#her therapist said she should let it out more so i respected that

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [19] - Couples Therapy

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A therapy session can be enlightening.

Word Count: 2300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t like you thought taking Bucky to couple’s therapy for your technically fake marriage was going to be easy, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.

Bucky bounced his leg beside you on the sofa while you both sat in the waiting room, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to attack him at any moment.

“What happens if she asks me questions?” he asked you gruffly and you pulled your brows together.

“You’ll be fine.”

Bucky huffed out and turned to you.

“How about instead of doing this, I just pay you money to walk out of here?”

“Not gonna happen, Bucky.”

“I’ll put the weekend house under your name, you like it there.”

“The weekend house will be mine once we get a divorce anyway,” you reminded him. “It’s on the prenup.”

Bucky licked his lips. “Do you want another house?”

“Stop trying to bribe me,” you told him as he eyed the door to the therapist’s office before fixing the gun in his waistband and you gasped.

“Why did you bring a gun to the therapy?!” you hissed and he narrowed his eyes.

“We don’t know what expects us in there!” he whispered back, making your jaw drop.

“Do you seriously think—Bucky, look me in the eye and tell me you think our therapist is going to try to shoot us in couple’s therapy—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes?” the therapist’s voice reached you as the door opened and you both turned to her before you smiled at her sweetly.

“Hi!”

“You can come in,” she said, stepping aside and you let out a breath, then stood up, holding Bucky by the arm to signal him to stand as well. Bucky heaved a sigh as if he was being tortured but followed you into the room dutifully and you both sat down on the couch, the therapist taking her seat soon after.

“Dr. Raynor,” you said and she smiled back at you.

“Mrs. Barnes.”

“Y/N is fine,” you said and motioned at Bucky. “And this is Bucky.”

Bucky gave her a curt nod quietly and you cleared your throat, shifting your weight.

“My therapist Dr. Cooper recommended you,” you told her. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“Dr. Cooper is a very respected colleague of mine,” she told you. “The feeling is mutual. So what brings you here?”

“Well, we’ve just got married,” you said. “And I’ve been in therapy since I was a child, basically. Bucky on the other hand has a more distant stance towards it so I figured it could help us both if we did it together.”

Dr. Raynor nodded and turned to Bucky.

“And what about you Bucky?” she asked. “What brings you here?”

Bucky raised his brows before pointing at you with his thumb. “She did.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back in the couch and Dr. Raynor hummed.

“You don’t think you should be here?”

“Honestly doc, I have no idea why I’m here,” he said. “I’m fine, our marriage is fine, so...”

“It hasn’t been a month since we got married,” you added. “Just putting it out there. But I think it’ll help Bucky if we build this—habit.”

She turned to Bucky. “And how about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about therapy, Bucky?”

“My dad would always say whatever your problems are, they should stay between your two ears instead of anyone else’s,” Bucky replied, bouncing his leg again. “Hate to agree with the guy, but he has a point.”

“George isn’t exactly the epitome of good mental health, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Either way.”

“Fathers may have different viewpoints especially when it comes to mental health,” Dr. Raynor said. “Given their generation.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “Well, he and my mother have never been to therapy and they’re fine.”

“Your father had like one thousand mistresses,” you pointed out, making Dr. Raynor raise her brows and Bucky made a face.

“Allegedly.”

“It’s not allegedly, Becca literally told me she once—”

“Bucky, how would you describe your parents’ marriage?” she asked and Bucky heaved a sigh.

“They’re fine.”

“Would you say you look up to their marriage?” she asked. “Or that you want to have a similar one?”

You scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“You wouldn’t want to have that?” she asked and you shook your head.

“Bucky can’t disrespect me like that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

You pulled your brows together, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Both,” you said without looking at him. “We have a deal, so I believe he will hold up his end of the deal.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the proud smile curling Bucky’s lips and Dr. Raynor nodded.

“Anything else you feel like you took after your father, besides your opinion on therapy?”

“Why are we talking about my father?” Bucky asked back while you tried to hold back the retort. “I thought this was couples therapy.”

“We can talk about anything you feel like we need to talk about,” Dr. Raynor said. “But most of the time, our parents’ relationship is the blueprint of our own relationships even if we don’t realize it.”

“That’s not what’s happening here,” Bucky said, motioning at you. “It’s different.”

“How?”

“What she said,” Bucky said curtly, nodding in your direction and you heaved a sigh. “He’s good with my mom, and he’s great with my sister, no need to talk about him.”

“But not with you?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky dragged his tongue over his teeth.

“He’s fine.”

“Bucky,” said and he shot you a look.

“What?”

“He’s fine with you? Really?”

“Y/N, not everyone needs a father, okay?” he insisted. “Some of us need a boss while growing up in this business.”

“I don’t think you needed a boss instead of a father when you were a kid, actually,” you insisted, making Dr. Raynor tilt her head.

“Would you mind explaining that?” she asked. “That boss comment?”

Bucky drummed his fingertips on his knee.

“It’s a part of…” he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “My father knew what I was capable of, so he pushed me until I saw it. Until I proved myself. That’s not a terrible thing, it worked out after all.”

You licked your lips.

“Really?” you asked. “So you’d be totally okay with following his footsteps?”

 That made him stop for a moment and he scoffed.

“Fine, I wouldn’t do the cage fight because that shit’s medieval but it was because he knew I could handle it,” he defended him. “He’s great with Becca, and I don’t need him to be good with me. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

Your stomach did a painful flip. “I forgot about that.”

“Cage fight?” Dr. Raynor asked and you both turned to her, Bucky crossing his arms over his chest. You nibbled on your lip.

“Um,” you said. “Our fathers are... CEOs and we both have family companies. There’s this tradition that—the family company has a boss and an heir and when you’re the heir, you need to show that you can handle the job.”

She frowned slightly.

“And the job can get pretty physical,” you said as Bucky let out a bitter chuckle beside you. “And one of the requirements is…when an heir is picked after years of training and everything, once the boss decides it’s time for them to prove themselves, they put you in a cage with other um—” you thought for a moment. “Some professional fighters that happen to be in the business as well, working under the family. Bodyguards, if you will.”

Not bodyguards.

They would put the heir in a cage with the best fighters working for the boss.

“But usually the bosses ask the heir to prove themselves right before they pass the crown, so to speak,” you said and stole a look at him. “Not George though.”

“I was ready to prove myself.”

“At sixteen?” you asked him. “No one fucking asks that of the heir at sixteen, Buck. My father didn’t even put Ian through that yet.”

“I was already his heir, he wanted to make sure,” Bucky said. “I beat everyone up in that cage, didn’t I?”

“Your nose was broken,” you counted with your fingers. “Three of your ribs, you could barely see through one eye for like two weeks because of how swollen it was—”

“But I proved myself,” he pointed out, making you clench your jaw and Dr. Raynor sat up straighter, trying to shake off the shock. “I’m glad I did it, I’d do it again.”

“You see?” you asked. “And then he asks me why we need therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t even know why I’m here, I'm perfectly fine.”

Dr. Raynor licked her lips, then grabbed the notebook by her side while Bucky pursed his lips, slipping a little on the couch.

“Great,” he said. “She has a notebook and everything. Charm, how soon can we leave?”

                                                   *

Well, no one had gotten shot during your first couples therapy session, so as far as you were concerned, it was a success. Bucky had to drop by his office for half an hour to check on something, and after that you figured you could go to lunch together to discuss the next step in your plan so you tagged along.

Becca was already there in his office when you two walked in and Bucky tilted his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Mom sent me,” she told him before coming to kiss your cheek. “Hey!”

“Hi there,” you said, kissing her cheek back. “We’re going to grab lunch after this, do you want to come?”

“Sure, I could eat,” she said, flinging herself on the couch. “Steve is here too, by the way.”

Bucky frowned. “Did you two come together?”

“Nope, I ran into him by the entrance,” she said while you took your spot next to her and Bucky walked to his laptop to switch it on.

“Mom sent you?” Bucky asked and rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, dad asked her to?”

Becca raised her hands while you gritted your teeth at the mention of George.

“You can’t shoot the messenger, there’s truce now.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m going to get shot by the messenger?” Bucky asked back, making her grin.

“You know how mom is,” she reminded him. “She wants all of us to get along. I take it you’re not willing to have another dinner anytime soon?”

“Fuck no—”

“Hey,” Steve said, knocking on the door and waved at you before turning to Bucky. “You’re busy?”

“Not at all,” Bucky said. “Did we have a meeting today? Did I forget?”

“Nah, I was just around,” Steve said. “Figured I could give you the news myself. Clint is flying to Chicago.”

Bucky pulled his brows together. “What?”

Steve shot him a grin. “My reaction exactly,” he said and came to sit on the other sofa. “How was therapy?”

“Ask Y/N,” Bucky said, clicking on something on his laptop. “She was the one who dragged me there.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “He brought a gun to therapy.”

Becca’s eyes widened. “Did you shoot the therapist, Bucky?!”

“No!” Bucky exclaimed. “Jesus, you two have zero trust in me.”

“How was it, really?” Steve asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“He’ll find it easier in the following weeks.”

Bucky frowned at you.

“Following weeks?” he asked. “We’re going there again?”

“Bucky, therapy is not like getting vaccinated,” Becca pointed out. “You can’t just have one session and expect it to fix your shit.”

“I don’t have the time—”

“I already talked to your assistant for the next month, try me,” you said sweetly and Bucky let out a groan, then turned to Steve.

“What is it about Clint and Chicago?”

“Well, he seems to believe that he can convince Rhett.”

Becca’s head whipped up and she blinked a couple of times while you tried to keep a straight face, and subtly pressed your index finger on your lips, giving her a slight grin. She let out a breath, then turned to Steve while Bucky scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s impossible.”

“What’s that about Chicago?” Becca asked and Steve heaved a sigh.

“Chicago’s prince became the new king recently,” he explained. “I thought it was hard to talk to his father, I spoke way too soon.”

“Yeah, he’s a dickhead,” Bucky pointed out while you bit inside your cheek to keep your laughter in. Becca sat up straighter.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone who’s not from Chicago,” Steve said. “Refuses to do business with anyone else.”

“But doesn’t he kind of have to do it?” Becca asked. “Even we do business with other cities.”

“Chicago is different, Bec,” Bucky said. “They have their own rules, and as of now, they don’t actually need other cities.”

“Word on the street they might have to do it soon though,” Steve said. “Every boss in New York is trying to convince him, but as Bucky said, he’s a dickhead so…”

“That’s pointless, I’m telling you,” Bucky said as he typed at his laptop, then slammed the lid shut. “Okay, I’m done. Lunch?”

“I have a meeting with Sam,” Steve said as he stood up from the couch and he and Bucky walked to the door while Becca clicked her tongue, turning to look at you with a huge grin on her face.

“So,” she said and you hummed.

“Yes?”

“I take it he doesn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“None of them do?”

You shook your head, still smiling and Becca let out a laugh, then threw her arm over your shoulder.

“Nice plan,” she said and you giggled.

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go, you know how hungry therapy makes me.”

Chapter 20

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob au #mob!au #bucky barnes x you

[lady-phasma]

Happiness at the end of the world

Chapter 1 of ?

Daryl Dixon x OFC

Warnings: 18+ MDNI; this is really different than anything I have ever shared on Tumblr before - it's fluffy and has lots of feelings and quite a few warnings; Smut, Kinda Friends to Lovers, Bathing/Washing, Awkward Flirting, Not Canon Compliant, No PTSD in chapter 1 (mentions of past abuse in later chapters), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Daryl Dixon, p in v sex, Fingering, Choking, ultra-Light Dom/sub

Summary a/n: Making friends in Alexandria is easier than on the road, which also means friendships can evolve and become something more if the connection is there. There's definitely a connection. Non-canon compliant because I don't ship him with Leah. (I think this is my longest fic, probably because this has been cooking for the full 11 years of TWD.) No beta. 9k words.

Daryl opened the door to the small “apartment” he lived in. Not really an apartment as much as the finished basement of one of the original surviving homes. Dog ran in first, pushing past his legs before the door could open fully. He watched as Dog started licking and nuzzling something on the couch. Dog wasn’t warning him but Daryl was always cautious and set his crossbow down gently as he closed the door and grabbed his knife from his belt all in one swift movement.

No one in Alexandria locked their doors, most of them probably didn’t have the keys to the houses anymore if they had ever had them at all. That meant that people didn’t trespass either. It was an unspoken rule made from mutual respect. Even in the faint light coming through the curtained garden windows he could tell this was a someone just not who. He started to relax a little but still held his knife as he turned on a lantern. Dog whined as the head on the couch turned and sniffed and groaned.

“Tha hell,” Daryl almost yelled it. “Dog, sit! What tha hell’re you doin’ here?” He stepped closer to the couch and sat on the coffee table. Eye level with Kristina as she sat up bleary-eyed and disheveled.

“Ya ain’t gotta yell,” she said as she rubbed her eyes open. Her short hair was sticking up all over on the side that had been on the pillow. “Anyway you’re the one that’s late.”

Daryl grunted and put the lantern on the coffee table. Kristina swung her feet onto the floor to make room on the couch for him.

“Ain’t late for nuthin’,” he grumbled as he stood up. He took his vest off and draped it over a chair followed by his belt and all the attachments. He even put his knife on the side table before sitting down on the couch.

“Well you’re late getting back is what I mean,” she said as he sat. “You were out on a run and gone longer than I thought. Find anything good?”

“Nah,” he answered. “Same as most days, ‘bout nuthin’ left here. Why’re ya here?”

“Because…” she let out a sleepy little yawn “you said that we should hang out today but then I remembered I don’t have a calendar and I don’t know what day it is so if you said Friday maybe it’s Monday and I’m the late one.” She chuckled a little at her own nonsense and that made Daryl scoff or grunt or whatever that noise was that he makes when something is slightly humorous.

She lifted her sock clad feet and a portion of blanket up onto the couch, almost in his lap but not quite. She tucked her cold toes between his leg and the couch cushion as she leaned back on the arm of the couch and looked at him.

“You had a hard day, huh?” she tried but he rarely took the bait. She was feeling him out, trying to get the sense of his mood.

Daryl shook his head just a tiny bit then shot her a side glance briefly before looking down at his hands again. He appeared to be missing the “armor” of having his pocket knife to clean his nails to avoid eye contact.

“We’ve been friends awhile,” she leaned up and hugged her knees. “Not as long as some but a while, right? So you should know by now I’m not asking as your therapist, hell I don’t even need full and complete sentences!” The half of his face she could see shifted into a slight grin at this. She desperately wanted to reach out and move the hair back from his face but they weren’t those friends.

“Yeah,” he spoke this more than grunted so that was progress.

Kristina really wanted to be more than friends with him but had never pushed him, would never. She was so curious about him. There was only so much you could learn about someone if they didn’t talk. She knew his relationship with Carol was particularly special because they had spent so many months living out there and they didn’t always need words to communicate. Trauma bonds will do that to people. She really wasn’t his therapist. She functioned as one in Alexandria for most people but never for him unless he asked. She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to need her for other things. She had been through a lot of shit when the world fell apart, made some unpleasant choices. She had survived. She didn’t want him to be her therapist either but she had shared some of the milder parts of her past with him as a kind of proof to him that she wasn’t soft or, rather, that being here hadn’t made her soft. She hadn’t told him everything but she probably would eventually, if he let her.

“Com’on, I have an idea, and don’t argue,” she said as she stood up. Stood up so quickly in fact that she startled Dog who had been nearly asleep next to the couch. “No whining either, just trust me.”

“I don’t whine,” he said, looking up at her and suppressing a bit of a grin. She smiled widely at him but let him win that one. She reached down and grabbed his hands and feigned pulling him up weakly. He conceded and stood up.

She led him by one hand through the small area he called a bedroom (truly an alcove with a mattress on the floor but whatever) and into the bathroom. She barely heard his “huh?” as they walked in. He was tired but he was also filthy. Alexandria’s electricity was mostly out but their cisterns kept water pressure pretty strong as long as everyone wasn’t opening their taps at the same time. She closed the toilet lid and pushed his shoulders down as a signal to sit. He actually didn’t argue.

First, Kristina plugged the tub drain, then she turned on the hot tap and ran the water over her inner wrist testing its temperature. She wasn’t optimistic but what was in the hot water tank had stayed pretty warm. Some of the solar electricity must be working during the day. She ran the water into the tub until it ran almost cold. Looking at the amount and scowling she turned around to look at Daryl and raised an eye brow. He was watching her intently. She blushed a little. He couldn’t read her mind thank god because she had only glanced at him to assess water displacement and how full the tub needed to be for comfort and at that moment thought about him without his clothes on. Naked Daryl, my, well that would be different. She shook her head and looked back at the tub.

The water was cooling off so she instructed him to “stay right there, just a sec” and bounded through to the kitchenette for a pan and a sterno can. When she returned to the bathroom she looked around and realized the best place for the sterno was on the toilet lid but Daryl was still where she had told him to stay.

“Ugh, what now?!” he grumbled.

“Get up! Laws of thermodynamics and all that means your water’s coolin’ off, so I’m going to do this and you get undressed,” she bossed at him while setting up her burner and pan.

“No, wha?” he blustered “Uhn-uh, nope.”

“Oh you big baby, just do it,” she teased, she made sure the teasing was evident in her tone. Once she had filled the pan with water and sat it over the flame she turned to see what she had expected: Daryl pressed so hard against the opposite wall that he might just sink into it, with all his clothes on.

Kristina giggled a very girlish giggle, something she rarely ever had occasion to do in her 30s but damn he was endearing. He looked up at her with those eyes and through his filthy hair and she couldn’t stop herself. Walking slowly as if toward a cornered wild animal she made the couple of steps to him. She slowly reached out her hand and put it on one of his, slid it around so they were palm to palm.

“Look, you don’t have to,” she soothed. “But the water is warm, I’ll add some more hot as fast as it heats so you don’t get cold. I won’t see anything you don’t want me to and anyway, when did you last bathe? That wasn’t in a creek?”

His grin was reply enough to that and was a very sincere grin. He nodded slightly and she let go of his hand.

She tested the water in the tub again, nodded to herself, and tested the water that had been heating while they talked and sucked in a sharp breath when she felt the hot water hit the tips of her fingers. She grabbed a towel to hold the pan’s handle and gradually mixed in the heated water with that in the tub. She filled the pan again from the sink. It probably wouldn’t take many more of these to make it comfortable. She waited, looking at the pan of water on the flame as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world because she didn’t dare turn around.

At first she had only heard the soft swooshes of shirt fabric as he began to get undressed. Then she had heard one boot, then the next, thump onto the tile floor. The next sounds were out of context so she could only imagine what was happening while staring at this incredibly interesting pan of water. She heard Daryl’s bare feet make a few steps on the floor and then a hand moved past her to grab a bath cloth off the rack.

“Scuse me,” he said very close to her ear. All of the muscles in her neck froze to keep her from pivoting to see how much progress he had made.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied. Except she kind of croaked the words out and had to clear her throat a bit. She decided to test the water.

“Shit! Okay well that’s hot enough.” she yelped. “So I need to pour this in and I can’t do it with my eyes closed so if you don’t want me to see something, whatever, cover it in 3… 2… 1….” She turned slowly looking mostly at the pan and the floor then the tub. But she knew she would look at him once she started pouring. Who wouldn’t?

Daryl stood looking mostly at his feet but not cowering or shy like she had expected. It occurred to her that he probably bathed naked or just in his underwear out in the woods but there just wasn’t anyone to see him. So in this small room the only things that were modest were his gaze and using the bath cloth like a loin cloth. He was tan but also very dirty and she was pretty sure this one bath wouldn’t be enough but he could deal with that tomorrow.

“Okay, I think it’s ready for you but I’m going to heat at least one more pan,” she said far too quickly, almost making one word from them all and turned to the sink to refill it.

“Uh, thanks,” he said from behind her. Then the water in the tub made a sloshing sound and then another. There was some squeaking on porcelain, presumably his hands on the sides as he lowered himself in, and that mental image was actual the first one that consciously made her flush and feel the tug between her legs. She had thought Daryl sexy very, very many times and had probably had this normal, biological reaction to him many times, but this was different. This time was not brief or from her own imaginings. She took a deep breath and relished it.

Daryl sighed and then inhaled sharply. He went all the way under the water, coming up sputtering and smiling to himself a bit. She noticed the shampoo on a high shelf and, without looking, sat it near the tub so he could reach it.

“You good on soap?” she asked the pan of water.

“M’fine,” he said. “You don’t hafta keep starin at that water. I’m in now, won’t embarrass ya.”

Kristina looked over at him and the blush rose from her cheeks to her hairline. Shit, yup, Daryl was now Naked Daryl. She didn’t stare at any one place and after making eye contact briefly she put her gaze on the floor. Mostly out of respect. She decided she could sit on the bath mat and keep an eye on the heating water without feeling like an interloper. He didn’t tell her to leave and it didn’t occur to her to leave but there was more water heating so she’d stay until that pan was finished.

He sighed and leaned his head back, dipping his hair into the water again. She had seen some of his scars before but he still kept most of them out of view. She had a clear view of one on his chest she had only glimpsed before through an open shirt or when he changed quickly out of blood and dirt covered clothes. She desperately wanted to touch each of them. She equally didn’t want to get caught staring though she was pretty sure he already knew she was.

She tested the temp of the water on the sterno and it felt hot enough. Maybe he would ask her to leave and that would be that and she’d wait with Dog in the living room. She blew out the sterno flame and he opened his eyes, looking at her sideways without moving his head. Now the only light source was the small lantern. The sudden semi-darkness had surprised them both.

“Uh, do you want me to, um, or you can if you’d rather,” she stumbled through that question without finishing. “I don’t want to burn you. How’s the water?” She wanted to sew her mouth shut. Wow that was embarrassing.

“You can if ya want,” he answered as he closed his eyes. “I trust ya. Water’s good. Thanks again. Ya knew I’d just go to bed smellin like the woods.”

“Like the woods for starters and dead things and dirt and Dog. He needs a bath soon too!” she was able to tease unselfconsciously again in the dimmer light. She couldn’t see anything below the surface of the water, not that she was looking, but that made them both less tense it seemed. Like he were less naked.

Kristina turned to pick up the sterno can and take it and the pan to the kitchenette when she felt his hand lightly on her wrist.

“Don’t go,” he whispered without looking up.

She placed everything on the sink and went to sit on the bathmat again, this time she put her back against the tub wall, facing away from him, and hugged her knees to her chest. They sat in silence like that for some time. She really did cherish that he enjoyed silence. The world before had been so loud that it made her anxious. Now the sounds of walkers was almost constant depending on your location. Any silence when you were able to be unguarded was sacrosanct.

She heard the water sloshing gently behind her and smelled the mingled odor of the outdoors with the floral soap and smiled. He would definitely feel better and sleep better.

“Hey, could ya do one more a’ those?” he asked in a low whisper trying not to disturb their silence too much. Wordlessly she set everything up, lit the sterno, they both squinted at the extra light, and filled the pan. She sat back in her exact spot on the bath mat.

At first her brain lagged and didn’t know how her arm got wet. She felt the warm water on her upper arm before she felt his fingers. Then his fingers went up under her t-shirt sleeve and back down, up then down. So slowly that she almost shivered and she did make the smallest moan then clenched her jaw tight so no other sound could escape. He was so guarded against the world that touching someone seemed impossible. She had analyzed that from afar for a while now, not infrequently. But the part of her brain trained in analysis wasn’t in control at the moment. Right now she just wanted to feel this. When she leaned to check the water somehow, not intentionally on her part, his fingers grazed the side of her breast. She hitched in a small breath. She was pretty sure he had been looking at her and aimed that last touch.

The water was hot enough so she blew out the sterno and turned, still on her knees, with the pan ready to pour in the hot water. His blue eyes glinted in the dim light as he watched her. He was beautiful like that. Strong, lean, hair wet against his head, muscular arms on either side of the tub, amazingly unselfconscious. Just waiting on her. She nearly dropped the pan when he quirked up one corner of his mouth.

“Whasa matter with you?”he asked.

“Nuthin’,” she muttered. She started gently pouring the water into the tub and unconsciously glanced at him under the water. The bath cloth was strategically placed and she relaxed a little. Then she knelt next to the bath and swallowed hard.

“Well, I’ll let ya get on with it,” she told him. “You probably need two or three good scrubbin’s and your hair. Do you sleep in mud?!” Her hand was halfway to smooth back his hair before she realized it. She followed through and pushed a lock back from his cheek. He didn’t look at her.

“Nah,” he replied and cupped both his hands full of water and swept it over his head. He sunk down into the tub just a bit, knees poking out of the surface now. “An’ don’t go.” His eyes were closed as the water ran down his face.

“Okay,” Kristina replied. “So whatcha wanna do, talk?” She laughed a little and she noticed the corners of his mouth twitched up at that. She enjoyed teasing him because he knew his own idiosyncrasies and wasn’t embarrassed around her… most of the time.

Daryl started fiddling with the soap and cloth nervously and unproductively. He seemed to finally realize he was naked. He looked over at her watching him. It was a good thing his face was flushed from the warm water or she would see him blush.

“Lord, why am I even in here then?” she asked exasperatedly. She snatched the bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub, anxiety forcing her to do something. “Sit up.”

He did as he was told while she put some shampoo on her hands. She started out gently and then the absolute mess of his hair distracted her from her nerves. She had never washed a grown man’s hair before in her life and had not planned this but now that she was doing it she wondered a bit about why he was letting her. She had her suspicions about his experience with women and understood his shyness. But this felt out of character at the moment, out of character for both of them.

She scrubbed at the tangles and grumbled. “Dunk,” she commanded. He did. She added a bit more shampoo and massaged it in. From the corner of her eye she saw him start to actually use the bath cloth to clean his face, neck, arms. His arms. Her breath hitched a little at the sight of his bare biceps.

She rose up on her knees to get better leverage on this mess and her breast pressed into his shoulder. The water soaked through her t-shirt and bra. She tried to continue with the task at hand but both of them had frozen for a moment, keenly aware of the contact. She didn’t pull away. She decided to appear to ignore it, maybe it would be a signal to him. She took advantage of the accident and pressed a little more against him. He made a sound like quietly clearing his throat. She smiled to herself a little.

When she was satisfied that his hair was as clean as it would be this time she told him to rinse. She sat back on her heels as he sunk under the water and ran his fingers through his hair. He came up sputtering and immediately shook his head like a dog, spraying her and the bathroom with water. She laughed and instinctively shoved his shoulder.

“Hey! Not fair,” she played but her hand lingered a bit longer than intended.

Daryl scoffed, that small laugh of his. He leaned back and started working the soap in his hands. Still avoiding eye contact. What on earth is he thinking, she wondered. The longer this stretched out the more she began to feel things, things she wasn’t sure she was supposed to feel. She had always been bold with men but most weren’t as… as what? delicate? as he was. Timid might be the more accurate word. She couldn’t just grab him and drag him to his bed even if that’s ultimately what he was trying to get her to do. So she stood up and perched on the edge of the tub. She held out her hand. He looked up at her slowly from her hand, up her arm, to her face, questioning.

“Gimme,” she said. “Soap and cloth.” Neither of them broke eye contact as he put them in her hand. Their fingers grazed.

She had never done this before and felt a very awkward. She wasn’t judging him for wanting this, she could probably psychoanalyze why he wanted her to, but she was trying to enjoy it for him. If she was tense he would pick up on it. He was too perceptive not to.

Kristina wet the cloth and her hands in the water next to his legs, extra careful not to touch him. She tried to exhale as quietly as possible. She slid closer to the end of the tub and positioned herself almost behind him. She pressed her fingertips on his shoulders, indicating she wanted him to lean forward. He did but he kind of crumpled and drew his knees up and rested his arms and head on them. She really had never seen all of his scars and tattoos. He kept them hidden. She gently started washing the back of his neck, then she realized she would actually have to scrub. She was honestly embarrassed, more than he was it seemed.

Her mind was racing as she washed down his shoulders and back. All these thoughts and at the forefront was the idea that he knew exactly how uncomfortable this made her. Dixon could be that manipulative? Nah. she argued with herself. She scrubbed a bit too hard over a recent bruise and he pulled away and hissed air through his teeth.

“Sorry, shit,” she said and laid her bare palm on the bruise. He softened a bit with that but didn’t speak. She slowly finished what she could reach and then pulled back on his shoulder for him to lean back. She rinsed and re-soaped the cloth and decided to be a little bold, test his intentions a bit. His eyes were closed so she started on his neck and down his shoulder, bicep, to the water’s surface. She retraced her path and then moved the cloth slowly down his chest. His eyes fluttered but he didn’t move. She wanted to feel the hair and the scars on him with her bare hand but it was too soon to drop this ridiculous pretense.

She leaned across to reach his other shoulder deliberately pressing her breasts against him. He did move a little then. A kind of shrug, not to move away but to reciprocate. She wiped the cloth down his other arm and then slowly sat back up. She cleared her throat a bit more loudly than she intended. In the silence of the bathroom it almost echoed.

Daryl opened his eyes and looked at her. She just couldn’t put her hands under the water. She panicked and dropped the cloth. She stood up, didn’t quite run from the room but almost. She was out so quickly that she left the door open behind her. She leaned against the wall in his bedroom and exhaled, shaking all over. Nope, I did not just do that, she thought. She had. She had fled. Whatever he was doing, on purpose or not, was too much for her. She heard the drain start in from the bathroom. A few more noises and then Daryl was in the doorway, the towel wrapped low on his hips.

“Thas how it is, huh?” he had a great poker face.

“Mmmm,” was the best she could muster in front of his defined muscles. She felt herself shake her head side to side without meaning to. God how she wanted to start babbling and explaining and deflecting but also not do those things and just let this play out how he wanted.

He walked toward her. So big and silent. He could look menacing if he tried but his face was always kind to her. His hair was tousled and in his eyes again. Unph. She almost made that sound out loud. Instead she tucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down. His eyes caught on that movement while he took the few steps to her. She could feel the heat coming off him, he was so close to her. He smelled wonderful, not entirely clean as she suspected. She could smell him.

There was no way he was doing this, being the opposite of shy with her. He looked down at the wet spots on her shirt. He started to touch her hand but only hovered next to it then let his drop to his side. He started talking, mumbling, toward the floor.

“Dunno, it’s dumb,” he said. “Jus wanted to see if you would, ya know, do somethin.”

Wow he was so uncomfortable even after trying to seem otherwise that she ached for him and the courage he must have dug up from deep inside. Very slowly she thought she understood how he could see something incredibly awkward as an opening. Realization dawning, she smiled up at him. She would not laugh because she didn’t want to risk him ever thinking that she was laughing at him. She had to pause to choose her next words and actions carefully. He wasn’t confident enough to overtly take control but wanted it, wanted her to give in, meet him more than halfway.

“Yes, Daryl,” she almost whispered. She brushed a wet lock of hair back from his forehead and trailed her fingers down his jaw. She liked that he didn’t shave. “Yes, I would do anything but only with your consent. Probably, I’d do some things I didn’t want to,” she tipped her head in the direction of the bathroom, hopefully indicating that had been awkward for her.

“Yeah?” he almost growled, the single syllable rumbling in his chest.

“Sure,” she let her fingers move to his lips and she thought she had finally lost her mind. “Sure, just as long as I know it’s what you want.” He pulled away but not in a way that made her regret her honesty.

“Yer prolly doin that head shrinkin’ thing,” he said dubiously, inspecting her eyes for any reaction, any tale-tale sign that she would lie to him.

“Never!” she said a bit louder than she planned. “I couldn’t anyway,” she winked at him. “You’re a completely open book.” He almost laughed at this, almost. Kristina was relieved that he was great at picking up on her sarcasm.

They stood silently for nearly too long, it was almost uncomfortable. Finally Daryl took a step back. He held the towel at his waist and started to walk toward the living room. She was pretty sure he was going to put clothes on and she would miss this window, this giant window with a neon sign flashing “entrance” above it, and she’d be damned if she would miss that.

“Wait,” she grabbed the wrist of his free hand and he stopped. He didn’t turn toward to her, just froze. She stepped up behind him. Still wishing not to rush things and probably failing, she lightly touched his shoulder, a scar. He winced. She traced her finger down his spine to the top of the towel. She flattened her palm on his hip and pulled their bodies together. He was quite a bit taller than her so her head was exactly level with the space between his shoulder blades. She watched them flex, he was now holding the towel with both hands. She continued to slide her palm around him, to his stomach. He stiffened as she placed her other hand there as well and pressed her entire body into him. She hugged him tightly, waiting, hoping he would breathe and start to relax. She felt the rumble against her cheek as he sighed or moaned or whatever that sound was. He shifted and placed a hand on top of hers.

She didn’t know how long they stood there but it seemed neither of them was in a hurry to move. She did though. She gently pulled her hands back, trailed her fingers along his back in the direction she was walking, summoning him. She stood in front of the mattress on the floor and waited for him to turn around. When he did, when she knew he was watching, she started to lift her t-shirt over her head but he nearly pounced to stop her. He grabbed her hand while only her stomach was bared. He tightened the towel around his waist and hesitantly grabbed the hem of her shirt, sliding it up and off. He dropped it on the floor. His hands hovered momentarily and then he slid them down her bare arms.

Daryl stepped so close to her that they were nearly touching again. He tipped her chin up to him with his fingers. She looked at him and parted her lips slightly. He leaned down as if to kiss her but stopped with their mouths only millimeters apart. He licked his lips but still seemed unable to make up his mind. Then, suddenly, he was kissing her. Lips pressed hard together against teeth. Inexpertly but lovely. She kissed him back, desperate, but not opening her mouth further, letting him lead. She felt his tongue against her lips and the surprise ran down her spine to her clit. She encouraged him with her own. God how she wanted to press against him, hurry him.

He put a hand on the back of her head and twisted his fingers in her short hair as best he could. He didn’t pull her into him but tugged, almost pulled on her hair. He groaned into her mouth. She pushed her tongue past his lips, exploring his tongue, his mouth. She placed her hands on either side of his face hoping to help him relax his clenched jaw. It almost worked. Until it didn’t. He overthought everything and this touch startled him enough to pull back from their kiss.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I, uh, I don’t know if I can…” he trailed off. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. She enjoyed this for a few moments, the closeness, breathing each other in.

“That’s okay,” she said in a near whisper. “Com’on, sit down.” She sat on the mattress and leaned her bare back against the cold wall. She shivered. He slumped down next to her and the towel slipped a little, showing one of his thighs more than he might have wanted if he had noticed. She turned to look at him, not stopping herself from smoothing his hair back just a bit. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him but she was pretty sure that was not what he wanted.

She pressed the side of her body up against him completely. She let her fingers slide over the back of his hand and then rest on it.

“Hey…” she whispered. When he looked at her she kissed his cheek, jaw, then his bottom lip. Using her hand to guide him she lifted his and set it gently on her breast. Her bra was still damp and her nipple was hard against his palm. He made the best sounds, this one between a grunt and a groan, and she was positive he had no idea how sexy he was when he did that. She pressed the back of his hand lightly until his fingers flexed. She arched her back. He turned toward her more fully and started to explore, edging his finger tips under the edges of her bra.

Kristina made all of her movements slow and deliberate, contorting her arms behind herself to flick open her bra. She nudged the straps down and he took the hint. His breath was warm on her chest but her nipples ached they were so hard. He sat up, leaned down, and slowly put his lips on one nipple then carefully licked at it. Her moans encouraged him. He sucked her nipple into his mouth. He caressed and kissed and licked with singular focus, adjusting based on the noises he drew from her.

Then he knelt and pulled her under him. It was strained and awkward at first. Her legs were curled under her, he held her up with a hand on her back while the other kneaded her breast. She sighed and pushed against his mouth. His hands were rough and strong. The feeling of his scruffy beard on her bare chest sent electricity through her entire body. He was perfect and a quick study. She tested putting her hands on his sides, smoothing them up his back, wrapping her arms around them to pull him closer. As she did this he started to lay her back on the bed. She straightened her legs out under him. She became acutely aware that her jeans were still on and he was mostly naked. He moved his hand from her back and cupped both of her breasts in his hands. His sharp, ragged breaths made her hips rise. She was pinned by him as he straddled her, holding her in place with his thighs. She squeezed her eyes shut harder not allowing herself to find out if his towel was still holding on for dear life. That would ruin this moment of focusing only on Daryl’s mouth and hands.

He felt her hips move and her back arch. He split his attention between her breast and finding his way to the waistband of her jeans. One handed he unbuttoned them and ripped open the zipper. She gasped a little and dug her fingers into his back. She wanted him to do everything at once, anything he decided to do next was fine by her. He slowly let her nipple slide from his lips. He began kissing her collarbones, her neck, her jaw, and then, finally her mouth. She opened her eyes to find his were open as he watched and decoded every her every move and expression. She felt his fingertips under the elastic of her panties and stayed as still as possible, kissing him harder, brushing her tongue over his lips.

She was so wet. She probably had been since he first undressed in the bathroom. He moaned into their kiss as his fingers slid between her folds and over her clit. He was learning, exploring, and taking his time. He moved his other hand to the bed beside her head to support his weight and get a better angle. He drug his finger through her wetness and up onto her belly. He started to sit up, ending the slow, delicious kiss and she lifted her head trying to keep their lips together as long as possible. His large, strong hand pushed her back, actually shoved her, onto the mattress. Her eyes went wide.

When he gripped the waist of both her jeans and panties she had to look down. He was pulling them down while he worked his way to the foot of the bed. Miraculously the towel was still on his hips but only barely. She could see how hard he was. He was basically naked and when he slipped her pants off her feet he also dropped his towel on the floor. This is happening, she thought. Holy shit. Before any more thoughts could form he was spreading her legs, opening them by her ankles. He looked at every part of her with such intensity that she wasn’t at all surprised when he kissed her calves. Then he started his way up placing kissed behind her knee, on her thigh, on the inside of her thigh. He smoothed a hand up over her hip bone and rested it firmly on her belly as he kissed the sensitive skin in the crease of her hip. It was clear he wasn’t going straight to her pussy. Her eyes were fixed on him and as soon as he was within reach she put her hands in his hair.

Daryl’s eyes shot up at her, his mouth still on her hip. For just a second he seemed to being making a decision. Then he lifted his head and grabbed her wrists, one in each of his hands. He slammed them down on the bed firmly. Message received. She pressed them down to indicate she understood. He almost smiled as he dipped his head to place more kisses on her belly and just below her breasts. Her hips moved and tilted and his hands stopped them as well, fingers digging in hard against her hip bones. She moaned. So this is it, she thought, this is what he was afraid of?

He roughly forced her legs wider apart, careful not to put his thigh where they both wanted it. He leaned over her, his knees holding her thighs open, the cool air on her pussy making her tremble. Okay not just the air. His hands were on either side of her head now. How badly she wanted to put her hands on his arms, feel his muscles, touch every part of him. He looked down at her, almost drowsily, and the groaning purring rumble started in his chest again. He kissed her fiercely, briefly.

“This good?” he asked because he had to. Not because she needed him to but he needed assurance, guidance.

“Mmmhmmm,” she mewled and her body reflexively arched and tried to roll her hips against him.

“No,” he said tonelessly. She stopped.

“This ain’t the time to say this,” he started. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, gathering courage. “But I ain’t never, I mean, well, shit.” He blushed. She started to lift her hands to comfort him, sooth him, and let them fall back to her sides. So she just tilted her head slightly and smiled.

“S’okay,” she whispered. She felt like it would be disobeying too soon if she were to touch him so she had to find the words. She licked her lips and looked directly in his eyes. “Take your time, tell me what you want, show me, we do it how you need to, kay?”

Daryl answered by sliding a hand down her body, without breaking eye contact, and slipping a finger through her wetness again. She let out a small breath and he smiled just a bit. She swallowed hard.

“May I?” she nervously asked.

He grunted assent. So she carefully slid a hand over his, lining her fingers up with his. He groaned and closed his eyes, concentrating. She used her fingers to guide him, first circling her clit then dipping lower. She gently pressed his finger into her and sighed. She slid her hand to his wrist and pushed. It had the desired effect and his finger moved deeper into her. The sounds he made were always guttural, sincere, almost feral. Maybe he had never even had his fingers in a woman. This thought made her cunt ache and she clinched around him.

“Another,” she begged.

He obliged, slipping a second finger inside her. Her hips twitched toward him. His entire body started to move as he began to fuck her with his fingers. They seemed to become aware, for the first time, of his dick pressed between them. She struggled not to push her hips down on his fingers. She wanted him to fill her and she didn’t know if he could read the signs. She spread her legs wider and moaned, almost begging wordlessly. He obliged and slid a second finger in. Certain that it was not possible for him to being enjoying this as much as she was, Kristina flushed when she opened her eyes to see him watching her. That intense focus aimed at her. Like tracking an animal, he was reading every sign available to him. He bit his bottom lip. His eyes moved over her arms by her sides, her chest rising and falling, her hips rolling, the place where their skin touched at the hip.

He ground his palm into her clit and pulled his fingers almost completely out. Then, very nearly roughly, he pushed three fingers into her. He bit his lower lip. He was using only a fraction of his strength but watching his arm working to make her feel this good made her want to grab onto it, claw and scratch at him. He really was paying close attention and curled his fingers slightly inside her. Her cunt clenched tight on him and she balled the sheets of the bed in her fists. She didn’t recognize the sounds that came out of her mouth but some of them resembled his name. Then his thumb pressed on her clit. He didn’t move it, only increased the pressure.

“Oh god Daryl,” she gasped. “I’m going to come.” She couldn’t fill her lungs with air.

He put his mouth close enough to her ear that she almost felt his lips move. “No.”

She couldn’t contain a deep groan but it wasn’t protesting, it was resignation and she tried with all of her focus to relax her grip on his fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt the mattress dip with his weight as he pressed up to be right above her, on top of her. His dick nudged at her belly and he hissed sharply. He had moved his weight to his knees to free his other hand. With it her gripped her jaw, under her chin and lifted it up. She was learning him as quickly as he was learning her. She opened her eyes. She was supposed to be looking at him, not escaping the sensations. His thumb was harder on her clit, he had more leverage with this angle. He leaned in and kissed her. This time forcing her lips apart with his tongue. He was hurried and desperate and hungry. She gave in and made room for him.

She wasn’t completely sure she had ever allowed anyone to control her like this. She was excited, thrilled, by it. The release of control, no longer making decisions, but mostly allowing him to take pleasure from her… that was flattering for lack of a better word. It made her feel sexy and uninhibited. In the past few years there hadn’t been time for those feelings. Every moment of life was filled with decisions and nothing remotely sexy. She wanted to relax and enjoy this but she was so close and it had been a while since anyone had given her an orgasm other than herself. And this was giving, if he ever allowed it this would be a helluva gift.

At almost the same moment that he pulled his mouth from hers he removed his fingers. The sudden emptiness made her gasp. He actually smiled. Still kneeling and holding her face he placed his fingers on her mouth. He inhaled deeply in an almost crude way, smelling her. He started to slowly part her lips, encouraging her to do what he wanted. She did. With her inhibitions nearly forgotten she started sucking his fingers, doing whatever this enigmatic man asked. Whatever pleased him. If she took the time to really think about it she might panic, think this was too different from some core part of her. She wasn’t going to do that. Instead she sucked his fingers deep into her throat, wanting only to pull those sounds from him. Or to finally make him grind into her, give her the friction she needed.

He took his fingers away and briefly kissed her. Then he mumbled something into her mouth.

“Huh?” she was barely able to focus. He released her chin and propped himself up, one hand on either side of her head again, and leaned in close.

“Ya want it?” he growled. She wasn’t entirely sure it was a question but she moaned and nodded emphatically.

Daryl straightened, placed a hard, heavy hand on her belly, and stared at her pussy for a moment. He wrapped his hand around his dick and began to slowly stroke. She couldn’t look away but watching made her ache. She realized his hand was on her stomach to keep her still so he could watch. He pressed harder when she started squirm and push her hips toward him.

“Uhn-uh,” he said without looking at her.

He was actually expertly rubbing the head of his dick against her clit. His sighs were deeper now. He slid his hand from her belly to her hip, nearly to her ass, and guided her to tilt and lift her hips how he wanted her. She felt exposed. Now embarrassment washed over her. Her legs were spread wide, her hips raised, and all for him, only him. So he could look at her. She could follow through and trust this or she could stop. She didn’t want to stop. She was amazed at how exciting this humiliation was, wanted to let her mind examine how much he intended to humiliate her. She was relieved when he guided her ass to rest on his thighs, her calves were trembling from the position.

Once she had relaxed and trusted him with her weight his hand went back to her belly. He stroked her clit with his thumb while also holding her down. She let out a small huff when she realized what he was doing. That made him glance up at her face. His head still tilted down but his eyes studying her behind his loose, messy hair. She wanted to pout, put on a show for him, antagonize him, but thought maybe that would come later, if they ever did this again. Instead she mouthed please and he lowered his gaze again.

His dick nudged at her pussy, sliding in just a bit but it was enough that she completely understood why he was holding her still. He’s really never done this?! her mind yelled. He pulled back almost punishing her for trying to rush. Then he started to slowly, excruciatingly slowly, slide into her. He released his grip on his dick and pushed into her until their hips met. He found her hips with his hands and pulled her closer. She didn’t know if he could go any deeper but she wanted it. Wanted all of him in her. She didn’t want this delicious slowness to end but she desperately needed him to move. Her hands pulled at the sheets using anything she could to stay still like he wanted. His eyes flicked up when he saw the movement but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were shut tightly trying to center herself.

“Kristina,” he said. A flat toneless word the way he said it but it had more meaning behind it than she had ever heard. She moaned and looked at him. He wanted needed? her to watch, to be present. He withdrew and using her hips as leverage pushed back in. He intended for her to feel every inch of his dick but was taking it slow for himself. Out nearly completely, back in tapping lightly against her cervix. This sudden, unexpected resistance was the first thing to elicit an involuntary reaction: “shit” he hissed, drawing out the word. She had always enjoyed it when her cervix was involved in sex, if it wasn’t hard pressure it was pleasant but this, this was mind altering. His exploration, his excitement combined with her inability to move and control the fucking made every sensation heightened.

Daryl was definitely exploring. He repeated the action. Out, in, pressure on her cervix. His fingers were going to leave bruises on her hips and she didn’t care. He increased his speed, shortening his strokes, lifting both of them just a little each time. His eyes had barely left the place where he disappeared inside her cunt but now he looked up to watch her breasts sway with his efforts. He leaned forward, unintentionally pushing in farther than he had yet, and ran his hands up her sides. She was liquid, pliant, and let him move her like a doll. He scooped her up with his arms under hers, hands gripping her shoulders for leverage. She was no longer in control of any part of her body and instinctively wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. She had enough presence of mind to think he is so strong before letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. She was panting with the speed of his thrusts.

He had lifted her off the bed and into his lap and she felt small and dizzy and wonderful. There was no space between them, no room for him to pull out with each thrust. Her clit rubbed against the coarse hair on his lower belly. She couldn’t stop the rolling of her hips, clenching and unclenching around him. He kissed her neck, sometimes scraping his teeth over her skin, not quite biting. His lips brushed against her ear. One hand moved up her neck and into her hair, then back to her shoulder, lower to her ass. He was exploring, touching every part of her. She felt like he was touching her everywhere at once, inside and out.

When his hand snaked between them and his rough fingers found her nipple she started to beg and plead and warn “I’m going to come, please Daryl, oh god please.”

He breathed against her as his fingers dug into her shoulder, finding more purchase and bringing them closer together when she was sure there had been no more room. His other hand still rolling and pinching her nipple. They were both moving faster now. No difference between them, in perfect rhythm, and she noticed more than felt her fingernails dig into his back.

“Mmhmm,” he grunted. “I want ya to.”

An incoherent stream of ohfuckDarylohfuckfuck poured out of her mouth, head flung back, body arched toward him. She clamped her legs tight against his sides as her orgasm spread from her center. His arms moved to encircle her and press her breasts against his chest. She moaned with this new sensation. Groaned actually. It was going to be too much soon.

And then it was too much. His breath hitched in his chest and she felt him tense nearly every muscle in his body. His groan started deep in his chest. She wanted to feel that vibrate through her so she sat up straighter and ground her hips down onto his dick. He buried his face between her breasts and she tangled her hands in his hair.

“I’m gonna…” he tried to say through clenched teeth. “Ah baby I’m comin’. Fuck. Fu…” He crushed his face against her chest. She felt his hips jerk a few times then become still, felt his dick spasm inside her, and now she felt she could sooth and reassure without permission. She stroked his sweat-dampened hair, kissed the top of his head, and ran her hands down his neck and back. Then her hands found his face and turned it up to hers and she kissed him. Hard and rough and deep. She forced his mouth open with her tongue. He kissed her back and as he did her grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her up. He laid her back on the bed. She untangled her limbs from him. Then he slowly pulled out. She felt his cum trickle out, hot and more than a little satisfying.

He sank down heavily on the bed next to her. Half on his side, he laid an arm across her stomach and curled his fingers over her arm. She snuggled against his chest, still feeling small and safe but now also calm and quiet. Peaceful. With her eyes half-closed she languidly traced a scar on his arm.

“So that’s it huh?” he said quietly. She felt him smile as he kissed the top of her head.

“Well, when you put it like that,” she teased and giggled. She kissed his chest, pressed as much of her body against his as possible. “Yeah, that’s it, exactly it.”

Chapter 2

#daryl dixon #virgin!daryl x ofc #virgin!daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon x ofc #the walking dead daryl #daryl smut #x ofc #twd fanfiction #twd daryl #demisexual daryl

[farity]

Obsession, part 15

"Daeron called. He wants to know if he needs to come home."

Aemond looked up. "The last thing I need to worry about is Daeron being here. He's safe with grandfather."

"After all this Baratheon mess is over," Aegon said, "we'll all get together. But I was thinking we should strike first."

When Aemond said nothing, Aegon sat across from his brother. "I don't particularly feel like spending my time worrying about when the Baratheons will strike. I suggest we make a plan. Get the daughters married to our allies so we know where they are, take over Storm's End, make sure Borros is never a problem."

"That will take a lot of planning. A lot of firepower. A lot of banners being called."

Aegon nodded. "I trust you. Put a plan together, I can start setting up potential destinations for the daughters, calling on our allies. They've just pledged loyalty, might as well put them to good use."

Aemond smirked. "What about you? When are you getting married?"

"Oh, don't fucking tell me you've become one of those married people who want everyone else to get married."

"No, but it's been a while since you dated anyone."

"I don't fucking date. What do you want me to do, go to a fucking bar and meet some girl?"

"Um-"

Both brothers turned to see Helaena standing at the doorway.

"I'm going out with Cregan, I might not be back until super late."

"I don't want to fucking know," Aegon said. "Seriously, just go. And remember, No Glove, No Love."

"Oh my gods, Aegon!" Helaena turned bright pink and left in a hurry, and Aegon started cackling.

Aemond studied his brother. "You are such a weirdo."

"Do you want a litter of little dragonwolves running around? Because I don't. And anyway," he added, turning serious, "let me know. I don't want this to be a dark cloud hanging over us. What's the fucking point of being the ruling House if we live our lives wondering when we're going to be attacked?"

* * * * *

"You know, Aegon was seeing someone for a while," Alicent said while out on the gazebo. She was halfway through one coffee cup and you looked up, wondering why she would tell you about her oldest child's love life.

"Um, okay?"

She smiled. "A therapist, I mean. She is very good and when Aegon was losing his way and we wouldn't seeing for weeks at a time, she helped him straighten out."

You buttered your toast, saying nothing. You hadn't kept up with the gossip on the Targaryens before you became one of them. You knew of them, of course, but you didn't scrutinize the press for news and rumors on them.

"It must be shocking to be part of this family when you've known only . . . " she waved a manicured hand around, "normal people life. If you need to talk to someone, I can have her come here. Every week if you wish." She drank more of her coffee. "It's not good to bottle things up."

"Thank you. It's been such a whirlwind, really. I will take you up on that," you said, and took a bite of your toast.

She smiled at you, nodding. "Very well, I will set it up."

"Mom!"

"Helaena, dearest, sit with us."

* * * * *

"Oh, that was just a silly thing. It doesn't bother me," Helaena said after Alicent left.

You had wanted to make sure, now that you knew one of the Baratheon daughters was going to marry the Snow boy that Helaena once liked.

"I don't know that I have any influence on this, but if you would rather he didn't marry her, I can-"

"You have influence," Helaena said, eyes wide, "believe me."

You made a scoffing sound, "please."

She took a long swig of her orange juice. "It's true. You know Aegon is not supposed to go with Aemond when he's doing," she lowered her voice and leaned in, "gun stuff."

"So?"

"He went because of you. He wanted to show respect to Aemond. Plus more than once he's said, 'oh, Aemond's wife said this, and she told me that,' which means he listens to you. So," she smiled at you, "you have influence. But no, there's no need. I am very happy with Cregan."

Leaning over, you raised an eyebrow at her. "oh yeah?"

She smiled happily. "He's told me he wants to marry me, that he knows I'm the one for him, that he will wait until I know he's the one for me."

"Oh my gosh, Hel! So romantic!"

"Who's romantic?"

You whirled around at the sound of Aemond's voice. "The guy from the movie," you replied easily.

"Hmm."

"Are you joining us for breakfast, brother?"

Aemond kissed the top of your head. "No, I need to talk to Aegon." He ran his fingertips across the back of your neck before continuing to the house.

* * * * *

"I locked the bank accounts in Essos, that's where Borros was keeping a lot of hidden accounts. He's been funneling money from his own allies and now he doesn't have access to it."

Aegon nodded. "Well done." He checked his phone, then looked back at his brother. "Tomorrow I will let him know we've found husbands for his daughters, and then it should get interesting."

Aemond nodded slowly. "I can't imagine he's going to take the news well. Even worse when we tell him his assets are frozen and all he has is the miserly budget he runs his household on." He smiled at the thought, "shouldn't have messed with us if he didn't want retaliation."

"I sent people to the borders, in case they try to run. We have people in Pentos, too, they will let us know if they hear anything. I'd prefer not to have to go myself."

"Would that be because you don't want to be away from your wife?"

Aemond glared at his brother. "Fuck off."

"Yep, I thought so. I have a zoom meeting with the Martells. They keep asking me to go to Dorne but I can't until this is all settled. Anyway, sounds like you have this all handled."

Aegon left and Aemond's thought went to his wife, remembering the answer she'd given him earlier.

She loved him. It both comforted and frightened him, and he hadn't wanted to delve too much into his own feelings for her. It was complicated.

Feelings had always been complicated.

He had been teased and bullied by his brother and cousins. Ignored by his father. His mother found him the easiest to love, compared to Aegon's recklessness and Helaena's unwillingness to open up. Then the incident with Luke. Then the other incident with Luke. He felt cursed and like if he didn't excel at everything he did, he would be ostracized again.

Aegon had matured and Helaena had decided she adored him, and his mother appreciated him. She loved him in her own way, he was sure.

He hadn't even thought about his father making the decision to kill him. He couldn't.

He thought of a child. His child. He would protect them with everything he had. He wouldn't make them prove themselves to him over and over. Then he saw her, clear as day in his mind. Her belly large with his child inside her. He felt his insides clench with want.

Would she even want a child with him? When he couldn't even tell her what she meant to him? He knew Helaena had procured birth control for her, the day they'd arrived at the safe house. It was what Helaena did. If Daeron lost his inhaler on a trip somewhere, Helaena had a replacement couriered to him within the hour.

The thought of his wife, pregnant, holding their child, teaching their baby to walk, Aemond realized he was smiling and that tears had gathered in his eye.

She loved him. And he was a fucking coward who had nearly lost her and couldn't even form the words.

* * * * *

You turned your face back and forth before the mirror in the bathroom. The scratch had faded to almost nothing, the bruises were gone. Your feet had healed up and Aemond had told you the self-defense instructor would start in a couple of weeks.

You heard the front door open and you went to find Aemond walking in. He headed straight for you and, cradling your face in his hands, kissed you so gently that you could only lean in against him, your hands on top of his.

"I'm a fool," he said, pulling back. "I'm the biggest fool there is."

"Aemond, what is it?"

He was still holding your head in his hands, and he looked flushed. "I've spent the last ten years holding people at arm's length. and fuck this, I don't want to any more."

"Aemond," you whispered, touching his cheek.

"I love you."

Your mouth dropped open, but you found that you couldn't speak.

"I adore you. I love being with you. I love having a future with you. I married you because I couldn't let you go."

You felt the heat of tears beginning to gather in your eyes.

"I love laughing with you, and knowing that you are mine, and sleeping next to you. I love that I belong to you and you belong to me. I hate that-"

You pressed a hand to his mouth. "Nope, we're not doing hate stuff right now," you said as you started crying, and he wrapped his arms around you.

"I've been a godsdamned fool."

"Stop."

He kissed you again, then pressed his forehead against yours. "I want a life with you," he whispered, "a life full of joy, and adventure, and all the dumb bullshit happy people do."

You laughed through your tears. "Oh, we have adventure all right, I don't think we'll be lacking in that." You kissed him, wiping off your tears. "I want it all, Aemond. I want everything with you."

He kissed you again, and you stayed like that, holding each other in the middle of the living room for a long time.

* * * * *

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[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Hellooo i’m sending you a request if you’re up for it (it’s heavy, sorry 😑) What if Y/N and Harry were good friends and a bit more, but she has been sexually molested as a child and she has never told anyone apart from her mom and her therapist. And they’re coming home from a very cute date but she starts feeling really bad when they start making out and he wants more… (I’m not sure if she’d tell him though)

Hello friend! Yes of course! I think it's important to have stories like this revolving around traumas and painful situations that are very real and that so many people have experienced and it's important to acknowledge that. I appreciate you sending this request in! I apologize for the delay, I've been so busy so it took me a bit to have some time to sit down and write this I definitely didn't want to half-ass something this important, so thank you for your patience. I I hope it lives up to your expectations 🫶🏻

And of course, if you or someone you know has been SA'ed it is never too late to get the mental health help you need to start the healing process and to work through this trauma. You deserve closure, healing, and all of the unconditional love & support that therapy can provide! 🩷

Warnings: Mentions of childhood SA (nothing detailed, it's more of a narrative timeline) but can be extremely triggering, description of panic attack symptoms

Truthfully, Y/N had been really nervous to date Harry. He was one of her best friends ever and she was just nervous that if they crossed that line and didn’t actually work that it would make their friendship weird for a bit. However, that wasn’t the case at all. Harry had been extremely thoughtful with how they transitioned from friends to more. They already spent a lot of time together, but he was far more intentional to adding alone time with her now. And when they would it was easier for them to flirt, to touch, to openly show their feelings for each other without their friends teasing them about it or something. It was really nice; it felt so natural to hold hands to be nonstop giggling and making eyes at each other. They had so much fun together.

“It’s not a competition, you know?” Harry mumbled softly as he briefly glanced over to the ceramic mug she was painting and he chuckled.

“It never is when you’re not the best at something.” She teased with a giggle and he scoffed and she peered up at him to see him playfully glaring at her.

“I’m just not artsy or creative in this respect.” He defended himself.

“Neither am I. I just steal creative people’s ideas off of Pinterest.” She said as she painted another little smiley face onto her mug and he chuckled.

“Despicable.” He muttered as he just made another big stroke onto his mug. He had just gone for a vertical rainbow theme because he couldn’t be arsed with all the little details that she was working on. She giggled as she put the finishing touches on her mug. She hadn’t even done anything that complex. Her mug was a white base color and she had just drawn a bunch of little colorful smiley faces around it.

“What color should I do the handle?” She asked and he glanced up at her work.

“Mmm… the yellow.” He suggested. And she hummed and went straight for that color and started painting the handle. “Are we exchanging mugs?” She asked.

“If you want to.” Harry responded as he added his final layer to the color he has just put down.

“Just so we have little reminders of each other.” She shrugged and he smiled.

“You already live in my head rent free, love” He assured flirtatiously, “But I’m not opposed to more.” He added.

“Settled then.” She smiled as she put the paintbrush down.

After another few minutes they were turning their mugs in to the girl up front and she let them know they could come by in a couple of days to pick up their mugs. They thanked her and left the little shop. Harry's arm draped over her shoulder and pulled her close as they made the walk back to his car.

"Are you hungry at all? Even just for a snack? Or do you want to come back to mine for a drink and a film? Or I can just drop you off at home." he said and she leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked.

She wanted to go to his and watch a film but she was nervous that it would lead to more. Harry was really respectful though and she felt comfortable around him and quite safe, which would be enough to make anyone else just trust him and agree to going over. But that's the issue, she had felt safe around the people in her life growing up only for someone to violate that trust. And logically she knew Harry would never even think of doing something to hurt her but a part of her would always be on the fence, she couldn't trust anyone blindly ever again.

"Y/N?" he asked again she snapped out of her thoughts.

"Oh ummm, let's just go to yours." she said to him and he nodded. She just decided to do what she wanted to do because she deserved a shot at a normal relationship. She deserved to be with someone that made her happy. She deserved to feel beautiful and desired by someone who she also saw in the same way. She deserved to be happy.

Being a single mom and mother to three daughters, her mom had been so thorough and open about SA and about what was considered inappropriate for any man or woman to say or do to them at any age. And she had told them that if anything ever happened to any of them that they could trust each other and that they would always believe each other. Y/N was only 10 when a close family friend molested her, so when this man had done what he did she was fully aware that he had in fact molested her. She was afraid to say anything because he had threatened her and warned her about what would happen if she told anyone. In her mind she thought this meant that it was a one time thing and that he'd leave her alone from then on. But then he came back a second time and a third time. But that third time was when he decided to get personal satisfaction out of it and she knew that he only escalate his actions from then on so despite all the fear in her body she told her mom immediately after and she took the necessary legal steps and got her in to see a therapist just a week later. People assumed that speaking up sooner somehow "helps" survivors, but in reality that's a bunch of bullshit. You could speak up right away but that thing still happened to you. Whether it's happened once or multiple times, you're still affected by it. The man even went to jail, but that didn't take away that part of her that she felt had been stolen from her.

During her Uni years she joined a therapy and support group of adult survivors of childhood SA and in hearing the stories of some of the people there she felt like she wasn't trying hard enough to overcome her own trauma. She just needed to take matters into her own hands and move on. So she started to see a guy that she really liked and she fell in love with him and she decided that she wanted him to be her first. She knew she wasn't ready for sex, but she loved the guy so she thought she'd at least try. And things were alright until he was about to finish and she just had to stop. She had a full blown panic attack and after that time she just kept to herself. Her friends would always try and set her up with people but she didn't want to explain everything to them. She mainly talked her to mum, sisters, or therapist about it when she needed to talk about it. She didn't want people to look at her like she a victim or like something was wrong with her. She had come through a lot of her trauma, but sometimes she'd experience the hurt again or get triggered by things and it felt like she'd made no progress at all. It was a long uphill battle.

So when Harry asked her out she immediately talked to her therapist about it because she wanted this to work with him. She met Harry in school when they were about 12. Their family had moved after what had been done to her and he was one of the first friends she'd made in school. They'd grown up together, they'd been friends forever, and while she had liked him on and off for many years, when he asked her out he told her that he'd loved her since they were 16 years old and that he had never tried anything before because he wanted to have his shit together when they finally dated and well, it was mostly together now. She was working extra hard in therapy because she didn't want to have a panic attack when he was about to blow his load again. She craved to be physically intimate with him and she wanted to be ready when the time came. She was in love with him and well, he was in love with her, it was the natural next step.

"You're so quiet, love. What's on your mind?" Harry asked her as his thumb rubbed along the side of her hand.

"Oh nothing, just thinking about random stuff." she said with a small smile and he nodded, but he wasn't sure that it was nothing.

They'd known each other for a really long time and upon them changing the nature of their relationship she became a bit more guarded than she had been in the past. It was subtle, but he knew her well and he noticed it quickly. He knew he needed to build trust with her as a partner as well, because they had it as friends, but this was an even more multifaceted and complex relationship than just a friendship. Harry wanted to build the rest of his life with her and he was eager to prove to her that he could make her happy in every way.

"Do you want tea or coffee? I also have..." he paused as he opened up his fridge, "Beer." he said as he turned to her and she smiled.

"I'm alright." she assured as she slipped out of her sneakers and padded over to the kitchen after him, "Maybe just a snack?" she asked as she meandered to his little pantry and she looked inside and saw a bag of chips. "May I?" she asked showing him.

"Course." he assured and so they headed off to his bedroom.

They got comfy and he switched on the TV before they settled on "She's the Man" a classic really. They were sitting close, the sexual tension brewing, simmering steadily between them. He knew that Y/N didn't really date all that much and that she also didn't sleep with people for fun so he didn't want to move to quickly when she was evidently more slow about that so he was pleasantly surprised when she called his name and just looked at him for a moment before she reached up to kiss him. He kissed her back tenderly, but kiss after kiss, things started to escalatate.

Y/N's body was buzzing, she wanted him so badly. She was turned on, which was not something that happened to her often. And she couldn't help it but desire to be closer to him. It was completely instinctual when she reached around his neck and pulled him down to her as she settled herself into his mattress. Their lips smeared together sloppily and desperately, they were breathing hard and their hearts were beating fast. Harry made a move to escalate things by straddling her lap and suddenly the good feelings went away and her skin started to crawl with fear and disgust. His weight over her made her feel discomfort and her stomach started to twist. She felt his erection pressing into her and it suddenly felt like too much as her mind flashed back to the past. She couldn't help it as her tears started to fall and her breathing shallowed.

"Stop. Stop. Stop. Please stop." she mumbled and Harry immediately moved off of her and she sat up and started to cry. She was struggling to catch her breath and he frowned.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's the matter." he asked her with concern. She was gasping for air through her tears and so he reached for her hand that was over her chest and she flinched and his frown deepened. Was she afraid of him, "Y/N, love." he called to her, "S'just me." he said extending his hand to her and she took it and squeezed it tight, "I'm here. I'm right here." he assured her as she started to calm herself, it seemed like she had done this before and that made his heart break. "I'm sorry if I pushed you too far. I should've asked before I did that, I'm sorry." he apologized with so much sincerity in his eyes and she shook her head.

"You didn't do anything wrong." she sniffled as she squeezed his hand, "It's me." she said and he frowned, "I'm ummm..." she stopped and started to cry again harder. Her cries turned into full on sobs.

"Oh love." He said softly, "Can I hold you? Is that OK?" he asked her and she nodded.

"Please." she whimpered and he just scooted in beside her and pulled her into his arms.

"I've got you." he assured her quietly and held her until she had calmed down enough that she could breathe normally again she was just quiet as he held her for a bit.

The thing that kept coming up in therapy over the last 2 sessions was the topic of her opening up to Harry about what had happened to her. She knew he would understand, but she was afraid that he'd view her as damaged or a victim or that he'd just feel sorry for her all the time. She didn't want him to think of her like that and opening up to him provided opportunity for that to happen. Her therapist reminded her that it would help him understand her better and be more patient with her as their relationship progressed. She had even informed Y/N that sex therapy was a thing they could look into in the future to help her be able to take control of her sexuality again. She had expressed to her therapist the want to have a healthy sexual relationship with Harry and she loved him, she hoped that he'd be the person she had kids with, she was looking ahead and she wanted to have it all with him, but she couldn't tell him yet.

"I'm so sorry." she finally said and he shook his head.

"No, love. Don't be sorry, it's alright." he assured and she shook her head.

"It's not. It's really not and-"

"Hey, I'm not with you just to have sex." he said to her, "Do I want to, yeah! Of course." he said and she sniffled, "But I love you and I don't need that to be happy with you and it certainly doesn't change how I feel about you. We can take our time, yeah? " he assured her and she sighed.

"Like I...want that too, I want to just do whatever I want with you but i just...I can't yet." she said softly, "And I'm scared. I love you and I trust you but I am so scared." she said and he nodded.

"That's OK. I'm scared as well of like...how this will change everything, but you're worth it to me. You're worth all the hard work I've put in on myself, I've been trying to get better all this time so that I could be good enough for you." he said and she turned in his hold and looked at him.

"Seriously?" she asked and he nodded with a caring smile.

"Yeah, love. Told you, I've loved you forever. I always will love you, there's no doubt about it." he smiled and she exhaled shakily.

"Oh, I love yo so much." she said and hugged him tight and he hugged her back. "I want to be open with you about everything and I...I just need a little time t-to be able to explain why I am the way I am." she said and he pulled back from her hold and grabbed her face.

"Look at me." he said and her glassy eyes met his, "There's nothing wrong with the way you are. And of course I want to know everything there is to know about you, but somethings just take time, OK? So don't feel like you need to push yourself on my account. I will be here with open arms and all the love in the world whenever you're ready, OK?" he said to her and she nodded and he wiped a few tears from her cheeks.

"Thank you." she said with so much gratitude. He had no idea how much what he said meant to her.

"No need to thank me, love." he assured and she smiled, "I know you'd be patient and understanding with me too." he said and she nodded.

"Yeah." she smiled, "Can I have another kiss?" she asked and he looked at her for a moment, "Promise I won't cry." she smiled and he shook his head.

"That' not what I was thinking." he said with a small chuckle.

"Then what?" she asked and his smiled dropped a bit.

"I just want to help make it better, whatever it is." he said and she had so much adoration for him in her eyes.

"You already are." she assured him and he smiled and kissed her lips once more.

"Want to have a cuddle?" he asked against her lip and she nodded, "C'mon then, love." he said as he leaned back against the pillows and she fit herself against his side. She would have to let her therapist know that she hadn't been able to tell Harry about her past yet, but she'd taken a step forward, a small step but it was a step in the right direction and for that, she was extremely proud of herself.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles request #harry styles drabble #writing #0nlythrowharrybeaux

[glubsurleseuil]

Don't be scared - Chapter 1

This is the first chapter - Next

A Pennywise X F!Reader fanfic 'cause I need to get these ideas out of my head before they eat me up. I'll post this thing on AO3 when I'm not so lazy to create an account. If I go ahead with it, it'll be NSFW, sexually disturbing, gory, violent, reader is an autistic drepressed suicidal girl… In short, skip it if you're a sensitive soul. For the rest of you, enjoy (I hope).

(Note: It was translated by Deepl, English is not my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes. If you want to correct me, don't hesitate!)

(Note 2: The image is by @fandomscreenshots but you should already know that because what she does is amazing)

You've always lived in Derry, Maine. Well, actually you were born in Derry, went to school in Derry and, like any good citizen, you now work in Derry. You don't like it, you never have, and you know that no matter what you do, you'll never like it.

Firstly, because no matter how hard you try since childhood, you just can't seem to make any friends. Worse, people seem to have agreed to shut you out and hate you. At best, they ignore you, at worst… well, let's just say there are certain people you've learned to avoid at all costs, so you don't have to spend the evening licking your wounds…

Secondly, because there's something unhealthy about the general atmosphere of this town, as if it were being devoured by a cancer that affected not only the surrounding greenery, but also the buildings and even the people. A cancer that could be called suffering, melancholy or despair. And although no one knows where these feelings come from, everyone seems to accept them as an inevitable burden.

Tonight, like most evenings, you're working at the Canal Rouge, a rather quiet bar where people can drink and listen to local artists perform on a small stage. You're a waitress, and it's not the most pleasant of jobs, especially when you're a woman. Fortunately, your boss is a woman too, and she's very strict about the respect customers show her staff, so things could be a lot worse.

But tonight, you're in a particularly bad mood. Fatigue has always been a difficult thing for you to deal with, and lately your nights have been… tormented. You've been having a dream, always the same with little difference, on and off for over a week. It's a hazy, dark, incoherent dream that's hard to remember. What you remember most is anguish, fear… and an unbearable feeling of being watched by something dangerous, making you feel like prey waiting to be devoured. When your therapist asked you to describe this dream, even with random words, you said 'fear', 'red' and… 'clown'. You laughed after saying that last word, a nervous, uncontrolled laugh, like a continuation of the one you always hear in this dream before waking up.

But tonight, the worst is yet to come, because you have to serve Jenny's gang as consumers, young people your own age who, like you, are stuck in Derry and like to pass the time by annoying other people. Especially you, since you met them in kindergarten. You know you won't be able to get home safely tonight…

And your fears are confirmed as you finish your shift. As you emerge into the alley to which the service door leads, you see them laughing at the end of it, looking in your direction. This is the way home. You quickly think of another option, but you know that even if you take a longer route, they'll be able to corner you sooner or later, and that's what they'll do. Unless… you go through the forest…

You don't hesitate, knowing that your pursuers won't follow. Their parents have given them the same instructions as you: never go into the forest at night. Ever. Your father had made it clear that he meant business by emphasizing his order with the back of his hand. But tonight, you're a grown-up, and between your dead father's old superstitions and Jenny and her gang's guaranteed beating, the choice was quickly made.

You head into the forest, at first more worried about your pursuers who, as expected, quickly abandon their target. Then you decide to turn on the torch on your phone, as it quickly becomes very dark between the tightly packed trees in the middle of the night. You recognize the path you're on and follow it to the ancient oak tree where you used to climb as a child to escape the bullies. But even this place, reassuring by day, gives off a menacing aura by night…

All is quiet, too quiet for a forest where animals should be going about their nocturnal lives. You get the impression that a kind of fog is floating around, light but unnatural, and as you look at the thick branches of the oak tree, you get a strange feeling… Like a memory from another life… Like a dream…

Suddenly, there's a sound. A sound you know well, having heard it every night for over a week. A laugh. A clown's laugh… You turn in all directions, shining your phone in every nook and cranny around the oak. And just as you realize that there's nothing there, that maybe it's your imagination playing tricks on you, the laughter starts up again. You jump back against the tree, light pointed ahead, anticipating the appearance of someone, something… The laughter becomes more distinct, closer… But it's not coming from in front of you, nor from the sides… It comes… from above?

With a quick gesture, you point the light towards the branches of the oak tree and there, hidden in the shadows of the leaves, you see it: a clown. No, THE clown. The one who has haunted your dreams, distressed your nights, devoured your sanity. This present moment has repeated itself endlessly in your nightmare and now it's all happening for real, clear as day and just as terrifying.

With a muffled scream, you drop your phone, the lamp face down and your legs buckling beneath you. The little light that escapes from beneath your phone only faintly illuminates the bottom of the tree, but you know IT's there.

And it's not long before he leaps down from the tree. You can only make out a silhouette in the darkness, and as you hear him coming closer, you try to remember the end of the dream. It's all a blur, and all that comes back is a vague memory of a hunt in which you are the prey… Back on the grassy ground, you pull yourself back as best you can with your hands, never taking your eyes off the presence. Is this how you're going to die?

He moves slowly closer, slipping into the shadows. You can make out that he's leaning forward, then addressing you in a childlike voice.

"Hiya Y/N! I'm Pennywise, the dancing clown!"

He suddenly picks up your phone from the floor, pulling it up slowly, light downwards, gradually revealing his appearance as he continues.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you, you know? Don't be scared, I'm not going to kill you…"

As he utters these words, light finally shines on his face, reflected in his abnormally large and sharp teeth, piercing yellow eyes focused on you, and horror fills you.

"… yet."

The instinct to survive gives you new energy. You leap to your feet and flee the way you came, briefly illuminated by your phone in the clown's hands. You run at full speed, ignoring the noises behind you that make you think he's chasing you. If you've got a chance of getting away, you're going to take it. In fact, the forest exit isn't far off. One last push! You close your eyes and accelerate again… when hands often clutch your collar, brutally stopping your momentum.

"There you are, you bastard!"

"I told you she'd come back! She's such a pussy!"

"No way out now, you bitch!"

Jenny and her gang… It was Tim, the big muscular guy who caught you. They were waiting for you just outside the forest…

"Why are you running so fast? Are you afraid of the big bad wolf?"

They burst out laughing, but the sound reaches you distorted. The adrenalin from your run is wearing off too slowly and you can still hear your heart pounding in your eardrums. You struggle on, your brain unable to make sense of what has just happened. Suddenly, you hear a foul noise. A kind of hoarse, inhuman growl, coming out of the depths of the woods like an echo to their pitiful mocking laughter. You feel Tim's hands trembling with uncontrollable fear on your collar and watch their faces disintegrate before your eyes. Tim lets go and they all flee in a single scream of terror, leaving you behind.

You turn around, your body still tired from your frantic run, and you quickly understand what made them flee: golden eyes, shining menacingly in the darkness, perched on a huge, muscular, fur-covered figure, its multiple sharp teeth accentuating the evil growl rolling down its throat. A werewolf.

You barely have time to realize that it's the clown from earlier before he disappears between the trees with a hoot that sends shivers down your spine. Just as you regain your strength to flee, something falls near you. You examine it carefully: it's your phone, and as you turn the screen towards you, you see a message written in a torn red font:

DON'T BE SCARED

You don't wait any longer and run towards town without looking back.

#it 2017 #pennywise #pennywise x reader #pennywise x you #pennywise fanfiction #it #horror #damn i'm so scared of posting this why #anxiety my old friend

[lyrenminth]

Quiet love 3/?

The things went down from there. You avoided him more than ever while your grieved your friendship and your unrequited love. It was a big loss, so much that you asked money from your parents for a deposit. You contacted the external friend Lydia told you about, and she was looking for a roommate. Her name was Grace and she sounded kind by the phone. You didn't thought it was so bad. Since Justin was preparing for the games he was busy but you could tell he was avoiding you too and that hurt you even more. You stopped having dinner together and it was more like you hiding in your room or arriving late.

When you saw him, you were polite and distant.

The dynamic was killing you inside.

You started packing your things when Grace told you the previous roomate was leaving. You signed the lease to secure your exit. It was time to put your big girl pants.

One day your mom video called you, and she was worried.

"You don't feel comfortable in his house?" she asked.

"It's not that...I need my space. I can't be living in his house forever, mom" you explained. She bite her lip. "Please, respect my decisions"

"That's ok, but I don't want you to go homeless"

You laughed. "Don't worry about that"

"Holly wanted to talk to you" she lowered his voice. "She is worried about Justin"

You felt as if someone was throwing a bucket of cold water on you.

"Why?"

"Justin hasn't answer any calls or messages from anyone since a week ago. She didn't want to panic because the NFL is rough but that's a lot of time. And since you are living with him she wanted you to check on him" your mom explained. "Maybe the stress of the game is taking a toll on him"

You blinked. The Chargers weren't exactly winning but it wasn't that bad. They had a good record.

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm going to check on him"

"And how you are doing, darling?"

You smiled through the pain.

"Good I like my new job" you started "And California is great, I meet..."

You told your mom everything about the courses and your discoveries, but you mind was on Justin.

When you finished the call, you sent him a message. He was traveling for an away game so it was less likely to answer you but you tried anyway.

Hello

Your mom is worried bout you.

Be a good son and send her a message pls

For your suprise, he replied within minutes. It was ten pm.

I'll do

Thank you

The three dots appeared, and you looked at the screen expecting something but after a couple of seconds it stopped. And you heart broke more.

Losing a friend fucking sucks.

***

On Sunday, Justin got injured during the game. So you were worried about him and decided to stay a couple of days just to see how he was doing. You told Grace and Lydia about delaying moving in.

You were doing a favor to Holly and Mark while they arrived to L.A. His manager, Ashley was in the house at times too. You met a lot of people from his world. Coaches, therapists and assistants.

You realize how important he was for the team.

They always looked at you in surprise then look at Justin like saying "Who's this chick?" it was uncomfortable, but he never told them you were his friend or his lover either. You were just Y/N.

You made him breakfast often. The doctor was optimistic about the injury, he could move and do many things, but he was grumpy most of the time. Being out of the game was one of the things he hated the most. You helped him to stand up and drive him to the facility for his therapy.

"If you need something send me a message" you said, he was in the kitchen eating breakfast.

"Thank you"

"You welcome"

His eyes were speaking but you couldn't decipher the words.

"The boxes...are you leaving?" he struggled to say.

Did he checked your room? Why? Why does he always act like he cares?

"Yeah, I found a nice aparment"

"I- well, were you comfortable here?" his expression was unreadable.

"Yes, thank you for letting me stay" you grabbed your bag and looked at the clock. "Ashley must be here at anytime. I should go to work, you can change your diaper yourself, right?" you joked.

The truth was the injury made you feel less angry with him. It didn't matter that he didn't want you back, you didn't like to see him suffer. He was still an important person in your life, no matter how painful was to look at him now.

And you promise in middle school to have each other's backs.

"Yes, I'm an expert now" he replied, following the joke. You lingered in your place for a couple of seconds, just to see if he said something, but nope. So you said goodbye and left the house.

When you arrive at noon, Holly and Mark were there. You were so happy to see them too.

"Oh, it is so nice to see you again" you hugged them, feeling relieved.

"Look at you" said Holly at your attire. A pencil skirt and a blazer, both in purple color "You look stunning"

That night you put your best act. Nobody could tell Justin and you weren't speaking to each other days ago. And you were glad to have more familiar faces around.

You were talking about your impressions of California, and Justin didn't speak so much. Maybe he wanted to rest since he looked tired.

"She found an apartment too" Justin added, and he sounded so bitter it made you frown.

Holly and Mark looked at you.

"Wow, it is expensive?" Mark asked.

"Not that expensive"

"Did Justin told you something?" Holly asked, looking at his son.

"Not, not at all. It was just time"

"I bet"

Justin was glaring at you, and you didn't understood why he was mad. Maybe he was feeling pain again. You didn't want to deal with his mood swings.

"You should go to sleep a little bit" you suggested, in a cold tone.

The rubbed his eyes and nodded.

"I'm tired" he sighed.

The mood shifted. You felt the tension in your spine and tried to rescue the night.

"Everyone must be tired" you said, standing up and picking up the plates. "You come from a long travel from Oregon" you said to Justin's parents "You better sleep a little bit"

His parents imitated you, but you noticed Mark side-eyed Justin with disapproval.

****

In the morning, you were preparing in your room for work when someone knocked your door.

It was Justin in all his splendor. Looking grumpy as ever.

"Can we talk?"

"Sure" you said without looking at him.

He got inside and closed the door.

"Are you parents up?" you asked, putting lipstick on in front of the mirror.

That morning you were feeling better. Justin's parents always put you in a good mood.

The boxes were still sealed in the corner of your room. When he didn't replied you turned around to look at him. He was fidgeting with the hem of his Nike shirt.

"Is everything alright?" you prompted.

"Yeah...no, no really" You tilted your head to one side, looking at him up and down. "I'm sorry"

The apology landed in a sore spot.

"For what?" you were using the profesional voice you use for clients. His behavior last night was unacceptable. Ridiculous.

"For lying to you" you frowned "I know, I've always know but I was scared and I'm so sorry for being a coward. And for last night too, I was a douche"

"W-what are you talking about?" you asked, referring to the first part of his speech.

"I like you...I like you since highschool or even before, I don't know" he admitted, quickly.

You stopped breathing for a second, your organs melting inside your body.

"Why did you tell me you weren't sure?" you were cautious. At first you didn't believe him, you needed to prevent any type of miscommunication.

"Because I was scared" he explained, walking three steps toward you only to stop suddenly. You didn't move an inch "I...my lifestyle makes me feel like I can't be in a relationship, I'm busy all the time. I don't want you to feel neglected. It's just that...I wasn't ready for the change"

You studied his words and expression, he sounded and looked sincere.

He got closer again, reaching for you like a giant lost kid.

"Are you ready for the change now?" you asked, not processing completely what was happening.

"Yes, yes I am" he touched your shoulder, and you noticed he was shaking slightly. Poor Justin.

You grinned, standing on your tiptoes to hug him carefully. He hug you back, hiding his face on the curve of your neck.

"Justin, do-do you like me?" you wanted to hear him once again. Only to know you weren't dreaming. You looked at him "Is this happening?"

"Yes, I like you"

"Why do you decide to tell me now?"

"My dad sensed something was off and talked to me" he said "I just needed to hear it from someone I trust"

"Hear what?"

"What I'm losing by letting you go"

"I'm going to say thank you to him" he laughed. His expression morphed into something serious, desire. His pretty green eyes scanned your face for a sign, his eyes lingered on your lips. A silent plea. You leaned forward, and he tilt his head only to brush his lips against yours. The warm of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, and you put your hand on his chest to steady yourself. You could feel how fast his heart was beating. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered aggressively.

He did it again, only to make sure you weren't running away. In the third, his pretty mouth landed on yours, and you opened your lips. Kissing Justin felt right all the way. He was careful at the beginning, but as the time pass you needed more. You tongue search for his, and he gave you all you wanted. You fist his shirt, dragging him down to your height.

"Oh my god!" Holly's voice startled you both. You separate, your cheeks burning red. You glance at Justin who was looking the same. "I-I made breakfast, guys" she said, hiding a smile.

"Thanks, mom" Justin said in the most causal tone he could gather.

"I'll wait for you in the kitchen"

When she was gone, you touched your lips. Justin had lipstick on his lips too. You laughed and he looked at you confused.

"You look good with that tone" you said, looking for a wipe. He looked in your mirror and frowned. You gave him the wipe so he could clean himself.

The breakfast was kinda uncomfortable. Holly was trying to act cool, but you were nervous.

"Are you guys dating?" Mark asked, by looking at your face.

"Yes" Justin said, eating bacon.

His answer made you happy. Was this really happening? He sounded so confident about it.

"About time! I'm calling your mom!' announced Holly only to be stopped by Mark.

You knew your mom made some gestures toward Justin indicating her likeness for him as your partner, but you never expect Holly to like you too.

It was heart-warming.

"Once Justin is recovered you should go to the games, using his number and everything" Holly suggested. You were at some games before, wearing the colors of the team, but never official merchandise (you weren't the most fan) but the idea of being there as his partner was terrifying and exciting at the same time.

Justin looked at you with warmness in his eyes. And you swore he was the most beautiful man in the world.

The idea of dating him was the best.

#justin herbert #justin herbert x reader #nfl #fanfiction #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert fanfic

[tequiilasunriise]

"Blake, are your parents dating my mom?"

"...Meow."

@min3nc's post about Snowleopard ripped open the Pandora Box that is some of my headcanons about this throuple (and the subsequent Bellaschneeblings interactions in my post here) so sit tight y'all this list is gonna be long because I absolutely adore this healthy bi4bi4bi poly pilf couple that foils whatever the fuck Divorce Mcgees Summer, Raven, n Tai had going on (don't get me wrong, I adore str-crossed lovers, especially whatever the fuck Rosebird had, but cmon you could power a small nation off of their Divorce Energy alone)

-They have zero in-canon interactions but the thought of Willow slowly healing and learning to love again from two characters shown to be incredibly sweet and patient and understanding and oh so gentle and tender and earnest? Guys this alone should sell you on the ship like!! LIKE!!!

-WILLOW HEALING FROM HER ABUSIVE MARRIAGE TRAUMA WITH THE HEALTHIEST COUPLE!! GHIRA AND KALI TAG TEAMING TO VALIDATE AND SMOTHER THE SHIT OUTTA THIS ENDEARING MILF WITH SO MUCH LOVE AND SUPPORT!!!

-Takes a deep breath. Wowie. Do y'all get it though do y'all understand the vision?

-I need me vulnerable Willow asking the Pilfadonnas fer parenting advice and the pair to be more than happy to help their girlfriend just so eager to help!! They're so reassuring and tender with her, making sure she doesn't feel like a terrible shit fer asking fer help about this like, "Oh, oh sweetheart. You've been through so much, and it's a good thing you're fighting fer your second chance to be the mother your children need and deserve. It's alright, darling, we're right here with you."

-Furthermore, Willow would feel so much guilt eating at her for her ex-husband's crimes against the Faunus as a whole and the Pilfadonnas, the leaders of the Faunus themselves, would help talk through her guilt and affirm that Willow is not to blame fer bullshit Jacques pulled and help her with the process of finding a good therapist like like like!!! There's so much shit here guys!!!

-"It was by marrying me that Jacques gained access to the resources tied to the Schnee name and carved out the world. I didn't do anything to stand up to him and stop him from ruining my family's name, and so by doing nothing I'm a part of his sins."

"....Babygirl we love you so much but there's SO MUCH wrong to unpack here."

-Also Willow deserves to be bisexually panicked by two hot cat people bc I said so she just deserves okay trust trust trust

-Anyways, the Schneeblings are mad sus of the Pilfadonnas at first because they ALLLLL know what kinda abusive bullcrap their mom went through in her dead marriage with Jackass Schnee but all eventually coming around to really love Ghira's and Kali's seemingly endless unconditional love (Weiss was the quickest to adapt, then Winter, and finally little Whitley)

-The Pilfadonnas are so sweet and loving to their new kids and see 'em as their own straight up but don't pressure any typa connection and respect the Schneeblings so much like, "I would prefer just Kali, but if calling me Ms. Belladonna makes you more comfortable then go right ahead sweetheart" LIKE THEYRE JUST THE BEST STEPARENTS EVER SO MUCH VALIDATION AND PATIENCE AND SWEETNESS!!!

-"Chieftain Ghira, sir, it's good to see you."

"Winter, while I won't stop you from calling me by that title if that's what makes you the most comfortable, you don't have to be so strict with yourself. There's no need to address me like you're a military subordinate, sweetheart."

"...I would die for you, sir."

"Oh! Um! I'm very grateful for that, but, uh, let's also not huh? Wouldn't want you dying anytime soon ahahahaaa."

"You're right, sir, the Maiden powers should not be so carelessly tossed around."

".....Alright so we're going to go find you a good therapist and start working on your sense of personhood-"

-The Pilfadonnas introduce the concept of therapy and healthier coping mechanisms to all of the Schnees REALNESS

-"But OP wouldn't Weiss already have learned that from her super supportive friends?" Weiss' found family is incredible but healthy coping mechanisms are NOT part of that package deal holy shit hypertraumatized child soldiers left and righttt baby

-Anyways, one time Whitley slipped and accidentally called Ghira "Hey dad-" and everyone FROZE before Whitley rushed his question and then ran the f u c k off as Ghira started wiping tears with Kali holding him close and Willow being so emotional at the her son finally has a solid, good father figure in his life oMG HES STARTING TO ACCEPT THE PILFADONNAS!!!

-Eventually, the Schneeblings graduate to calling the Pilfadonnas just Kali and Ghira (and Blake calling Willow by her first name was already established back when she was crashing Schnee Manor in V8 so we chilling) but Whitley, oh my heart, sometimes slips with a 'mama' or 'dad' to his stepparents and down the line he even stops getting embarrassed over it and GOSH does it melt the Pilfadonnas' hearts everytime he calls 'em that it doesn't matter if it's the tenth or the hundredth time they're sosossooo soft

-One time Weiss was practicing her fencing stances and didn't realize the Pilfadonnas were watching her, and then when they started to praise how amazing her swordsmanship is? Babygirl actually starts to cry a little because it was always, "You need to be faster, Schnees aren't supposed to be so slow" and "What would your grandfather say if he saw such sloppy forms? Again!" and never, "Oh, Weiss, honey, you were wonderful out there! You must have trained very hard to be so good!"

-If you give any of the Schneeblings a fucken shred of unconditional praise they will crumple faster than a stale cookie. On a daily basis, Weiss jokes and asks Blake how the FUCK did she not end up more well-adjusted (she knows about the bullshit with Adam but Weiss also knows that Blake is aware she's just messing around)

-So we've established some headcanons of the Schneelings interacting with the Pilfadonnas, but hear me out awkward as fuck Blake and Willow interactions bc Willow has NO IDEA how to interact with her daughter's teammate turned stepdaughter???

-Because, you know, "Oh uh hey my ex-husband exploited and abused the shit out the Faunus for years on end and you were one of the people heavily affected to the point where you, as a literal child, turned to a life of vigilante terrorist justice as a form of fighting back for your own basic rights"

-Blake, like her parents, completely understand that Willow had nothing to with Jackass' cruelty and instead gives her new stepmom an easy smile and starts talking small talk about Weiss' adventures with Team RWBY and!! Yeah!! Willow genuinely wants to know what's been going on in her daughter's life since she was so absent from it during her alcoholic days

-The pair bond over a shared loved of Weiss, and at one point Willow says, "If it isn't overstepping, can I just say I am truly fortunate that Weiss has someone like you in her life to support her" and Blake chuckles softly and replies, "It wasn't easy at first, but yeah, I'm glad she's in my life too" AND ARGAGRGRHRH THE BONDINGGGG

-Speaking of bonding, imagine the Pilfadonnas vibing with Klein and bonding over tea together, and seeing their adoptive dad figure Klein vibe with their new steparents may or may not have sped up Whitley and Winter warming up to the Pilfadonnas justttt a litttttlleee

-When Kali and Ghira see their stepkids flinch at loud voices or innocently raised hands, when they notice the low self-esteem Winter still carries or Whitley's facade of maturity so that adult figures actually acknowledge him, in front of the kids they're very respectful and apologetic of accidental triggers without being patronizing, but when they're alone? Straight fucking murder in their eyes. The Pilfadonnas are fucken e n r a g e d they're fucken seething because how dare Jackass Schnee hurt these sweet kids so fucking much

-They make sure neither the Schneeblings nor Willow are around when they let out their furious vents to each other absolutely slandering Jackass' name with clenched fists and bared fangs because they don't want their anger to trigger anyone but yeahhhh. Yeah, if Jacques is still out there we're adding two bisexual cat pilfs to the waiting list fer ripping his head off

-ANYWAYS, on a lighter note, can y'all imagine the Belladonnas are vibing and purring together all comfy and shit and the Schnees see them and are like, "Shit man they're so HEALTHY and FUNCTIONAL what the HECK??"

-Blake groaning, "Dadddddd!!" when her dad pulls up with family albums to talk about his precious daughter's childhood and, "Not you too mom!!!" when Kali excitedly joins in. As Blake is play wrestling with her parents to get the photobooks away, the Schnees are just witnessing this in various levels of amused but also kinda like, "Damn wow is this what a healthy family's supposed to look like dannggg that's crazzzzzyyyyyyyy"

-Vacations to Menagerie where the Belladonnas playfully make fun of their sunburnt as all hell white family members, and even though some Faunus are wary of the visiting Schnees, others are more open to giving these guys a chance and hey!! Turns out the SDC is actually going to be a good company after the shit Jacques Schnee pulled. Imagine the healing between Faunus relations and the Schnee family name when Willow and her kids pull up to help wherever and however they can

-I'm just saying family dinners would be so healthy and healing fer Willow and her kids after years filled with so many isolated, lonely, suffocating as hell dinners when Jacques still walked these halls. Instead of stiff etiquette and barbed questions throw their way by a spiteful bitchass with a clip-on tie, there's warm laughter and jovial banter thrown about; genuine inquires about their day/interests that lead to invested conversation and freely given praise; large, beaming smiles from three dark color-schemed people who radiantly glow like the sun. It's like the Belladonnas breathed back life into the hollowed out Schnees who barely survived all the different ways jackass had hurt them, and that's just so fucken lovely to think about

#please go check out part two with the bellaschneeblings interactions shit was SO FUN to write #also!! yall feel free to reblog with ur own hcs!! the more the merrier #snowleopard came outta nowhere and absolutely rotted my brain like theyre actually so good??? #crwby u cowards give me the healthy old ppl polycule they would be so fucken good #Qrow n Willow would be recovering alcoholic bros- much to Winter's chagrin- but its to these two loving cat ppl that Willow comes home to #rebuilding vauco through the power of good parental figures therapy and bisexuality #rwby #rwby snow leopard #kali belladonna #ghira belladonna #willow schnee #pilfadonnas #schneeblings #winter schnee #weiss schnee #whitley schnee #blake belladonna #rwby snowleopard

[wisteriasymphony]

I Can't Be Your Boyfriend And Your Therapist.. But I'm Sure as Hell Going to Try!

(The Adrinette Yes/No Hands Thing but with Claudrien and I make it better and perhaps even cute)

Adrien tugged on the collar of his sage green sweater-vest as he mulled over how to properly introduce the exercise. His girlfriend, in all fairness, had commented once before on how his usual sense of style made him look like a psychologist, and whether she knew it or not he was probably going to live up to that notion quite soon.

"So, I know we had a fight very recently," is how he started it off. Probably not a particularly brilliant choice, but it set the foundation as he needed it to.

"Yes." Claudia knit her eyebrows together as if she was wondering just how stupid Adrien was. "We did."

"And-! Because that fight was, erm..." He gestured with his hands for a moment as if trying to pull in the latter half of his sentence with a length of twine. "...Borne of- er, brought about- by a miscommunication in our respective wants, I thought we should find a way to alternatively communicate that bypasses your usual hangups of not wanting to tell me things!"

As always, as Adrien got more anxious, the more he peppered in hyper-specific and fancy words into his speech. It clearly didn't help his case for clear communication much, now did it? Claudia had to take a moment to parse what he meant, but she was usually better at the 'listening' shtick than she was at the 'speaking'. That was in part what brought them together so quickly, he supposed. His desire to be heard and her tendency to listen.

"Okay," she finally agreed, a touch of reluctance in her voice. "And what is this 'alternative communication'?"

"Well," he said, chewing on his lip, "I'm going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to raise your left hand if your answer is 'yes' and your right hand if your answer is 'no'. Like this." And Adrien raised his left and his right hands one after the other.

Claudia, sitting directly in front of him, mirrored his movements exactly.

"Uhm-- Your left hand."

She raised her right. "I mean, from your perspective, this is my left, so I was going off that," she said. "This is left to you, right?"

"Right— Er, wrong- I mean—" Adrien paused for a moment just to tussle with his own perception of which hand was which, making an "L" with his left hand for good measure to confirm it was what it said it was. "My left and right doesn't matter, it's yours that does."

"But then you might think I'm saying the opposite of what I am if you mix them up."

"I'm not going to do that!"

"Adrien, I fucking saw you mix them up a few seconds ago," Claudia sighed. "Let's just go with your left and right, and I'll do the math in my head to reverse it."

Adrien felt it necessary to capitulate—Jung, Maslow or Spielrein he clearly was not. Not just because those were all psychologists and what he was doing here was closer to leading his girlfriend through a therapy session (...Better than leading a patient into his bed, he supposed).

"Alright." Adrien took a deep breath, before taking out a piece of paper with all of his questions for her written on it. "Question One: Do you feel trapped in this relationship?"

Claudia paused. Raised one hand halfway, then raised the other. Then both were raised at about shoulder height, and then she dropped them both entirely.

"See? This is another issue with this whole yes-no thing. It's more than that."

"Well then tell me. Why is it 'more than that'?"

Claudia seemed to hold her breath, letting her words dissolve in her mouth like a bitter pill rather than saying them out loud.

"No, I'll play your little game," she muttered, raising both hands and averting her eyes from his. "Ask me if I feel like you are trapping me in this relationship."

He didn't have that as a question, actually. He thought that was what 'Question One' meant.

"Okay.. Do you feel like I'm trapping you in this relationship?"

Again, both hands were raised, but it was at a skew: If the height was a factor, it seemed like her answer was 75% "No" and 25% "Yes". Still, her eyes were turned away.

"Do you feel like I'm intentionally trapping you?"

100% "No". Adrien thought about it for a moment, and what he got was probably a clearer picture than if he'd just stuck to the original first question outright. She did feel trapped or obligated in some way, but it was slight and she didn't think he was doing it on purpose. She probably didn't even see his proposal as anything malicious moreso than as something impulsive. Claudia probably understood—and he did too, to be fair—that when he had proposed to her, Adrien had been blinded by his own hopes for the future that he sort of disregarded what would have to happen to get there. What Claudia would have to potentially change about herself to make that work.

"Do you feel like you're trapping yourself in this relationship?"

100% "Yes". ...That was interesting.

"How?" Adrien set the paper down on the floor entirely. "Is there something else to it, or—"

Claudia had closed her eyes entirely. "That's not a 'yes' or 'no' question," was all she said.

"...Do you think you're trapping me?"

200% "Yes". She even used her other arm to support it, stretch it up further. Adrien just nodded, and continued to think of similar sentiments or questions to try and get to the bottom of it that way.

"You think you're trapping both of us in this."

Still a "Yes".

"...And you think you're doing it.. more intentionally than I am?"

Even more of a "Yes".

"Are you worried that I'm unhappy in this and I don't know it?"

"I can't raise my hand any higher than this," she joked. "Hell, Do you want me to stand up? Jump?"

"No, we can stay seated," he said. "...Here, my turn. Ask me if I'm worried that I'm unhappy in this."

Claudia finally opened her eyes, and Adrien noticed they were initially shut to hide how watery they were. She looked to his crossed legs, then to his shoulders, and then right as the top of his head—the closest she could probably manage to eye contact at that point.

"Are you?"

He raised his left—her right.

"No," he said, keeping his hand raised. "Not at all. I feel like if I was unhappy and didn't know it, it would at least be something eating away at me or whispering in the back of my mind, but it's not. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

Claudia nodded.

"And- If we really need to look at it in this way— I enjoy myself more when I'm with you. Quite literally—I think I'm a better person because of you. It's been really nice to have someone to open up to like this," he confessed. "—And I know I'm hiding things, just like you are, but I hope we can work through that together. I really do have just as many issues as you do, Claudia. You're not any more of a burden to me than I am to you."

"It's not really a 'burden'," Claudia sighed. "I feel like I'm trapping myself in this because I want to take care of you so badly. It's kind of ruining my life, and it'd be better to let it go... but I still want to because I love you."

"Exactly," Adrien said. "So why can't the same be true for me?"

#claudrien nation have fun fucking crying #also if I continue this they would take turns therapizing each other. toxic? YES. but it's mutual and THATS THE DIFFERENCE #ml writing salt #FIXED! ml writing salt #also he keeps his hand up like he's swearing an oath. that is intentional. #claudrien #shitsquare

[vizthedatum]

cw: a huge vent

Yeah, I woke up early, felt ok physically (was slightly flaring yesterday but I had a really nice time with my gf and it really made up for all of it haha), and then went down memory lane and started crying.

Then, I ate ice cream for breakfast.

Facepalm.

Today, I'm supposed to start a whole new regimen of supplements and meds (I'm still not on as many prescription meds as I've typically been, and I'd like to see how much I can keep it that way). I have my medication pill organizer all organized! I've written out notes and schedules for myself: morning, afternoon, evening, emergencies, morning routine, nighttime routine, grocery lists, etc.

*cries*

I know I will adhere to this - I am trying to give myself so many chances to succeed in life - I WANT TO LIVE FOR MYSELF.

--

I feel so stupid for falling in love with the people of my past.

I feel so stupid for making so many mistakes.

Every day I wonder if I'm just a bad person.

I still apologize for a lot of my unmasked traits.

I am still regretting my poor behavior with a lot of people.

Was I a lousy spouse? Was I a bad child? Am I the actual abuser in all of this?!

What could I have done to make it better??????????

Should I have just stayed quiet - ignored things until I vanished?

--

Sometimes, I wonder if I actually did kill Pri (dead-nickname and the name I used to go by) - what if I killed her so that she didn't have to live through the complex web of lies that she had created for herself?

I GAVE ALL OF THEM SO MUCH BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT.

I know that I've just recycled parts of her instead - recycled her into who she wanted to be: me.

I'm not plural, but having had PTSD and undiagnosed autism and ADHD for so long... it feels so jarring to be more authentic.

It's so jarring to heal.

--

And what about everyone that Pri loved???

I've often said in this blog that I've been reevaluating everyone Pri loved. I told my therapist last week that I don't regret cutting all the friendships/relationships off from the last year EXCEPT FOR ONE. (Edit: in the end, I have to admit - that situationship or whatever wasn’t really respectful to me - and while I enjoyed aspects, it was a joke of what I truly deserve)

I was so fucking caught up in my trauma that I just couldn't handle it - and I hurt someone I really cared about. I keep telling myself that they didn't even really care about me - but I'm sure they did, at least as a friend or a person in their life.

That relationship made me question a lot, but I was already questioning many things.

That relationship made me realize how poorly I valued myself and how badly I misjudged the toxic way I was attracted to other people.

That relationship wasn't what made me leave my ex-spouse, even if we had arguments about it.

My ex-spouse is why I left my ex-spouse.

The more I live by myself and reconnect with my hobbies, spirituality, friends, healthy depictions of love, etc. - the more I realize how UNSAFE I was.

I still weep at pictures of myself from 2019-2022.... how could someone who claimed to love me let me be in such disarray?

How could I have married someone in the midst of chaos, arguments, debates that were clearly meant to defeat me every time, psychological violence, etc.?!

Why didn't I just BREAK UP WITH THEM AND KICK THEM OUT YEARS AGO - instead of having the stupidest marriage where I was the only active participant, living in a dangerous and toxic environment, and being in financial devastation?

I am still recovering from the financial blow I took when I left them in 2022. Before I left, I barely had any credit card debt (I did have a lot of student loans but that is a whole other story - plus I had qualified for loan forgiveness before that was nixed by our government), my credit score was amazing, and I was going to try to recover from burnout (I AM STILL IN BURNOUT)....

I have no idea when I'll be able to really recover - I am trying to figure it all out, and of course, I have a plan (I must - I keep having to be forced into it - and I fucking like having a comfortable life)... but I wonder, when will be the day when I can't just do it anymore?

When will I be unable to "hack" life?

Will I relapse into my codependency and end up with immature partners who expect me to push through my autism and various other disabilities to the point of me completely falling apart while they yell at me about how ungrateful, selfish, and insecure I am?

Will I just be perpetually used as a sex object until people think I'm too ugly and too annoying to be used any further?

--

I have had to heal from who I was to figure all of these questions out. I wasn't in great long-term relationships before this one, and there were reasons for it.

I am investigating the why - I am trying to feel the emotions - I am trying to confront my own "shadows" - I am trying so hard.

I am also just trying to live life every day.

I am trying to do better on so many fronts now.

#healing #vent #codependency recovery #recovering codependent #neurodivergence #trauma #self love #heartbreak #prose #harm #love

[tobiasdrake]

A hopeless confrontation with a hopeless demon.

Quarble, he's too fast. I've tried to dodge and weave and watch for openings but he nails me every time. No matter what I do, it's like he's right there, waiting for me to do it. I can't get away from him.

"Look, man. This is just a job. I'm not your therapist. Figure it out or don't."

You really don't have any ideas? You don't know anything or... have any suggestions I can use here?

How am I supposed to beat this guy, Quarble? Eleven times. He's gutted me eleven times. Yeah, okay, lesson learned about underestimating people, but I've been trying really hard. Was I wrong to think I could actually do this?

Maybe he was right. Maybe I'm at my limit. Maybe... this is where my journey ends.

"...push... through...."

Did you say something, Quarble?

"Yeah, I said 'If I don't get any Time Shards soon I'm bailing. Have fun getting dissected again.'

No, there was something... like a flicker....

"Hallucinations may be an occasional side effect of being gruesomely butchered, revived, and butchered again repeatedly in a short time period. I say 'may be' because most people give up and accept the sweet embrace of death well before it ever gets to this point."

"It's a mistake to rely on speed alone; It's too easy to push through. I figured that out early in our training. Zale learned it shortly after."

We go through.

I've been letting this job get in my head. Trying to be more cautious. Trying to be mindful. But the answer was right there in the fable. I need to stop running.

Luana spent her whole life sparring with a Blade Dancer. It's a style eerily similar to Brugaves's new demon style. To the point that it almost seems like a cruel joke for Aephorul to forge him this way.

Nobody knew better than her how to counter that style. And she wrote it down. You don't run away from a Blade Dancer. You go through.

If he's too fast for you, then he may just as easily be too fast for himself. All you have to do is stand your ground and let him strike himself upon your weapon.

I've been getting in my own head. Worrying about stupid things like safety and protecting myself. When I should have been asking the obvious question from the start.

What would Luana do?

Hey! Goat-licker. Imagine selling out the people who love you so you can be the Acolytes' gofer. I can't even be vindictive about it 'cause having to live like this is punishment enough.

Sure, you used to have respect, admiration, kids looking up to you with stars in their eyes, and a dedicated life-partner who'd do anything for you. But you're right, kissing the foot of a four-headed butt-chugger every morning is just as fucking good, isn't it?

You're a coward and a fool, Barma'thazel. You were barely any good as a Solstice Warrior. And now you're a bottom-feeding parasite living in a hellhole, clinging desperately to the one gift his master graced him with.

The goddess forgot about you long ago. She's over you. And I'm done running from you. Because I'm better than you.

It's called crippling overspecialization, ass-weevil. You'd think a general of an armed forces would be able to grasp a concept as basic as that. But I guess you're just too slow.

Hold up. Do you mean that in the figurative sense? Like, we are all pieces in a larger game that cares nothing for winners and losers, and so in the grand scheme of things we are all doo--

NOPE LITERAL SENSE VERY LITERAL SENSE GODDAMMIT

SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK

WHY

WHY CAN'T I EVER JUST WIN SOMETHING

I LOOKED SO COOL BACK THERE

MY HAT WAS SET TO MAXIMUM AWESOME

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

YEEEEEEEEEES Holy shit, thank you prophesized Lifesaver. Wentworth, you are a sight for sore eyes.

...wait, what?

...

Errors have been made. You know, I thought you looked a little small to be the colossal dragon that Luana wrote about but I just figured she'd embellished.

In any case, THANK YOU DRAGON BESTIE WOO FUCKING HOO

Let's blow this shithole and go home!

*deep breath*

In your name.

#the messenger #drake plays the messenger

[sasukimimochi]

i wanna ramble about my view on JC but i'm so bad at words

so like, i see posts where people talk about these things JC does or WWX holds back from, i don't wanna go searching but also want to leave these details out cuz i don't want to accidentally call people out cuz that is not my intention (not that i have the audience to do something like that) so i'm just gonna go from my memory and kinda summarize what i think abt him...

gonna add a read more line bc this gets long!

Uh, btw please no hostility i'm not trying to start arguments, these are just my thoughts i really wanted to get out there. i'm definitely no therapist or psychologist so take this with a grain of salt, this is the view of just an average reader who retains a lot of info [tho still manages to miss details at times]. Anyway if you have info you think i should have addressed, reply and i'll make additions if i agree/want to expand on the info presented to me!

So, WWX and JC have a weird thing going on, it's not exactly brothers but they definitely wanted that, the reason why i say they aren't solidly brothers is because i'm pretty sure Madam Yu has influenced JC from the start of his arrival which is why he doesn't call wwx a-xian or Wei Ying or A-Ying- Why he doesn't allow himself to let loose properly around anyone even in private, why he constantly scolds wwx, etc. i believe firmly he's been quite influenced by his parents due to him being the next sect heir and the pressure that comes from it, as well as what he feels like madam yu is correct on- wwx is uncle jiang's favorite.

Madam Yu still chides Yanli for doing domestic acts for WWX but not on the same level as JC, who is constantly under pressure by her to be the perfect heir to the sect. She wants him to be better than WWX, which of course affects all of the family but Yanli gets left out of the fire a bit, which i think is what gives her such a strength to do these supportive acts for the brothers [and why she's also both the brother's favorite. She's basically the mom they wish for. Supportive, understanding, and helps mediate them]. Though this is a burden she has to bear, it's not that big of a burden to her because she loves the two so much.

Jiang Fengmian... i might be spelling his name wrong, so i'll call him Uncle Jiang cuz it will be faster for me to type with no mistakes haha. Anyway, I have complicated feelings about him.

At first i thought he was great and did no wrong, but that was on my first pass and when i had just watched the donghua only. My opinion of him since i read the novel isn't bad, but it's not super good. He's in a complicated position! There's only so much he can do about his wife, they argue super often and while its not usually crazy loud, it's pretty intense. [also, i'm not sure if separation is really a thing that happened back then, i think that's really a modern thing.] I feel like we're likely seeing Uncle Jiang's will to fight dimmed down by the wear of time.

Consider: you have a family member who won't ever listen to what you say, regardless how sound your argument is- you can be completely in the right and have all the facts, but no matter how long you press on, the result never changes. Do you put in the same amount of effort for the rest of your life? No! You understand that no matter how much you argue that their answer will remain the same. I personally have a family member like this, and while i defend myself regularly, it does not go anywhere. That is the nature of some people, no matter what they may not treat your view with the respect it deserves.

anyway back to the main line here, i dont think wwx is wrong about what he said regarding JF to JC. "he's just hard on you cuz you're going to be sect leader" or whatever it was along those lines- WWX does not seem like the type to lie to make someone feel better and i think this is why JC appreciates that conversation so much (besides the heartfelt twin prides which is obviously something that stuck to him for a long time). And i agree, JF is definitely trying to prepare Jiang Cheng for his position as sect leader one day.

do i think Uncle Jiang is completely guilt free of favoritism? No absolutely not, he canonically holds wwx more as a child, which i think is hard to argue against- but i do think the context of that is missed in part by most. WWX may have been a bright kid with sun shining out his ass but he was also a scared kid that just got rescued off the streets after his parents never came home. A kid that was fighting for food from dogs and likely starving and scared because he was on the street for like 5 years [if i remember it was from age 4 to 9 in the novel]. Of course he got held a bit more- i can't imagine he would be completely unphased immediately upon arrival, at least with his Uncle Jiang who was totally willing to provide him comfort- which wwx probably desperately missed from his now dead parents. We know canonically that the memory of those parents, however small, is unreplaceable and dear to wwx- but having JF treat him dearly is truly a balm to what has happened to him.

I'm not gonna say JC didn't go through things that made him cry and want to be held, in fact if WWX came into the house and suddenly got a lot of attention, it's going to feel pretty shitty for JC! Of course this combined with abruptly losing his privacy and puppies was what initially had him pushing the other away, but as you could see, after WY breaks his leg after running off and they make up, they get really close and despite this looming responsibility and family troubles, the two are very bonded. imo making them look like 6 year olds in the donghua is an injustice to their relationship, because 9 year olds tend tend to have more emotional intelligence (?) at that age. I'm not sure how to phrase that, but basically making them look younger and act like giggling children took away from the scene a bit for me lol. Jc is old enough to realize he doesn't dislike wwx! This isn't a child quickly getting over his anger, he's young here yes, but he's decided in this moment that he cares about this new member of the family, despite being called the son of a servant. [which yes madam yu is once again influencing his view of this segregation but i think he is much better at ignoring this particular in his youth]

I am rambling more than i thought i would lmao- i have a lot of feelings about their relationship and i think it's skipped over so much

um, i'm not sure which direction i was going in before i went onto the parents. Let's skip forward.

lotus pier fell and not only did JC see wwx get humiliated and whipped and nearly disfigured, his mother who he was about to lose blamed wwx for so much. When you lose a family member you have an attachment to, whether it bad or good, this influences your thoughts about them and with no way to resolve said thoughts. i find this hard to explain, so i'm just going to hope you understand what i'm referring to here. Especially in ancient china though, i believe it's a big thing to hold such a high regard for your parents, but especially if they have passed? i can't say this is fact but i believe that is the case i just am sticking to my memory here. So these things in combination with Trauma, i believe starts this heavy, negative emotion in JC that is hard to unstick.

JC and WWX may get into a one-sided scuffle but soon after they cry together like children. They just experienced hundreds of lives lost- people they grew up with and trained with and cared for as well as the people who provided and cared for them- their family was unstable, but still was a family and support system- now they had only two people and one of them was far away, the one that was typically their pillar. I feel like a lot of people hold JC to an impossible standard in his situation- having a bad day and taking it out on someone is one thing, going through a traumatic massacre i think allows someone to get a bit unreasonable [though of course nearly choking him was quite far, remember, he's extremely unstable emotionally at this point].

"WWX didn't do that though!" of course not. WWX is a different person with a different personality, is older (though i don't know by how much), and is extremely resilient, but he does process his trauma just differently. As you see over and over in the novel, wwx goes through many things others wouldn't dream of, but he starts acting differently even before the golden core removal, not only after. He's going through the same things, but i'm pretty sure no one reacts to trauma the same way to the T. JC's just happens to be misplaced anger, which is probably way too simple a way to put it, but anyway...wwx also gets angry. very angry. The two both have the correct target of anger in the end, despite Jc's breakdown. He still harbors his mother's words, but at this point they're still in the background of his mind.

Now again we go forward- JC willingly sacrifices himself for WWX. Look, if he doesn't like wwx at all i think this is extremely contradictory. even if he was s*icidal, he could have chose other ways to get to that end if that was the case. and a gentle reminder that JC perks back up and is ready to fight once he believes WWX knows how to fix his core! i don't think he was truly wanting to die or anything like that until he thought he had lost everything except wwx and jyl. He believes in wwx's strength despite his constant fear of inferiority, so if he was gone, what would it matter if wwx was there to continue to protect yanli?

Essentially he was like 'well what are we going to do if i can't lead the sect? We would be in a homeless situation and there is a war.' aka there's not a lot of hope all around, i don't think he was only upset about the core, but it was definitely the main force because if he didn't have a core, how would he survive what was happening anyway? he's like 'if i'm gonna die let it be on my terms' yk? He also doesn't feel like he's strong enough before he lost his core to protect anyone. Without it? fat chance.

whew... this is a lot already, so maybe i'll post this and do a part two later addressing YLLZ arc, then the "present" one. i just have a lot of feelings about their relationship and i'm sad to see so much negativity around him...JC is quite flawed, but a lot of the characters are flawed! that doesn't make them bad characters, it makes them interesting and human.

#sasu speaks #discussion #my ✨ opinions ✨ and facts pulled from novel canon #no discourse please i will simply die #i don't handle discourse well at all #i hope this doesn't feel like discourse god pls #i truly just want my views out there #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #wei ying #jiang wanyin #madam yu #jiang fengmian #jiang yanli #yunmeng siblings #uhhh idk what else to tag #so lets just leave it there #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation

[lantur]

mental health stuff,

October marks my four-year anniversary of being in therapy. I have a wonderful relationship with my therapist. She's helped me get through a lot of challenges, from major life stressors like my dad's diagnosis and death, and dealing with my emotionally abusive mother, to dealing with struggles with anxiety, depression, ADHD, workplace issues, etc. 

I've gone from seeing my therapist once a week when I need the extra support, to once a month. She's really happy with the routines and coping skills I've developed, and she joked the other day that she's working herself out of a job - but we won't stop therapy until I'm ready. 

I feel a bit self-conscious about being in therapy for four years, since I don't think most people stay in for that long. Derek pointed out that I was on a great trajectory until last summer when my dad was diagnosed and things took a pretty steep downturn mental health-wise then, which is to be expected. 

I'm really happy with the coping skills I've developed over the years too. I have so many more close friends than I used to, and I know what works for me with regard to managing my ADHD and more or less managing my depression and anxiety. 

One thing I still struggle with is processing my feelings. What I want to do is journal more often, and get my feelings out in between therapy visits. I've used my Tumblr as a journal for 10+ years, which is wild, but I want to be more consistent about it. I write when I'm happy and feeling good, usually at the end of the weekend. 

I want to write more when I'm feeling not so good. And I have been feeling not so good this week. I pride myself on my resilience and my ability to bounce back from difficult, painful situations; on the fact that I can survive and sort-of thrive even in situations that are not ideal. So it's hard for me to admit when I'm not doing so well. I also don't like to dwell on negative emotions, and I choose to emphasize my more positive feelings instead. But I think I have to feel the negative and get it out so I can move on.

I've been having a hard time bouncing back from how bad I felt after my mom's disastrous visit in September. The whole first week after she left, I felt so sad. Last week and so far this week, I've felt so much anger. So much anger over the way she treated me last month, but also last year, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that… 

It's a bitter and confusing thing to have your own mother, who should love you and support you and encourage and uplift you, treat you like dirt. To deliberately try to hurt you at every turn; to always try to tear you down by saying that you're not doing enough, not giving her enough. I tried so hard, SO HARD, for so many years, to make her happy. I was her therapist at 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, with no mental health training or background, with major mental health struggles of my own, trying to talk her out of depression, out of suicide. 

No matter what I said or did, it was never enough to make her happy. When I finally broke free of that pattern of trying everything to make her happy - after I started therapy - then she started punishing me with escalating emotional and verbal abuse for making my own life choices that didn't align with the life she wanted me to have. 

For a long time, I felt a huge void in my life due to not being able to have a relationship with my brother due to my adoption. Over time, I've done a lot to fill that void, with my wonderful friends, who are like family to me. It's harder to replace my mom, though. She can't be in my life anymore because she has proven herself truly incapable of treating me with kindness, love, and respect. Nobody in my life has ever hurt me more than she has. 

I have so much anger about my mom treating me the way she has, because I deserved better. I was a child and a teenager who didn't know that at the time, but I see it now. I would never treat a child the way she treated/treats me, let alone my own child. 

I admit it makes me jealous when I see Derek and my friends with good relationships with their moms. It makes me aware that I don't have that. A positive, supportive, loving relationship with your mother seems like such a gift. All I get from mine, all I've gotten for years, is pain. And moms aren't "replaceable," I guess. I can't swap out my mom with someone else, the way I kind of have with my friends / my family of choice as my siblings. 

Derek says that his parents think of me like a daughter, which is sweet, but it's not the same. My greatest hope right now is that one day, I can finally have a good experience of a mother-child relationship, with a child of our own. I deeply hope it works out. 

#lanturing

[fandom-ash]

Beyond The Pain // Chapter Two: Tell It To My Heart

Paring: Miguel O’Hara x Maria Philips (OC)

Genre: Romance with eventual smut, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: No beta - We write like men!

Ao3 Mirror: Coming soon

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter 3

Summary: Maria and Miguel come to an understanding after trading blows. She decides to ask him for a favor to prepare herself for what lies ahead.

"Walk with me." The request was simple enough, and yet Maria would have preferred to be asked to do literally anything else. The HQ was quiet this late into the evening. The few Spiders they did pass didn't acknowledge them outside of a small nod here and there.

"So… what do you want?" She tried to sound respectful. Gentle, even. But she wasn't going to split hairs about the slight edge to her tone or how Miguel furrowed his brows at her words.

Sector 12's entrance loomed ahead. The training simulations and gym were a hot spot for Spiders to gather, and yet this late into the night it would be most likely deserted. The SimCourse - the holographic training simulation course - would probably be available. Jessica's words hummed in Maria's mind.

"I want… to apologize." Miguel's words were low and deliberate. Maria blinked. "I should not have treated you so harshly. It was your first time leading a mission." He looked at her, a dark glint in his eye. "Let's make sure you do better next time."

“We doing a SimCourse run, then?” She asked as they walked into the gym area, their movement making the automatic lights flicker to life. Just as Maria expected - completely empty. Miguel clicked his tongue and looked at her with the faintest smirk.

“I was thinking of something more personal,” he said before walking over to the large mat and settling into a crouched fighting stance. Maria blinked owlishly at him.

“Like… fight you?”

“I didn’t take you for the hands-off type. Come on.”

Maria scoffed. “As much as I’d love to punch your pretty face, I don’t think this is wise-“

“I’m not asking. I’m telling. Spar with me.” His massive form was curling with tension and the energy rolling off of him made Maria’s stomach flip. There was no way she could get out of this one, and why waste such an opportunity?

She strode up to the mat and crouched down as well, as the duo circled each other like a pair of tigers around a meal. Miguel stared at her intently but didn’t budge, so Maria made the first move: a swift kick at his knees. He blocked with a flat hand, redirecting her momentum.

"Sloppy, reckless," he chastised, brows furrowed slightly.

"You're one to talk!" Maria spat back, lunging back at him to swing at his stomach. Once again he redirected her with his open palms, making her snarl as she fell to the mat. Miguel stepped back and to the side with a speed and grace that was unnatural for someone of his size.

"Your head's not in the game. You've gotta clear the noise, eliminate distractions." He kneeled down beside Maria, gently helping her stand back up. "Is something wrong?" There was a sudden tenderness to his tone that made Maria recoil.

"What are you, a cop?" She rolled her shoulder and looked away from him.

"Maria." A hint of the old Miguel, the one that offered her a place to stay with no questions asked, surfaced. She blinked as he continued, "I'm trying to atone for how I've been treating you lately. I've… had some things to work through, and I'm wanting to help you do the same."

"You can't just stroll in here and play therapist!" Maria snapped. "You've been nothing but a dick for the past three weeks! Always on my case about something! If you're going to ride my ass, at least pull my hair, fuck!" She was nearly yelling before huffing and stepping away, face red with rage. "I came here to do good things, help people!"

"And you have been!" Miguel spoke loudly yet firmly. "You have been. And we've noticed. Jessica wants you to replace her."

She froze, meeting his eyes. "What?"

"She wants you to take her Conclave seat so she can spend more time at home." He stepped towards her and sighed, closing his eyes. "You've got the potential and the drive. We just have to work on your skills out on the field."

"Wait- what?!" Felicia shot up from her seat on Maria's couch, adjusting on her heels so her wet toenail polish wouldn't smear. "You're going to be in the Conclave?!"

"Hey, are you going to let me finish this story or not?" Maria put as much faux-hurt as she could into her voice before laughing and returning her attention to Cooper's toenails. "This red really suits you, Coop," she commented. "So, as I was saying-"

"Back the fuck up, we need to discuss how you called him 'pretty'," Cooper said as he peeked over his magazine at Maria with a raised brow.

"Well was I wrong? Man's got great bone structure." Maria gently set Cooper's foot down and looked at her own toes, painted a cute navy and spread out with spacers while the nail polish dried.

"You're right there," Felicia slumped back onto the couch. "But I'm not down for all of that baggage. Might as well throw out the whole suitcase."

"Speak for yourself, I love a project. I could fix him," Cooper said with a waggle of his brows while the ladies exploded into laughter. Maria wiped tears from her eyes, trying to compose herself enough to speak. "True! I've never met a project man who could say no to Cooper's glam. You're too strong, I'm gonna have to take you out for the good of the dating ecosystem!"

"I've got eyes on the target, let's take him out." Felicia held up her hands like she was holding an invisible sniper rifle and looking at Cooper through the scope.

"How could you? Did you guys plan this all along?! Betrayal! Utter betrayal!" Cooper cried out in mock-terror, holding his hands up while Felicia pretended to load a gun and shoot him with a "bang," causing him to lay back and groan with deadness. Maria laughed and rolled her eyes at the pair.

“Hey now, no murders during the sleepover,” she reminded before laying back on her beanbag. “It’s too much paperwork for me.” She let out a soft sigh and let herself sink further into the cushion, feeling the weight of her responsibility crush her bones into dust with its overwhelming presence.

“So how did you leave things?” Felicia asked. Maria wiped a hand down her face and groaned.

“It’s just… kind of waiting on a few things. They see potential in me, but I’ve been doing training courses every night for the last week in order to ‘hone my skills to an acceptable degree.’ It’s insane and I hate it, but…”

“Why don’t you decline then?” Felicia looked at Maria, her eyes soft in such a way that it made Maria’s stomach churn.

Ugh, pity.

"Because this matters, and it matters to more people than just me. Jess needs the break to be with her son, and I'm willing to help make that happen." With another sigh Maria slumped more into the bean chair, hoping it would swallow her whole. The feeling in the air had turned sour, and she had to fight the urge to rip herself out of the situation. Easier said than done, but where would she even go? Cooper and Felicia were in her living room.

"Maria, babe, have you been taking care of yourself?" Cooper asked.

"Huh? Do I stink or something?" Maria looked over at him quizzically.

"You just… seem tired, frazzled. Maybe you're stretched too thin?" There was a soft cadence to his voice and Maria frowned.

"I'm fine guys, I really am." Based on their looks, Maria wasn't convincing anyone with her words. "I just need to get some rest, I might head to bed soon." She rubbed her eyes and slumped back into the chair. She could hear Felicia and Cooper chatting whole waiting for their toes to dry, but they grew farther away as sleep began to embrace her.

——

Rain assaulted the large windows of Maria's apartment, filling the air with constant noise. She was curled up on her bed, scanning through documents and articles on her phone.

"I still don't understand, Lyla. How does it work?" She looked over at the tiny hologram sitting on her other pillow, filing her nails.

"Can you be more specific, doll?"

"HoloTek! How does or turn light into physical matter?"

"Well I'd say your observation is a bit flawed. It's not so much as turning light waves into solid matter, but instead multiplying the beams millions of times over. The waves become so powerful and focused that they begin to react to materials in the air and force them into a solid, sturdier structure."

"What?! You're kidding! This was only theoretical in 2029! And it's true? When was the breakthrough?!" Maria's eyes shined wide with wonder, catching the yellow reflections of Lyla's glow.

"It's been a recent development, in the grand scheme of things! It was presented to science boards across the globe about 7 years ago, and hit widespread commercial development markets around 3 years after that. You should have seen the ripples in the scientific community! Miguel won so many awards and the commercialization of the tech is what keeps Spider Society running!" She dismissed her nail file and lounged on the pillow, looking up at Maria with a raised brow.

"You… you're telling me Miguel O'Hara pioneered HoloTek?" Maria blinked, trying to keep her eyes from popping out of her skull. "I mean, yeah. He does have 3 PhDs after all. He's pretty much a certified genius." Lyla sounded so matter-of-fact and calm about what she was telling her. In a way, it made sense. While Maria wasn't close to Miguel, she knew that he was the one who built the Spider Society. She just didn't expect that to have been quite so literal.

"Wow… I never knew. That's pretty amazing, honestly." She locked her phone screen and laid it near Lyla. "I sometimes feel like the only adult Spider who flunked out of college," she admitted. "I would've been the first Dr. Philips in my family." She closed her eyes and sunk into her mattress further.

"Don't sweat that, Sugar! Education has come a loooong way in the last 70 years. I'm sure you'd do great at University now!" Lyla grinned at Maria. "It's about learning now instead of memorization. Totally different animal."

Maria huffed and smiled slightly. "School being about learning… I never thought I'd see the day." She yawned and blinked, her eyelids getting heavily. "I'm going to pass out now. Talk to you soon, chica."

"Night!" And like that, Lyla flicked out of existence. The pang of isolation settled over Maria like a fog, and she pulled the covers over herself. Tomorrow waited for no man, and she needed sleep if she was going to perform well.

——

There was a bit-crushed synthesized groan as Maria kicked at a hologram of a generic "bad guy" and caused him to run out of health. He flickered out if existence and Maria skidded to a halt at the end of the long white-paneled hallway that made up the SimCourse.

"That's how it's done!" Her breathing was heavy and she threw her head back as she gave a loud whoop. Spindle chattered excitedly in her mind, and Maria's grin was so wide it felt like she was going to split her cheeks.

"That's a personal best. Good job, Blue." Jess tapped some keys on the control panel while she reviewed footage from Maria's evaluation. Maria padded over and snatched her water bottle off the edge of the console and downed it greedily.

"The physical training routine I created seems to be successful," Aaron looked at his own monitor, glancing over vitals and other information gathered during the training. "Have you been reviewing the reading I've sent you?" He didn't look away from his screen while talking.

"Can't say I have," Maria admitted. She sat on the couch in the control room, grateful to rest her feet for a minute. She closed her eyes and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Her suit clung to her form and made her long for a baggy shirt and pajama pants - comfort, not work. "Been too busy pumping iron."

"It's paying off, your time is down by 15 seconds," Jess confirmed before closing her holographic monitors and walking towards the pair. "It's a strong improvement from last week's times."

The genuine praise made Maria beam. Leaning forward in her seat, she pointed at Jess. "That's great! Once I get a get another run in, I bet I can shave off another two seconds. I'm feeling it, it's gonna be-"

"I'm not running you again. Girl, you've already done it three times! Get some rest. I know I'm going to," Jess cut Maria off and put her hands on her lower back, stretching to accentuate her words.

"Besides, physicality is only half the battle," Aaron said. "You still have a lot to learn about battle strategy and 2099 Technical Theory. You couldn't possibly be on the Conclave if you don't understand how the Watch technology-"

"Watch it," Maria warned. "I'll get to it when I get to it. It's not like there's a written exam on this stuff." She glanced towards her mentor. "I'll get promoted when you think I'm ready, right?"

Jessica pulled her lips into a tight line. "It's a group vote. I present you when I think you're ready, and then the others decide."

"You've got to be able to help run this place in Miguel's absence. We are the Conclave, the next in command for Spider Society! We have to be ready at all times. It's about strength and devotion to our cause, the knowledge-"

"Alright, alright! I get the picture," Maria cut Aaron off with a chuckle. With a roll of her eyes and a small smile on her face, Jess walked towards the doors out of the Control Center.

"I'll give Miguel a report, then I'm off duty for the next 72 hours. If you need anything, you'll either have to handle it yourself or ask Lyla," Jess warned her pupil. "So be on your best behavior, alright? I'll see you guys after my weekend." And like that she was gone.

Maria stood up slowly with a groan, starting to feel the adrenaline wear off and a deep ache settle into her limbs. Aaron made his way towards the door, his robotic spider limbs curled up on his back.

"So… the reading?" Maria asked as she followed him out. "Are there alternatives? Because big blocks of text just blur together."

"Hmm. Get that tested," Aaron remarked. "But if reading is problematic, perhaps a practical workshop might be beneficial. Have you had your learning style identified? Has tactile learning been beneficial to you?"

"Uh…"

"I'll set up a workshop demonstration for you to analyze the Watches. Be on the lookout for an invite sent to your calendar. Perhaps I could turn it into a whole lecture…" He kept walking, hand on his chin in thoughts so deep that he didn't even notice Maria was no longer walking beside him.

She already had a plan.

——

PROTEIN SYNTHESIS COMPLETE.

SERUM STABILIZATION UNDERWAY.

PLEASE STAND BY.

Miguel's glower was so intense that it could melt into the monitor. Diagrams of molecular structures, chemical compounds, and DNA strands floated around on the golden monitors. Before him, a centrifuge swirled with a low hum.

"A watched pot never boils, S-Man," Lyla said as she floated beside him, lounging on a massive (to her) bean bag chair. He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before looking at his hologram of an assistant.

"I can't let my mood destabilize again. It's not worth the risk." He glanced back at the monitor before turning away and going over some files on an adjacent display.

"Well as they say: With great spider powers, comes great spider mood swings!" Lyla blinked over beside his head. "When was your last dose?"

"4 days ago." His thick brows furrowed

"And you already need another one?" Lyla sounded uncharacteristically serious at the realization. She pulled up a tiny holographic computer and tapped away at it.

"I want to keep it on hand." He tapped a few nodes on his own monitor, pulling at a model of a web, dragging around nodes to pan across the diagram of the Achrachno Humanoid Poly-Multiverse. The thrum of destiny pursed across the lines, soothing him. When viewed from this far out, the randomness and chaos of life almost seemed to make sense to him.

"Bossman!" Maria announced her presence confidently, making Miguel grit his teeth into a snarl at the intrusion. He looked over at her, his brow raised.

"Do you need something?" He asked flatly as Maria approached his dias. There was quite the look on her face, with the pull of a smile ghosting over her mouth. She stopped before the raised platform and rested her hands on her hips.

"A favor," she declared.

"Oh boy, here we go…" Miguel rolled his eyes before speaking again. "What do you have in mind?"

Maria paused, wetting her dry lips as she contemplated her next words carefully. "I… need to know more about Nueva York and how things have changed since… my time. 2029."

Miguel paused. This… wasn't what he was expecting. "Oh?"

"Aaron Parker gave me a pop quiz that I didn't study for. I need to be better prepared for what lies ahead. If I'm going to kick ass in other dimensions, I need to know how this Watch works." She motioned to the device on her wrist.

"So what are you asking me, exactly?" He crossed his arms over his massive chest.

"I want you to show me around the city and explain things to me. Lyla's been giving me videos and information but it's not the same."

Lyla winked at Maria behind her heart-shaped sunglasses. "She's got a point, Boss. Besides, you could do with some fresh air every now and then."

Miguel scoffed and looked at Lyla. "Fresh air? In this city?" He rolled his eyes and looked back down at Maria, lips pulled tight in thought. "But… you have a point. Fine, we'll start patrolling Nueva York as a duo. Just follow my lead. We can head out tomorrow," he declared before turning back to his monitors. He tried desperately to ignore Maria's wide grin.

"Yes! Amazing! Let's get something good to eat too - I'm tired of the cafeteria food. Any suggestions?" Maria shifted her weight to one hip, still grinning.

"We're going on patrol, not a date. Dismissed," he said as he waved a hand at her, still staring at his screens. Maria's footsteps faded into the distance, sounding a bit quicker and bouncer than usual.

STABILIZATION COMPLETE.

A/N: ITS DONE! Whew, I honestly never thought I would finish this lmao. Works been a lot but I’m so hyped to have this part for you guys! Enjoy! 💙💙💙

#miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #atsv #spiderverse oc #oc x canon #miguel o'hara [🕷🌹🩸 emo vampire spider] #Ash Writes [⌨️👽📖 Read it and Weep!] #Maria Philips [🕷💙👟 Rhythm of Love] #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spider man 2099

[753398445a]

I feel like designing OC Endbringers, and I might as well share them.

So. How do Endbringers get made? I believe Eidolon's shard mixes concepts on his mind at the time with religious imagery he's familiar with and a powerset provided by Eden shards. This means that the "backstory" requires a specific time and that we know David's thoughts from this time period. On a more Doyalist level, I would also like to keep each one unique, narratively useful, and thematically relevant to Worm.

What if Scion killed an Endbringer immediately after Kevin said to? So like. The Echidna fight happens on June 20th, with Scion burrowing into the Earth and lasering Behemoth on the same day. Then Eidolon attends the June 21st Cauldron meeting from his flashback, and while here somebody adds on "By the way, it turns out Scion just randomly killed an Endbringer yesterday. What the fuck, right? Why did he do that? Should we tell people it happened?" The things on his mind from the fight, from the revelations, and from the meeting would be the building blocks for Behemoth's replacements (I'm giving him two for the record, no idea if that's always the result of one dying but I'll operate as if it were for the purposes of this post).

His own powers are weakening (this seems to be on his mind constantly)

He isn't strong enough to fight Scion (ditto this)

His Echidna duplicate seemed to be at full strength (this appears to have been on his mind ever since it happened)

The scrutiny caused by his clone's revelations (immediate relevance)

Shame for the things he's done (immediate relevance) (assume all unspecified bullet points are also immediate relevance)

The case-53s probably made him think about his role in abducting people, giving them powers, locking them up and/or wiping their memories and releasing them

Echidna's powers

The powers he employed against Echidna: Dessication, gravity manipulation, weird homing electric things, some sort of thinker power speculated to include precognitive danger sense and also knowledge of where to attack without harming civilians, sepia timeslow bubble, unknown power that explodes Alexandria clones

Queen 18.8 featured two Texas Wards named Young Buck and either Strapping Lad or Intrepid dying in front of him. I assume watching children you knew die of a knife to the stomach and immolation (respectively) leaves an impact for at least a couple of days.

The portal to Gimel

Echidna trying to bargain for her targets. (Imagine an Endbringer that does that. Communicates what person or thing its targeting and allows the defending capes to hunt down and sacrifice them "for the greater good". An EB that can be stopped easily harms their collective air of implacability, but also many people would do really fucked up things if they thought it would save a whole city.)

Missile strikes

Therapists

Cauldron's silencing of heroes who would leak information related to them

Being replaced

A lot of pieces to work with there... I would invite you to stop for a second and try coming up with your own Endbringers using this list before reading mine. Reblog with your ideas, even! The world needs more Endbringers (I mean, it really doesn't. But this fandom does).

Endbringer 1 is based on Worm's running idea that giving people powers hastens societal collapse. It takes the 'forcibly giving people powers' idea from what Eidolon helped do to the case-53s and mixes in an offensive power that mixes scrutiny with the shard that Hero, Citrine, and probably Softball got powers from.

Imagine an Endbringer who gives an entire city Codex's power (She was the Ambassador who shot invisible rays that permanently lower their targets intelligence for a temporary boost to her own). Imagine an Endbringer who makes 7,000 Heartbreakers. Or Svetas. Or Kings or Scrubs or Nice Guys or Tritaniums or Burnscars. Distributing a teleportation power that lets somebody chestburster their way out of any person they've ever met sounds horrible, but how much worse is it if the attack its happening on is when this fucker is attacking The Birdcage? What about giving a physically altering power to everybody that shows up to fight it, ruining their secret identities? What about making all the mundanes merge into Case-70s the next time they touch a parahuman?

An Endbringer who causes more problems in the long run is straying a bit close to The Simurgh's schtick, which isn't helped by her on-page attack involving flooding a city with parahumans and providing people with powers. The big difference is how this one fights at the time. Remember Citrine's line in Imago 21.4: 'I can use my power to cancel out the filters that keep someone's powers in their control. I can also remove the filters that keep their power from affecting them.' This Endbringer takes that horror game trope where something has a roving or flashing light, and if you end up in it there's just a cutscene of you dying with no recourse. Batman: Arkham Asylum is the first that comes to my mind, but it shows up in everything from Dishonored to WarioWare. In this case, its roving spotlights that appear to be emitted by the Endbringer's eyes (because being scrutinized by hostiles was on Eidolon's mind). Of course, the Endbringer doesn't actually need its eyes any more than the others do, and is capable of creating these beams anywhere if it wanted to stop going easy.

Now we move on to its appearance, which is a bit tricky. See, the first three used Christian imagery and the latter three used ideas from other beliefs. This could just be a weird coincidence, or it could be suggesting that at some point between The Simurgh and Khonsu David broadened his understand of faiths outside his own. I'm inclined to go with the latter, but that leaves the question of whether its happened at the point my Endbringers are created. I'm going to say it did, just for the sake of giving myself more options. Also, I would like to take this moment to point out that there is no obvious (at least to me) connection between what imagery an Endbringer is given and what their powers or M.O. are.

This Endbringer needs to have some longevity, which means its thick. It needs to be able to use its offensive power effectively: That means lots of eyes, and either being mobile/flexible enough to turn its head anywhere easily or that its eyes are all over its body. Ideally (for the Endbringer) its body should have the ability to do a lot of damage, since its powers can only directly affect people. My idea is a giant tree stump with eyes opening and closing all along the creases in its "bark", and roots that function as both flailing tendrils and as spidery legs. Against all reason I easily found a webpage that lists bible verses with tree stumps in them: the only ones with any distinct imagery are Daniel 4:15 and 4:23, which talk about having 'a band of iron and bronze around it'. This seems to mean circles of it on the ground, but making it be more like stump-bracelets makes for a good visual and obfuscates the inspiration a bit. Sadly the only named tree stump is Jesse (I'm not kidding, Isaiah 11:1 calls one that), which is an abysmal name for an Endbringer, so I had to look further. 'Irminsul' sounds Endbringer-y and was the name of a type of sacred pillar in Germanic Paganism. According to wikipedia, the oldest known description of an Irminsul referred to it as a tree trunk erected in open air. That works.

Endbringer 2: This one is inspired by the mystery aspect of Worm/Ward. It harms anybody who tries to spread information on it, even when dormant, and was naturally the result of Contessa(?) talking about offing whistleblowers in the June 21st Cauldron meeting.

On the subject of how information-spreaders die, we have several options. They could spontaneously combust (like that one Ward), but that's getting in Behemoth's way. Same for being electrocuted. They could suddenly have a knife in the stomach, but that doesn't feel like a Worm power to me and is a bit too on the nose. Likewise for using the missile strike as inspiration. They could be crushed by gravity or dessicated by heat, either of those two would feel suitably different from existing Endbringers but still like an Endbringer power. Annoyingly, I don't believe we ever saw one of these effects provided by an Eden shard besides Eidolon's, which would have made for a good selection method. (I flipped a coin, this is a gravity Endbringer now)

So I suppose that's also how it fights capes directly. Gravity manipulation is somewhat versatile, allowing for Eidolon's crushing effect, Topsy's ability to launch people skyward, even temporary black hole generation to round things out.

This feels like a very fast-acting Endbringer to me, one that shows up, crushes/elevates/black holes the area, and then leaves again (As opposed to other Endbringers, which show up further away from their targets and approach). It operates using the guerrilla strike method that all Endbringers (except Tohu Bohu) canonically adopted after New Delhi. And anybody who tries to report what happened is suddenly squeezed into a quarter-sized ball. Authorities can't warn people its going to show up, nobody can turn on the sirens, even trying to mobilize the heroes who signed up to fight Endbringers without getting crushed is playing with fire. Only figuratively playing with fire though - the coin didn't land on tails.

Its not a tank, so a smaller, nimble form is fine. Its not attacking directly, so it won't need a body that allows it to do so effectively. Its power is not connected to any body part. With no real guidelines as to what form it should take, I'm going to fall back on which religious symbol is the most religious: That's right, this Endbringer is a giant cross. Not really, that would be too silly. Its instead based on the largest religious structure in the world, which the internet tells me is Angkor Wat (its a Cambodian temple/city built in tribute to a Hindu goddess). Apparently it has five central pillars and a moat, and is covered in devatas. That's pretty easy to eldrich-up: Five arms and legs evenly spaced around a torso (the five central pillars), and instead of a head give it the appearance of faces trying to escape from all over its body (the devatas). Have it be blue because moats are blue. (I know technically water is reflective rather than blue, but shards don't care. They'd know that humans associate water with blue and go "Okay, sure. Whatever.")

That leaves the name. I get nothing for five-armed, too much for blue, and looking for religious figures assosciated with secrets only turned up Raziel from Jewish mysticism. Sure, let's go with that. I have been working on this post for four hours now.

In conclusion, my Endbringers are:

Irminsul, a giant tree stump covered in eyes that project rays that are an insta-kill (or worse) on parahumans, and ruins the world by distributing harmful powers. This is a good Endbringer.

Raziel, a five-armed, five-legged, blue torso with faces poking out of it that hit-and-runs with gravity powers that cannot be talked about without dying. I am unsatisfied with this Endbringer.

#parahumans #worm #worm spoilers #parahumans spoilers #wormwebserial #worm web serial #tw: religion #original character #tw: death #tw: stabbing #tw: immolation #tw: fire #angkor wat #endbringer

[starkstruck27]

TW: very brief mentions of suicide, and of course mentions of child abuse. Enjoy but please read with caution my friends.

Billy didn’t know if the urge to cry was coming from the fact that his dad had pulled him back in again, like a moth to a flame, or the fact that the man himself was lying in front of him dying. 

Either way, the urge was there, and Billy took a little bit of satisfaction from the fact that he was able to take deep breaths to steady himself and his dad couldn’t. He was dying of lung cancer, and didn’t have long, maybe a month left, at most. Most of the doctors estimated that he’d be gone within a week or two, though, so Billy finally made himself build up the courage to book himself a flight from Ocean City to Indianapolis and actually get on the plane. It’d been 15 years, and it still didn’t feel like nearly enough time had passed since he last saw his father. The bruises that’d been throbbing that day in 1988 were long gone, but as Billy stepped into the hospital room, his footsteps keeping time with the heart monitor and breathing machine, he could still feel them all over his body.

“I’ll let you have some privacy,” the nurse who’d escorted him back told him, smiling nicely and shutting the door as she left. Billy didn’t even thank her, because he wasn’t sure if he should. Even with his father confined to a hospital bed and too weak to move even if he wanted to, he couldn’t help but feel a little unsafe in a room alone with him. Still, he twisted the ring on his left hand, took a few deep breaths like his therapist had taught him, and approached his father.

“Hey, dad,” he said, still fiddling with his ring. He remembered the inscription inside of it and the man who wore the matching one, and that helped him relax a little.

“Billy?” His dad wheezed, his voice only coming out on a whisper. It was another thing that Billy took satisfaction in, the fact that, no matter how hard he tried, his dad would never be able to yell at him anymore.

“Yeah, it’s me. Not used to seeing me without a red mark on my face, huh?” Billy said, a sharp edge to his voice. He knew the man was dying and he knew that the comment was backhanded, but he didn’t care. He didn’t owe his dad anything, and especially not respect. Still, it made the knife in his heart twist a little when a look of guilty recognition came over his father’s face.

“I know it doesn’t mean much now,” his dad said, “But I’m sorry for everything I ever did to you.”

Billy couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous that statement was.

“No you’re not,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “And anyway, it wouldn’t even matter if you were, because I didn’t come here for that. I didn’t come here to forgive you or for your half-assed apologies so you could die with a clean conscience. I came here for me, because I deserve to be able to live knowing that at least if my father died thinking I was a disappointment, he was going to have all the facts straight, so shut the fuck up and listen.”

Billy’s heart was racing as he stood up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders to give off the illusion of confidence even if he wasn’t entirely sure he was feeling it.

“First of all, I’ve been doing great for the past 15 years, so thanks for asking,” he said, flexing his fingers. “As soon as I got out of Hawkins, I went to college. I applied to UCLA, Penn State, West Virginia and the University of Phoenix. I ended up getting into all of them, so I went to UCLA and got a degree in Marine Biology. I graduated with a Masters degree at 26, and I started working on my doctorate a year or so ago. I got a great job with amazing colleagues, and I’m making more money in a month than you would make in a year. 

“I got therapy as soon as I started making enough to afford it, and I’m not completely healed yet, no one ever is, but I’m a lot better off than I used to be. I was able to figure out why I was so angry all the time and why I couldn’t ever let anyone else in even if I wanted to, and eventually I learned how to stop being that way. Which, I’m glad I did, because if I hadn’t, I would’ve ruined one of the best things that ever happened to me before it even truly got started. 

“When I left Hawkins, I didn’t leave alone. My best friend in the entire world came with me, because he also wanted to get out from under his father’s thumb. Steve and I moved to California and lived out of a motel for a few weeks until he could get a job and save enough for us to afford a place. I had just started college and things were rough at first, but I was able to start therapy when Steve and I started fighting more and more. I was so afraid he was going to leave me behind and go off on his own, but he saw that I was putting forth an effort, so he stuck by my side. And every day I’m more grateful that he did, because once I was able to see my therapist for about a year, I had improved enough to finally be honest with myself and with him, and I came clean when he took me out to celebrate one year of being on our own. 

“He asked how therapy was going over dinner and I told him that I was doing good, and that I was finally gonna stop lying, and I told him that I was gay. And he just looked at me with these big soft eyes and a sympathetic little smile and told me that he was glad I told him, but he had already kind of figured that out. Then he told me that he didn’t care at all and that it didn’t change the way he viewed me at all, because he cared about me no matter what. And I knew he would probably react like that, because his best friend Robin is gay, and he’s known since the summer of ‘85, and they’re still practically attached at the hip to this day, but I was still worried. Then I told him that there was more, and I said that I had been falling in love with him from the first moment I met him, and it took me a while to be able to admit that to even myself, but now I had, and I wanted him to know, too. 

“And when he told me he felt the same way, I nearly fell out of my chair. I could’ve sworn he was straight and I told him as much, but he just shrugged and said that he didn’t love me for what kind of body I had, he loved me for the person I was and was continuing to become. And I cried right there in front of the entire restaurant, because I never thought that anyone could love me just because I’m me.”

Billy paused and took a breath. He was still close to crying, and his voice was getting wavery and thick, but he cleared it and took a deep breath, getting ready to continue on. He looked at his father for a moment before he did, and was met with a face of stone. He had no expression on whatsoever, so Billy just let out the breath he was holding and kept going.

“It was another year and a half of just being together before he finally asked me to marry him. It was on Halloween, because that was the first time we met 6 years prior, at a stupid Halloween party my junior year. I remembered that party, because the first time I met him, he was with his girlfriend at the time, and this asshole we had both been friends with at one point wanted me to go over and brag to him about being the new keg king, but as soon as I saw his face, I stopped dead in my tracks and I could barely speak. It was kind of awkward, because I couldn’t think of anything to say to him and when I was silent for a few seconds, he ran off after his girlfriend who had slipped away and that was that. And then later that evening, his girlfriend broke up with him, and he was sulking outside, so I finally got up the nerve to go talk to him. It wasn’t right away, but we became friends, and we’ve stuck together ever since. He told me that that’s why he picked that night to propose to me, and before he could even finish asking the question, I was already crying and saying yes. 

“I kissed him and he put the ring on my finger, but not before he showed me the inscription he had gotten on the inside of it. It said ‘Yeah I wanna marry you, don’t cream your pants’, because that��d been one of our inside jokes from the beginning, and he thought it would make me laugh. And it did, but not before I cried over it, because even though it was a stupid line, just the fact that he thought that much about it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for me. We got married a few months later in a discreet little church somewhere in LA, and it was one of the best days of my life. My friends from college were there, Robin was Steve’s best man, and she’d even managed to get the word out to a few people back in Hawkins that we were getting married and surprised us by having them in the audience when we walked into the church. 

“Remember that road trip Max went on with her best friend El in 1990? Well, that’s where she was, a little hole-in-the-wall church in Southern California, watching her former babysitter and her older brother tie the knot. When I saw her in the front row in her light blue pant-suit, her hair up in a perfect ballerina bun on her head and smiling like the sun, I burst into tears. She looked so grown up, and I couldn’t even believe she was there. We hadn’t done a huge reception afterwards, but we did have a little something, and Steve and I were only really going to do the couple’s dance at first because his mom wasn’t going to make it and I didn’t have anyone to dance with either, but we did end up doing them. He danced with Robin and I danced with Max, and then we danced together, and neither one of us could keep it together. I can still remember the way Steve bawled when Max and all her friends made him take a picture with them, because he hadn’t seen them in a few years and when they were all gathered around him, he said he felt like no time had passed, even though it clearly had. Then Max and El pulled me into the picture, and Steve kissed me, and the kids all made faces like they were grossed out about it. That picture is still framed in our living room.”

Billy could hear his own voice getting more squeaky and uneven as he began to cry, but he made himself hold it together. He had to get through this, because goddammit, after everything his father had put him through, he was going to know damn well that it didn’t defeat Billy. He was going to have to listen to every good thing that’d happened to him and he was going to have to face up to the fact that no matter how hard he’d tried, he couldn’t break Billy down, at least not permanently.

“We were married for two years before Steve started to bring up the topic of starting a family. I had just gotten my Bachelor’s degree and was getting ready to start my Masters, but we had decided to get a little drunk as a celebration and he asked me if I ever thought about maybe having kids. I knew he always wanted kids, but I wasn’t so sure. I told him I used to want kids more than anything when I was little and Mom was still around, but once she left, I wasn’t so sure, so we decided to table the discussion for now and talk again when we were sober. He brought it up again at dinner two nights later, and told me he’d always dreamed of having six kids, three girls, three boys, and that he still wanted that, but only if I did, too. And I could never say no to him, especially not when he was giving me that look, so I said that maybe we could just start with one and see how it went. He lit up like a firefly when I said that, and immediately started looking into the different options. 

“It was hard, though. Most adoption agencies didn’t want to deal with us because we were both men, and finding a good surrogate took a lot of money that we just didn’t have at that point. It was killing me, both because Steve was so disappointed and because now that we’d finally talked and figured things out, I wanted a kid as much as he did. But then, just when all hope seemed lost, Robin paid us a visit and said that she might be able to help us. She was going to college at that point, too, and she knew a girl from one of her classes that was pregnant, but was thinking about terminating the pregnancy because she just didn’t want kids, she never had. She just wanted a career and to marry her boyfriend, and he felt the same, so she was weighing her options and thought aborting was the best way to go. 

“But then Robin stepped in and asked if she would consider having the baby and putting it up for adoption, and the girl, her name was Lindsay, said that if she were sure her baby would go to a good home she might consider it, but the foster care and adoption systems weren’t great and she didn’t want her baby to go through that. Robin told her about us and how we wanted to start a family, and Lindsay and her boyfriend agreed to meet us and see what they thought. They ended up liking us, and Lindsay said that she’d help us out. Steve and I were both over the moon about it, and over the next few months, we did everything we could to get ready for it. And finally, on a warm April afternoon, I got out of class to find Steve waiting for me, telling me that Lindsay had checked into the hospital a half hour before and that she was waiting for us. 

“It didn’t take too terribly long, only maybe five hours, but it felt like years had passed as we sat holding hands in the waiting room chairs. Neither of us moved from the moment they shooed us out of the delivery room until a nurse came out and told us that Lindsay was resting and our baby was being cleaned up and weighed. She told us on the way back to Lindsay’s room that the baby was perfectly healthy so far, and that they’d need to run some tests and give her her vaccines, but that she was okay so far. Steve was just relieved that she was okay, but then I turned to him and smiled and said, ‘did you hear what she said?’ And he didn’t get it at first, but then I said ‘she said she. We have a daughter,’ and Steve just stared at me. Then he started crying, and I had to hold him before we could go in and see Lindsay because he was crying so hard. 

“When he finally calmed down, we went inside and Lindsay hugged us both and we shook hands with her boyfriend and we talked for a little until a nurse came in wheeling a little bassinette. She asked who wanted to hold her first and Lindsay looked at us, and I let Steve hold her first because he’d wanted this for a lot longer than I had. He held her and he looked at her and he kissed her head and I swear I’ve never before felt anything like I had in that moment, because a minute ago I was a new father, but it was like an abstract concept, and then when I looked at Steve holding our daughter, looking at her like she’d hung the sun, the moon and every one of the stars, it was like a switch was flipped, and suddenly I was willing to jump in front of a train or off a cliff or get eaten by a shark if it meant the two of them, but especially my little girl, would be safe and happy. 

“And then, after a few minutes, Steve looked at me, and he asked if I wanted to hold her. And suddenly, I was stiff as a board and spacing out, because all that love and devotion I’d been feeling a second before were overshadowed and drowned out by this crippling, paralyzing fear. From what Steve’s told me, I went white as a sheet and started shaking like a leaf in the wind, and he said that all the life drained out of my eyes as I clenched my fists. He had to hand our baby to Lindsay for a minute, because he was worried about me, and he said he had to practically carry me to the little bathroom attached to the room so we could talk privately. He said in all that time, he didn’t even see me blink. I don’t remember much of this, I only remember him flicking water from the sink in my face to get me to come back to him, and he asked what’d happened.

“And then I remember I collapsed to the floor, and I didn’t cry, but I still shook like I’d gotten electrocuted. And when he sat down next to me and held my hand, I finally told him that it hadn’t quite felt real until that moment. But then he had tried to hand me the baby, and when I saw her tiny, fragile body and remembered that I was the one who was going to have to take care of her and keep her safe from then on, I just froze. I told him that I was afraid of her, which was stupid, right? Because she can’t do anything to me, she can barely even open her eyes yet, but yet she terrified me more than anything else in the world, because if she ends up fucked up, that’s our fault, and while I didn’t think Steve would be able to fuck her up, I definitely could. And he said that he didn’t believe that, and he said ‘you’re not going to turn out like your father’. And I swear to God, I almost socked him right in the face for that.

“But I didn’t, because somehow, without me saying a single word, he knew exactly why I was so fucking scared of someone who only weighed five and a half pounds. And once he said it, I was able to realize that that was what I was so scared of. I didn’t want to hold her because I was afraid I would get the urge to hit her for no reason. I was afraid I would start getting itchy because I couldn’t scream at her with other people in the room. I was afraid she would start to cry, and when I couldn’t get her under control, I’d just leave her for someone else to deal with, or even just to her own devices. I was afraid that if I would hold her and know that she’s mine, I would stop loving her and instead of seeing her as a blessing, I’d see her as a burden, and I wouldn’t want to take care of her. And I was horrified with myself for thinking that I would turn into you, but was even more horrified at the thought that I wouldn’t be able to control if I was or not. It scared me shitless that one day I might be sending my daughter to school with a black eye and fractured ribs because she forgot to put the dishes away before going to bed, or that she might not be able to take as much as I did and I might come home to find her limp body on the floor with a note telling me to go fuck myself, and I might not even care about it other than the fact that now I’d have to deal with what to do next.

“But for as scared as all those thoughts made me, I knew they were just that: intrusive thoughts. Because Steve had never lied to me once, never, in all the years I’d known him, and I knew that if he had a hunch about something, he was almost always right about it. And if he believed that I could be different, that I could be the dad I had always hoped for and wanted to be, then he was probably right about that, too. He told me that he knew from the look I got when I reiterated that we had a daughter out in the hall that I already loved her more than anything, and that I would never hurt her for anything in the whole wide world. Then he stood up, and he helped me up, too, and after helping me breathe more normally, he led me out of the bathroom.

“Lindsay smiled as we walked out and asked if everything was alright, and Steve told her it was just last minute anxiety, but that I was fine. And you know what, dad? I was. Because I knew that I was nothing like you, and that alone is what made me reach out and take our daughter from Lindsay’s arms, because I wanted to prove to myself that I was right.”

Billy was fully crying now, tears running down his cheeks in rivers, a constant flow that dripped from his chin and fell onto his jeans, his shoes, the floor. His nose was running a little bit and his throat was scratchy and his head was beginning to ache a little bit, but he didn’t care. He had come this far, and he was going to keep going until he’d said everything, aired every grievance he’d had to deal with and told him how he’d overcome them.

“Right after I picked her up, a nurse came in, holding a clipboard. She said that it was the birth certificate, and that everything was filled out except for our baby’s name. She looked at me, I guess because I was holding her, but I was too busy being happy that none of those terrible thoughts I’d had earlier were coming true and watching my daughter watch me to notice, so Steve said it. It’d taken us months to decide on what name we would go with depending on if it was a boy or a girl, but once we had them, we knew. I remember, in the early stages, when we would just toss names around, Steve had suggested something like ‘Lassie’ for a girl, and I almost smacked him upside the head. But then I was reading my textbook for class one night and saw one of the editor’s names, and I said to him, ‘what about Talia?’ And that was it. we decided that her middle name was going to be Ruth, after Steve’s grandmother, and it just had a nice ring to it.

“I remember when we got the official certificate a few days later, and I saw Talia Ruth Harrington written on paper for the first time. The way Steve tells it, I almost fainted, but I don’t remember that. All I remember is how the paper trembled, because when I held it, my hands were shaking. They did that every single time I held one of my kids’ birth certificates for the first time, and they’re going to do it again in a few months when our next baby is born. She’ll be number six, because Steve and I are both crazy, but me even more so, because I finally gave in and told him nothing would make me happier than to give him his dream family. And so far, I have.

“After Talia was born, I finished up my degree and started looking around for good jobs. I was open to anything, no matter where it was, and because our apartment was too small now that Talia was starting to grow more, we had to move anyway. We saved up as much as we could, and by the time Talia had turned one, we had a plan. I found a job at a small marine institute just outside of Ocean City, Maryland, and we decided to move there. We found a nice, three bedroom house about a ten minute walk from the beach for a reasonable price, and we bought it. We had only been moved in for about a month when Steve started teasing me about what we should do with the extra bedroom, and I knew what he was getting at, but I wanted to wait until we saved up a little bit more and until Talia was a little older. He agreed with me on that, and for another year, we did our best to raise our daughter and earn enough money to start thinking about another kid. Steve even got a job at a local daycare to help make ends meet and to make sure Talia was well cared for during the day while I was at work.

“And then, as luck would have it, just as we became financially stable and as Talia started to become more independent, we got our wish. Steve was opening up the daycare one day, and as he approached the door, he heard something from behind one of the fences. His coworker had just shown up, so he asked her to take Talia inside and he went to investigate, and the first thing he did when he found out what it was was open his cell phone and call me. He said he’d found a baby, no older than a month, wrapped in a blanket and just left there behind the fence with a note. It said ‘I can’t give my baby a good home, and I don’t know what to do. I figured someone here might. She’s healthy and has all her shots. Her birthday is August 5th, 1995.’ And that was it.

“Steve said that he was going to call the proper authorities, but he suggested that maybe we could take in the baby. He said we were thinking about it anyway and it couldn’t be a coincidence that another baby had just fallen into our laps like that, and I said that as long as it was a legal adoption, I’d be on board with it. It took a few months, a lot of money and entirely too much paperwork, but finally, we were given our second daughter. Because the mother had never named her, she had been dubbed Baby Doe by the court system up until that point, but once we were legally her parents, we got to name her. We went with Violet Frances Harrington, and then we were settled again for another few years.

“But Steve always wanted an even number of kids, and an even ratio of boys to girls, so once we got Violet settled and we were able to find a bigger house, we decided to go for baby number 3. It was 1997 at this point, and even though we were thinking about selling the old house before we had more kids, once again, fate stepped in. We hadn’t found a new place just yet, and we were toying around with the idea of either converting the attic or basement to a room or splitting the bigger of the girl’s bedrooms in half to make another when the adoption agency we went through called us. They said that they might have something for us, and asked if we wanted to come down and speak with them in person. We said we would, and the next day, we were sitting in an office when the lady who called us  walked in and handed us two pictures.

“She said that a few days ago, a mother came in and gave her two sons up for adoption. She was young, probably in college or even high school, but she said she just wasn’t ready to be a mother and she wanted her babies to have a good home. The lady said that she’d called the list of potential parents, but none of them really wanted twins, so she eventually got to us. She said we could take some time to talk about it if we wanted, and then she left the room, and as soon as she did, I looked at Steve. 

“I could tell from the smile on his face that he was already sold, and he told me that we should totally do it, because then it would even things up and we wouldn’t even need to get a new place or renovate ours, because then the girls could room together and the boys could take the other room. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was already in love with the boys, and I was too, so instead of answering him, I just went to the door and told the lady we’d be happy to take them in. She smiled and helped us fill out the necessary paperwork, and even though the boys already had names, she said we could change them if we wanted. We’d already had our hearts set on either Nathan or Gavin for our first boy, so we made those their first names, but we hadn’t decided on middle names yet, so we just gave them the names their mother had. And just like that, Nathan Jay Harrington and Gavin Anthony Harrington were joining our not-so-little-anymore family.

“After that, we were content for a while. I started thinking about getting my doctorate, Steve had moved up the ranks until he was practically running the daycare, and our kids continued to grow faster than we could keep up with. Before we knew it, Talia was starting school, Violet was learning to ride a bike, and the boys were curious about any and everything under the sun. Our house began to feel a little small, though, so we started looking around for a bigger place. We finally found one, a seaside mansion that was almost too much, but we made it work. I remember we told the kids Santa might not bring as many presents that year because he couldn’t make them fast enough. Really, Steve and I just couldn’t afford as many presents as we usually got them, but come Christmas morning, we had found a way to spoil them even though we barely had a dollar to our names. Anyway, the house was huge, and even though it only had four real bedrooms, the twins still wanted to share and there were a few extra rooms in the basement and main floor, so we figured if we had any more kids or the twins decided they wanted to separate, we could just use one of them. 

“And after we’d been in the house for about a year, Steve started getting baby fever again. This was the first time we’d ever tried looking into the foster care system instead of adoption agencies or surrogates. We were just looking around at that point, not really deciding anything, Steve was just antsy and looking for the hell of it, but then he asked me one night as we were going to bed if I would want to foster this little boy he’d found when he was just looking around for fun. He said that he was about a year old, could already walk, and was able to say simple words. He knew I was a little baby-d out at that point, so he said this time we wouldn’t have to start from scratch, we would just be picking up at an easier point. The twins were 4 by then, Violet was 6 and Talia was 8, so he said they could all start helping out around the house a little more and they would be able to help with the boy if we needed them to. And because I can’t say no to him and he did make a good point, I said I’d think about it. He obviously knew I meant yes, so a couple weeks later, we brought him home. We had only had him for about two days when Steve and the kids all practically begged me to adopt him.

“He already had a name, which was fine by us, because we didn’t really have anything in mind when Steve had started looking around, but I still got that same shaky, fluttery feeling when I first saw Leo Matthew Harrington printed on the birth certificate in my hands. All the kids had been with us that day when we went to the courthouse, and as soon as we showed them the piece of paper and told them that it meant Leo was officially their brother, they all started cheering at the top of their lungs. We got a dirty look from the receptionist, but Steve and I couldn’t help but laugh. Even Leo started squealing and shrieking with joy, and since it was a sunny Saturday in May, we took the kids to the boardwalk to get ice cream.”

Billy was still crying, but now he wiped his eyes and walked around the side of the bed, and sat in the chair at his father’s bedside after taking out his wallet. He opened it and thumbed through it, eventually finding what he was looking for and holding it up in front of his father’s face. It was a picture, taken just a few months ago, on the beach right outside their house. He couldn’t remember who had taken it, probably some couple or kid walking by, but he remembered how happy he was in that moment.

“This is my family,” he said, the tears coming back with twice as much force and his voice beginning to wobble even more. “The man sitting next to me is my husband. The little girl behind us with the black hair and beige colored skin and almond eyes is Talia. The little black girl sitting next to me with the heart shaped sunglasses is Violet. They’re my daughters.” He paused again, wiping his nose as his voice broke and he took a breath to steady himself. “The little boy next to Steve with the blue glasses and red hair is Leo, and the two blond boys on our laps are the twins. Nathan is on my lap and Gavin is on Steve’s, and I can tell them apart because Gavin only smiles with his teeth and Nathan only smiles with his lips. They’re my sons.”

His father lifted a shaky hand to try and take the picture, but Billy held it out of his reach. It was too precious to him to even think about letting his dad hold it, especially since he couldn’t really respond this whole time and he didn’t know if he would, like, rip it up or something. He didn’t want to risk it. It was too important to him. 

“In a few weeks, I’m going to get to hold my third baby girl. Her name is going to be Samantha Christie Harrington. From what we can guess, we assume she’s going to have pale skin and brown hair. We don’t know if her eyes are going to be blue or brown, or even hazel. We don’t know if she’s going to be born healthy, although we’re praying that she will, and we don’t know when her birthday is going to be or at what time she’ll be born. But we do know that the girls are ecstatic about getting a little sister, and the boys are excited for Aunt Max and Uncle Lucas to stay over with them while we’re at the hospital. We know that no matter what this child looks, acts, or is like, we’re going to love her just as much as we love all the rest of them. And we know that we’re ready and able to do that, because we’ve already done it five times before, no matter how scared we were or how tired or how uncertain we were.”

“Billy, I-” his father tried to get a word in, but Billy wasn’t having it. 

“No, you shut the fuck up, I’m not finished!” He bordered on yelling, but he made himself regain control. He slipped the picture back into his wallet and put it back into his pocket, just trying to busy himself until he could be sure he wasn’t going to lash out again. His father was silent the entire time.

“Listen, dad, I didn’t come here to yell. I didn’t come here to get angry or to get an apology or even an explanation, I’m past all that shit. I came here because I heard you were dying, and despite how much shit you put me through, I couldn’t make myself hate you enough to just ignore that. I also can’t make myself love you enough not to come and forgive you and let you meet your grandchildren and your son-in-law. And as much as it kills me, I can’t make myself stop loving you no matter how hard I try, and I fucking try. But you were the only one who stayed. When Mom split, when Grandma died, when Uncle Jerry went to prison. You could’ve tossed me out like yesterday’s garbage since there was no one else around to give a damn, but you stayed. You put food in my stomach and you kept clothes on my back and, I don’t know, maybe deep down inside you, you really were just trying to make me become a better person, and I can’t hate you for that. But somewhere along the way, your wires got crossed, and you took it too far. You had this... this rage inside you and for some reason, you thought the best person to take it out on was your pre-teen son. And then I guess something broke inside you, because it seemed like you started to actively look for things to justify one more punch, one more insult, one more punishment. First it was because I wasn’t into sports like you were and I couldn’t hit a baseball to save my life. Then it was because I was queer, and having a faggot for a son wasn’t “right”. Then it was because of the music I liked, or the jewelry, or the people I hung out with or the grades I had. Nothing was ever good enough for you, I was never good enough for you.”

Billy paused again. He needed to wrap this up. He hadn’t even packed an overnight bag, just a few things to keep him occupied on the plane rides there and back. So he sucked in another breath and he sat up straight, and for the first time since he’d gotten the phone call that his dad was dying, he felt the weight lifting off of his chest.

“But I don’t need to be good enough for you anymore, and I know that now. It took a long time and a lot of therapy, but I know it. Now I know that I’m good enough to be another person’s entire world, so much so that they put a ring on my finger to make sure I’d be with them until we’re old and gray. We have bad days, we’re not perfect, we fight, but at the end of the day I’m good enough to man up and tell him I’m sorry and I want to make things right because I love him. I’m good enough to sit on the boardwalk with my Violet and throw bread at seagulls, and I’m good enough to walk around looking for seashells with my Talia while she tells me about the really cute boy that smiled at her in class. I’m good enough to play dinosaurs with Nathan with one hand and color with Gavin in one of his coloring books with the other, and I’m good enough to sing Leo to sleep when nothing else will even make him doze. I’m good enough to make amends with the people I’ve hurt because I actually want to, and not just because I’m on my deathbed and I want a better chance at getting into Heaven. And I’m good enough to hold my Samantha for the first time and tell her how much I love her and mean it. And I did all that by myself, because I wanted to prove that I was better than you, and that I would always be better than you, because you made my life hell and I’m still dealing with the aftermath. Every day it’s a struggle, but I know that I’m going to come out on top, because the hard part is over. I’m already out of your clutches. And I’m not going to take that or anything that’s resulted from me getting away for granted, because it’s too important to me.”

Billy stood up, wiped away the last of his tears with his jacket, and cleared his throat again as he headed for the door. He opened it and was planning on just walking right out and not stopping until he was in a car and headed for the airport, but something made him stop. He stared out into the blinding white hallway of the hospital for a second, and finally turned one more time to face the man on the bed. He didn’t owe him anything. But he had already bared his heart and soul to him, what was two more words?

“Goodbye, Neil,” he said. 

And with that, he was gone.

*************************************************************

Billy had gotten home the same night he left, albeit very late at night. He was more tired than he had ever been before, and he wanted nothing more than a nice hot shower and to curl up beside Steve in bed. But after the day he’d had, he couldn’t just do that. Something was still tugging in his guts, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the way he’d left things with Neil or if it was because he hadn’t eaten anything that day except for the little snack packets the flight attendants had given him and a snickers bar from the hospital vending machine that was probably as old as some of the patients. Either way, he was too tired to deal with it, so he just went inside, got his hot shower, and put on his pajamas before crawling under the covers with Steve. He was lying on his side with his back to Billy, so he shifted until their bodies were perfectly in line and he wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling his face into Steve’s neck. He only sat up a little bit when he felt a smaller body on the other side of Steve, only to find Leo curled up against Steve’s chest.

“You gotta make me a recording of you singing for the next time you’re out of town,” Steve mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “This was the only way I could get him to even close his eyes.”

Billy’s heart melted in his chest as he said it, and it only turned further into goop when Steve turned his head and craned his neck to give him a kiss before snuggling back into the covers. And as Billy settled in with him, his arms around both his husband and his son, the tugging feeling in his gut finally stopped.

*************************************************************

Three days later, he got the phone call from the hospital that Neil was dead.

It’d been a busy Thursday morning in July, and while he and Steve were running around trying to get the kids up, dressed, fed and out the door for daycare, the phone rang. Billy was using one hand to wipe the maple syrup from Gavin’s face the the other to help Violet with her hair, and he couldn’t tell you what Steve was doing for a million dollars, so he didn’t even know the phone had been ringing until Talia walked over and handed it to him.

“It’s for you, daddy,” she said, then walked away to do whatever she’d been doing before. Billy had finally gotten the syrup of Gavin’s face and Violet was satisfied with her hair, so Billy stood up and took the cordless phone into a different room so he could hear better.

It was the nurses at the hospital. They said that they were sorry for his loss and that Neil had passed away that morning. They told him that he was the only one Neil had listed as next of kin, and that they would hold the body until arrangements could be made for his funeral. Then they offered their condolences and told him that he could call back at the number they gave whenever the arrangements had been made. Billy had gone on auto-pilot when he thanked them, and when he hung up, his chest felt hollow. He wasn’t happy or sad or angry or even relieved, no, he just felt numb.

He didn’t want to make the damn funeral arrangements. He didn’t want to have to explain to his kids that the man who’s body they were seeing being lowered into the ground was their grandfather, but they never met him because he hurt their daddy and would’ve probably hurt them, too if he’d ever been given the chance. He didn’t want his father to be dead, but he didn’t know if he was upset about it either. He was too confused and he didn’t know what to feel, but he still felt like he was about to burst with something, so he did the only thing he could think to do.

He took the handheld phone and hurled it at the wall as he let out a deep, animalistic howl of a yell, and crumbled to the floor with his head down and his shoulders hunched to try and keep it all under control. His ears were ringing, so he didn’t hear the six sets of footsteps running towards him from the kitchen until he felt one pair of arms wrap around him gently.

“Hey, Billy, what’s wrong? What happened?” Steve asked, tapping a beat on Billy’s shoulder to help him regulate his breathing, a trick he’d learned years ago and still remembered even though he rarely had to use it anymore.

“That was the hospital,” he said, choking out the words. “He’s dead, Stevie.”

“Who’s dead?” Nathan asked, his blue eyes big and round with questioning.

“Just... somebody that daddy used to know,” Steve said, hoping that that was the right answer. Billy would’ve told him if it wasn’t, but he didn’t say anything now, and neither Nathan nor any of their other kids questioned any further. Instead, they gathered around their father, all piling on top of him to give him kisses and hugs and tell him they loved him. Billy felt like a volcano, but only after the eruption, like his little outburst had been the hard part and now, with the help of his family, the magma was settling and the lava was cooling down into solid rock. He wrapped his arms around all of his kids in the most awkward group hug in the history of group hugs, but not one of them cared. It helped Billy to calm down, and that’s what was important.

*************************************************************

A week after the call from the hospital, the phone rang again, and again, Talia was the one to answer. The handheld had been pieced back together with Steve’s nimble hands and half a roll of masking tape, but it would do for now. Billy still felt bad for breaking the phone, but he’d stopped apologizing for it when Steve told him that if he did it again, he’d break it worse so that he would stop. It was a joke, obviously, but it worked, and Billy had stopped apologizing for it.

They hadn’t had a funeral. Not a real one, at least. Steve had taken the kids again and Billy headed out to Indianapolis again, having to stay overnight this time, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t felt much of anything since the call, and was kind of distant for a few days, but he hoped that once his dad’s body was in the ground and he was back home, he would be okay. He just needed time to process.

Steve and the kids were giving him all the time he needed, the kids making sure they were on their best behavior and Steve doing anything he could to make sure Billy was alright. He’d talked to his therapist and was able to work through it a little bit, but the things Steve and the kids were doing were helping, and he was grateful for it. 

He’d only stayed in Indianapolis for two days, one to pick out the casket and set things into motion, and the other to make sure they actually got him in the ground. He didn’t even wait for the headstone to be carved, instead just told them to make sure he got one and that would be that before heading for home once again. Steve and the kids had all run up to him to hug him as soon as he stepped in the door, and, per his request, they all sat on the beach that night and fed the seagulls as they watched the sunset. None of them spoke much, they just sat, but they were all perfectly okay with that. And the next day, Billy started to act like himself again, a little at a time.

Now, he was almost completely back to normal. His head still felt a little heavy, but it was mostly gone, and he didn’t even think twice when Talia handed him the phone and said, “It’s for you, daddy.”

It was the hospital again, but this time, it was much closer to home. Georgia, the lady who was carrying their baby, had just gone into labor and had  checked into the hospital. Billy nearly threw the phone again in his rush to get to Steve and tell him the news.

Samantha had decided that she was going to come out a week early, so Billy and Steve had to wrangle five children into their mini-van by themselves as Billy called Max. She and Lucas lived in Pennsylvania, so they were going to be a little while, but Max said she was already leaving work and that they’d be there as soon as they could to get the kids. Billy thanked her and told her which hospital they were going to, then hung up as Steve drove through the town. 

When they got there, Steve went to check on Georgia, and Billy stayed in the waiting room with the kids. It was just beginning to get dark out, Leo should’ve already been in bed, but Billy was too jittery to worry about that now. An hour and a half later, Max and Lucas showed up, both hugging him and Steve and saying congratulations before swapping keys with Steve and taking the kids back to the van to head back home. Steve walked them to the elevator and then returned to Billy’s side, holding his hand like he always did and pretending he wasn’t just as nervous until a few hours later, when the nurse finally came out and told them to follow her. 

Georgia was asleep by the time they got into the room, but her husband was awake, still holding her hand. He used his other one to shake with Billy and Steve and congratulate them, and finally, the nurse came in with Samantha. 

At this point, it was tradition to let Steve hold her first. She was asleep, or at least she looked it, as Steve picked her up, but as soon as he put his hand underneath her head, her eyes opened up and she began to cry. Steve tried to soothe her, but nothing seemed to work, and her little face got red as she continued to scream. It woke Georgia up and she tried to calm her down, but even she couldn’t do anything to quiet the baby. 

But this girl had a set of pipes on her, and finally, she had screamed so loud and so long that it was almost excruciating to listen to. Steve took her back from Georgia and tried again, but it was useless, and he sighed.

“Here, Bill, you try and calm her down. Nothing we’re doing seems to be working,” he said, and handed Samantha off to Billy. 

As soon as he had her tiny body cradled in his arms, the baby stopped crying. It was almost instantaneous, and even though her face was still a little red and blotchy, she blinked her big eyes up at him and smiled. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” Steve smiled, wrapping his arm around Billy’s waist. “Glad to know she’s already chosen her favorite parent.”

Billy wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t think about much of anything else at the moment except his daughter’s big, dark eyes boring into his. He smiled at her and rubbed her belly with his finger, making her gurgle and coo in response. She took her own tiny hand and raised it just enough to grab onto Billy’s finger, holding it with an iron grip. Or, at least the newborn equivalent of an iron grip. 

She continued to stare into his eyes and hold onto him for a long time, but after a while, her grip weakened and her eyes slipped closed. As she fell asleep in Billy’s arms, Steve came back over from making small talk with Georgia and her husband. Georgia was exhausted, and frankly, so was her husband, and they had begun to fall asleep again as well, leaving Billy and Steve as the only ones awake. Billy was still just staring at Samantha, though, and only noticed Steve by his side when he nudged him lightly with his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arm around him and playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “You doing okay?”

And when Billy thought about it, he found that he really, really was.

“Yeah,” he replied, “I’ve never been more okay in my entire life.”

#my boys deserve a good happy life with minimal angst #and that's exactly what they're gonna get #and they deserve closure #so they're gonna get that too #and neil hargrove can suck an egg #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #parentgrove

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: Dream Job

Read on Ao3

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Ship: Frankie Morales x Jay ‘Lady’ Ray (OFC) **Series masterlist**

Warnings: Angst, family cuteness, assholes being rude to Holly, some light violence as a result of that, PiV sex, impregnation kink and dirty talk.

Words: 5,686

Summary: Frankie and Jay are both out of the military. Jay has earned her degree and is working as a physical therapist, Frankie works at the base, Alma is three and a wonderful handful. Life should be perfect, but Frankie's not happy. Something's missing.

A/N: This was supposed to be a fic about Frankie's midlife crisis and set up his reasons for turning to drugs, but that sonuvabitch hijacked this piece and now it's about his goddamn impregnation kink. So. There you have it, I guess.

Taglist: @amneris21 @apascalrascal @harriedandharassed @kikis-writing-world @lovesbiggerthanpride @miraclesabound @mswarriorbabe80 @pazizz @paulalikestuff @rambling-in-purple @trinkets01

The rain is pouring down with a vengeance and Frankie's shoulders rise to his ears as he tries to keep the wet away from his neck. He's not wearing a proper jacket, though, so it's useless. The rain is unseasonably cold and just yesterday the weather was warm and sunny, so the twists and turns are a little abrupt for him to have thought about taking a weather appropriate jacket this morning.

Where the fuck is she?

Just as he thinks about texting her and letting her know she can pick him up from the nearest corner store, the family friendly SUV that Jay hates with a vengeance comes around the corner and pulls to the side, stopping in front of him. Frankie gets in on the passenger side. He cranks up the heating immediately. "Sorry I'm late," she glances at him. "Client."

"That's okay." He presses a smile for her and gets one in return. "How was your day?"

She shrugs. "It was okay. Busy. You?"

"Same." Jay checks the time, and grimaces.

"Can you get Alma from mom's while I get groceries? Or d'you wanna do the shopping? We're out of a lot of things."

"I thought you said you were going on your lunch break?" He can't help it; his voice is accusatory. "That's why you had to take the car."

"I didn't have time! Maddie is away, I had to take all her clients, I haven't even had time for lunch today!"

He can hear she's close to snapping, so he reigns it in. "We'll go together," he rules. He knows Jay, knows that in this state she's unable to make any sensible decisions in the store. He also doesn't want to wait with Alma at Jay's mom's place. The woman spent the entirety of Jay's childhood letting the girl know she was wrong for not wanting to wear dresses and play with dolls. Dorothy has made amends, is respectful towards the family, a wonderful grandmother to Alma, but as it turns out, this is the one grudge Frankie will carry for the rest of his life. Coming from a loving and supportive family himself and having a child of his own, he can't fathom how a parent would treat their child like Jay has been treated.

He turns his face away and stares out the window. Being a parent is the best mission he has ever undertaken, but some days are tougher than others. And it's surprisingly difficult to get by with just one car: his truck is in the shop with an unidentified brake problem. It annoys him tremendously that he couldn't figure it out himself. He fixes most things on both their cars, is good at it, but this was beyond him and it's crippling his manly pride more than he wants to admit, especially to himself.

There's also the question of his job. He's torn about still being employed by the military but not being in active duty. On the one hand, he loves that he can still fly. He enjoys training new pilots. Still going to the base every day is familiar, and he gets to fly out to other bases as well from time to time. On the other hand, he's done with missions. He's getting to be done with the military. Sometimes feels like he's in limbo. Half in, half out. Sitting behind a desk whenever he's not handling the controls of an aircraft is strange. Regular hours at the base, comfortable and practical though they may be, is strange. Jay is so enthusiastic about her job. She graduated as a physical therapist when Alma was barely a year old, and immediately got a job at the local VA center where she had done clinical duty. She started part time but quickly moved up to full time, and Alma was put in daycare with Frankie often picking her up in the afternoons. She often works overtime, taking extra clients, feeling strongly about the work she does helping combat veterans recover from various injuries and amputations. Frankie and her usually make the day-to-day work, but sometimes it gets tricky and since his car broke down, it's been hell to puzzle together their hours. And no matter what conflicted feelings Frankie harbors against Jay's mother Dorothy, it's a blessing that she lives close by and can pick Alma up when her parents are unable to. Frankie wouldn't mind being a stay-at-home dad, but the family needs two incomes. That's something else that seems to bother him right now: how the days just float by with work, daycare, dinner, barely a couple of hours of play with Alma before her bedtime... He wants more time with her, wants to be more present. The idea of maybe trying for another baby has been brought up a couple of times between him and Jay, but the thought of having two children dumped at daycare and never seeing them is... depressing, somehow. They arrive at Dorothy's, where Alma is fussy after a long day. Dorothy has given her a snack, but the girl is tired and feeling abandoned, and now very upset about having to leave granny. When they leave, Frankie sits in the backseat with Alma, who's wailing about everything and nothing, while Jay maneuvers the car to the supermarket.

"You staying here with her?" she asks when they're parked. Frankie hears the hint of tiredness in her voice, even if she tries her best to not sound stressed. Alma gives up a great wail.

"Alma wanna gooooo!"

"We'll come with," Frankie suggests. "Alma, corazon, remember when we talked about behavior in the supermarket? How we gotta be calm and let other people do their shopping in peace? That still flies, okay?"

Alma takes a deep, shaky breath and nods, her big brown eyes filled with tears. Jay smiles at her in the rear-view mirror, knowing that even if they're crocodile tears, Frankie will melt at the sight of them. He's a sucker for his special little girl.

"Can you help mommy and me with the shopping?" Frankie asks, fishing up a napkin from his pocket and wiping up the tears and snot from Alma's face.

"Alma can help," the girl reassures him, receiving a quick kiss on her forehead.

They get a cart and Frankie lifts Alma into the child seat.

"You wanna hold the list?" Jay offers, handing her the paper. Alma accepts it with a very serious face and starts to turn the list around in her hand, pretending to understand the words written on it.

"What's first?" Jay asks, bending down to trace the first word on the list with her finger.

"Shock-lat!" Alma states, drawing forth a grin from both her parents.

"I think it says milk, mijita," Frankie chuckles. Alma seems to want to start to protest, so he quickly brings her attention to the next item on the list, while Jay gets the milk. When Jay returns, Frankie relinquishes Alma and the cart to her to go get the juice.

He stops by the magazine racks, a car on a magazine cover capturing his attention, and stops to browse for a second. Barely two pages into the magazine, he hears a greeting behind him:

"Yo, Morales!"

He suppresses a sigh when he hears the voice of one of the most obnoxious dickheads ever to walk in fatigues, Captain Ryan Hall. The man's a strutting chick magnet and knows it; moreover, he's a douche who fucked up everything in life except his military career – and even in that area he's going for some kind of Razzie Award. He was reprimanded for leaving his last posting in Afghanistan with an unreported case of the clap, which he then proceeded to transmit to a variety of women at home. One of them reportedly got meningitis as a complication. Hall, of course, doesn’t give a shit.

Hall,” Frankie replies curtly and watches the guy pick out two titty magazines and toss them carelessly into the cart, joining a six-pack of beer and two big jars of that whey powder.

”Partying tonight?” He can't help himself: the cart's contents look like they belong to a nineteen-year-old, not a man of Frankie's age.

"Not gettin' one for yourself?" Hall questions, nodding at his reading for tonight. Frankie shakes his head and puts down his magazine.

"Lady keeping you on a tight leash, is she?" the guy leers and Frankie, whose primary mode is mellow, just wants to punch him in the face.

Jay shows up around the corner with the cart, and Alma gives a delighted little shriek when she sees her daddy.

"Speaking of the devil," Hall winks before eyeing Jay. "Ray. You're lookin' well."

"Same," she nods, more interested in the tightness of Frankie's jaw than some asshole she no longer has to work with. "Frankie? We're almost ready."

"Yeah, I'm done."

Hall, however, is not done.

"Civilian life looks good on you," he comments, eyeing Jay in a way that makes both her and Frankie bristle. "You don't miss the action?"

"Nope," Jay quips while trying to prevent Alma, now bored, from tearing the list into little pieces. "Alma, don't litter. We're done real soon and can go home for dinner."

Hall shakes his head. "Hate to see a good soldier go so wrong. But that's what you get when you let women in. They quit as soon as the bullets begin to whistle by. Makes more sense for them to just have babies."

Jay freezes, her blood thumping in her ears. She stares at Hall, this absolutely fuck knuckle of a man, not sure she heard right. Did he really say that?

Meanwhile, Frankie has stepped up to him and is speaking in a dangerously low voice.

"Say that again."

"Calm down, Fish, you know what it's like..."

"I don't. Say it again, and we'll find out."

Hall is looking more uncomfortable by the minute, and Jay can see from the way the muscles of Frankie's long neck are protruding that he will start swinging soon. She puts her hand on his shoulder, eyes on him, not Hall.

"Frankie."

"I'm good."

He relaxes immediately and steps back, even manages to smile at her. Hand on her back, he guides her away and can't stop from laughing when Alma points at Hall and yells Stupidface. Jay immediately admonishes her daughter about pointing and saying bad words, but Frankie can hear that she doesn't really mean it this time.

They finish up their shopping and go home, Jay unusually quiet during the entire car ride. Alma is fussy again, and Frankie does his best to keep her from making a scene in the back seat. The girl is going through some "daddy is stupid and so is mommy, but a little less so" phase, so as soon as the family gets home, Jay entertains Alma while Frankie cooks dinner.

After dinner they try to switch but Alma isn't having it, so Jay ends up giving her a bath, and reading her a bedtime story. By the time she appears in the living-room and collapses on the couch, she looks beat. Frankie immediately makes room for her in the best corner and holds out his arm so that she can curl up with it around her shoulders.

"I'm so fucking tired," she sighs. Frankie pulls her against him and kisses the side of her head.

"I know. Sorry I can't help, but neither one of us want her to have a total meltdown."

"You are helping," Jay points out. "You cooked dinner, you cleaned the kitchen, you did laundry."

"That's just normal teamwork," Frankie shrugs. "We both do that every day. I wish I could figure out how to work with her so that you'd get some relief."

"It's a phase," Jay yawns as she reaches across Frankie for the remote on a cushion next to him. "She'll snap out of it."

"Hopefully soon," Frankie mutters, relinquishing the remote to Jay. She flicks through the channels, finding a show where competitors are baking one crazy cake after another. After a few minutes of watching, Frankie clears his throat.

"Amor?"

Jay's hum lets him know that she's listening.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Hall said some pretty messed up shit."

She tenses up momentarily; a bundle of annoyed muscles flexing against him, before softening again.

"He's such an asshole. I can't let him get to me."

"You know it's not true what he said," Frankie tells her hotly, feeling a strong physical need to say it out loud. "Not one word of it. You're better than all of them put together."

Jay smiles as she turns her face towards him and kisses him lightly on the lips.

"You're always looking out for me. Thank you."

“Always.”

Five minutes later, she's asleep against Frankie's shoulder.

A couple of hours later, just when he's about to join Jay in bed, Alma wakes up crying from a bad dream. He goes in to comfort her, but Alma keeps screaming for mommy, so Jay has to come to the rescue. Feeling a little rejected, Frankie returns to bed, wondering what it would be like to have two kids screaming for Jay, not wanting him. Ashamed for these feelings of jealousy, he reminds himself that Alma is a toddler, and that all he can do is make her feel safe, comfortable, and nurtured.

When Jay stumbles into bed a little later, she barely has time to throw her arm around his waist before she's out cold. Frankie remains wide awake for an hour or two, staring into the dark, a strong assurance growing in him. He wants more children, wants another baby with this amazing woman who's sleeping tucked into his side. He has no idea how he'll support two children, but he wants to try, he needs to try.

When he finally succumbs to sleep, his final thought is about how he'll break it to Jay, especially after today, with that unfortunate encounter in the supermarket.

*** Jay has to drive Frankie to the base the following day as well and pick him up after work. Throughout the day he tries to call the shop, but nobody is picking up, and he's beginning to fume.

When he’s finally walking out of the base, he sees Jay waiting for him on the parking lot. She’s standing outside the car, talking to a couple of former teammates, swapping news. He joins them, gets a quick kiss on the cheek from Jay who quickly wraps it up. They say their good-byes and get in the car, but just as Jay’s about to turn the key in the ignition, she freezes, her eyes narrowing. Frankie follows her gaze across the parking lot and sees Hall, striding towards his truck.

“Let it be,” he says in a low voice, knowing what she’s thinking. “Jay.”

“I’m good.” But she’s still following Hall with her eyes, her lips pressed together in a tight line. Before Frankie can stop her, she’s opened the door, slipped out, and is on her way towards Hall.

“Shit,” Frankie sighs and gets out of the car, following her. She’s quick on her feet, reaching Hall just as he’s about to get into his car.

“Hey!”

Hall looks around just as Jay’s knuckle connects with his jaw. His head snaps back and he crashes into the side of his car. Frankie’s heart skips a beat and he’s there just in time to pull her away. She’s calm and collected, following him willingly.

“Should have done that a long time ago,” she lets Hall know. “You are human trash, and if you ever open your ugly fucking face at me again, I’ll make sure you’ll be taking all of your meals through a straw for the rest of your life.”

With that, she turns around and returns briskly to the car. Frankie throws Hall a look of warning, catching the man’s confusion and humiliation, then follows her. They get into the car and Jay drives away. When the parking lot has disappeared from the rear-view mirror, she sighs deeply.

“That felt fucking good.”

“You shouldn’t have done it,” Frankie shakes his head. “He’ll report you.”

“He won’t confess to having been beat up by a woman,” Jay scoffs. She has a point: Hall would rather just forget about it than have the whole base know that Jay Ray clocked him.

She keeps her eyes on the road and seems calm enough, but now she’s rubbing her right knuckles with her left hand.

“You hurt?” Frankie questions, still not sure what he thinks of the whole situation. He knows Jay can fend for herself, but this was unnecessary and dangerous.

“Nah, just a little sore. Haven’t punched anyone without gloves in years.”

“You think it was such a good idea?”

“Probably not,” she shrugs and hits the turn signal, coming out on the highway. “But I wanted to.”

Frankie glances at her, still trying to sort out his feelings. Jay has always been a fighter, ready to stand her ground, and he always admired that about her. She never takes any shit from anyone, and Frankie was always the first one to cheer her on. So why is he feeling so conflicted about it now? Is it really because she's no longer in the service, and - Lord forbid - because she is a mother? The mother of his child?

Does he think so little of her?

"You're not happy about it, are you?" Jay interrupts his musings, her voice matter-of-factly. Frankie has to smile. There it is again: her fearless ability to put him right on the spot.

"I'm not unhappy about it," he says carefully.

"That's unusually vague, even for you."

“It’s hard to know what to say. It was fucking hot but so very dangerous.”

Jay laughs, and the mood in the car lightens up immediately.

“Doesn’t hot and dangerous go hand in hand?” she retorts, and Frankie chuckles. They drive for a mile or so in silence. Frankie chews on his lower lip, scratches his mustache, fidgets until Jay sighs.

"Look," she tells him quietly, her eyes on the road. "I can see something's up. And it’s not just me being hot and dangerous."

"Nothing's wrong."

He can sense the tension in her. He and Jay have always shared a strong belief in communication, ever since they got together. It is a cornerstone of their relationship.

"I mean it," he now tries to verbalize his turmoil. "Nothing's wrong, I just... I don't really know where I fit in."

He can see from her that she has questions, but she's letting him speak.

"I mean," he makes another attempt, "you have your job. You're good at it, you love it. I have mine, but... I'm not sure I want it?"

"Oh?" The question mark is encouraging him to go on.

"I don't know, it just feels like it's not really me anymore, I guess. I love flying, but..." He shrugs. "I just don't know."

"You know it's just a job, right?" Jay points out. "You're not there forever. You can quit."

"And do what?" he scoffs, as they're closing in on the whole point. "We have a kid, we need two incomes, and I don't have a degree."

"You can always get one."

"Ain't got that in me."

"If you're going to bitch and moan like Tom..." Jay warns him, but with a hint of softness in her voice. He chuckles.

"Not to you, I wouldn't."

Jay checks the rear-view mirror, hits the turn signal, and gets off the highway. As she slows down and comes to an intersection, she turns her head to Frankie.

"Look, I'm not going to tell you what you should do. But you know I'll give you my opinion if you ask for it, right?"

"Yeah."

"And I'll support you, whatever you decide."

"I know. I just need to figure this out."

"Of course. We can talk more about it tonight."

Alma is over the moon to see her parents when they pick her up at Dorothy's. It’s a funny age: for no apparent reason, one day is all sunshine and sunflowers, the other is thunderstorms and hail. She clings to Frankie, who carries her to the car, listening patiently to her prattling on about her day. When she's strapped into her seat, Frankie's phone rings: it's the repair shop, and his truck is fixed. He feels lighter than he has in days when Jay drops him off and he gets to drive himself home.

Alma spends the rest of the evening being her most charming yet high energy self, dragging Frankie around the house as a part of her games. When it's time for bed, Frankie helps her brush her teeth but finds that there is not much assistance needed, only supervision. When did his little baby get this big? Proudly and with a little lump in his throat, he watches her rinse and spit, then brush her hair, before helping her use the toilet. When she's tucked into bed, he folds himself next to her with a picture book and starts to read it in Spanish. Alma traces the English words, sometimes stopping at one, asking what the letters mean, and Frankie tells her in both languages. They always speak Spanish during these moments together at bedtime, and Frankie cherishes them tremendously. His parents raised three children but always found time for all three of them at bedtime, talking and cuddling and just making sure they were comfortable and safe. He remembers those moments fondly and wants his child to have them as well.

"Time to sleep, Almalita," he whispers when the book is read, and his daughter is blinking sleepily.

"Will you braid my hair tomorrow?" she yawns, rubbing her eyes.

"Of course." He brushes the hair out of her face and kisses her forehead. “Can I have kisses?”

Alma carefully puts her tiny hands on either side of his face and places wet little kisses on the patches in his beard, first on one side, then the other. She always kisses the those spots, and Frankie will always remember why: at barely two years of age, Alma once spent an entire bedtime story tracing them with her fingers and eventually asking What is this? Frankie had explained to her that the bald patches were there for kissing, so that little girls’ soft lips wouldn’t be scratched by the beard. Since then, Alma always kisses him there.

"Thank you, mijita. Sweet dreams.” He gives her another kiss, inhales the sweet scent of his amazing little girl, before gently scraping his mustache against her cheek, making her giggle.

He gets out of bed and tucks her in properly, handing her the favorite stuffed toy du jour, and kisses her again with a Good night before retreating to the door. Turning around for a last look, he feels his heart swell two sizes.

God. She went from newborn to a tough, almost independent three-year-old in the blink of an eye. When did this happen? While he was working and someone else was raising her?

He finds Jay in their bedroom, getting undressed.

"She go down okay?" she asks as he shows up in the doorway. Nodding, he leans against the doorframe and watches her take off her bra. A spark of desire flies off deep in his groin, but Jay puts on a sports bra almost immediately.

"You going out?" he asks, a little disappointed. She nods as she pulls on a hoodie.

"I gotta go for a run, clear my head a little. Long day."

He nods, meeting her smile as she comes around the bed and up to him. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she leans in for a quick kiss.

"I won't be long. Don't fall asleep."

"Oh...?" He raises one brow, and Jay grins.

"Yeah, that's right, daddy's getting lucky tonight."

"Is that so?"

"But mommy needs to let off some steam first."

She slaps her hands to his ass cheeks before brushing past him. A few moments later he hears the front door open and close.

Frankie needs to talk to her, must tell her that he's ready to have another kid. He has no idea about what he wants to do for a job, but he knows with absolute certainty that he wants to have a baby with her. He has so much more love to give, his heart pours over with it whenever he looks at her, at Alma, and he wants to share it with a fourth family member.

He busies himself with chores until he hears the front door open again. Hurrying to the entry, he finds Jay untying her shoes. When she straightens, he wants to tell her immediately, but there is something about her flushed, panting appearance that leaves words for later. Instead, he grabs her by the shoulders and presses his lips to hers. Jay kicks off her shoes and Frankie wants to get her upstairs, but she drags him to the living-room instead. Before he knows it, he’s on the couch and he has no clothes on and she’s standing in front of him and she is naked as well, and so fucking sexy. Frankie grabs her by the wrist and pulls her to him, almost making her topple over, but Jay regains her balance and is about to straddle him when he moves his hands to her waist and pulls her down on her back on the couch. She presses her nails into his triceps when he slams into her. She’s so fucking wet and tight, like only she can be, and she smells of sweat from her run, and it drives him wild. He doesn’t give her time to adjust to his size, not this time, and her toothy kisses tells him she’s more than okay with it.

Jay mewls, grabs his upper arms, and one of her legs goes around him and twists, and then she pushes him up and over, and he capsizes over the edge of the couch. She follows, holding onto him tightly, and hisses when her knee hits the floor. Frankie grunts when his back takes most of the fall, but Jay is now on top of him and she grabs his dick, all slick from having been in her pussy. She pumps it a couple of times before leading it into her again, and he thrusts upwards despite knowing she doesn’t like it when she’s on top and wants to do all the work, but he must get inside her again. “Fuck!” she gasps and her back curves out when she leans down, her fingers pressing between his ribs as she kisses him. His hands run down the length of her, reclaiming every known inch of her that he can reach. Her teeth close around his lower lip and draw it out when she straightens her back and starts to ride him frantically. Frankie covers her tits with his hands and pinches, kneads, rolls her nipples between his fingers until she throws her head back and sounds a throaty, loud moan while rubbing against him, her whole body shaking with the orgasm tearing through her.

Frankie clenches his teeth and allows himself to enjoy the sight before him before he, too, succumbs to the climax that shuts his eyes close and makes him grunt in helpless surrender.

Jay collapses over him, her face fitting so well where his neck curves into his shoulder. Her breaths are short and shallow, her body heavy on his. He wraps his arms around her and keeps her close, so close he can feel her heart drumming to the same quick beat as his own.

Gratitude washes over him, complete and overwhelming, along with the feeling that he doesn’t deserve her, yet knowing that he’s done everything to deserve her. The two of them belong together, and Alma with them. The best thing he ever did was to make a baby with Jay.

It seems so clear and simple now. What has he been waiting for, really?

"Jay," he murmurs, caressing her side, "let's make a baby."

"Huh?"

"Let's have another baby. We've talked about it often enough. Why not just go for it? I want to have another baby with you."

"What about your job and all that?" Jay gets up on one forearm and caresses his cheek, her fingers lingering on the bald spots in his beard.

"I'll figure it out. We will figure it out." He turns his face so that he can kiss her palm. "Jay, I don't know for sure what I want to work with, but I'm absolutely certain that I want another baby with you. Being a dad is the best job I ever had."

He waits for her answer, hoping she has one for him now and not later, worrying about being too pushy but knowing that he needed to make it known what he really wanted. When she starts to smile widely, he feels calm.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." She laughs a little. "Yes. Let's have another baby."

"You sure?" Frankie has to ask. This went so much easier than expected. Jay slaps him lightly on the chest.

"You want to put a baby in me or not?"

He laughs at that, then rolls both of them over so that he's on top and dips his face down to kiss her neck.

"Gonna fill you with my cum," he murmurs, already hardening at the thought. Their sex life was amazing when Jay was pregnant with Alma, and he's already looking forward to a reprise. Jay slides her hand down between them and teases him with soft fingers.

"Gotta get you big and hard first, daddy," she breathes, "and then you can fuck me, and cum inside me, all the way inside, and if it doesn't take, you'll have to do it again and again and again..."

There's nothing original about her words, but they make him feral. He kisses her hotly, plunges his tongue inside her mouth, barely gives her the time to reciprocate before he drags his lips along her jawline, nibbles on her earlobe, kisses his way down her neck and chest, suckles one nipple, then the other, while growing stiff and ready to finally slide into her again.

She grunts when he pushes into her, and he feels his knees complain.

"Not the most comfortable place to fuck, huh?" he chuckles breathlessly, taking a moment to pepper her face with kisses. Jay combs her fingers through his hair, tugging a little at the neck.

"Bedroom?"

He lets out a little growl at the idea of pulling out, but her suggestion makes sense. They scramble to their feet, and only fifteen seconds later he pushes into her again, this time on soft bedding.

"I love you," he murmurs when her hungry pussy takes him balls deep. "I love you so much."

"And I love you," she assures him before pulling him in for a kiss. She moans into his mouth when he starts to move, breaks the kiss to instead trace her warm lips along his neck. Frankie leans his head back, exhaling in a low moan at her ministrations, lets her pour her love over his neck and shoulder before chasing and capturing her lips with his once again. He fucks her without hurry, indulges himself in the way her strong pussy clutches his cock in a slow drag in and out, her sounds, the surrender of her limbs underneath him. His brain is soaked in pleasure and fixed on his purpose: to fuck a baby into her, let his love grow in her womb, become a tiny person for them to take care of.

Jay's breaths are coming in short and shallow now. She whines and throws her head back, her hips rising to meet his in a wordless plea for him to go faster. Frankie obliges her, wrapping one arm around her head, keeping his eyes trained on her face. He smiles a little at the faces she makes when she gives herself up to pleasure, finds it amazing that he can know these funny, intimate details about her.

"Almost," she gasps, reaching between them to rub her clit. A moan tells him she found just the right spot.

"God, Frankie, so good, fuck, don't stop...!"

His balls are tight, he's going to blow within seconds, he growls as he tries to hold it together for just one more thrust, and another, and another, holy fucking God, now Jay is cumming underneath him, her mouth wide open as if she's about to scream, but not a word comes out, and the second after, he empties his balls inside her, presses himself to her as tightly as he can, paints her womb with his cum.

He must have dozed off because he startles when Jay's carefully nudging him off of her. He rolls heavily onto his side next to her and opens his eyes to her sleepy smile. He smiles back and raises his hand to caress her cheek, admiring the way her eyes close at his touch, like she's a cat basking in his adoration.

"You sure about this?" he whispers. Her eyes open again, calm and unfathomably blue. He wishes his daughter could have had those pretty blue eyes.

"I am. Don't tell me you're having second thoughts."

"No," he hurries to assure her, "but with everything else going on, your job, my job, Alma being a handful..."

"I'm still on the pill," Jay reminds him softly. "It might take a while."

He didn't even think about that, and the realization makes him equally jittery and relieved.

“We’ll have time to figure stuff out, then,” he summarizes, hoping it won’t take too long. Jay nods.

"We will."

Slowly, she turns onto her back, and stretches.

"I'm gonna take a shower. You comin', too?"

He's too tired really, but when Jay gets up and he sees that ass walk out the room, he's suddenly in a hurry to follow her.

#triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales #frankie x lady #my fic