit content, but sav gets me HOOKED IN WITH THE COMFORT AND THE CHARACTER BUILDING AND THE WAY THESE TWO LOVE EACH OTHER SO DESPERATELY THEY WANT TO HELP EACH OTHER SO BAD

Like a Limb by @commander-goo

points aggressively

you like post trimax ? you like feathers and hurt/comfort ???

YOU LIKE THIS

READ THIS

Wait, he can do that? by anonymous

SOFT

FEATHERY AND SOFT AND GOOD

meryl gets a glimpse into vash's ..... dreams.... and gets a bit flustered

millywood

Absolution by SMP

companion piece to tension, describes the intimate moment between Milly and Wolfwood just after he kills Zazie and before [MAJOR TRIGUN SPOILER]

one of the best millywood pieces out there. seriously so good and so soft and has some of the best imagery

i can see a lot of life in you by procrastinatingbookworm

Milly and Wolfwood share clothes

some trigun spoilers because of Wolfwood’s guilt :/

VERY POETIC AND VERY GOOD

In Eden by MicrosuedeMouse

a 98 fic where wolfwood happens to be alive 1!!! and he’s scared to come forward and see milly………….

but then he sees her

millynai

Zirconium Blues by @madnessmadness

alt au where Nai is the hero and Vash is the villain……..

ITS SO INCREDIBLE AHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS ONE ITS SO POETIC AND AWESOME AND I LOVE LENI THEY FRICKING CATER TO ME AHHHH

milly takes care of an injured nai and shes so country i love her so much

In the Moonlight by @veilder

THIS WAS WRITTEN FOR ME ITS IN THE MEADOW CONTENT T-T

I LOVE VEIL SO MUCH THEYFJEFLEJFLSJD THEY DID THIS FOR ME AHHHHHHH

How to say "You are the sun to my moon" in Flowers by FullmetalDude1

a cute fic inspired by in the meadow and its suuuper sweet

this is a flowershop au where knives is essentially domesticated by milly and i love them so much

Interested in the fics i didn't mention? here you go Lace's Fanfic Catalog

#trigun fic #trigunfanfictionweek #vashmeryl #millywood #millynai #millyons #trigun #just as i said #no vashwood lol #i literally dont read vashwood lskdjfdlfskd #i need to do one for myself #self advertising

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cerridwen007 · 16 hours

Text

Unwind.

*Images are from Pinterest and are used for aesthetics only.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Dieter Bravo x f!reader (afab)

Word count: 4.1k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Your boyfriend, Dieter, has come home early from a project. Hoping to surprise you, he instead gets a surprise of his own when he discovers what you like to do unwind alone from a long day.

Notes/warnings: Smut, fluff, DUB-CON (one party is under the influence of ouid but they are both very into it), established relationship, accidental pervy!Dieter, accidental exhibitionism, pussy drunk Dieter, masturbation (f and m), sex toys, descriptions of smoking the devils lettuce, mentions of other drugs, porn with little plot, oral (f!receiving), piv sex, cumplay, they are both just super horny and sweet for each other, swearing, no y/n.

a/n: My first Dieter fic, I can’t remember really where or when I got the idea for this fic, but I knew it just screamed Dieter. This is probably quite up there with the filthiest thing i've written, and i'm not sorry, lol. Also, I apologise for my very long absence in posting writing. Life just got the best of me, and I lost all motivation pretty much to write. But anyway, I hope y'all enjoy, and any interactions with my posts mean the world to me. Love yall so much! <3

*******

Now that his months-long project had wrapped up early, all Dieter wanted to do was surprise you. The both of you had long played the game of hiding behind corners and hiding in all sorts of spots to try and scare each other, all throughout your relationship.

But more often than not, it was you that made his heart jump out his chest, and a long list of swear words leave his mouth as he over-dramatically clutched his chest. To which you always laughed so hard you cried a little at another successful scare and his reaction. “I'll get you next time.” he mumbles, under his breath, a cheeky grin on his handsome face as he plans when best to get you back.

So now, with an upper hand, he was hoping that he could give you a big fright and jump out of your closet when you least expect it. But what happened was so much more surprising.

You had just gotten back to your shared apartment after what felt like the longest week of your life. You had been drowning in deadlines at work and were so glad that it was friday evening so you could finally get a proper break. After ‘gracefully’ hanging up your jacket on the hooks near the front door and tossing your keys into the bowl on the entryway table, you immediately take off your bra as you walk into your apartment. Throwing it on the back of one of the barstools sitting in front of your kitchen island.

A loud sigh exhaling from your mouth as the pressure is released from your sore shoulders. It had been a long day at work before you ran around afterwards, getting a whole bunch of errands done that you had been putting off. So you were exhausted and understandably so.

You kick off your shoes as you walk through the messy apartment, not bothering to put them away where they belong or tidy up the growing mess just yet. No, first you need to unwind from the long ass week you had. Besides, the weekend started tomorrow, and you would have plenty of time to clean up then and before Dieter came back a week and a half from now.

You sighed again sadly thinking about your boyfriend. God, you missed him. He had been gone about 3 months now, and each day didn't get any easier. When the two of you were together, you were attached at the hip. Spending all the time you could together; talking, laughing, cuddling and fucking.

So it was quite a change the last few months going from spending almost all your time with your favourite person to almost none, except the few short calls Dieter managed to find time to have with you amongst his very busy schedule.

You tried to remind yourself of the fact that Dieter would be back before you knew it, and then you could once again spend all the much needed time together that you wanted.

You opened your fridge looking for a snack. You could have to tie your over till dinner that you would order yourself later, a treat for the end of a busy week.

You picked a few string cheese packets from the chilly shelves of your fridge before closing it shut with your hip as you walked off into your living room. Sitting down with a big “oof” on your couch and immediately sinking deep into the plush cushions as far as you could.

Dieter's heart was beating fast as he watched you through the horizontal slats of the storage closet door. He waited with baited breath, trying to find the perfect time to jump out and give you both the scare and surprise of a lifetime. He had been lucky enough to arrive an hour or so before you got home, which gave him plenty of time to get ready and pick the best hiding spot before you arrived.

He bites his lip, trying to hold back the chuckles wanting to escape as he imagined your hopefully soon to be shocked face. He watches as you get comfy on the couch and can’t help but look at you with adoration, even with dark circles under your eyes and your hair slightly untamed, you looked like a dream, the prettiest thing he has seen.

You quickly finish your cheese sticks, hungrier than you thought you were, and toss the wrappers on the coffee table. Yet another thing to be cleaned up tomorrow. You let out a long yawn and stretched your arms above your head. A cheeky smile graces your mouth as you realise how you're going to spend the rest of your night unwinding.

You waste no time in reaching into the draws of your coffee table before you and pulling out a dark green bong with small red flowers decorating it that Dieter got you for your birthday last year. You put it down the top of the coffee table briefly as you pull out a matching glass box with your stash in it and a red grinder.

Your fingers are working swiftly in their practiced work as you get your first cone ready. You pull out your black zippo lighter with your and Dieters' initials and the day the two of you started dating engraved on the front. You flick your thumb over the flint wheel a few times until it ignites. You take in a fraction of a breath before putting your mouth on the end of the glass tube, tilted towards you.

Holding the flame over dried grounds, watching as the white smoke slowly crawls up the neck of the bong. You let the smoke enter your lungs, filling you with warmth.

Your lips only disconnect when all the smoke is gone and you breathe in a little of fresh air. You hold it in your mouth for a few seconds before you tilt your head back and exhale all the hazy smoke. Your loose fist covers your mouth when you let a small cough.

You decide to do one more hit before you put down the ‘vase’ and let your head rest against the center of the back of the couch. Your legs spread wide, carelessly, as you wait for the drug to slowly take its effects. You groan as you lie back on the couch with a mouthful of smoke. You tilt your head up to look up at the ceiling as you let the hazy white cloud float from your parted lips.

Reaching down beside you, your fingers find something from out under your couch, a rectangle box. You open it to reveal a matte purple 8 inch, life-like, dildo. Fit with veins, balls at the base, and all. Your mouth waters just from the sight.

You have been extremely horny as of late. You always are when Dieter goes away for long periods of time, and you don’t have him to give you toe-curling orgasms all the time. You can never make yourself cum quite as hard as Dieter can make you come, but not from lack of trying. You lazily scoot down the couch a bit so you can take your pants and underwear off.

Dieter eyes bulge in head when he realises what you about to do and he swears his heart skips a beat when he sees that you're wearing his boxer briefs, even more so when he sees a glistening line of arousal, saturating them. He palms his now fully erect cock through his jeans, as his eyes connect with your glistening folds.

You take the hefty dildo out of the box and half haphazardly toss the container to the ground. Your breath hitches in your throat as you make quite work of sliding it through your folds, the tip catches deliciously on your clit.

You toss it to the side for a quick sec and reach down to your bong on the coffee table, after taking another cone you put it back on the table and grab the remote of the table, flicking on the tv and putting on one of your favourite vibey sex playlists on spotify on.

You sigh as you lean back and you take off your work shirt, leaving you in nothing but a flimsy old tank top, which you nipples prominently stick out of and some cosy socks. You pull your breasts out of your shirt and start groping yourself while watching the screen playing at a low volume, with hazy eyes.

You soon pick the silicone dick up again and slowly tease yourself by tracing around your lips and through your dripping seam. Your head lulls on the back of the couch. You tease around your aching hole with the tip before pushing in ever so slightly. Your eyes roll back for a second as you moan at the slight stretch. “D-dieter.” You softly call out.

His eyes bulge out of his sockets watching you, his hand unconsciously reaching down under the elastic of his pants to feel his rock-hard erection. He swipes his thumb over his weeping tip and has to bite back a groan.

You pump in so slowly, only till it reaches halfway before you pull it out further again. You continue this to help work yourself open.

He watches you intently, stroking himself to the slow rhythm youv’e set for fucking yourself. He uses his other hand to pinch his base every few minutes, to keep from blowing his load, so close just from the sight of you.

God, he doesnt even care about scaring and surprising you anymore, all he cares about is watching you as you fuck your self, quietly calling out his name as you take your time in getting to your release. He has half a mind to just jump out now and fuck you himself but the sight of you spread out for him, caught up in your own little pleasure-filled world is a sight to good to be true.

He studies your form like he doesn't know it like the back of his hand, like he hasn't spent hours upon hours coaxing the prettiest little moans and whimpers from you, caressing over every single inch of you.

His eyes will never grow tired of the sight of you, your centre gushing with arousal, your eyes fighting to stay open, your mouth on the other hand, fighting to stay closed as a beautifully orchestrated ensemble of curses, moans, groans and his name come flooding out of your mouth.

His mouth waters as the ring of your arousal grows thicker around the base of the silicone cock. He missed the taste of you so much, while he was away. He loved spending hours between your legs, until you were shaking and overstimulated and had to beg him to stop. Crying out “Dieter! Please!” as you struggled to push away his starved mouth.

Your head is feeling quite light now, and the pleasure is rushing through your veins as you increase the speed of your strokes. You keep chanting Dieter’s name, over and over again, softly as if it will summon him somehow. Well shit, maybe it does.

Before he even realises what he is doing, his hand is fumbling for the doorknob of the closet, and he is stepping out, sweaty, and disheveled, all just from watching you. Your heart stops for a second as you hear the closet door near you open, your brain unable to come up with any sane reasonings until Dieter walks out flushed and sheepishly in a trance, consumed by his love and lust for you.

“Dieter?” You whisper, shocked to your core, that he is standing in front of you and still not entirely convinced that he isn't a hallucination caused by your hornyness and longing for him. And also maybe the drugs too.

He swallows harshly, his throat dry. All the liquids in his body seemingly have traveled lower in anticipation. You're about to jump up from the couch and squeeze him till his ribs break, but he beats you to it, sinking to the floor in front of you and hugging your calves tightly. As much as you missed your baby, you can't help but feel a little awkward, having been caught masturbating and still with the dildo between your legs, no doubt.

Before you can even clear your throat and try to explain yourself, Dieter starts kissing along the tops of your thighs, up your stomach, then sternum, up your throat till his lips lock onto yours. He kisses you with such meaning and passion as he tries and conveys all the feeling of how much he missed you and is so glad to see you now into a single kiss

“God. I. Missed.You. So. Much. Baby.” He says in between quick pecks before once again consuming your mouth with his own, trying to make up for all that lost time he wasn't able to taste your lips on his.

You break the kiss with a gasp, looking down to your legs where Dieter is spreading them to see the current state of your throbbing pussy. “Fuck and it sure looks like she missed me too, huh sweetheart. Just oozing and weeping, begging for my touch. Ain't that right baby?” He lovingly teases.

You grin and spread your legs even further to let him get an even better look at you swollen, glistening folds, still clenching around the girth of the dildo. He reaches his hand up between your legs and pulls the toy in and out of you slowly, eliciting a whimper from you.

“Fuck.” He groans, completely enthralled by the sight of you, and the growing creamy ring of arousal you have created around the base of the cock. He continues to slowly pump it in and out of you, as you squirm above him, your once lost orgasm now coming so close to grasp again.

“Dieter...please.” You croon, begging him not to stop as you feel the edge of your high starts to wash over you.

“Atta girl, fuck just like that. Cum for me baby.” He softly demands, as he works the now shiny dildo hard, fast and deep into your cunt. He sits up a bit on his knees and hovers over you.

Leaning his head to the side he starts to suck on your pulsing clit. His eyes roaming between your leaking hole and trembling thighs, up to your red, cloudy eyes struggling to stay open with your brows furrowed above them. Your mouth agape, curses and whimpers as your orgasm hits you full force.

He watches with blown eyes, mouth hanging open, nearly drooling at the sight of your back arching off the couch, as the waves of your orgasm crash over you. He slowly pumps the cock in and out of you, prolonging your high till your legs close firmly around it. He carefully opens them back enough so he can pull out the cock.

He palms himself as he inspects the aftermath, mouth watering from the sight and smell of your creamy residue slathered upon the tip to the flared base of the slick silicone. He sticks out his tongue and brings the base, where most of the cum has gathered in a band round the bottom, to his mouth. You watch stunned and too aroused to speak as he licks it clean of your sweet drippings.

“God baby, missed the taste of this sweet pussy.” he groans. You clench around nothing as you watch him, eyes fluttering behind closed lids, messily tongue the silicone like one might lick brownie or cookie batter of a spatula.

After he finishes with the lower half, his lips pink and shiny, he wordlessly brings the tip up to your face. You grin devilishly before opening your lips wide and sucking the fat head into your mouth. You too moan at the sweet taste of yourself, not often shared directly from the source but usually from Dieters tongue do you taste the sticky release of your climax.

He palms his painfully hard cock through his pants, before spreading your thighs wide once again, and feasting on the remaining juices. You moan as best as you can with the cock down your throat, before removing it from your mouth and sitting it beside you as you watch Dieter's beautiful curls bob up and down between your legs.

His tongue slides from your quivering hole to your clit, licking flatly. He alternates between sucking your nub, to fucking into your wet hole.

You fight to keep your thighs open, to not crush his head or let the gorgeous sight below you be hidden, but you can’t any more as the drug haze inside your veins seems to have taken all your strength. Sensing your struggle, Dieter curls his arms around your thighs, holding them open and drags your center closer to his hungry mouth.

You whimper at the dull pain that you feel from his tight grip holding you apart, just under your breaking point. The aching soreness from your legs being spread so wide, only adding to the intensity of pleasure rolling around in your stomach.

He alternates between eating you messily, and slowly picking you apart. Motorboating his lips and nose between your folds, and precise and firm licks on your clit while curling his thick fingers up into that sweet, sweet spot inside you, that has you moaning, incohesive gibberish from your pleasure and drug intoxication.

Even with Dieter being the sober one (surprisingly), he sounds just as wrecked as you, if not more. So drunk and intoxicated on you and your pussy, something he and you both thought he was deprived of way too long.

Soon you are reaching yet another, and surely not the last of night, orgasm. Your thighs shake with the intensity of the pleasure seeping into your veins. Your lips go from being an wide ‘o’ shape to a cheesy wide grin as the dopamine and endorphins flood your system.

Dieter makes sure he licks up every single drop of your essence before he rises off his knees slightly and encases you in a massive, big bear hug. Feeling what little air was left in your lungs, you giggle along with Dieter breathlessly as you squeeze his middle just as hard.

He lifts his head to plant the softest, sweet kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours. You take a deep, tired breath in and your eyes flutter close, his delicious musky scent filling your nostrils once again.

“I missed you so much too, baby.” You whisper. You admire the deep crows feet around his eyes as he grins, his dark rich eyes sparking as he beams with happiness, love, and lust. His smile turns into something that of the devils as he begins to caress your body.

He lifts up your arms and takes off your tank top, throwing it on the ground somewhere. Before his lips lock onto your pebbled nipples. Groaning as he squeezes and plays with the other one, before switching his mouth over. After leaving your tits a glistening, saliva-covered mess he descends further down your body, his kiss-bruised lips planting themselves on every single inch of skin he can see.

“Mm need to fffffuck you sweetttt thing, and ffffeel that heavenly p-pussy wwwrapped around me againnn.” He mumbles, his lips smushed against your stomach. You softly laugh and nod your head. Getting the gist of what he was saying and knowing him well enough to know what he said that you didn't catch.

“Please Dieter. Please fuck me. Need… to feel you. Missed you…. and your cock…. so fucken much.” You garble out in your own form of a coherent sentence.

Dieter can’t help but whimper listening to you, his cock pulses with need for release as he listens to your confession (although mumbled) of need for him.

He can’t wait any longer.

He reaches under your ass and lifts you up and shifts you so you're lying on your back longways on the couch. He quickly shucks his shirt off, getting a little stuck in the process as he does so. You both giggle and laugh as your hands go up to help him. He soon pulls it off and makes quick work off, shoving his pants and boxers off his legs.

Both of your eyes are shining with something so deep and emotional as you admire each other's naked bodies. A sight seen countless times between the two of you but one that neither would ever grow sick of. You reach up and stroke your hands up and down Dieter's front, feeling his strong chest and plush belly that you love very, very much. He whimpers as your hands trail down into the coarse hair at the base of his leaking cock.

Even as he towers over your relaxed form, there is an air of submission to him still. The way his eyes are glazed over with no other drug than love, pupils blown wider than when he was higher than a kite on LSD. His eyes brows slightly furrowed in, his chest moving fast as he pants. His bottom lip trembling with anticipation of connecting your bodies together so intimately once again how they should be. How they would always be if Dieter got a chance.

He shakes himself out of his love trance and lowers himself over you, his forearms resting on the couch beside your head. You close your eyes and kiss him deeply, giving him a piece of you that no one but him gets to have. Literally and spiritually. He groans almost pathetically when you reach your hand down and swipe his tip through your once again dripping folds.

Your squinting and red eyes look up at him pleadingly, just begging to put the both of you out of the agonising wait and finally feel each other. He smiles a soft smile before he lines himself up and slowly pushes into your pulsing cunt.

“Ohhhh….ohhh…oh…yeah, honey.” He moans out as he slowly bottoms out in your cunt. You gasp as you adjust to his considerably large girth. Something you truly will never fully get used to. Your hands clutch as his biceps, grounding yourself as your fluttering pussy adjusts to him.

“God….fucken hell, baby. You feel somehow even better than I remember. Jesus christ. He pants, his face screwing up from the pleasure just simply inside your beautiful heat gives him. He desperately tries to think of anything else other than your stunning form below him and just made for him cunt, feeling already so close to blowing his load.

He reaches down and pinches his base and quickly begins Jack hammering into you fast and hard, to hopefully get you off before he ultimately finishes way quicker than he intended to.

“Oh f-f-fuck, Dieter!” You cry out, eyes squeezing tight at the immediate hard and fast pace Dieter has set while fucking you.

“Im s-sorry b-baby. Fuckkk. You just feel too damn good. I just n-n-need. Ahhh. Need you come before I-I-I do.” He stutters.

Your heart and cunt clenches around, eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy coursing through your as Dieter repeatedly stuffs his fat tip into the squishy part deep inside you.

“OoOoh shit, baby. Can feel you clenching real good around me, god damn!” He groans.

You lay there bonelessly, whimpering as Dieter’s fingers circle you clit just right. Sending you over the edge into the deep depths of mind-numbing pleasure. Your body shakes as your orgasm comes crashing down and over you, with Dieter only seconds after.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Oh oh oh shit,” He wails out with every rope of cum that spurts out of him, his hips almost unconsciously thrusting themselves as deep as they can go every time, only stopping on the last rope of cum, burying his now spent cock deep into your pussy. He lets his full weight drop on top of you as he catches his breath from his own high.

You breathe out with a soft smile, feeling such bliss and warmth from Dieter being here with you. He moves his head from your neck and looks at you. You both smile wide and break in hearty chuckles, before kissing each other.

You relish in the feeling of Dieter’s chest booming with laughter pressed up against yours, feeling his beating heart beat under you hand, showing that he is here with you now and just Dieter in general, his body fitting on top of your like a puzzle, like two pieces that you never would’ve known hadn't always been connected together like this.

And that’s exactly how you fall asleep, entwined in each others arms, connected in all ways possible, smiling to yourself as you listen to Dieter’s soft snores and you feel his heart beating strongly against yours, before you two let the sweet blissful temptations of sleep take you too. Everything was going to be okay now that your love was back with you.

*********

#dieter bravo #dieter x reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #the bubble fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo fanfic

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bumpolantern · 2 days

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Stable Birth (Co-written with @cassieoz)

One of my favorite birth fic writers around is @cassieoz and she had this delicious Stable Birth idea after reading my story, Farm Life. Here is what her brilliant mind came up with. Hope you guys enjoy this one! cassieoz is such an amazing writer who crafts empowering birth fics and always have incredible fresh new ideas.

Pairings: Original Male Character x Original Female Character

Summary: You've given birth many times before that by your last pregnancy, the baby just slipped out. But sometimes. no matter how many times you've done something in the past, exceptions are bound to happen.

Warnings: MDNI. 18+. Very graphic and sexual birth.

Divider credit @saradika-graphics ❤🙏🏻

I have been working all day avoiding the constant discomfort in my lower back.

“Hooo…” I let out a breath after a contraction. It’s not gonna take too long now, but I moved on with my tasks anyway, albeit slower than I usually did. I went on to do my chores in the house and take care of my really young children.

Once I’ve fed and bathed all the kids, I strapped on the youngest one on my back and stepped outside to tend to the animals before I went over to the stables. But as I bent down to scoop up the feeds, I was wracked with a contraction. It was harder and longer than the one before. When it passed, I slowly stood back up and felt another milder contraction creep up.

I breathed through it. Having done this so many times before, this should be easy, I thought to myself.

So I went into the stables to clean and feed the horses and that’s when I felt the head slowly descending into my birth canal. The pressure between my legs became almost too much, but I soldiered through and went on feeding the horses while fighting the urge to push, holding off on giving birth until my husband gets home.

I have been in the stables in the past hour, just finishing up when I suddenly felt the most intense contraction and collapsed among the hay bales. I fought the urge to push, but my body is doing it for me.

–

I find you in the stall struggling to breathe, panting frantically and fighting the strong urge to push. You looked up at me and immediately you reached and clutched my hand tightly, "I think it's time!"

I took the kid off your back and I helped lay you down on the hay. You hiked your skirts up and started pushing until the top of the head peaked through your dripping and puffy folds.

Another contraction hit you and you pushed hard, but the head did not move. You cried out in pain and frustration.

“Why is it not budging?” You cried and the toddler in my arms began to squall so I called out for one of our older children to take the toddler inside.

"Hold my hand and push with all your might. You know that we always have huge babies!" I managed to joke and you let out a weak chuckle through the pain.

Finally, our eldest came running in the stable with one of the younger ones in tow. Our eldest was unfazed but the younger one was horrified by what’s happening. Seeing you in pain lying on the hay, with your big, overdue belly and wet puffy, leaky and barely crowning pussy on display.

“This one seems to be the biggest yet!” You managed to whimper as you continued to push through the next contraction.

"Go! Take your little brothers and call your aunt to help with dinner for the others, sweetie! Go now!" I urged our eldest as she picked up the toddler and ran with her youngest siblings back to the house.

“You have to do something! Help me out!” You pleaded, as you tried lying on your side and holding up one of your legs to the side to give the head more room.

"Listen to me! Just pant so I can check you!"

“Oooh… hurry, it burns! It wants out! But it’s too big!”

You panted, huffed and puffed, fighting the urge to push so I could check on the baby’s head. I inserted a finger to trace around the head and you screamed in pain. So far, after many consecutive births you have not torn anything, but this might just take the cake.

“The head is too big.” I laughed.

“Oh Christ!” You exclaimed, feeling the pressure mounting again as a contraction hits you.

I rock you on your side and start to circle your clit vigorously.

“Oooh!” You squealed in surprise. “Mmmm… yeah, keep going.”

I rub faster and harder over your swelling spot and tell you to breathe with the pressure.

I could tell you’re near. You felt your oncoming orgasm climbing up while you continued to pant the head out. More fluids trickle from your puffy folds, both from arousal and from the amniotic sack.

"Good girl!” I cooed, placing a hand on the crest of your big belly, feeling it harden under my palm. “I think it's almost time to push down with the pressure.” I told you, and you nodded as you took a deep breath, preparing for a long and hard push. “Darling, this is the biggest we have so far, it will hurt A LOT. So, hold my free hand and bear down through the contraction, okay?"

You could only nod, already beginning to bear down, your face scrunching, beads of sweat rolling down your face.

The head begins to slip out slowly, and you let out a long and loud scream.

"Good girl! Big, huge push! Let it go! Let the head come out! Be as loud as you can!"

I keep rubbing faster and harder. The head is the biggest ever. I need to help you squeeze it out. It's so painful but you can do it! You have done it so many times before.

You are puffing wildly as the orgasmic pressure mixes with the stretching intensity of crowning. You push with it, howling with the burning and throbbing.

The head is stretching you wider and wider. You are slowly losing all control as your body explodes with your first huge orgasm. The head barrels forward but it's not fully crowning yet.

“I-it’s not working…” You trembled weakly, sounding pained. “I don’t think I could do it, you’d have to cut me.”

"Listen to me! Just listen to my voice and just push with the pressure. Don't think! You will be alright! Just completely let go!"

I continued to rub and circle your clit and moved a hand to squeeze one of your big heavy tits, and stimulate one of your erect nipples with my free hand.

“Ooooooooohhhhh…” You moaned and groaned, long and hard at the pressure and pleasure.

"Thats it! Scream as loud as you want! Just let the baby go! It's time to bring our next baby out of you! Big, big push!"

“I’m tearing! I’m tearing!”

"You are not tearing! You are stretching so well. Come on now!"

You are losing all sense of time and reason. All you can feel is the gigantic shape of the head squeezing painfully forward with each massive effort. You can barely breathe but the urge to push is uncontrollable.

The unstoppable need to expel the baby is all you can focus on now. "Good girl! I love it when you reach this point! Birth it! Make it come!"

You feel the overwhelming pressure, pain and pleasure mixing into an almost insurmountable amount. You grabbed one of your leaking breasts, squeezing and rolling a hardened leaking nipple as you panted and pushed.

Sweat ran down your face as you squeezed and pushed, and with a loud moan of pleasure and pain the head finally popped out, fluids gushing as it did.

“Ooooh! Shit! That feels so good.” You breathily said with a smile despite the pain.

The contractions haven't stopped but the release of the head and fluids made it significantly less painful. You breathed deeply as the shoulders rotated and more of the huge baby came forward.

You pushed some more, "Hoooo... ooohhh pull it out already!" You gasped, as I chuckled at your mix of emotions and guided the body out.

"Just a little more," I assured you, "Come on, just one more big push."

"Hhhmmmm..." you moaned and started pushing again, feeling the baby’s really wide shoulders against its enormous body sink against your opening, inching forward a little more.

It was hitting a sweet spot inside you that made you start to moan and whimper louder again. Being already overstimulated, it didn't take long before you once again felt surges of pleasure mounting.

You huffed and puffed and gave one last big push and the baby came surging forward with more birth fluids.

Your entire body shook from such intense orgasm and the sheer exhaustion of trying to birth such a humongous baby that you fell back into the hay, trying to catch your breath. You gave a final, big push that finally frees the entire baby as well as the biggest release of your life.

You came every single time you gave birth, but this was different. This was the biggest baby you’ve birthed and the strongest and biggest orgasm you’ve had ever.

I, for one thing, already love having lots of babies with you. I love seeing you swell all big and round full of my child, and I love it even more when I help you birth each one of them. You love the experience equally if not more, as you mentioned once that it makes you feel strong and empowered.

That's why you love having lots of babies as it is the marital essence of being a woman and the discovery of the ultimate power of being free!

#giving birth #labor and delivery #hard birthing #birth kink #labor kink

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foreverisntenough · 23 hours

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‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, mention of the word ‘daddy,’ kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 7 - Gonna Be Okay | ‘Ours’

You and Trent were just in the Maldives splitting banana gelato, clinking spoons as the sun set down the western horizon on a perfect night. Okay, you were eating it all but besides the point. You were sitting yapping with pride about how you never really fought. No couple had ever been so compatible. How perfectly suited you were and retrospectively how perfectly naive. Fast forward and you were in huff in the kitchen because he had promised to refill the dogs water bowls and hadn’t. He left for training completely oblivious that he had forgotten. You were slamming cabinet doors frustrated in a rage. This had become a daily occurrence. Not specifically filling water bowls but just small things had you almost in tears. What had happened. Teddy was a little over a month old. You wouldn’t say things had calmed down with her but there was definitely more of a routine. Although that routine consisted of you and Trent suppressing a lot of issues you were having. It was all about Teddy. All the time. Becoming parents had put a strain on your relationship you weren’t expecting and definitely we’re ignoring. Part of the problem was that you both were exhausted. You had so much less time with each other and much less time for other people after she arrived. Everyday felt like a broken record and broken it was. It was so unusual for you two to work around each other like this as opposed to working together. You always had such good communication, such empathy and understanding but right now… you weren’t sure you'd had a real conversation in about 2 days. You’d never gone this long. The awkwardness was palpable but your schedules made it so you didn’t really even have the space let alone the energy to deal with it.

“T… I’m not just going to stay home and wait for you to be done.” You quipped turning to the refrigerator to grab a water to hand to him. That was the other problem that made this all so easy to ignore. You still so obviously cared for each other. The love never went anywhere so you were still doing a lot of the same things just with a ton of resentment.

“Baby, this is such a bad time for this. I’m literally walking out the house right now.” He calmly said back but you knew what that meant. It was the politest way he could say ‘shut up, I don’t want to talk about this’ Next thing you knew he was gone, out the front door for another away game. You stood cradling Teddy with tears threatening to spill over. God, you were so fucking tired. You prayed things would just sort themselves on their own. When Trent came back things didn’t snap back to normal like you had hoped. It had been days since he returned and you’d both been busy. There was minimal communication outside of ‘can you feed her’ or ‘can you change her’ One more thing that definitely was causing issues was your sleeping arrangement. You couldn’t remember the last time you even cuddled.

“We need to sit down and talk about this, Trent. We can’t fall apart now.” You nervously spoke up coming round the couch to stand in front of him blocking the tv.

“Baby…” he sighed with a puppy dog face. His lips falling into the perfect pout he knew would get his way. He was never good with confrontation and boy did he have the face to get out of it but you had had enough.

“No. No. This is not how this is going to go.” You wiped away tears of frustration that started to build. You were mad you felt so emotional while he sat stoic as ever. “We need a real discussion. Like real adults, Trent. We’re fucking parents, now. We can’t just pretend nothing is going on.” You snapped a little. You had just put Teddy down for a nap so despite the heat of your words your voice was low and soft not wanting to wake her. Whether or not he wanted to admit it or talk about it, Trent felt sidelined while you concentrated mainly on Teddy. Just the same as he felt ignored, sitting on the bench, you felt you had completely disappeared. Everyone focused solely on your baby. Your life had dwindled down to only care and feed for Teddy rather than be a partner or person in your own right.

“I’m really fucking tired Trent… you go and you work out or whatever, let out all your stress out, see your friends and I’m here! I’m here all the fucking time. I can’t leave the house.” You yelled in the quietest way possible. Inside you were fuming as the words came out. It hit you that you couldn’t remember the last time you had left the house without Teddy or not for Teddy. He hated that you were using his first name. He gave you this confused look as to why you thought he wasn’t living this experience of being a new parent with you.

“Why are you trying to keep score?” He flicked his eyes up to you as you stood there in the living room with your hands on your hips. You felt like your knees were going to give out from either exhaustion or desperation but you gave off the appearance of being incredibly strong in the moment.

“Trent! “ you yelped, feeling defeated already by his response. He threw his head to the side, annoyed you kept calling him that and it definitely wasn’t being said in a good way. “When you have a match… ugh! We’re not even sleeping together in the same bed anymore because I have to wake up to feed her and I can’t mess up your schedule for games!” You cried.

“Yeah, go on Y/N. Just keep piling it on. I know, I know I’m not home a lot. I know” He said it with such a harsh tone. You’d give it to him Trent had some drama and sass to him. A bit of a bite you rarely were on this end of. Usually his smart mouth brought humor but this… this was not funny.

“That’s not fair!” You whimpered out. Rubbing your hands over your face beginning to rock back and forth filled with nerves unsure where this conversation was even going.

“It’s so I can provide for you, Y/N. Why don’t you realize that?” He threw the first name seriousness back at you. His eyes widened in disbelief, shocked you couldn’t see what he did for you, sacrificed for you. He gave up so much of his time away from his new born baby to give you the comfortable life you lived but just the same he couldn’t see what you had been sacrificing. “You wanted to have this baby too, Y/N.” He lashed out sitting forward more towards the edge of the couch. His puppy dog face had completely vanished a long time ago. He looked at you like he hated you. You knew he didn’t but right now you weren’t in the frame of mind to have that clear of thinking.

“Stop… do not go there. That’s fucked up and a line you can’t cross.” You were more upset now and rightfully so. Bringing the topic of having Teddy into this was unfair and uncalled for. The second he said it Trent felt a pit in his stomach. You stormed out of the room holding back tears till you were alone and far away enough for him not to hear. He wanted to take it back. He wanted to chase after you and hug you until you forgave him and made up. He wanted to go back to when you could just fuck this out and physically turn a lot of anger into a lot of love. That wasn’t going to happen. This was a battle of words. He knew things were bad, he knew what he said wasn’t great but he didn’t know hot to get to you without messing things up further so he kept his distance. After that squabble it was just days of awkward kitchen run ins. The only time you really spoke were in cutesy voices to Teddy who thankfully you assumed was oblivious to it all. She was maybe 40 days old. It wasn't like she could really pick up on the tension when you asked Trent if he had run the dishwasher but you didn’t want her around this negative vibe for long. You’d never experienced this type of long term strain with him. You never pinned either of you to be the type to hold a grudge but you both felt you had respective points to be made and wouldn’t let go. Once again, Trent had an away game and you murmured a feisty sarcastic ‘of course’ when he told you he was leaving the house. It was unnecessary so he ignored it and told you he loved you anyway. He still meant it, he just didn’t exactly love how cold you’d been towards him lately. It was before he was boarding his flight to come back home when you FaceTimed him. You were putting Teddy to bed. It was routine and just because you weren’t getting along didn’t mean you were going to deprive Teddy of seeing her dad before sleep. Your eyes were practically shutting from lack of sleep while Trent babbled to her.

“You know who’s just as perfect as you, baby bear? Your mummy.” You heard it and furrowed your brow. Were you crazy? Did he not know you had been fighting? You rolled your eyes. “C’mon, baby we gotta get through this.” He tried to get you to loosen your grip on the whole thing but you weren’t having it. Trent just wanted to brush over this, move and put a plaster over it. He wanted you back in his arms desperately. After you hung up you definitely felt a little bit guilty. You knew he was trying his best. It was just Trent’s way. All he wanted to do was love you but you needed something different than that right now. In a fun twist, it was Trent’s birthday this week. You couldn’t have felt more awkward about it. Truthfully and deep down you knew this fighting was temporary and you loved him so you didn’t want to taint a day you had the opportunity to really show him how much you did love him but you were stubborn. You didn’t want to be the one to say sorry first and you certainly were not going to go the rest of your life as a mother like this, you needed a conversation. Per usual as of late, you awkwardly both got ready in your wardrobe together. He asked what you wanted him to wear. Normally the task would excite you. You loved dressing him. He didn’t really mind either way even though he looked significantly better when you did. You could tell this was some sort of olive branch but it wasn’t enough. You just dragged your hand over the closet full of his tops lazily pulling out a Rhude t-shirt to hand to him. He gave a half assed smile disappointed his effort didn’t do anything. You put on a tanish grey linen off the shoulder mini dress. You actually liked it and felt okay in it. The dress was doing a lot considering you jusstttt had Teddy. He zipped your dress. His hands on your cold skin made you shiver. It was strange that his touch made you feel that way. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. You selected a pair of heels you hadn’t been able to wear since before you were pregnant. They just ran narrow and your swollen feet weren’t having it. You picked out a purse you bought in a pregnant haze. It was insanely kitschy and looked like a takeout box but it happened to be almost £2,000 from YSL. Trent probably gave into cravings in a different way than most people. You had bought some ridiculous things while pregnant but it was still cute. You stood in the mirror inspecting the full outfit.

“You look good.” Trent muttered out seeing you as he sat on the bed waiting for you. He meant it. He never said stuff like that if he didn’t. Dianne was coming over to take care of Teddy. You were not thrilled about leaving her but you wouldn’t be out long. It’s not like you and Trent were exactly eager to spend alone time together despite it being much needed. You had made a reservation at a Sushi place you went to when you celebrated his birthday on your first visit. It was sweet in theory but now it just rubbed it in how much things had changed.

“Tuna roll?” He asked you, inspecting the menu even though you both knew exactly what you were getting. You could recite his sushi order backwards. You were excited to finally have sushi again so as much as this was for Trent it was a little for you too. You ate your meal talking about basic things you might talk to a neighbor about, fairly generic for two people that lived together, that loved each other. You had ordered a special roll Trent was too scared to try but you made him have a piece anyway. He liked it and a while later he plucked another piece off your plate with his chopsticks. You widened your eyes at him, your jaw slacked. He gave you a cheeky grin with his cheeks full as he chewed. You kept eating until he did it again. You had now given him half of your order.

“T! Stop!” You giggled. He was so annoying and you hated how cute he was every time he was being a pest.

“I’ll buy you more, beautiful.” He cooed, taking a fourth of your six piece roll. You laughed at him shaking your head. It kind of felt like you were just beginning to date again. He was flirting with you and it made your heart flutter. You looked at him and watched in what felt like slow motion his big hand reach across the table to wipe a bit of soy sauce that had rested atop your lips. The feeling of his fingers on your lips, near your mouth, had your heart racing. Images of times he pushed his fingers in your mouth while he fucked you flashed in your mind. There was something about Trent in a white t-shirt. He just looked so fresh and clean. Sexy. It made you think of the first time you gave him head you remember watching his back muscles dance as he pulled the white t-shirt over his golden brown skin. You had hummed at the image.

“At a white t-shirt?” He questioned what you were possibly so enamored with.

“No, you in a clean white t-shirt after I just had your cock in my mouth” You corrected him. He couldn’t hold the grin back. He walked back over to you holding the pair of camouflage pants he was going to wear.

“It’s so good. I like this one. You always know the hits.” His voice cut off your moment of reverie. He was really fucking handsome. As messy and tense as things had been you’d never not be attracted to him and that only made it that much annoying when he did stupid shit. As you drove towards home it was like the mood lowered with every passing mile. It wasn’t like you weren’t excited to get back to Teddy. You actually felt like you could burst with the need to get her back in your arms. It just was that this dinner was some sort of escape from the reality of things. There weren’t dog’s water bowls he could forget to fill at the restaurant.

It had been almost two months post birth and you really didn’t want to nor have any desire to have sex. You thought about his body that way for sure, but the idea of him touching your body was hard to imagine. Previously, sex was what birthdays between you and Trent consisted of and you loved it. It was fun and hot. A time to try things out, spend all day in bed but you were so exhausted and frankly sore. Your body felt anything but sexy… it felt gross like it wasn’t actually yours anymore. You often felt touched out at the end of the day. You had a baby on you practically 24/7. Sex was the last thing on your mind leaving Trent feeling fairly neglected and rejected. It was the perfect storm. You barely were sleeping together so the second you were he wanted to be all over you and the second he was you just wanted to be alone. You went to bed that night, backs facing one another with your arms slightly outstretched towards the middle of the bed linking pinkies not okay with being completely out of reach from the other. It was strange but gave you a tinge of hope. You laid in bed the next day and got to sleep in. Trent handled morning duties with Teddy. He even took her for a walk in her pram just to get her outside.

“She’s down for her nap.” He came back into your bedroom a while later. You just hummed.

“I’ll feed her when she wakes up again.” You practically scoffed at him for no reason. It was uncalled for but you just felt so annoyed. What were you two doing… it felt so unnecessary and yet you couldn’t get over the hurdle. Trent stared at you in bed. He didn’t like what he saw. He knew you, he knew your body so well and yet you almost looked foreign. You were limp, crashed into the bed, face first into the pillows, barely under the covers. It made him terribly sad. As hard headed as Trent could be, he wasn’t dumb. He was a really empathetic person; he just needed a minute to sort out his own emotions. He needed to really get a good look at you again. Like right now, it was like something changed. Like he finally understood what was going on.

“Y/N…” he cooed softly sitting on the edge of the bed next to you. He very cautiously reached his hand out to stroke your arm. You felt cold. He shut his eyes, hating how things had been. You had just become a family, welcomed your baby girl together and yet you had never felt less like one. He kissed the back of your arm. You shivered feeling the lips you absolutely adored for the first time in a while. You missed him. “I want to make things better. I’m really sorry. Can we talk?” He nervously murmured out. A barely there subtle soft smile pulled on your face. You knew you would get to the point of having a calm discussion about what’s been going on. You didn’t think it would take so long and honestly you didn’t think it’d be him to initiate it but it didn’t matter. You sat back against the headboard of your bed and pulled your knees to your chest. You looked at him closely inspecting his face to see if it had changed any since you last had a proper look. It hadn’t. His eyes still had a warm honey hue in the light, lips still perfectly plump, his skin annoyingly smooth despite minimal effort. His amber smell wafted towards you.

“I’m sorry too, baby.” You looked at him with obvious pain in your eyes. When he heard the pet name he knew you had to just make it through this conversation and everything would be a lot better.

“I know I should know and understand without having to do this but can you explain to me what you’ve been feeling? I want to hear you out so I can be better. Just tell me what I need to do to get things back on track. How do I do more than I’m doing? I feel exhausted.” He babled a little feeling just as nervous as you. His words kind of broke your heart. He really was trying his best. He didn’t know how to do anything different yet.

“T… I know you do a lot for me, for her, for us but as much as it is work for you… you do get to leave here everyday. You get the escape. I know you think about us when you’re not here” he nodded, confirming he definitely did think about you but he didn’t want to interrupt you so he stayed silent. “Just consider for even the 90 minutes when you are fully focused on a match. As you should be, I’m not saying otherwise. That's 90 minutes I’m alone, with her, at home, and unfortunately still dealing with a lot of the physical aftermath as well. Like my body is in so much discomfort and pain and I have her on me constantly. I don’t mean to sound patronizing but you could never understand how I feel in my own body right now… and that’s just the some odd 90 minutes we’re talking about not all the days you’re away for” your eyes started to welle. “I need you to support me a little here.” Your voice was shaky. Trent reached out and grabbed your hands.

“I want to support you, baby I’m so sorry.” He quivered, upset you had been feeling this way. “I hate that I wasn’t thinking about things that way. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, what you went through to give us our family. I think I pull out this card that I am providing for you because it’s one of the only things I can give back to you. Only thing I know I can control and contribute. You give me so much, you gave me her. It’s hard because I know the way you provide for me is something I’ll never be able to reciprocate.” He stared at your intertwined hands unable to look you in the eyes. “I do think about you 24/7. I feel like I’m gonna cry when I pull out of the driveway and it’s not just about leaving Teddy, it's leaving you. It’s different now, leaving. I feel like I’m letting you down when I go. It was easier for me lately just to shut it out and not tell you that because I feel so guilty. Everytime I’m on the pitch laughing I just hope you’re at home laughing with her.” He tried to explain his rational and you understood.

“T, that’s the problem though. I don't want to be at home all the time. I don’t want you to feel guilty, baby, either but we really need to find a way to help the other person with what they’re going through. We’re both doing this for the first time and it’s really fucking hard” your voice was shaking realizing just how difficult things had been.

“We work a lot better together. I’m not keen on the whole opposing sides thing. How do we figure this out?” You knew Trent was very action oriented so you thought for a moment how to explain things.

“Okay…erm like I need to go get my hair done. Can you please actually tell me you’re taking her. Not go to your mums… like you, baby. Take her, don’t offer. She’s your baby too. And honestly, not even just going to do my hair, even showers at home, T. During the day if you’re here. She’s like glue… constantly stuck to me.” You giggled a little bit thinking about your baby girl’s clinginess.

“She’s cute glue to be fair” he laughed and it shattered your heart in the best way. He hadn’t laughed with you since dinner. You shook your head with a smile knowing that was half the issue here. Teddy was so cute, everything had just been glossed over every time she batted her eyes. “But I understand, baby.”

“How can I help you, T?” you asked, moving your hand to his thigh. Your touch sent electricity coursing through his body. He was staring at your hand on him before his eyes flickered up to lock with yours he gave you the most beautiful smile you loved. Childish, full.

“You know, maybe you can drive me AXA or come see me. I don’t mean to make it about footie but it’s where I have to be for almost 7 days a week. I want to see her. I want to see you.” He looked scared to even bring up football at the moment but he was right it was his whole life.

“I got it. We can do that. Would be nice. Little carpool… drop daddy off.” You cooed with a giggle bobbing back and forth on the bed thinking about it. You could feel the air lifting and lightening as you continued breaking down how to be more supportive. You talked for ages outlining things you both needed help with. “We can do this, hmm? “ you said apprehensively. He winked at you and your heart skipped a beat. You much preferred when you were on good terms. You gave him a childish smile. Both shy and confident about being able to figure this out with him.

“There she is.” He cooed, stroking his thumb over your full cheek. “My beautiful girl. I love you so so much. I’m sorry, baby. Honest. C’mere.” He pulled you into him and you felt your whole body relax. Relax more than it had in months. “We’re gonna be okay.” He kissed you. You felt a shiver run up your spine in the best way. You felt relief.

“And on cue… she’s nothing but persistent” you giggled hearing Teddy coo over the baby monitor. Trent kissed you again. He started to stand up from his seat on the bed.

“You want to shower? I’ll go get her.” He asked you genuinely serious.

“Funny…” you quipped back not amused with the joke you thought he was making.

“I’m serious! If we’re gonna do this you have to at least let me help you!” He laughed at you. He pulled you by your hands up from the bed. He placed his own hands on your shoulders and walked you into the en-suite.

“Okay, okay, I can do it.” You wiggled out of his hold and began to pull off your clothes. Laughing as your dragged your top over your head.

“So difficult” he teased with a similar laugh squeezing your now bare sides. He began to walk out of the bathroom.

“Hey T…” you stared in the mirror back at him. He turned around with a hum. “I love you, baby.” You said sheepishly but still very sure of it. He nodded with a soft sympathetic smile. “Could we maybe do a birthday redo today with Ted?”

“I love you more than anything in the world, beautiful. Absolutely, you girls going to to take me out?” He thought he was so so funny all the time. The corniness was half the charm. He just was cute and simultaneously sexy.

“Just so annoying all the time.”you joked as he walked a little closer to you before he smushed another wet kiss onto your cheek that you loved. When he came back in with Teddy already dressed, ready to go, you knew things were going to be fine. You both were just new at this whole parenting thing. Trent drove down into the city center and you felt so incredibly domestic going on a family outing. You decided on something low key and normal so you went out to get coffees and walk the docks.

“I haven’t been down here for ages.” He spoke into the crisp fall air. He pushed Teddy’s Dior pram back and forth as you sat outside at a little coffee place you loved.

“You’ve been missing out on a very good croissant” you mumbled with your mouth full.

“Clearly.” He laughed at you before pulling a hearty piece from your croissant to pop in his mouth.

“Me and Marce used to come here all the time, you know?” You kept talking. You weren’t even sure he knew that. So it made you smile to connect again. Talk about things and open up.

“You two do so much shit without me” Trent feigned jealousy but as much as he joked you knew he actually did feel a little envious of all the relaxed down time you and his brothers shared together.

“We’ll start being bad at your job and maybe you wouldn’t have to play in Europe all the time, you could hang with us.” You teased leaning over to check on Teddy.

“You know you maybe should’ve been a comedian, baby. Just hilarious all the time. So funny. I’m dying of laughter.” He said with a completely straight face. You could tell though he was making a big effort not to crack a smile at you. “What do you think, Ted? Is mummy funny?” Trent cocked his head to look at her. She just wiggled in her seat excited she was getting attention from him. She loved anytime Trent even walked into a room let alone paid her mind. You grabbed her tiny hand gently folding it into a thumbs up and showed it to him. He rolled his eyes at you.

“You said that on our first date too and I think I proved you wrong. I am funny. You do think I am whether you want to admit it.” You teased referring to when you met outside your apartment for the first time telling him you would have to take the subway to dinner.

“You’re not as funny as you think” he quipped. You walked next to him up to the corner of your block towards the restaurant.

A lot of memories came up lately just because of the massive change you were experiencing. A part of you felt like you were mourning the loss of the juvenile versions of yourselves who didn’t have a care in the world. Your only concern was being each other's arms and the painstaking moments between kisses. Now… now you had a life you had to support, a human to raise. You reached across the table and grabbed Trent’s hand. You ran your fingers back and forth over his knuckles. He smiled at you and picked his hand up with yours. He pressed his lips lightly to your skin. You picked your head up to look at the water, as a boat further out in the river coasted by. You clocked a man taking a photo of Trent as you sat at the table outside the cafe.

“Seriously, if only you were bad at your job.” You nodded subtly towards the man. Trent turned to see him after your gesture. He looked back at you with an apologetic look. He was just trying to spend time with you and Teddy so when the man came over it was a little awkward but he was still really kind and patient. Trent really didn’t want a photo of Teddy out yet though so he politely declined the photo.

“Sorry, mate, I’d love to but I’m with my family right now. It was lovely to meet you though. Thank you for all your support.” Trent spoke low, not trying to draw more attention to himself in downtown Liverpool.

“You can.” You whispered with a nod of approval not minding if he took a photo.

“Ahhh yeah alright lad, you know what we’ll take one quick. Face this way.” Trent turned so the city was behind them in the photo, not you and Teddy. He winked at you. You picked up Teddy from her pram and kept her tight to your chest, rocking her gently.

You went home and ate dinner at your dinning room table with your family. You couldn’t believe you had a family now but you were just happy that you and Trent were back to the place you were in before. You made the cake you previously had planned to with the help of some grubby fingers taste tasting and they weren’t Teddy’s. You had given Trent his presents on his actually birthday but this felt more important, more special. You wanted to make Trent something from scratch. You grew up with the luxury of learning how to bake and cook, not needing to. Your mum brought you with her to France to take some classes for your 16th birthday once and you found you had a knack for it. It was a good cake to be honest, a take on funfetti. You had shown Trent funfetti when you were on a trip back in the US once and he just loved it so that was that. Birthday cake decision made. You placed birthday candles in the cake and dimmed the lights in your dining room and sang happy birthday to him swaying with your baby girl. When you finished and he blew out his candles he pulled you into his lap. You sat down nuzzling your face into his neck.

“Happy Birthday Daddy, we love you so much, T.” You kissed his neck again and again. Teddy attempted a giggle and a smile fascinated with the noise of your lips peeling on and off his skin. “Say happy birthday dada” you cooed squishing Teddy’s cheeks together with one hand gently. She squealed. You both laughed at her excitement.

“Thank you my beautiful girls. You’re my whole world. I love you both so much.” He gave Teddy a big kiss and you pouted at him as you waited for yours. Teddy wasn’t sleeping through the night but her naps were getting longer you guessed. You and Trent laid her down for what Trent was hoping to be an especially long one.

“Did I tell you how sexy you looked today?” He whispered in your ear with a cheeky nibble to your earlobe as you walked down the hallway. His arms hung around your frame heavily. You rolled your eyes swatting at his arm.

“C’mon, baby. How often do I tell you you’re sexy? I need you to know how sexy you are.” He cooed as you entered your bedroom. He plopped onto the edge of the bed and you went to follow him for a cuddle. You wanted to be close to him. Finally back in each others good graces you wanted to feel connected. Trent did too just in a different way. He held his hand out to stop you from coming closer. You cocked your head confused. You backed up a few steps and stared at him waiting for him to tell you some sort of direction.

“Lemme see. I know you. Lemme see what you have on today.” He spoke with a tone that sent the most excited shiver running down your spine, your pussy throbbed. You gradually began to pull your clothes off, layer by layer. You stripped for him. You giggled at the way it made you feel. Trent had a way of making you feel sexy without even touching you. The way his jaw slacked. You turned away from him to slide off the trousers you had on, bending over. He groaned throwing his head back as you spun around for him. He shook his head in disbelief of your figure. “Still my birthday?” You nodded with a shy smile. “Lay down for me…” so you followed instructions. He watched you lay back on the bed. To be fair you hadn’t really thought of doing this tonight but regardless you always liked to get undressed in front of Trent revealing little lingerie sets and he knew you did it for him. You wouldn’t even turn to acknowledge him as you’d lean over the bathroom sink counter in different colored lace every day just for show. He climbed over you and looped his finger under the middle of the sheer black Gucci bralette you’d chosen for today. Your breath hitched. Okay, now you were definitely thinking about it. You were praying he’d be gentle with you since this would be your first time after Teddy but also funnily with the lingerie too; you liked it and it was expensive. You’d lost too many pairs of panties over your relationship with him to tears. He looked down at you with a look you forgot made your heart race. He kissed your ankle. “I love these legs, I love these thighs.” He worked kisses all over and up your whole body. “I love this hip, this stomach..” he kissed every bit of you. You couldn’t get enough of falling back into the swing of things with him.

“Baby, be gentle with me, okay?” You said to him with fear in your eyes. You sighed a little embarrassed. He just looked at you in adoration.

“I’ll take care of you, yeah? I always do. Make you remember just how beautiful I think you are.” He whispered into your ear. The vibration alone made goosebumps raise on your skin. You had the biggest fucking smile on your face after he said that. You knew you were in for a treat. Sex with Trent was something you hoped you would never struggle with. His hand lightly grabbed your jaw pulling you into a kiss. His plump soft lips feeling as perfect as ever. He dragged his hand down your throat and you moaned missing this feeling. This feeling of Trent in total control of you. He kept his hands on you and over you before he cheekily pitched your nipples.

“Oh, fuckkk” you yelped out incredibly sensitive and incredibly turned on.

“Open your mouth f’me, beautiful.” He cooed and without needing to think you did. Your eyes widened in awe of how sexy he looked above you. His other hand beginning to work his length. You sucked around his fingers licking the underside like you would his cock. He abruptly pulled them out and guided them down to your pussy. He ran his fingers through your folds before he began to slowly pump two thick digits inside of you. “Fuck, baby. I missed this pussy. Feel so good already” his voice rumbled in the quiet room as his thumb stretched up to roll over your clit.

“C’mere baby. You’re so fucking soaked I bet I could just…” he dragged his tip through your wet pussy. You weren’t expecting to be as wet as you were but it was Trent you shouldn’t have been all that surprised. “You’re so beautiful and all mine” he paused perfectly, lining up his cock with your entrance and suddenly all of the air slipped out of your lungs. He was on his knees in front of you holding your one leg up as you laid back into the mattress. His firm grip around you doing most of the work.

“Oh my fucking god, T…” Oh my god was right. You could never forget how good the sex was but this. This felt really fucking good. Your eyes fluttered closed as he slowly pushed deeper, sticking to his promise to be gentle. You gasped feeling his length. You cupped his scruffy cheeks. You blew out short breaths as you tried to adjust to his size.

“I love you so much, you know that right?” He whispered again. He felt good but also slightly uncomfortable and strangely new again. He sank his body weight down on top of you so that he became your entire focus trying to not let your mind spiral into anxiety about what he thought you felt like after your baby. You could only nod. You breathed heavily. Your legs wrapped around his arm curling to hook around it, shutting your eyes in pleasure.

“I love you, T.” You whined as you felt your legs tremble already. He nuzzled impossibly deeper. You blinked your eyes open. You locked with his deep brown eyes, soft and sensitive filled with sincerity. You tried to makeout with him needing to feel those lips on yours but you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think let alone multitask as he began to thrust into you slowly. You were anxious to do this but frankly, Trent felt unbelievable and if possible maybe somehow better than that. Being back inside you had his head spinning. His heart faltered a little seeing your beautiful face scrunch up. His body weight further pressed onto you while he scooped his arm under your other leg holding it up closer to your chest Your nails dug into his biceps leaving crescent marks. You whined a sound that was music to his ears. You found a rhythm that worked for you. A rhythm that made your slightly enlarged boobs bounce more for him.

“God, I love your tits, baby.” He said it with a smile eliciting a giggle from you at the compliment. Sex had never felt better emotionally. Your eyes started to water. You felt so in love with him. “You okay, baby? Tell me you’re okay. Tell me you want this?." You really did appreciate his concern; it was just hard to talk at the moment. He leaned closer to your neck licking over your most sensitive spots waiting for a response. “Hmm?”

“I want you, T. You just feel really good.” You whimpered. Tears filled your lash line so he slowed. “Please, T… more.” His eyes widened. He was nervous his current pace was already too much so it was a surprise to hear.

“I'm right here. You have me.” His face was hovering over yours. He managed to give you the kisses you so desperately wanted all over your face, your neck, your shoulders underneath him. You clenched around him. He felt it and almost giggled. He was excited to have this power back. “You wanna be a good girl and cum for me, baby?”

“I’m gonna cum. Please. Please, T. Make me cum.” You moaned as he pushed a little deeper inside with every thrust. A familiar but distant feeling crashed over you. Your brain turning to mush. His cock throbbed inside you. He grunted overwhelmed seeing you cum under him once again. He could imagine it all he wanted but he missed seeing it in real time. “T… cum inside me again, okay? Make me take all of it. I want it. Cum for me.” You whined more. He let out a strained breath. That was it for him. Knowing you missed this. That you wanted this. Wanted him. He tipped over the edge, pumping you full of his cum. With one more final deep thrust he ran his hands through your hair grabbing it pulling your head forward into the most passionate kiss you might’ve ever shared. The tension you had felt the past few weeks evaporated. You stayed tight to his body as you breathed heavily. You both were panting as he leaned his forehead on yours before he as tender as possible pulled out. He sat back for a moment and admired you. Stroking up your thigh gingerly, he breathed out a sigh of appreciation.

“Can you be a good girl f’me and spread your legs.” He asked so kindly you did it almost instinctively. “Fucking unreal. Every day since I met you.” He kissed from your stomach up to your neck nuzzling his face in his hands trailing behind his tongue the whole way. You thought you’d cuddle till Teddy woke up but you were wrong. You spread your legs the best you could. Trent cursed. His fingers traced through your folds gathering up the cum. He swiftly and slowly dipped two of his fingers inside of you. The sensation was so overwhelming and overstimulating. He pumped them methodically, deep, curling inside you.

“Wait.. wait baby. Ah!” You whined. Your hips bucking up into him.

“Gimme one more, baby.” He asked as he nibbled on your neck. You couldn’t handle the feeling. It was too much and you had poor control. You came hard and fast, squirting a little.

“Fuck… T” You panted so heavily. Completely out of breath. You just laid there eyes closed as your chest heaved up and down. You needed a moment. He laughed and frantically laid down next to you pretty proud of his work. You were tangled up in bed until you heard the little coo and whine you loved so much.

“Lemme go check on her, you stay put. I bet you’re tired.” Trent winked at you and as annoying as his playful comment was, it was very true. He pulled on his boxers and sweats and walked down the hallway into Teddy’s nursery.

“Baby bear, you okay?” Trent cooed, scooping Teddy up gently as her cries lulled. He hummed, swaying back and forth. “Wish you could tell me what you’d need. I’d do it right away, you know that?” He pressed his lips to her identical ones. “‘My little Ted. You’re so beautiful. You look like me, but I can’t tell you’re perfect just like mummy, baby girl” he whispered softly to her. It was a while later and you still laid in bed expecting to have fallen right to sleep after all that with Trent but you couldn’t knowing your two favorite people in the world were still awake just down the hall. You got up and put on a little gray sleep set. It was comfortable and that’s just what your body needed right now because you definitely were sore.

“I felt left out.” You pouted in the doorway of Teddy’s room looking at Trent reading her a book. He picked his head up with a soft smile and beckoned you over to sit on the couch with them. Teddy’s face lit up.

“Oh wow… you excited to see mummy, huh teddy girl? Weren’t that excited to see me.” Trent teased. You slapped at his bare chest before grabbing her. She hiccuped overly excited. Her head fell onto you. You hummed kissing her chubby cheek . “I like this.” He pulled on the fabric of the tiny shorts you were in. You shrugged.

“You can continue. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” You giggled a little. You smushed your face into Trent’s arm ruining your view of the colorful book but making a better one for her. You pushed your lips to kiss Trent as he read. The sound of his voice was perfect, calm and steady. It lulled you into an incredibly sleepy state. Trent plucked Teddy out of your tired arms to hold her more securely. He wrapped his free arm around you and pulled you into him. Your head fell onto his shoulder. You hugged his waist tightly.

“My girls. Hmm?” He cooed, pressing a kiss to you and Teddy. You fell asleep listening to him. He let you and Teddy sleep on him for a while. He just relaxed, closing his eyes, happy with the affection, rubbing his hands up your back. Some time later Teddy woke up and was restless. Her little grunts and whines woke you up. “You wanna feed Ted then you and me can go try to get in bed?” Trent cooed with a sympathetic smile knowing you were exhausted. You nodded still half asleep but you understood. Sticking to your schedule was important for all of you. It took longer than expected to get her fed and down again but you did it. You draped your arms around Trent’s shoulders just staring up at him tired in her room. He pressed his nose to yours. His hands cheekily sliding over your ass. He kneaded it, raising up the material of your shorts. He pulled you closer into his embrace. He cupped your ass and picked you up from under your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“We’re actually going to bed… like sleep, right?” You cooed as Trent walked you back to your room in his arms. He laughed a little. You were nervous with the way his hands were on you if he was trying to have sex again and you were sure you could handle that yet.

“Yeah. We need to sleep. I have to go in tomorrow at 10 too.” He cooed as you stroked your thumb over his cheek. You pushed your face into the nape of his neck until he placed you on your bed. “Baby, we’re gonna be okay. I promise we’ll work on this together. I won’t let us get that way again. I know we’ll have our dips but we’re just learning to grow together.”

“I agree. Just have to talk more I think. I’m sorry I didn’t express how I felt. It’s unfair to assume you should know how I feel without me verbalizing it, that you know what is going on when we’re both doing this for the first time.” He shook his head dismissing your apology. “We might have dips like you said but T, I want this. I want us. I want this to work. God, I need this to work. I don’t think I could survive without you.”

“You could but you’ll never have to. Never even give you the chance to find out.” He cut you off. You squeezed his arm.

“I don’t want to find out. T… what do you think will happen next for us?” You tucked in closer to him cuddling up in your bed. He didn’t respond right away so you felt a little taken aback. Awkward almost. Ironic considering the things that were just said. “Like in the next five years, you know?” You tried to clarify.

“No, I know what you meant. I was just thinking of how I wanted to phrase it. I know this sounds cheesy so don’t make fun cause I’m serious.” He spoke slow. You hung onto every word of his.

“Serious” you mocked his accent and he gave you glare. You just smiled back.

“Next five years for me… just loving you. I’ve told you a million times I want to get married. I know we’re not too far into this one but I’d want another another baby… you know whenever you’re ready.” He tried to unnecessarily explain there was no pressure.

“Really?!” You would’ve squealed with excitement if Teddy weren’t finally asleep. You had jumped at the word marriage. “What ring are you gonna get meeee?” You giddily teased and moved even closer to him, laying your head and hand on his chest. “I think if I were to like make my perfect ring from scratch..” you began talking at the speed of light. You were off in dream land now. “I want a tou et moi because that’s what my parents did.” He nodded with a smile lovingly the way you spoke, the way you looked when you got excited. “I like the two-stone setting too. It’s just so beautiful to look down and see like a real representation of two people together and I kinda like the idea of the three ring deal.” You were referring to the concept of having one ring for engagement, one for marriage, and one for eternal love, usually anniversaries. Trent listened intently watching your animations. He’d asked you before nonchalantly what you wanted but you didn’t think much of it. You knew he talked about marrying you but you didn’t know when or even if that would happen.

“Oh yeah?” He picked up your left hand and kissed your knuckles. He felt pretty good about himself imagining what he has had hidden downstairs in a safe for about a year now.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 8 xx

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #taa66 #oursfic

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astronicht · 1 day

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fanfic writers directors cut: in the pines , not sure I'm doing this correctly lol 🫣 can you talk about what you envision to happen next? If I remember correctly, there was a large chapter you broke up. I love this fic so much and reread it ever so often. I'd love to hear all your brain worms about it !! ty for reading and enjoy your day off 🩵🤍

"there was a larger chapter you broke up" would you believe I forgot that this was true. Anyway, Pines is very special to me, and may never actually get its final chapter for slightly hilarious reasons. But hey, you reminded me that there was a spare 10k of Pines hanging around! So like, I read through it last night and I have done one (1) entire editing pass. But I figured, you know! Why not!

Anyway, here's the next chapter of Pines (anyone curious what I'm talking about can read the first two chapters on ao3). I hope it brings you joy <3 Thank you for loving this fic

(nsfw below cut)

The next evening, Jiang Yanli drops off Jin Zixuan, who is dressed in comfortable pink sweatpants and a button-down white shirt and looks a little dazed.

“Are you alright?” Lan Zhan asks, letting him into the house through the garage. Maybe they should just watch baseball.

“Yeah,” says Zixuan. “It is. Loud. Over there right now.”

Lan Zhan has met Jiang Yanli’s brother once; he did not seem especially loud. He did not realize until this week that Zixuan lives part time at Jiang Yanli’s, but it makes sense. He remembers the big house, Zixuan’s choice of a small guest room. “Hm,” he says, and gets Jin Zixuan a glass of water. “Drink that.”

Jin Zixuan sits at the little square two-person dining table in the family room — the cozy room open to the kitchen, with the sliding glass doors to the yard, the birds flitting by the fountain that will need to be scrubbed out this week — and drinks his water. A warm silence falls. Lan Zhan feels good, leaning over the railing that separates the kitchen from the step down to the family room, watching Zixuan with focus. Outside, someone is using their fucking leafblower again. It buzzes through the open windows.

Zixuan finishes his glass. Lan Zhan and Jin Zixuan look at each other across the parquet floor of Lan Zhan’s family room, Lan Zhan from a step up and arms crossed on the railing.

“Be gentle with me, bro,” Zixuan says, stretching his socked feet into the patch of sunlight coming in from the door.

“No,” Lan Zhan says.

Zixuan stares at him, wide-eyed — then laughs and gets on his knees in the sun.

They have both, Lan Zhan figures, had something of a very long week.

Wei Ying has a migraine on Thursday, he says. He wants to go straight home from work and sleep — he’s very sorry. Lan Zhan wonders, mouth tight— but then Wei Ying asks if maybe Lan Zhan is free on Fridays at the same time? He doesn’t want to assume, but Wei Ying has every other Friday off, and usually he’ll feel better by the next afternoon, and—

Lan Zhan has every day off. Lan Zhan is not working right now. Not this year.

He says he is free on Friday at three.

Wei Ying doesn’t know to come through the garage like Yanli knew to bring Zixuan. He rings the doorbell, the same way Lan Zhan’s piano students do, but when Lan Zhan opens the door it’s him, there in Lan Zhan’s shady front walk, taking a few polite — or shy — steps back from the door along the path that leads from the corner around the garage, through the rock garden and the knee-high [blue flowers] that have been there for decades, now past blooming and thick with seed pods.

“Hi!” Wei Ying says. Then he lurches to a stop, and starts forward again. Lan Zhan nearly lurches forward out of the doorway himself, trying to keep the momentum of the approach. “Oh shit, I didn’t bring anything,” Wei Ying says, suddenly freezing and staring at Lan Zhan as if Lan Zhan can fix this. It’s funny. It’s funny. Lan Zhan feels something like wanting to laugh in his chest, tight and warm and yellow. “I can double back and get coffee. Fruit. A tiny orchid. Popcorn chicken. Do you like popcorn chicken? There’s a place I walked past, next to the Kumon tutoring—”

“No, thank you,” says Lan Zhan, a shade too softly to be what he is supposed to be. Relief, unexpected and blooming in shaky waves in his chest, is briefly overwhelming him.

“Nothing?” Wei Ying asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet. They are near-strangers; Lan Zhan has never seen most of Wei Ying’s expressions. It seems like he wants to be pleasing. Wei Ying does not need to strive to be pleasing. It is not what anyone else would call pleasing, probably, but the attempt is already almost overwhelming. Lan Zhan wants to bundle him somewhere warm. Lan Zhan wants to pinch him, hard, till he can’t stand up straight. “There’s gotta be something, Lan Zhan, c’mon.”

Lan Zhan says, steadying himself on his own front door, “Oreos. Next time, you can bring me oreos.”

Wei Ying lights up a split second before he laughs. “Oreos?” he says.

“Oreos,” Lan Zhan agrees, embarrassed and trying not to show it. “I like them.” He hadn’t been thinking. He had not thought at all.

“A dom who gets compensated in oreos,” Wei Ying says, apparently to Lan Zhan’s maple tree, further in the rock garden, like it’s his partner in a comedy sketch.

Lan Zhan breathes through it: through liking oreos and liking sex and liking things so much when he likes them. Liking, still, the near-stranger talking to his maple tree.

“I will ask you if I want you to bring something. Maybe I will, next time. It is my job to take care of the rest. Does anyone know where you are?”

“Yeah,” says Wei Ying. “My sister. She, uh, knows about the whole scene, it’s cool. I sent her the address but not like, your full name, so.”

“You can text her my full name if you’d like,” Lan Zhan says, standing aside to let him in.

“Nah,” says Wei Ying. “Oh, this is big.”

He means the house, and in some ways it is. Comfortably if not exceptionally big for an American house, but real estate is so expensive here that it is more impressive. That, and the entry opens into the living room, with a two-storey ceiling and pristine white carpet, eminently United States 1980s chic. He wonders if Wei Ying will ask about the house.

Wei Ying just looks at him and laughs a little and says, “I’m feeling kind of — can we start right away, with what you suggested? In whatever order? Does that work for you?”

If it’s just nerves that will be fine. If it’s discomfort, starting too fast could actually overwhelm him. “Alright,” Lan Zhan says, and pads towards the formal dining room, which like the living room is rarely used. Wei Ying takes off his sneakers in the entryway, then trails him slowly, footsteps sinking into the soft cream carpet. It is a lot, to see him on Lan Zhan’s carpet. “We covered most of it over text, but can I confirm we’re on the same page, now that you’re here?”

“Yes,” says Wei Ying, glancing up at Lan Zhan’s chandelier — Lan Zhan’s mother’s old chandelier — which is mid-century modern-ish pieces of straight glass but throws rainbows across the two-story ceiling that slopes with the roof.

“Are you still interested in in-person sexual play?” Lan Zhan asks. There are two versions of what he could do, given Wei Ying’s parameters, both discussed and just now — “in whatever order” indeed. Wei Ying slowly looks down from the chandelier, down and at Lan Zhan, who is standing with his heart in his throat in the formal dining room. They are twenty feet apart.

Wei Ying stares at him. “Yes,” he says.

“We have privacy here,” Lan Zhan says, trying to steady himself. “Stand there, at the base of the stairs.” He’s always liked how the stairs come down in the middle of the formal rooms, an open admission that there are real rooms here, tucked away, where people have lived, live still. “Strip down to your underwear.”

“Ah, you’re actually making me take my clothes off this time, gege?” Wei Ying asks, going for his shirt — a loose button-down today, black again but printed with tiny red flowers. “I’m moving up in the world.”

What Lan Zhan wants is to kiss him. Lan Zhan wants to say, No, wait a bit, I am making dinner. Stay for dinner. I will feed you and then I will wreck you. Please.

He found Wei Ying again, easy as anything. He thought he would never see this person again. The story — that they found each other again after a first meeting — should wrap itself around them, should tether them. But it won’t; Lan Zhan has learned his lessons; Lan Zhan is about to be thirty-one.

Lan Zhan breathes. He can hear the dryer running in the laundry room. He steadies himself, and it’s easy because if he’s unsteady then he will have to stop and tap himself out. He says, “Wei Ying, you asked me to make you come again.”

Wei Ying shivers, full-body. “I don’t usually—” he says, then licks his lips. “What happened, um, what happened the last couple times doesn’t usually happen to me. I honestly don’t uh, I don’t get off easily, or all that often.”

Lan Zhan blinks. He had thought they’d covered this. Most of the scenarios he’d offered didn’t require orgasm, including the ones involving sex.

“That is not a problem,” Lan Zhan says, to make it very clear. “I want to see you. I want to see your soft cock.”

“Hggh,” Wei Ying breathes.

“Do you disagree?” asks Lan Zhan, leaning on the wall that divides the kitchen and the family room behind it from the rest of the house.

“Um. Might not be entirely soft, if that’s okay.”

“You cannot wait for me?” Lan Zhan asks, severe. Now that he has thought of seeing Wei Ying soft, maybe small, he wants it. He never saw anything at the party, just Wei Ying’s squirming hips. He has, he supposes, photographs.

“It’s just a little,” Wei Ying whines.

“I want to see you soft. Get on my dining table,” Lan Zhan says. “And take off your underwear.”

“O-okay,” Wei Ying says, padding across the carpet and then stopping to quickly take off his black briefs. He stops by the conversation pit, which largely stores a collection of paperback novels that belonged to Lan Zhan’s mother. “Hey, is that an orgy pit?”

“It is a conversation pit,” says Lan Zhan, who does not exactly mind speaking about his mother’s house during sex, but acknowledges that most people would prefer not to. “Get up and kneel on the table, and try to stay soft.”

Wei Ying sucks in a breath. His toes flex in Lan Zhan’s soft cream carpet. The sudden exposure, the nudity, the dining table, might actually shock him into staying soft. Or get him there; Lan Zhan will find out.

The dining table is an oval that seats eight people. It creaks a little, making Wei Ying flush as he climbs onto it, naked, his nipples tight and his dick and balls swinging between his legs. He is mostly soft, but Lan Zhan thinks he can detect something of a chub. It is medium sized but cute. Lan Zhan wants it, small and soft, in his mouth. Lan Zhan loves sucking cock.

Lan Zhan is kind of expecting Wei Ying to say something about the dining table, about the other-the-top exhibition of himself on it. Instead Wei Ying meets Lan Zhan’s eyes, licks his lips, and says, intimate as if they’re just murmuring together in Lan Zhan’s bed upstairs, “Do you think my cock looks small?” His eyes gleam. His face is solemn.

It is, honestly, average for a soft cock. It is curved prettily in the crease of Wei Ying’s bare thigh, because he is not kneeling properly. His ass is on Lan Zhan’s unused dining table. The tips of his hair look wet against his shirt, from the shower he would have taken before this. In the dry air here, he must have been in the shower very recently; fifteen minutes. Did he say he walked here?

Lan Zhan, fortunately, has always been able to concentrate with a cock in front of him.

Lan Zhan says, “Does it look small? Perhaps.” Wei Ying shudders.

Alright.

“Sit properly,” Lan Zhan says. “Kneel like I asked.”

“You can’t make me kneel on this,” Wei Ying says, shifting knee to knee, “there’s not even a tablecloth! Think of my knees, Lan Zhan!”

“I am thinking of your knees. Bruise them for me,” says Lan Zhan. Wei Ying barks out a breathless laugh and Lan Zhan almost smiles. The formal rooms feel less stiff. The blinds are closed, but behind them he can see the shifting light of the trees, his and his neighbor’s. They clack in the breeze.

Lan Zhan doesn’t smile, though. Instead he says, “Kneel properly and show me your soft cock.”

“Ah!” Wei Ying says, sitting back hard on his heels, posture for a moment reflexively perfect. Someone taught him to sit straight as a child, and adult Wei Ying has unlearned it. His hands fly up to cover his cock, which twitched hard. Lan Zhan stares at him, waiting. Wei Ying flushes, hands covering his crotch. “It’s a little bit hard now,” he whines to Lan Zhan. He slips into Mandarin for a moment, apparently just because the sajiao won’t be as effective in English. “Wouldn’t you rather see me hard for you, Zhan-zhan?”

“No,” Lan Zhan says. He was going to go for the toys right away, but he’s stopped halfway around the table, transfixed. “I want to see you soft. And small.”

Wei Ying whines and shoves his hands down harder on his hidden dick. Lan Zhan wonders wildly why he did not list CBT in his misc enjoyed kinks, even though what he’s doing now cannot hurt that much. There’s obviously— something, there.

“Are you trying?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying bites his lip. “Not--not all that much, haha.”

“Hm.”

“Don’t want your ego bruised when you realize how good I am at staying soft.”

Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow. “I hardly think my ego is responsible for your small cock.”

Wei Ying goes bright red. Lan Zhan is, briefly, able to breathe, and move. He takes advantage.

There is a cabinet to the far side of the dining table which is obviously supposed to be for wine. Lan Zhan has a set of wine glasses that hang from it, but no wine in it. He uses it to store the downstairs sex toys.

Lan Zhan pulls out three dildos that interest him in this moment. Then he closes the cabinet and plops the selection of dildos in their neat drawstring bags down on the end of the table closest to the living room. Two of the three are weighted with the motor of a vibe; dropping them makes a noise. Lan Zhan’s eyes narrow happily to see Wei Ying jump, just a tiny bit.

“If you can’t kneel, then lie back and spread your legs,” Lan Zhan tells Wei Ying, reaching up to slap him on the thigh — close to his cock but not actually on it. Wei Ying jumps, eyes wide. His cock twitches, too. It is so fucking gratifying to be able to see him this time, fuck. Lan Zhan wants to grind his teeth.

“Your cock is misbehaving,” Lan Zhan informs him. Wei Ying, finally, makes a little whimper like he did at the party, when Lan Zhan barely knew his name.

Greed thick in his mouth, Lan Zhan slaps Wei Ying’s cock.

Wei Ying rocks back, eyes wide, flushing bright patchy red on his face and his chest. He is paler than Lan Zhan; it shows up better on him. He sits back on his butt and spreads his legs like Lan Zhan wants. Behind him the sun is afternoon low and smoke-red through the blinds.

“Oh,” he says.

“You are not staying soft,” Lan Zhan says.

“No,” Wei Ying breathes.

“Then I will have to use you for something else.” Wei Ying nods jerkily, but he looks tense. Maybe too exposed, on the table. Maybe it is not quite right. Lan Zhan picks up a purple dildo, one of the ones with vibrating function. “Give me your hand.”

Wei Ying puts one hand out, his fingers shaking a little. Lan Zhan picks up a bottle of lube and squeezes a little onto Wei Ying’s fingers. Too much, lets it spill. Wei Ying shivers — there, a step in the right direction.

Lan Zhan goes to lean against the wall to the kitchen, arms crossed, watching. Twice Wei Ying has come with Lan Zhan at a distance. Lan Zhan wants — to make this hot for him. To make him feel good. To learn the rest of his rules and which of them he will ask to have broken.

“Fuck yourself,” Lan Zhan says. “Your fingers first, then with whatever I choose for you. I want to see what you can take.”

Wei Ying closes his eyes and arches his back and does it as Lan Zhan directs: one finger, two, stretch it for me, let me see, three. He’s quiet, though. His eyes stay shut. Like he’s reaching for something and can’t quite get it. When he starts on the dildo, his shoulders go tense.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. “Wait a moment.”

Wei Ying does, holds still with his eyes shut and a dildo half into him.

Lan Zhan pushes off from the wall, circles around the table until he is behind Wei Ying, until he can place a hand between his shoulderblades and only relax when Wei Ying’s shoulders go down, and Wei Ying himself relaxes and leans into the touch. Lan Zhan moves a chair out of the way so he can stand right next to the table behind Wei Ying, so that his chest is against Wei Ying’s back.

“Wei Ying,” he says, softly because his mouth is right by Wei Ying’s ear. He puts his hungry hands on Wei Ying’s ribs, feels his quick breaths. Not too quick; he’s only uncomfortable, Lan Zhan thinks. Too exposed, or too untouched. Something. Everyone has their snags, everyone. Lan Zhan feels full of them, himself. Normally he would be hitting one right now, feeling upset to have not gotten it right the first time, but he’s distracted by Wei Ying’s warmth against his chest. He feels, strangely, like he can get things wrong here, without fucking up.

Lan Zhan makes a little enquiring noise, and is about to follow it up with Too much? but Wei Ying responds like he asked, anyway.

“Ah, I don’t get why this is hard,” says Wei Ying, laughing a little, shoulders tensing and relaxing again. He tugs the dildo back out without Lan Zhan having to tell him. Lan Zhan puts a hand almost over Wei Ying’s on the dildo and taps it in rhythm, like piano keys. Wei Ying huffs a little almost-laugh and tries to imitate him. He clearly does not play piano. “This is so — texting you was so self-indulgent, you know? I’m pretty sure indulgence is supposed to come easily.”

Lan Zhan pauses. “I think indulgence is very hard,” he says, too honest into Wei Ying’s soft hair.

“Nahhh, hell, that’s too serious an answer, gege,” says Wei Ying, wry smile back, over his shoulder and so close to Lan Zhan’s cheek that he could bite it. He is so naked. Lan Zhan could have unwrapped him slowly, but he rushed. He wanted to rush. “Lan Zhan,” he adds, licking his lips. It is the first time he has said Lan Zhan’s name aloud. He does it naked on Lan Zhan’s formal dining table, with his head resting back on Land Zhan’s shoulder and Lan Zhan’s dildo held loose in his hand, under Lan Zhan’s hand. “Lan Zhan, give me a more fun answer.”

“Alright,” says Lan Zhan. He hums and reaches down, slowly enough to know if Wei Ying will tense again, to play with the stretch of Wei Ying’s rim around the toy. “Indulgence will be extremely easy. I will make it so.” He adds, dry, “Miraculously.”

Wei Ying huffs a laugh but his hands spasm on his stomach. His dick twitches at the same time. But his fingers still dart around, searching.

Lan Zhan will not leave him searching. “I haven’t done right by you,” he murmurs into Wei Ying’s ear. Wei Ying squirms, in a good way this time. “I left you out in the dining room. You must be cold. Come entertain me while I— while I cook.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying says, voice already softer, brighter. Oh, perhaps indulgence will be easy after all. Lan Zhan cups his chin and he looks even warmer. So happy at the idea, which is such a simple one.

Lan Zhan will fucking improvise for three hours if that’s what it takes to get this right.

They go together into the kitchen. The house is brighter here, smaller, the ceilings a normal height. Land Zhan idly closes the blinds while Wei Ying laughs and pretends to wave to the joggers on the footpath, who cannot see into the house easily. Probably.

Inside the kitchen door is a hook that holds a calendar and two aprons and a fly-swatter and what looks like a New Years decoration he never took down. He takes down both aprons. One goes over the counters, which will just have to be bleached again a little ahead of schedule.

“Bend over the counter,” Lan Zhan says. The apron is arranged so Wei Ying is not hitting his dick on the cupboards. He opens the fridge. Out of the corner of his eye, Wei Ying cups his dick warily. Even with the apron he’ll have to hold his hips a little away from the lip of the tile.

“Go,” Lan Zhan says, closing the fridge. “Are you hungry?”

Just regular hungry. Feeding kink wasn’t listed. Lan Zhan wonders if he can ask for that, and then remembers that that is not what this arrangement is about. He breathes.

Wei Ying is taking his time. Lan Zhan plants a hand along his spine and presses slowly but sternly down. Wei Ying yelps. He tucks his face to the side easily enough though. He nuzzles the cool tile of Lan Zhan’s counters.

His eyes crack open. “I still— something in me.”

Asking over text was probably easier. Lan Zhan remembers, feverish, how much he had wanted to be full.

Lan Zhan thinks first of a finger, or something. He thinks of Wei Ying losing steam on the dining table with the very reasonably sized purple dildo.

He thinks about how things that should be easy are so hard.

“A pear?” Lan Zhan says, mild, putting a little bowl of cut pear in front of Wei Ying. It was what was already in the fridge.

“Lan Zhan—”

Lan Zhan pinches his thigh, finally. Wei Ying gasps. Lan Zhan was going to let go but does not yet, waits. Wei Ying’s forehead comes to rest on the tile. His hips are shifting and he’s having to force himself not to grind into the hard cupboards behind the thin layer of apron.

“Eat one slice of pear.” Lan Zhan lets go of his thigh. Wei Ying gasps. Lan Zhan nudges the bowl a little closer to Wei Ying’s face and takes a few steps back out into the formal dining room. He ignores the dildos on the table and the little puddle of lube and goes into the wine cabinet.

Back in the kitchen, Wei Ying has one slice of pear gripped in his teeth. He has bitten it right out of the bowl. Lan Zhan leans around him and taps the end of the pear slice sticking out of Wei Ying’s mouth.

“In,” he says. Wei Ying looks up at him. Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow and pushes a little on the pear slice. Wei Ying sucks it in in one gulp. “Don’t choke,” Lan Zhan says, amused. Wei Ying chews noisily at him.

Lan Zhan waits till he’s swallowed before putting the new dildo on the counter next to the fruit bowl. In case he really does choke.

Wei Ying just stares, maybe hypnotized, at the largest, pinkest dildo Lan Zhan owns. It is swaying gently where Lan Zhan placed it upright, balanced on its gargantuan fake pink balls.

The thing about this ridiculous dildo is that it’s really too big and too flexible to be good for fucking, if you can get it in; it’s quite squishy, and Lan Zhan uses it sometimes for people who get off by letting him slap them in the face with it.

“You’ve had a snack. Before I start cooking I need two things: I want to watch you show me how bad you are at fucking yourself, and then I need to fetch something from the laundry room. Try to put this in yourself.” Whether or not he can get it in doesn’t matter. Lan Zhan just wants to see him try.

Lan Zhan lays the second apron on the floor, to catch lube drips. Wei Ying steps on it as Lan Zhan leans down and lifts each of his feet delicately to push the apron under him.

“How far— ah— how far is the laundry room?” Wei Ying asks. His dick is filling rapidly; Lan Zhan can see this clearly when he is crouched at Wei Ying’s feet. He shivers.

Lan Zhan stands up and picks up the bowl of pears in one hand and twists his other hand in Wei Ying’s hair, pulling it into a single twist that Lan Zhan can grip at the back of Wei Ying’s skull. He doesn’t pull very hard, just lets the pressure speak for him.

“I will show you,” Lan Zhan says drily. “Do you need help putting it in?”

“N-no,” Wei Ying says. He’s mouth-breathing.

“Do it with me right here, I want to see it. If you get it in, you can come with me to the laundry room.”

“Yeah,” Wei Ying breathes, even though the laundry room hardly sounds like a treat, and scoots his feet and the apron back on the linoleum so he can bend over further, just his hands braced on the counter. His hands scramble on the big pink dildo, and instead of putting it down to open and pour lube into his hand he holds it between his knees. Lan Zhan’s breath catches. He wants to— to bite him. Make him drop it. Make him pick it up, complaining.

The thing about things that are easy is that sometimes this makes them impossible. The thing about things that are impossible is that they are easier. Wei Ying did not like the shallow end of the pool.

Wei Ying pants and lubes the dildo and fingers himself a little. It’s already easier than anything on the dining table. The room smells like pears and silicon. The blinds clack.

Wei Ying leans down even further and twists his hips to open them up a bit. “Are you watching?” he breathes, and nudges the giant pink dildo against his hole, letting it skid away. Again, twice. “Don’t you want to make me do it right?”

“Do it right,” Lan Zhan says, from deep in his chest, not thinking. He’s begging; he’s ordering.

“There’s no way I can,” Wei Ying says. “You know I can’t.” His hands become clever again instead of clumsy. Lan Zhan’s brain has not restarted. He is just there, in his kitchen, watching Wei Ying work the tip into himself, sighing — no, breathing out to make himself relax further.

“Oh no,” Wei Ying pants. “It’s actually going in, Lan Zhan— you said I wouldn’t be able to get it in.” It is, it really is. The easy option was impossible; the giant pink face-slapping dildo is forcing his ass open, slow. Lan Zhan watches his ass stretch around its widest girth, then try to pinch closed on a smaller part of the toy, but it’s all thick shaft.

“You are going to walk with it in you to the laundry room with me,” Lan Zhan says, his teeth buzzing, his cock hard in his trousers. “You will want to push it further in,” he adds.

“Shit! Shit, nng,” Wei Ying says. “There’s so much of it, though. Even if it slips a little, I’ve got like five inches in me.”

Not a bad estimate. The thrust depth, minus the flared base with its big pink faux balls, is [eight] inches [check the specs on Outlaw]. “Yes,” Lan Zhan says. “And you will need more.”

Wei Ying twists his head to stare back at Lan Zhan as he pushes the dildo in, deeper. His legs shake once, hard, but he does not stop. His eyelashes flutter; he does not break eye contact with Lan Zhan for a long moment. Then he lets out a big shuddering sigh, his body surrendering to its new situation. His belly gets softer when he relaxes. They do not know each other well enough for Lan Zhan to palm it affectionately, but he likes it very much. Wei Ying says, on the end of his sigh,“Ahh, why do you even have something this big, gege? People buy this shit to--to leave out to impress their hookup or whatever, not to use.”

They’ve been speaking almost entirely English since Wei Ying arrived; to say this he has switched to Mandarin. Lan Zhan did not actually know the slang for hookup until just now. Last time — when they met, in the roses — it was playful, pressing. In retrospect it had not been a test Lan Zhan would have failed by speaking his father’s language badly, but just Wei Ying on the offensive, figuring a new puzzle out. This is not like that. He does not know what this is like. With his father and his uncle he spoke Mandarin at home; with his mother he spoke only English, even when she could not think of a word. She would make them up, sometimes. A whole secret language: words for microwave and for dish towel and for pasta strainers.

Lan Zhan wrenches himself out of the past. He loves to live in his mother’s house, but he does not want Wei Ying to ask why he went distant.

Also, the pink dildo is as close as silicon-balls-deep in Wei Ying now as it is ever reasonably going to get. Wei Ying pants and shifts around it, arching back. Lan Zhan steps close and says, “Good boy. Take my arm.”

One of Wei Ying’s hands paws gracelessly at Lan Zhan’s forearm. Lan Zhan catches his hand in his own, and helps him straighten up like he is a precious thing. Wei Ying groans and sways and doesn’t get entirely upright, the long heft of the dildo inside of him, its big pink balls brushing his thighs. He has to put a hand on it the first time but then he is able to keep it slipping out, lips pursed in concentration.

“Go on,” Lan Zhan whispers, mouth thick with longing. He lets Wei Ying keep his grip on Lan Zhan’s forearm, like a gentleman leading someone through a room, only Wei Ying is naked and starting to sweat and has Lan Zhan’s biggest squishy pink dildo up his ass. Wei Ying’s grip is light. Lan Zhan wonders if this will be too easy. Wei Ying takes a step and — ah, this will not be too easy. A stumble, and the noise he makes — Lan Zhan won’t find it easy, either.

Wei Ying manages two and a half stumbling steps before he is doubling over, gasping, and clinging on to Lan Zhan’s arm to stay upright. If Lan Zhan were not supporting him, perhaps he would have tried to go farther, perhaps he would have gotten through the doorway to the kitchen before he collapsed on the linoleum, unable to walk. Lan Zhan would like to work him up to that. Lan Zhan wants Wei Ying to be so overwhelmed that he falls to the floor and feels wanted and wanted and wanted all the way down, even with his face pressed to linoleum, even with his ass in the air, straining to take the dildo. He should still feel Lan Zhan’s desire pouring over him.

As it is, this is so good. Wei Ying is breathing fast, is looking daunted but not lost. He knows what he needs to do; he knows Lan Zhan will not ignore him.

“Oh,” Wei Ying gasps, “Fuck, this is impossible, Zhan’er.”

“You are only trying to walk to the laundry room, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying makes a little high noise and takes another shaky step.

“It’s so big,” Wei Ying gasps out. “Fuck, I can feel it. I can’t even walk right, gege, are you seeing — hnng — are you seeing this.”

“You have made it to the steps,” Lan Zhan says, dryly congratulatory.

“Fuck!” Wei Ying says, so high and sharp that Lan Zhan wonders if they have hit a tipping point, but no, Wei Ying takes another step. He is shaking. Lan Zhan is shaking too from how much he wants him, how much he likes this.

“God, you have to help me,” Wei Ying whines. Fuck, he’s getting so worked up from this. It’s like Lan Zhan finally found the right little angle and he’s opening up beautifully, so good Lan Zhan can’t even look directly at him all at once. Lan Zhan tries not to pant, too. He breathes through his nose. He looks over his shoulder at Wei Ying’s ass, where Wei Ying is still half bent-over as he tries to stumble forwards. The dildo has slipped out maybe a centimeter; it’s big fake balls are prodding Wei Ying’s thighs as he walks. Wei Ying’s other hand is slung around his lower belly as he shuffles his way across the kitchen, face flushed, his little brown nipples hard. He notices Lan Zhan looking and moans, loud.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, fuck. I can feel it in me. It’s slipping just a little. Lan Zhan, help me get there.”

Lan Zhan goes to take his arm again. Wei Ying moans and must accidentally clench; the dildo slips out another centimeter. They are on the two steps down to the den. The laundry room is only six feet away, really. The washer and dryer are in the linen closet in the hall off the den.

“It is slipping,” says Lan Zhan. Wei Ying whines and clamps his hand harder around Lan Zhan’s forearm, leans more heavily. He’s stopped, eyeing the steps.

“Lan Zhan,” he pants, forehead against Lan Zhan’s bicep. “Can I please — can I push it back in?”

Lan Zhan thinks about it. If Wei Ying had asked Lan Zhan to push the dildo back in for him, Lan Zhan had been half-thinking that he would make Wei Ying do it to himself. But Wei Ying asked to do it himself; maybe a bargain to be able to get away with it.

“No,” says Lan Zhan. “I will do it.”

Wei Ying shivers, and — spreads his legs a little. As if to give Lan Zhan access.

Lan Zhan wants to grab the dildo by its ridiculous pink balls and shove it hard into Wei Ying, hard enough to make him stumble, hard enough that it would hurt, a little. And keep it there, grinding it in, until they hit a real tipping point. Maybe if Wei Ying were more carefully stretched.

Instead he says, “On your knees.” Wei Ying jolts, surprised. The dildo slips another centimeter, and now the weight of the flared base and the shorter length inside Wei Ying must make it tip up and press, hard, against Wei Ying. Maybe not his prostate exactly, too deep and too big, but good enough. He cries out and Lan Zhan has to press his shoulder down to keep him focused, to send him to the floor at Lan Zhan’s feet.

Wei Ying kneels, hands twitching like he wants to reach back. “On your forearms too,” says Lan Zhan. They are on the parquet floor, where Zixuan kneeled earlier this week. This is very different. Lan Zhan’s heartbeat is thudding in his jaw, his hands.

“Oh,” Wei Ying whispers, and then he’s done it: positioned himself on Lan Zhan’s clean wood floors on his forearms and knees, ass in the air with a big pink dildo waving ridiculously from it. Lan Zhan kneels down too, quickly, not giving Wei Ying a chance to feel anything but nicely crowded. He touches Wei Ying’s thigh first. Wei Ying whines and sways into it until Lan Zhan snaps, “Stay still,” and grabs his hip. He shivers and tries to move again. Lan Zhan takes hold of the end of the dildo, lube-sticky, with his other hand and presses it in a centimeter.

Wei Ying stops trying to move and starts trying to gasp. His face is turned towards Lan Zhan, his eyes dark and desperate and intent, the way Lan Zhan feels dark and desperate and intent. It was only a centimeter. He’s so desperate for it. Who has been fucking him so poorly that he is still so desperate for it?

“I’m putting it back in, now,” Lan Zhan says. The rest goes slowly, slowly. He presses it deep into Wei Ying, and this time gets to feel the press and give of Wei Ying’s body around it.

“Stand up,” he says, once he’s finished, trying not to look like he feels like he just had a religious experience. Wei Ying trembles and shakes his head. Lan Zhan blinks, hard, tries to clear his thoughts, unclench his jaw. Before he can do anything else, Wei Ying makes to stand. Lan Zhan helps him up, one arm hauling him to his feet, the other with two fingers on the dildo’s base. A little mercy, to keep it in tight and deep while Wei Ying straightens.

Wei Ying moans, slumps against Lan Zhan. But he’s the one who takes the first step forward. Lan Zhan does not want to make him lead. He takes two swift steps and pulls Wei Ying along in his wake, huddling naked and so hard against his side.

“Hurry,” Wei Ying whispers. “Hurry, I can’t keep it in.”

They’re crossing the corner of the den towards the hall to the downstairs bathroom. Lan Zhan, obligingly, hustles him faster. Wei Ying whines, shuffles across the sun-warm parquet flooring. The den faces full west, but Lan Zhan has closed the blinds on the sliding glass doors. Everything is dull warm with flashes of bright white sunlight sneaking through.

They make it into the laundry room hallway. Wei Ying is gasping. The dildo has stayed in, but Wei Ying’s own cock is swaying, now, jutting out hard and wet and lewd in front of him. With his free hand, Lan Zhan pulls open the closet doors that hide the laundry.

“Oh thank god,” Wei Ying whispers. “Will you fuck me with it for real, now? Don’t you want to? I’ll get on the floor again, Lan Zhan, I’ll—”

“Good job,” Lan Zhan says, shaky, against Wei Ying’s temple, because it bears saying. Wei Ying shuts up for a moment when he hears it. There is just fast breathing, a body moving against Lan Zhan’s. “Turn and put your hands on the wall.”

There is an obvious pause where Wei Ying decides to push. He says, “Don’t you wanna—” and Lan Zhan gratefully takes the opening to grab his wrists and push them against the wall. He lets himself squeeze, once. He lets himself make it hard, lets himself use the strength that lives in his fingers, in his hands. Wei Ying just cries out, cock jumping. The dildo slips but Lan Zhan lets Wei Ying go to catch it, and doesn’t hesitate to grind it back in. Wei Ying, hands braced high on the wall, says, “Ahh--ahh.”

Greed sits buzzing in Lan Zhan’s teeth.

Lan Zhan says, “I am going to take the dildo out, on the count of three.” Then he says, “One,” and fucks the dildo up into Wei Ying sharply. Wei Ying jumps, moans. “Two,” says Lan Zhan, doing it again. “Three,” and a final time, and Wei Ying’s knees shake. He eases the dildo all the way out this time, careful around Wei Ying’s fluttering rim.

“Good job,” he says again. “Good boy, good boy. Turn around.”

Wei Ying moans and does it, eyes glazed. Lan Zhan places the dildo, balanced neatly on its balls, on the closed lid of the washer. He purses his lips and — lifting people is about using your legs and otherwise not overthinking it — lifts Wei Ying with Lan Zhan’s arms around his upper thighs and deposits him on top of the rumbling dryer.

“Sit there,” he says. Wei Ying blinks at him, hands braced on the edge of the dryer.

“Um,” says Wei Ying. He coughs. Maybe his mouth is dry; they will get water. “I’m getting lube all over your dryer?”

“I want lube all over my dryer,” Lan Zhan tells him desperately. He has rarely meant a thing more.

Wei Ying looks at him, wide-eyed. “Spread your legs,” Lan Zhan tells him, only a little because he needs him to. He is greedy for it. Wei Ying shudders and does so, his cock bobbing, his balls softly trembling with the movement of the dryer. Lan Zhan bites his own lip savagely. He takes one of Wei Ying’s ankles and moves it further to the side. Then he crouches down and — as Wei Ying’s eyes flutter shut — pops open the dryer door.

“Hywah?” Wei Ying says. “You’re— you’re gonna do laundry while I’m here, um. Here spreading my legs for you?” His voice peters off weakly at the end of the sentence. His face is even more flushed.

“No,” Lan Zhan says, pulling his softest bathrobe out of the dryer, warm and soft. He closes the door again and the dryer rumbles back to life. “You are going to help me cook.” The bathrobe is white, fluffy, with something faux-fur-ish going on around the cuffs and collars. It came from some resort stay, somewhere, Lan Zhan does not remember. A family vacation.

Lan Zhan lifts him off the dryer and sets him down on his feet, wraps the dryer-hot robe tight around him, does up the belt. Lan Zhan puts a hand on his back and says, “Alright, now you will entertain me while I cook.”

Wei Ying shivers, but he is not cold, this time. They walk back to the kitchen, quickly this time. Lan Zhan could make Wei Ying crawl but he wants to crowd him, wants Wei Ying to feel crowded, manhandled. Wants to be the one to do it. The hand on Wei Ying’s waist goes to Wei Ying’s hair. It’s back in a ponytail, a tiny one. Cute, but Lan Zhan takes it down, lets it brush Wei Ying’s shoulders. Wei Ying makes a little noise, then pants when Lan Zhan makes a fist in Wei Ying’s hair, tugging him a long a little. He nearly trips on the step up to the kitchen. Lan Zhan grabs his arms, move them behind his back. Wei Ying tests his grip right away when Lan Zhan gets both wrists in one hand. Lan Zhan squeezes, hard.

There they are in the warm kitchen sunlight again. Lan Zhan says, “Kneel here,” and pulls Wei Ying down by the wrists even as Wei Ying goes. Wei Ying’s thighs are splayed wide where he kneels, his hard cock jutting up wet and obscene from the parting of the bathrobe. Wei Ying looks down at it, flushing.

“Needy,” Lan Zhan says, letting go of Wei Ying’s wrists and petting Wei Ying’s hair. He presses two fingers against Wei Ying’s lips. “Suck, needy boy.” Wei Ying moans and does it, his bare cock jerking. A bead of precome forms at the tip and slides down. Lan Zhan fucks his fingers in harder, harder. He can feel the wanting in his own throat. Wei Ying just moans more, takes it. He does not need softness here, just a certain kind of roughness, a certain kind. Lan Zhan puts his other hand in Wei Ying’s hair again, tugs, and says, “That’s enough. Wait here, I will be right back.”

Wei Ying nods, serene there on the floor, eyes glazed. Spit is on his chin.

“Hands behind you,” Lan Zhan tells him. Wei Ying does it, squirming.

Lan Zhan does try to be quick; it’s barely a few steps to the dining room to grab the first dildo Wei Ying had tried, the more normally sized purple one, not quite so phallic but armed with a very sturdy suction cup, and a pair of light leather cuffs from the wine cabinet.

He puts both in one of the discarded drawstring bags still on the dining table, and goes back into the kitchen.

Wei Ying is touching his dick, just rubbing the tip, thumbing the slit. Eyes open, looking at Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan raises an eyebrow and does not hurry, steps up to and then past Wei Ying to place the bag on the counter.

“Brat,” he says, and sinks a hand in Wei Ying’s hair, tugs him forwards so Wei Ying has to take his hand off his dick to catch himself to keep from faceplanting into the linoleum. Wei Ying nervous-laughs and moans on the same breath; both a noise of release. He’s on his hands and knees on Lan Zhan’s kitchen floor, in Lan Zhan’s warm bathrobe. Lan Zhan flips up the skirt of the bathrobe. Wei Ying’s ass is still smeared with lube, his hole still wet and a little looser. Nothing looks hurt; his asshole is flushed dark and Lan Zhan should check if he has any little tears. After

Wei Ying had said what we talked about and in whatever order. So Lan Zhan finally, finally smacks him — hard across the ass. His own cock throbs harder than his hand when he makes contact. Fuck, fuck, he likes this so much. He gives himself two more, gives Wei Ying two more. He flips the bathrobe back down as Wei Ying gasps and shakes.

“Oh god,” he’s whispering, high pitched. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, it stings.”

“It’s supposed to,” Lan Zhan breathes. His own hand stings, he knows it stings. He thinks of Wei Ying over the phone, tugging on his balls. “Kneel back down. Hands out in front of you.”

Wei Ying does it, squirming as his ass hits his heels. It was not much; it was only a sting. Watching him revel in it, squirm towards it and away from it, is so much though, so much. Lan Zhan takes his wrists and quickly straps on the cuffs. They are not his bulkiest pair; the bedroom is better set up for that, but he likes the leather, likes them well enough. He tightens them, closes the quick-release snaps. Instead of hooking the metal clasps onto the little o-ring, Lan Zhan uses the strap attachment, a tough cord also covered in leather. He clips it to each o-ring on each wrist. Wei Ying can hold his hands about six inches apart. Lan Zhan can grab the strap between, which he does. Twists it around his wrist and drags Wei Ying with him as he reaches for the drawstring bag again, for the next thing.

He pulls out the purple dildo and holds it to Wei Ying’s face, his lips. “Suck,” he says. Wei Ying scowls up at him and Lan Zhan does what he’s been asked to do, takes Wei Ying’s jaw and presses hard on the hinge of it till Wei Ying gasps and flinches and his mouth falls open. Lan Zhan fucks the dildo in and Wei Ying sucks it, greedy now that he’s had a chance to resist, greedy now that he’s been forced to do it. Saliva drips down his chin again. Lan Zhan pulls it out, swift. Wei Ying moans and chases the dildo and Lan Zhan smacks his cheek with it lightly, a warning. Wei Ying’s eyes flutter and he moans, swaying. Ah.

Lan Zhan lowers the strap of the cuffs and then lets go, lets Wei Ying get back on his knees and forearms.

Lan Zhan plants the suction cup of the purple dildo on the cabinet door. He said Wei Ying could entertain him while he cooks; it doesn’t have to be so literal but still, he likes the idea. He’s trying to think of something to do for dinner that does not involve chopping too many vegetables. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know. He likes the game but does not care about food just now.

Wei Ying is wrapped in the warm bathrobe, eyes hooded, mouth parted. Lan Zhan can see his tongue. Lan Zhan flips up the skirt of of the bathrobe again, palms Wei Ying’s ass. Wei Ying flinches away from it, flinches into it.

Lan Zhan kneels next him, tests the grip of the dildo. It holds nicely. He puts his hand in Wei Ying’s hair and tugs him backwards, makes him shuffle back on knees and his forearms, wrists still cuffed right where he can see them.

The dildo rubs up against Wei Ying’s ass, obscene. Wei Ying jolts. He probably guessed what Lan Zhan was doing behind him but he has not been able to see the dildo. He twists around to look now, wide-eyed, shock-mouthed. Lan Zhan dribbles more lube on Wei Ying’s hole but leaves the dildo wet with only Wei Ying’s spit.

“Aren’t you glad you drooled all over it?” Lan Zhan asks him.

Wei Ying’s head drops down between his shoulders and he shudders. Lan Zhan scoots his robe up a little bit more, so Lan Zhan can clearly see his dick. Hard, wet. Lube has dribbled down from his ass to drip along his balls. Soon it might drip down the shaft of his dick.

“Here you go,” Lan Zhan says, teasing the tip of the dildo against Wei Ying’s hole. “To keep you full while I cook, baby.”

Wei Ying shudders again, fists clenching. “Oh fuck,” he breathes, “Oh fuck, please, I need it.”

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says.

Lan Zhan makes him squirm for a minute, uses the flex of the dildo to brush it hard against Wei Ying’s hole but not let him take it inside. Wei Ying finally gasps and says, in a rush, “I need to be full, I gotta. Just keep me like this in your kitchen, please, please.”

Lan Zhan hums and holds the dildo steady. Wei Ying fucks himself back onto it so hard that he hits Lan Zhan’s fingers. Lan Zhan sits back, in front of Wei Ying. A hand in Wei Ying’s hair, Wei Ying’s glassy eyes meeting his. “Just keep it in you, baby,” Lan Zhan says softly. His hands cup Wei Ying’s face. “Stay still and keep it in you, good boy.”

Wei Ying moans and spreads his knees a little. He’s shaking, he’s sweating. Lan Zhan always hated sweating until he discovered sex, and now he loves it. “Fuck!” he says, loud in Lan Zhan’s big house, in Lan Zhan’s kitchen. “It hurts, it hurts.”

“Are you telling me to pause?” Lan Zhan asks.

“No,” Wei Ying whispers. He looks straight into Lan Zhan’s eyes. “I’m telling you it hurts.” Their gazes hold. Lan Zhan’s world swims. He grips his cock in his trousers for just a second, but Wei Ying sees. Wei Ying’s eyes roll back. He twitches like he wants to fuck onto the dildo, but he stays still. Lan Zhan is breathing open-mouthed too, now.

Lan Zhan’s brain unclouds for a brief, shining moment and he remembers that he is soaking shiitake mushrooms in the soup pan on his stove. They should be ready to take out and trim the stems. There; he’ll use kitchen scissors instead of the cleaver and it will be something approaching passably safe.

He gets up and takes the whole soup pot and places it in his sink, where Wei Ying is on his hands and knees. He reaches down and pets Wei Ying’s hair. Wei Ying chokes and tries to chase his hand, mouth open. He catches Lan Zhan’s thumb and sucks and Lan Zhan does make a sound, involuntary. His mouth is so soft. He is grinding a little back on the dildo. If he does too much he really will make it hurt too badly; the big dildo was more than enough.

“Stay still,” Lan Zhan says.

Lan Zhan takes the kitchen scissors out of the drying rack, and pulls out a shiitake, and snips the first mushroom stem. They pass a few quiet minutes that way, with Lan Zhan snipping stems and occasionally petting Wei Ying’s hair. The sun is lowering, golden. Less smoke in the air today.

Wei Ying moans and uses the slack in the strap between his wrist cuffs to struggle up from his forearms to brace himself on both hands — on Lan Zhan’s foot, ow — and bury his face in Lan Zhan’s thigh. His little hot mouth is sucking frantically at Lan Zhan’s trouser leg, fabric going damp. Lan Zhan is so turned on he is lightheaded. He puts the scissors down in self-defense. Maybe he can just tear off the last of the mushroom stems. Fuck, fuck.

“I can’t give you my fingers,” Lan Zhan tells him, stern. “I’m cooking. It would be unsanitary.”

He watches as Wei Ying tries to balance between the dildo in his ass, his bound hands braced and Lan Zhan’s foot, and his mouth on Lan Zhan’s trousers. The cabinet door creaks. Wei Ying strains upwards and puts his mouth over the crotch of Lan Zhan’s trousers.

Lan Zhan is not going to survive this.

“Do you—” Wei Ying whispers to Lan Zhan’s hard, hard cock. “Lan Zhan, would you…?”

There is a roaring in Lan Zhan’s ears.

Lan Zhan has condoms in his pocket with no actual intention to use them for this particular scene. He was going to use toys. He was going to fill Wei Ying a dozen little ways. He still will, he promises himself, he still will if Wei Ying wants to do something like this again, but not until —

“Be patient if you want it,” Lan Zhan says. Fuck, his voice is too low, too rough, too affected. Wei Ying just moans, noses at his thigh again, suckles at his dark wash jeans. “I can,” Wei Ying says, “I can, I can be patient, help me be patient Lan Zhan, I— I — I—!”

“Pull off the dildo, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan says, because he cannot be this unbalanced and risk falling over with it still in him. The suction cup would probably just come off the cabinet, but it could bruise him.

We Ying moans but does it with surprisingly little complaint. Instead he focuses, apparently, on gripping Lan Zhan’s jeans between his teeth even as Lan Zhan unzips his fly, hasty, violent. Lan Zhan wonders if Wei Ying is coming unplanned by both of them but no, it doesn’t seem like it. He would be able to see, anyway. The come would splatter on his kitchen floor. Lan Zhan gasps as he pulls his cock out.

Wei Ying looks up at his cock. “Too big,” Wei Ying murmurs, “Too big, you’ll break me, hahhh, you’ll really—”

It’s ridiculous after the pink dildo situation. It doesn’t matter.

Lan Zhan rolls the condom over his cock, tightens his lips. He has learned to enjoy it, the feeling. It is one of the little rituals to sex, to putting his body in someone else’s. Now it is part of the anticipation. The little extra tightness of it at the base of his hard cock, the way it presses gently at the soft skin of his balls. Lan Zhan buys mostly anal condoms, plain and sturdy. Not perfect for blowjobs, but it will work.

“Open for me,” Lan Zhan whispers. His heart is beating so hard. And then he gently feeds Wei Ying his dick. They shake together, Lan Zhan hissing out a breath between his teeth. “Good,” he grinds out, “Yes, good boy.”

Wei Ying moans, and this time it is around Lan Zhan’s cock. Lan Zhan breathes deeply, focuses on Wei Ying. The dizziness fades. The kitchen settles back around him, existing, warm and familiar. Wei Ying is having a little trouble getting his mouth onto Lan Zhan’s cock and still grinding back on the dildo; Lan Zhan obligingly steps closer, lets him fill himself on Lan Zhan. He can drink and drink; Lan Zhan has oceans of this. Wei Ying moans. Lan Zhan thrusts forward, presses his cock in, presses Wei YIng back against the counters. Wei Ying’s cuffed hands scramble at the hem of Lan Zhan’s trousers. Lan Zhan eases them into something which can be kept up, a slower rhythm.

Still, Wei Ying is panting harshly through his nose. Lan Zhan carefully, carefully frees his hands and cuts a few more stems off mushrooms, very slowly, and watches. Grinds his cock into Wei Ying’s mouth; stops, pulls Wei Ying off to make him breathe gasping breaths and to tell him, “Good job.”

Wei Ying says, hoarse, “Is it good, Lan Zhan, does it feel good, do I feel good?”

“Yes,” Lan Zhan bites out, both hands framing Wei Ying’s face, pulling him back to Lan Zhan’s dick, “Yes, you feel good. You feel so good, Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying moans and slides off Lan Zhan’s dick with a little pop; Lan Zhan doesn’t immediately force him back, waits to see what he will do. He shuffles closer, stumbles trying to kneel up and brace himself against Lan Zhan’s legs, mouthing at Lan Zhan’s shaft. Lan Zhan grabs the cord between his wrist cuffs and pulls up, both surprising Wei Ying and keeping him upright.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers, “I--I—”

Lan Zhan guides his head back to Lan Zhan’s cock. Wei Ying whines and shuffles closer, closer, till he’s plastered up against Lan Zhan’s legs. There — his cock, which he’s rutting desperately against Lan Zhan’s leg. When Lan Zhan gasps and pulls Wei Ying off Lan Zhan’s cock he whispers, “Lan Zhan please, please, oh god. I won’t get in the way, you can keep cooking, I can just. Just.”

“You want to grind on my leg?” Lan Zhan says.

“I’m gonna,” Wei Ying pants, “Oh fuck, I can’t help it I’m gonna come like this on your kitchen floor, I’m gonna.”

“We didn’t plan on you coming,” Lan Zhan says. Wei Ying tips his head back, whines, humps Lan Zhan’s leg harder.

Lan Zhan holds his head back, pulls off the condom, and slaps Wei Ying’s cheek with his dick. Wei Ying’s eyes roll back; he moans and buries his face in Lan Zhan’s hip, probably right against the zipper of his undone jeans. He’s really going for it now, not trying to be subtle, not trying to be elegant. It is hard to be suave about humping a man’s calf. The bathrobe is untied now, in disarray, and Wei Ying is fucking up hard, faster, grinding his cock against the soft bathrobe and Lan Zhan’s jeans. It probably hurts. He probably likes it.

Fuck, Lan Zhan thinks savagely. Fuck.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, “Lan Zhan I can’t stop, I can’t stop, I— ahh, ahhh!” He breaks off and Lan Zhan thinks perhaps he will try to hold his breath again, but he cannot do that either, it seems. Lan Zhan, in some insane impulse, slips a knuckle of his finger into Wei Ying’s mouth, between his teeth. Wei Ying obligingly bites down on Lan Zhan’s knuckle and screams through a clenched jaw as he comes. It splatters over the bathrobe, the floor. Wei Ying shudders a few times then collapses against Lan Zhan.

He just breathes, hard, and clings. “Wha—” he mumbles. “The fuck.”

Lan Zhan kneels down and quickly unclips the cord between Wei Ying’s cuffs. Wei Ying pants for another moment then sways into Lan Zhan. It’s so different than before; they are touching again. The bathrobe is nearly off one shoulder. Lan Zhan reaches up to fix it, reflexively. Wei Ying puts both hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders, cuff strap dangling from his right wrist. He is shaking, flushed, intent. He looks Lan Zhan in the eyes and says, more clearly than he has spoken in half an hour, urgent, “I know we didn’t plan for it for another couple sessions, but Lan Zhan, would you be able to fuck me?”

Something in Lan Zhan surges towards him. Lan Zhan looks down at Wei Ying’s teeth marks in his knuckle. Marks from toys or bodies were on Wei Ying’s good list. So was, in fairness, being fucked.

Lan Zhan, for a moment, cannot talk. He tries and he cannot. He holds up two fingers.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying breathes. “That works, Zhan’er. I can’t — I won’t be able to calm down till you’ve fucked me.” Lan Zhan thinks about Wei Ying alone on the dining table, untouched at the party, alone in his bed texting someone because he wanted so badly to be full.

Words are nearly back, but not quite yet. Lan Zhan hoists Wei Ying up again, onto the white tile, the neatly bleached grout. Wei Ying laughs, shaking from the orgasm he hadn’t really expected or been ready for. Something in Lan Zhan unknots. Wei Ying on the counter is not like Wei Ying on the dining table. Wei Ying is balanced between his sink and his keurig, spreading his legs. Lan Zhan ducks down and presses his face there, breathing between Wei Ying’s thighs. Drags his face up and down them as Wei Ying shakes, kisses his thighs, brushes with his fingers Wei Ying’s hole, his balls, his soft cock. Wei Ying pants, overstimulated. He wraps his legs around Lan Zhan’s shoulders, tugs almost shyly even with his head thrown back and his own semen all over his stomach and Lan Zhan’s bathrobe. Lan Zhan slicks up two fingers and touches where Wei Ying is ready for him. He wants to laugh; he has big hands but he absolutely started Wei Ying on something hilariously, monstrously bigger. He did not set himself up well for this at all. Yet when he thrusts two fingers in Wei Ying cries out, Wei Ying says, “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, finally. Take it, take what you need from me, please, ahh— please!”

And Lan Zhan rocks foreward, fucks Wei Ying on the kitchen counter. The mushrooms are still in the soup pot in the sink, right next to Wei Ying. The sunlight through the smoke is red gold and Wei Ying is bathed in it like he is standing under stained glass, or in a bright room done up in red silk. Lan Zhan’s fingers are in Wei Ying, not his cock, which is tucked messily back into his trousers. He shoves his other hand down them. He is supposed to be giving a piano lesson right now.

But Wei Ying is beginning to cry, and it looks different than a line of text from Wei Ying saying “I might cry”. Lots of people cry, but it hasn’t been like this. Wei Ying isn’t going to come again, but he wants the sex, he wants it. Lan Zhan tugs his own cock with his left hand, so turned on his ears are ringing and his face is numb. Wei Ying is begging for him to come as if it’s Lan Zhan’s dick that’s in him, tears on his cheeks, overwhelmed next to soaking mushrooms, next to the keurig. Lan Zhan thinks perhaps Wei Ying likes it, likes being worked into the fabric of Lan Zhan’s kitchen. There is the paper towel roll, there is the sink, there is Wei Ying getting reamed on two fingers, there is the keurig. Rice cooker, kettle, discarded condom on the floor.

It is something. It is a thought.

Lan Zhan bites his own lip hard as he comes, filled up with it. Wei Ying slams his head back, moaning and soft, and Lan Zhan barely manages to get his hand up in time but he does cup it between Wei Ying and the window, lets Wei Ying smash his head into Lan Zhan’s palm and grind Lan Zhan’s knuckles against the blinds, which may be broken now, Lan Zhan doesn’t know. He’s come and it’s peaking again, a phantom second arc of pleasure through him. Another spurt of come in his hand. He pants, raggedly, into the air above Wei Ying, which is the safest air in the kitchen to breathe.

Wei Ying is whispering, “Yeah, yes, yes,yes—yes,” and he is not going to come again, Lan Zhan does not think, but the crying is something like that. A release for Lan Zhan to work him through. Lan Zhan gently pulls his fingers out with a little goodbye wiggle that makes Wei Ying jump and then take his first good, deep breath. First, Lan Zhan leans over a few inches from Wei Ying and runs the sink. He washes both his hands. One is covered in his own come, the other was bare in Wei Ying’s asshole. He uses dish detergent. Wei Ying mumbles when a little spray catches him. Then, slowly, he takes Wei Ying’s shaking thighs from around his waist and sets them down on the counter, stroking each one. Wei Ying cannot even hold his legs up around Lan Zhan’s waist anymore. He strokes both thighs again, grateful, painfully grateful for all of Wei Ying. Strokes his shivering ribs and his bony, hairy ankles and wraps the bathrobe tighter around his chest. Then, thoughtfully, he tucks his little finger of the Wei-Ying’s-ass hand back into Wei Ying’s ass, just for a bit.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers into Lan Zhan’s shoulder after Lan Zhan presses his face there briefly to massage his neck with his clean hand. “Oh. Oh you like. Took good care of me.”

“Hmm,” Lan Zhan responds, acknowledging Wei Ying. He feels there is room for improvement. He feels good, though. Warm, tired. Ahead on tomorrow’s dinner prep, hilariously. His kitchen blinds are definitely broken. Wei Ying in his arms like this is distracting, Wei Ying around one finger, still. When Wei Ying shifts, Lan Zhan is the one who makes an involuntary noise. He felt Wei Ying tighten around his pinky.

“Ahh,” Wei Ying says. “Ah, you stayed in me, you even stayed in me?” He sniffles and Lan Zhan smiles at him a little, cannot quite help it. He crooks his finger hello. Wei Ying whimpers about it, big and performative.

“I am going to pull out now,” he warns, as if he’s balls-deep in Wei Ying. Wei Ying nods and sighs, pouting a little. Lan Zhan bites his lip and pulls his pinky out, regretfully. Wei Ying swings a leg a tiny bit, just enough to hit his heel against the cabinet.

“Stop hiding it. Wanna see how much you came,” he mumbles.

“Wei Ying made me come so much,” Lan Zhan says soothingly — honestly, too — as he buttons his jeans over the mess. His blouse has jizz on it, thank god. Wei Ying’s mess, on him. He opens the cabinet below Wei Ying and throws the blowjob condom away in the trashcan that lives below the sink.

“In the kitchen!” Wei Ying slurs above him. “You throw condoms away in your kitchen!”

“It is my house,” Lan Zhan says, straight-faced, heart pounding again just from looking at him. But it is less terrifying; he is floating on it. Wei Ying in his kitchen, well-fucked. Wei Ying just blinking at him, soft eyed and hazy.

It is something. It is.

***

In the back yard there are two deck chairs of dubious comfort, covered in scratchy outdoor cushions.

They are laying together in one, watching the dusk come into the garden under the pepper tree. Walkers go by on the bike path behind the house, mostly hidden from view behind the lemon tree and the hedges and the compost bins.

Lan Zhan is warm from a very, very fast shower, and in boxers and the second-best bathrobe. Wei Ying is in the good bathrobe, still warm from the dryer, somehow. He had not wanted to shower yet.

It seems like when Wei Ying is coming down, he talks. At first Lan Zhan thought (while getting talked at through the shower door) it meant he was resurfacing, but no, he’s still in headspace, just not the quiet kind. The gentle lap of words are good; they help Lan Zhan judge so easily where he is even as Lan Zhan bundles him up in one arm. They are spooning. Wei Ying had grabbed a blanket off the sofa in the den for them.

“Check it out Lan Zhan,” he slurs, twisting his head to look up at the sky between two Italian cypress pines which gently shade the lounge chairs. “It’s still light out but you can already see the moon. And right now Jupiter and Saturn are right next to each other somewhere to the--to the left. They’re really bright right now, have you seen them at night?”

“Maybe,” Lan Zhan says. It doesn’t seem like Wei Ying needs more of a response than that, but Lan Zhan finds himself offering, “There’s a bright star I see from my window when I go to bed, just above the hills.”

“When you go to— oh, no. Silly boy, that’s Mars. Mars rises a lot later.”

Lan Zhan smiles. “Now I know,” he says, solemn.

“If you could like, see Jupiter’s magnetic field….” Wei Ying says.

“Mn?” Lan Zhan prompts.

“Oh. If you could see it, Jupiter would be the size of a quarter in the sky.”

Lan Zhan nods. Wei Ying nods back, that bit of wisdom dispensed.

There is a pause. Above them is a dusty evening-blue sky that feels, somehow, higher than skies in the rest of the world. It just feels like that here, in this place. In the Bay, in this neighborhood, where the fire-wind whispers in the pines. Breeze in the trees, pepper tree and lemon and pine. The neighbors who fight all the time are trying to grow roses.

“Are you, um. Lan Zhan, are you hard?”

“Yes,” says Lan Zhan, carefully. “A little.”

“Can I um, feel it? If you’re comfortable with that? I just like — I feel better knowing that you’re — yeah.”

Lan Zhan nods slowly, his nose brushing Wei Ying’s hair. He relaxes his hips, which had tensed when Wei Ying asked, careful to keep his erection away from Wei Ying in case it felt like pressure, or did not help him ease back to the surface.

He doesn’t actually mean to take his cock fully out, just to adjust his boxers and press it against the backs of Wei Ying’s thighs, but he is hard — very hard, not just a little, his body is like this — and when he tugs at fabric his cockhead pops out of the fly of his boxer briefs. Wei Ying makes a happy little sound in his throat, even as Lan Zhan watches in dazed resignation as he pulls back the blanket to see that Wei Ying has rucked up the bathrobe and Lan Zhan’s cock is smearing precome on Wei Ying’s bare thighs.

Wei Ying smiles a little, face tucked against the scratchy cushions, and lifts his top leg under the blanket. Lan Zhan bites the inside of his mouth and breathes. He holds his cock and guides it between Wei Ying’s warm, barely sweaty thighs. Wei Ying relaxes and Lan Zhan allows himself a sharp little exhale, a ghost of a gasp.

He feels, unexpectedly, calmed by it. His cock held tightly between Wei Ying’s legs, safe and welcomed. Lan Zhan says, anyway, “You do not need to be making me hard in order to feel good.”

Wei Ying flaps a hand like — I know, I know.

“It’s nice,” Lan Zhan whispers, laying fully back down.

Wei Ying shifts around until he can squeeze Lan Zhan’s hand. Now the message is urgent instead of flippant, but the same: I know, I know.

***

That night, Lan Zhan cannot sleep.

The moon is full and Mars is so bright above it, overwhelming and obvious, red-tinted and unapologetic. Right where Wei Ying said it would be, right where it has been every night for weeks when Lan Zhan did not have a name for it. Moonlight cuts Lan Zhan’s bed in half at his calves; his feet are in a story, a dreamworld. Sleeping alone long enough makes him forget that he does sleep. There is no proof of it. There is no example of sleep’s existence next to him in bed. Dreams feel like no proof. He wants to see himself sleep. He wants to sleep next to someone who will watch him sleep, who might touch his hair where it sticks sweat damp to his face when he is halfway in between.

***

In an attempt to balance out his life a little, and because she is his friend, Lan Zhan tries something new and has Jiang Yanli over to smoke weed and watch baseball. It goes extremely well. Lan Zhan finally calms down, after the Friday with Wei Ying, who has of course texted, but it’s not— They sit in silence, getting high and making the occasional cutting remark about [baseball thing]. “Do you watch other sports?” Yanli asks.

Lan Zhan glances at her out of the corner of his eye, joint pressed between his lips. He got into smoking weed when he quit smoking cigarettes. People don’t believe that he used to go out to a lot of clubs (where he also smoked), but the wall of noise is a lot easier than the up and down meandering of a bar. A club is honest with you. Also, Lan Zhan liked to fuck, and his brothers friends were all Berkeley law students.

“Some,” Lan Zhan says, voice a little tight with smoke. “I don’t like soccer,” he adds preemptively.

“Hm,” says Yanli. “Hm, give me the remote. Do you know figure skating at all?”

“No,” says Lan Zhan.

“I am going to show you something,” says Yanli, doing violence to Lan Zhan’s smart TV remote. “This shit is wild.”

“Okay,” says Lan Zhan. He is pretty high. Potentially, he thinks ten minutes later, too high to be faced with Yuzuru Hanyu in all his glory, but there it goes.

They watch in silence as Yanli finds a full competition rerun on Youtube. Everything is in Russian, so Lan Zhan does not even have to listen to commentary. Ideal.

“This is good,” he tells Yanli very seriously after an hour. They have moved from men’s singles to ice dance, and Lan Zhan is learning exactly when to make a disparaging face at a badly turned out twizzle. “I like this sport.”

“Good,” Yanli says, taking a solemn drag on the joint as, on the screen, a new kind of combination lift occurs. “What else do you like? You didn’t say.”

Lan Zhan frowns. “Softball,” he says. “Alpine skiing.”

“Do you like… badminton?”

“No,” Lan Zhan says. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s just funny,” Yanli explains earnestly. “All the sports you like are completely the opposite of my little brother. He was on the varsity badminton team. He secretly still loves badminton.”

“Your brother is a business major. I am unemployed. We are not the same.”

“Oh, no, not A-Cheng, my other brother. My other one,” Yanli assured him, flapping a casual hand.

“Oh,” says Lan Zhan. “I apologize, I thought there was only one.”

“Nope,” says Yanli. “My two boys.”

She sounds loving, and tired.

“I will work hard at hating badminton,” he promises her solemnly. “I will keep it up my whole life.”

“Thank you, friend,” Yanli says, flinging a leg up on the sofa. “I am going to take a nap. Make the tv show us pairs skating. You’ll like— Sui and Han, Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

She falls asleep. Lan Zhan sits comfortably, legs spread, on his sofa. He watches pairs skating. He cries a little. When Yanli wakes up he says they should go for a walk to look at the bridges over the bay.

“You can see the bay from here?” asks Yanli. She is filling Lan Zhan’s uncle’s Oakland As mug with water, which she says she is bringing with her for the walk.

“Yes,” says Lan Zhan. “It’s better if we walk up the Peak, of course. But we can see them if we walk up and loop on the street above the bike path, up the hill.”

“That’s so funny,” says Yanli. “I live so close by and I never noticed!”

“It is only one place,” says Lan Zhan.

They find outdoor shoes and walk down Lan Zhan’s street, under the whispering pines. They walk up the street where kids like the drag race at night, before the coyotes come out. An old uncle comes past walking a very small dog that wants to sniff Lan Zhan. They walk up to the fancy little neighborhood above Lan Zhan’s fancy little neighborhood. The hills are golden behind them, perfectly golden, like a promise: you do, you really do live here, for better or for worse.

At the crest of a little neighborhood hill they stop on the sidewalk and look down. There it is, a tiny distant glimpse of the Bay, which looks flat and calm from a distance. The haze is settling. The sun has gone down already into the cold green Pacific, the ocean which has for so long held Lan Zhan’s life in it. You cannot see the ocean from here; you cannot see the North Bay or SF, or any famous skyline at all.

The bridges have blinking red lights on them, for planes Lan Zhan guesses, coming into Oakland or SFO.

“Which one is that?” Yanli asks, slurping her water. Her shoulders are relaxed, finally. Lan Zhan’s phone buzzes in his pocket, a sweet promise, but he does not take it out yet.

“I do not know,” says Lan Zhan. “Dumbarton? San Mateo?” He squints as if he will be able to figure it out by looking.

Yanli hums a few bars: Bridge Over Troubled Water. “Like a briiiidge called Saaan Mateo—” she mumble-sings into her mug of water, and laughs, and Lan Zhan dares to hum along for the first time in very many years, since the last time sang with his throat instead of piano wire, here in this place where he can escape nothing. He hums and she makes up the words, makes up the words, and he sings along, low for just a second: Like a bridge called San Mateo, I will lay me down. She breaks into laughter. Lan Zhan feels more solemn than that, but it seems like that is alright.

Lan Zhan takes out his phone, just for a moment before they walk down the hill into the lilac dusk, to take a picture to send.

#my fic #in the pines #ask replies #fic ask replies #anon ask replies #cryinngggg 13k tumblr post will u even work

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splickedylit · 1 year

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The ROTTMNT fandom has been incredibly sweet about The Kindness of Collision and it's been very galvanizing! Full set of illustrations is finally done and updated into the fic and I am once again holding out these weird hurt/comfort turtle timeline shenanigans to you, the internet. UoU

Thank you to the people who pointed out that if old man Mikey has hair, he must grow hair at some point in the future, and double thank you to the people who drew him looking very cute and made me stop hating the idea lol

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rise mikey #rise donnie #rise raph #rise leo #Splickedydoodles #these were always going to get a full photo post when they were done tbh because I'm very pleased with how they turned out!#I am not a person to @ people but if you like rottmnt go read somerandomdudelmao's comics they are very cute and also tragic in places #and I know I got some of my Bad Timeline headcanons from Cass although this fic took so long to write I don't remember which ones haha

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avelnfear · 1 year

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Chapter Eight

Masterlist

Talia wasn’t as cold as she was made out to be. Not in the depths of her heart, anyway. She couldn’t have been with her childhood friend that had kept her company, telling her tales of the outside world and showing her ways to win fights without showing her hand. Eventually, she’d understood how special her friend was, but even before then she’d been keeping her softer demeanor hidden. It would not do to show the League of Assassins or Father that she wasn’t as cold and unbothered as an Al Ghul should be.

Her friend featured in her dreams as often as in her waking moments, although the dreams were so different from what her life was like. It showed her in a very different environment, older, with a son, Father was long dead, and she was just meeting her friend for the first time as a grown woman. It showed her the consequences of her friend knowing their history too soon from the start, and anytime she was tempted to spill the beans about what she knew it was quick to remind her. The dreams were clearly not always in order and some details were hazy, but she was grateful for the valuable information they provided.

As was inevitable, her friend had to stop visiting for a period of time due to the rules of time travel and all that. She didn’t look for them, knowing that she’d find them again when the time was right. Father never found out about her friend, although he was suspicious for a little while about what she was hiding until she threw him off the scent with a more feasible “secret” than a time traveling friend from other lives. On the outside, she shouldn’t have had the level of experience needed to lie to Father, but, on the inside, she knew how because she’d lived longer than him.

All this rushed through her head in seconds as one of her people knelt before her. She hummed lightly to let him know that she wasn’t upset, merely thoughtful, and his relaxation only proved to her that this was the right way to lead. Leading through kindness and respect rather than fear and respect. The information was so much more free this way, and the loyalty was even stronger.

“You did well Simon.” She practically purred the words as a plan with several contingencies sprung to the front of her mind. “Keep watch as you have done for so long and don’t worry about interfering just yet. Everything will work out. Report back to me when the day is set for that man’s plan, and remember Plan Ouroboros.” She nodded her dismissal, and the nod was returned as Simon retreated to his post.

Talia settled onto the ground with her legs crossed and her hands resting on her knees. She let her eyes close, extending her awareness to make sure she was still alone in the room while she descended into thought. It would not be wise to let down her guard even in her own room at the heart of a stronghold that belonged to Father. She needed to be careful, now just as much as ever and maybe even more than usual.

This situation was truly one that she could never have dreamed of, even when she’d discovered that she was not alone in her memories with the arrival of her precious child, her shining star. He’d kept it fairly under wraps, enough that no one who didn’t know what he should be acting like wouldn’t pick up on it, but she picked up on it, responding by nurturing him the slightest bit more in whatever way she could.

It’s not to say that she didn’t hope for her and her child to reunite with the friend they both knew, no, Talia had always hoped that such a situation would happen. She just didn’t think it would be so… perfect. The friend was currently away, there was no evidence of anyone else remembering anything, and she was currently in a position where taking over the League, with her friend and Plan Ouroboros to help, would go off without too many issues in most scenarios. It was absolutely wonderful, almost as wonderful as the faces of her loved ones as they realized just who she actually was and who she stood with.

That thought led her to think about Bruce, her Beloved. At first, she’d thought what they’d had was true love, but now, through the lenses of hindsight, she knew that it was true love, in a different way then her first imaginings. Bruce was her Beloved Brother, which made it a little weird when she remembered he was the Father of her precious child, but she dealt with those feelings as they came. Choosing to ignore them most of the time, like right now for instance.

Talia wondered how her other precious child was doing. It had broken her heart to have to curse him to deal with the side effect of the way she brought his mind back, but she knew it was a necessary part of his character going forward. She’d not tried to manipulate him nearly as much nor in the same direction as previously, but she still knew he’d done some heavy things that he’d surely regret, again. She hoped that one day he would see her as the maternal figure she’d hoped to be.

Her friend was going to absolutely tear Father apart, but that wouldn’t be beneficial. No, to truly make the amount of impact while maintaining the distance they wanted, she’d have to be the one to face Father. Which meant that she’d finally be able to show her friend the fruits of her labor combined with the genius of their training. It would only make the shocked faces of her loved ones even more amusing and entertaining. It would single handedly prove that she was correct to hide cameras all over the League’s bases, aside from all the obvious information gathering opportunities.

Talia was starting to grow restless, itching for a weapon in her hand or something to do, somewhere to move, but that was not what this exercise was for. She already had great self control, but there would never be any harm in making sure to hone that particular skill. Out of spite towards herself, she emptied her head of thoughts for the next two hours.

A knock at her door pulled her out of her thoughts, it appeared that it was time to go on a mission, and, judging by the breathing pattern and the depth of said breathing outside her door, it was one of Father’s minions and it was urgent. This was likely the mission to go and set up the structure that would be used to kidnap the Bats and the Birds, how amusing.

Standing and wiping any and all signs of emotion from her face, she made towards the door, this would prove to be very interesting, no matter how the cards fell.

~`~`~

Elle stared at her sleeping original, at her ma. They’d talked to Ghost Writer who’d told them that he’d do some research yet promised no results. She’d read between the lines to see that Ghost Writer just wanted a good story with plenty of suspense this time around. Danny had been mildly annoyed at the prospect of waiting, which she understood given what case they were looking for the answers to, but he hadn’t gotten too angry, meaning there must still be time or hope left. Clockwork had worked Danny till he was ready to drop, and even sleeping as much as he had didn’t fully get rid of the exhaustion.

Her thoughts were a mess because of the excitement-anxiety-happy-belonging that churned in her core due to the upcoming chance to live with Danny. She knew that she’d have to watch her behavior in order to not accidentally incriminate her beloved template to any of their precious bats, but she could, no, she would do it. Elle wanted so badly for all of them to remember, to know what all they’d been through together, but it just wasn’t meant to be.

She hoped that there wouldn’t be too many misunderstandings with her around. She’d only been speaking in Ghost Speak for a couple of years now, and it never really translated all that well into simple conversations in mortal languages. Elle had been exploring the Realms for those years, only using mortal languages again when she needed to go on missions now and then to keep Danny safe.

Putting that thought from her mind, she curled around her original once again, basking in the complete sense of safety that they were giving off. Things would be okay as long as she always had her wonderful parent to come back to. She just hoped, prayed and desired for her Pops to wake up, or his memories to at least. She wasn’t sure just how stable her original would remain without him by their side.

~`~`~

Jason had slept until just an hour before Danny returned, and he was now standing outside of their door, building up the courage to knock. He didn’t know why it was so difficult, it was just Danny after all, but something was telling him that knocking on the door would change a great many things. It seemed nonsensical at best to assume that something so simple could truly change so much, but Jason hadn’t gotten this far by ignoring his instincts.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock, only for the door to swing open and an unfamiliar girl to look up at him, blinking slightly in shock. A wide, teasing grin swept over her face as she leaned back to face further into Danny’s apartment and called out, “Ma!! Tall, Dark and Handsome is here to see you!!” Jason flushed at the words. What?!

Did Danny have a girlfriend? Who? Why hadn’t they told him beforehand? Had Danny moved or gone missing? Who was this strange girl standing in the doorway? Why did she seem to recognize him? What was the nickname for? Why-? What-? Huh-? He could swear his brain was shutting down because his vision was going all weird and he could hear a strange humming that seemed to bubble in volume.

“-ason. Jason. Jason!” He suddenly became aware of the fact that he was laying on Danny’s ridiculously comfortable couch while Danny’s face swam into view in front of him. “Can you see me, Jason? Do I need to give you the same treatment I gave Tim?”

Jason flinched at the idea of being slapped like that, it had sounded like it really hurt. “No, no, I’m… good, I think. Um.” Why was Jason fumbling on this so hard? There was no real explanation for it.

“Ma!” The word was extended teasingly from someone out of sight, the voice was gleeful and reminded Jason of the girl who’d opened the door. “Is Tin Can awake and aware yet?”

Tin Can? Wait, did she know who he was? Who was-

“Danielle Helene Rhea Nightingale, you stop teasing our guest right this instant.” Danny’s voice cracked like a whip with all the intensity of one of Alfred’s commands. He was glaring at someone behind Jason, and the fire in his eyes captivated Jason. It was so intense and so breathtaking and- he stopped the train of thought right in its tracks before it became a train wreck and got himself slapped.

“Sorry Ma.” It was the sort of dragged out apology done by someone who’d been reprimanded about this very thing far too many times. “I’ll be good.” The girl walked around the couch and into his sight, looking properly chastised.

“Why does she call you Ma?” It took a second for Jason to recognize that he was the one who asked the question. The other two were looking at each other by the time he did, having a silent conversation that Jason couldn’t understand.

Danny sighed. “We come from a place that often uses a language that doesn’t translate well into any language that I know of. It’s a small town on Earth with a lot of immigrants that taught me their language. Elle here is my adopted child, and she used only that language for a couple of years. Old habits die hard and all that. The actual translation, before you ask, is a little bit close to something like: the parental figure who primarily looks after emotional needs that is there for their child in any time they are needed. English translates that to Mother and all the variations of it due to the supposed gender roles enforced by the history of the language and other stuff like that. She also tends to call me Pa or Da as well, but she’s been calling me Ma since I agreed to let her come live with me full time now that I have a safe space.”

The girl, Elle, nodded behind Danny, affirming what they were saying. “Yeah! I might have some weird stuff that I say sometimes, but I’ll always try to elaborate if it’s brought up that there’s a misunderstanding!” She beamed at him with a massive smile that lit up the room better than the lights were.

“Oh… That makes sense. What does the language sound like?” He felt his head tilt, internally cursing the fact that he’d started to copy a couple of Danny’s mannerisms, his brothers would never let him live that down.

Elle and Danny shared another series of looks that Jason couldn’t translate. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s not very… human in nature.” Elle seemed almost, afraid? concerned? conflicted?, one of those three or maybe all about the answer she would receive.

“I gathered as much from the translation and how you two are dancing around the subject. If you don’t want to share with me, then don’t, I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re someone Danny cares about, so you’re someone I care about.” He tried to smile to show more emotion than his voice was giving off, but he didn’t think it worked because Elle looked close to tears.

“It’s your decision Little Rocket, you decide. I’m not quite comfortable speaking in that language right now, so it’s all up to you.” Danny was more gentle and soft in voice and face and behavior than Jason had ever seen, and it made him fall more for him. Wait-

“Okay then, here goes!” She opened her mouth and made some sort of noise that sounded like sunlight filtering through water on a warm and sunny day mixed with the feeling of lots of clouds covering the sun while simultaneously feeling like watching the stars on a windy night while on a tall perch covered in the warm sensation of knowing where you’re going, who you’re going to, and how far you’re willing to go to get there over the rippling view of watching light bend at a molecular level all spiraling with the distinct flavour of peppermint and spearmint combined. It was an odd sound, but it wasn’t one he hated. The strange flavour was something he could do without, but the overall sound gave him an odd sense of peace-joy-mine. It was beautiful.

Looking over at Danny, Jason saw the sheer look of pride on their face, and it just made Jason fall even farther. He could admit it, to himself if no one else, that he’d fallen for his gorgeous neighbor with the wonderful fighting skills, mysterious past, good cooking skills, and the beautiful behavior around children. They were stunning, marvelous, funny, and loyal. He had always been able to feel something in his chest screaming in joy every time he was around his wonderful neighbor, but he’d ignored it before now.

~`~`~

Talia smiled darkly as she went over the plans her people had leaked to her about Father’s plan. It was wonderfully stupid, leaving her plenty of room to separate her precious child from the group to keep him away from the devastation and destruction that would surely be wrought upon the League when this plan went through. She checked the date for the kidnapping against the schedule in her mind, causing her smile to grow in darkness and size. Yes, that date would be perfect for the maximum destruction of Father’s ways.

She composed herself before turning back to Simon, who’d brought her the wonderful news. “Wait until the prisoners are with Father and you will not be missed before activating Plan Ouroboros. Alert the others. Thank you for bringing this to my attention and following my orders.” She received a simple nod as Simon headed out, but she considered that enough, knowing that her orders would be spread among all of her followers.

Turning, she walked deeper into her quarters. There was a small window of time for her to prepare everything that she would need to make Father’s devastating plan immediately backfire, but she was still confident that it would happen. All she needed to do was finally reach out to an old friend of hers as soon as Ra’s decided where he was going to imprison their loved ones. Truly, nothing could be as wonderful or exciting as this. Then again, her friend always was one prone to surprising things. Oh how interesting this was turning out to be.

~`~`~

Ra’s Al Ghul was excited. Everything was proceeding according to plan. Finally, he would have all the tools necessary to rule the world for all of eternity. All that was left was a little kidnapping, a little torture, and a little bit of breaking a civilian with wonderful connects, and he would have what was rightfully his. He couldn’t wait.

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