#this is a human being that they created all to closet these two who had only been in a relationship for five years at that time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unknownpisces002 · 4 months

Text

GREEN MILE.

“ Losing my mind, think I look good when I’m really just high. Scared of my life, can a bitch get by? Sick of listening to everyone else. Sick of my pride, sick of just saying shit, just to be nice. Sick of this world, how do I get by? Miles running wild in my head.”

Giovanna Ramos X Black Fem.

Summary

“Clarity is a state of mind. And freedom ain’t real either, so who’s sold you that lie?” A love story told in a therapy session, about two young girls that were once mad for one another. By a recovering drug addict, who’s life revolves entirely around the green mile of North Carolina.

That she so desperately wants to escape.

Word count: 2,259

Themes: friends to lovers, LGBT, derealization, coming out of the closet, growth, homophobia, substance abuse, summer, violence, mental health, religion, family problems and secrets, young adults, mature, self discovery, eventual fluff, eventual smut, therapy, North Carolina, countryside, poverty, trauma, urban romance, urban fiction, ghetto.

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Author’s Note

hi everyone! this is a story that i decided to transfer over from my wattpad account. that i recently just started at the end of december. because i felt the need to share it here, over on this platform as well.

so that all of you guys would also be able to read/ give me feedback on how it is, and what you’d like to see occur? as the story progresses on. so i hope that you all like it, and also feel free to follow me on wattpad as well! my username is supersensitivepisces on there 🧚🏽

also, inspiration to create this story? came from my love for Giovanna. ( she’s so aesthetically pleasing flf me.) as well as a movie that i had been watching, the day that i decided to publish this onto my account back in december.

PROLOGUE.

" I'll never meet a girl like you again. Out of everything I lost, I lost a friend. Tryna get over you, tryna convince myself every night. It's just another night, even though deep down I'm traumatized."

HASSAN

4 hassan

U r the omega of my heart. The foundation 4 my concept of love, when I think of what a black woman should be. It's you that I first think of.

_____________________________________________

U will never fully understand how deeply my heart feels for you. I worry that we'll grow apart, and I'll end up losing you.

____________________________________________

U bring me to a climax without sex, and u do it all with regal grace. U r my heart in human form, a friend I could never replace.

____________________________________________

– from gio.

___________

11/7/18

Oak City Therapy

Lillington, NC

" When I was younger, around like five or six years old? I used to bug my mom and tell her about how I wanted to be a firefighter. So I could save lies and put out fires? Like the people who I'd watch on tv would do."

Tapping the tips of her fingertips onto the dark oak wood coffee table, that was located in the center of the dim lit office room. Giovanna kept her head facing downwards.

Finding that, refusing to make direct eye contact with her therapist of 3 years, who was named Marsha? Was far more comfortable and peaceful for her nerves, as well as her emotional state.

That had so desperately wanted to crumble and falter, into tiny small pieces of despair. But you see, that was the one thing on this fucked up planet, we call earth? That Giovanna was against.

Showing emotions and allowing herself to be vulnerable? Were just two things she'd rather die over, before she'd allow them to be seen by the entire world.

Or in this specific case? Her friends, along with her father. Who had played a humongous part, in why she chose to be nonchalant while acting unfazed? About majority of the things that would occur inside of her life.

".. I too? Used to dream of being a firefighter myself. When I was around that exact age, but I'm assuming that specific dream of yours must've gotten lost. Somewhere down the line as you aged up? If you aren't uncomfortable telling me about why or how? That occurred.."

Marsha eased her way into questioning the young woman who sat before her, slowly and hesitantly. Making sure that each of the words she'd spoken? Came out soft, in a calm and delicate manner.

As she leaned her backside up against her office chair, with eyes full of hope and wonder. That held a bit of gloominess inside them as well too. Once she noticed the way that Giovanna's breathing had begun to pick up a bit.

Just as her short, but not too short fingernails, that were painted a matte black color? Had begun to dig into the surface of the desk she sat at. Almost as if she were trying to dig a deep hole into the center of it, that would allow her to shield and hide herself away?

From having to answer the difficult question? That had been asked of her.

" ..I wouldn't say that my passion to accomplish that specific dream? Got lost. Because even after my mom had passed away, from having cancer? Apart of me still wanted to pursue that goal. But at the same time? Another part of me, like the part that held high hopes and expectations for things? Had diminished inside of me completely, after I lost my mom.."

" ..And I'm not really sure that if me being an only child, plays a part in that? Because don't get me wrong, I was loved wholeheartedly? By both of my parents equally when I was younger. But I don't know...sometimes now? Like when I'm alone or high from being off pills or something? I start to realize that really? It was only my mom that had loved me wholeheartedly back then.."

" Instead of it being my dad."

" And why is it, that you feel as if your father doesn't love you Giovanna?" Marsha continued to ask all the questions, that were written down onto her clipboard hesitantly.

Feeling an unsettling sensation begin to wash over her slowly. When Giovanna had taken it upon herself to shift around inside her seat. Which allowed the left sleeve of her oversized sweatshirt to rise. And give Marsha the opportunity, to catch a glimpse of all the fresh and faded scar markings that were present there.

From Giovanna, inflicting a significant amount of self harm unto herself.

" I know that he doesn't love me? Because he's voiced that statement every single day. Over the last twelve years? Repeatedly." Giovanna chuckled bitterly, all while gnawing on the inside of her jaw using her teeth.

" Me being a lesbian? Probably is another one of the reasons why he hates me too. But all in all? He just doesn't love or care for me period? In the way that a normal father would love their child."

And that fact alone? Was sadly true.

" Him not loving me or treating me properly? Doesn't bother me at all though. Because I'm used to it now, and I know that me saying that? Probably sounds stupid right? And it might also make you assume that I may or may not have Stockholm syndrome? Being that I'm okay with the fact that my father's been treating me like shit, while sometimes abusing me and more? For over twelve years."

" Yes, the way that you are going on about how his lack of love and affection, doesn't bother you? Does raise a few red flags for me. As far as you possibly being a victim of having Stockholm syndrome? But it also makes me worry more about your emotional and mental state? Even more. Being that when you really sit and sum up the timeframe, of you losing your mother? Down to your father's continuous abuse?"

" It seems that through all of that? You haven't been able to feel any of the proper care, love or attention? That a person who's endured losing a parent at a young age? Should get to feel. And that may also be another reason, as to why you feel the need to be so distant. While hiding away your true feelings, because honestly Giovanna? I'm gonna tell you something from my own personal experiences with life."

"..That have helped me find closure and peace? Within myself. After being a victim of my own? To some of the same exact problems that you've been having."

Sitting her clipboard aside, after grabbing a few tissues out of the box that was towards her right. Marsha had begun opening up about her past life, to Giovanna. As a way to encourage the younger woman and try to get through to her in a way, that talking and asking simple therapy questions? Couldn't do.

But of course? As always, Giovanna didn't care to hear any of it. Which allowed every word that left from out of Marsha's mouth, to enter inside of one ear, and come floating directly through the other.

Just as she found herself beginning to grow a bit offended, once Marsha had begun to talk about love and relationships. And how someone in Giovanna's state, didn't really need to engage in any form of romantic or sexual interactions? With another person.

Due to the lack of her father not showing her enough love or care properly? When she was a young age.

" I've been in love before." Were the first few words that left from out of Giovanna's mouth. As she cut into the middle of Marsha's speech, not really caring or giving a fuck if she had come off rude or not? After doing so.

" I'm actually in love right now? If you want me to be honest. I'm just not on speaking terms with the person? Who owns the other half of my heart right now."

" Really?" Marsha questioned slowly, sounding a bit shocked and caught off guard by Giovanna's statement.

" Mm-hm." Giovanna nodded her head slowly, feeling a small smile begin to form at the corners of her lips. Once the thought of her distant and angelic lover? Had begun to enter inside of her mind slowly.

" And why aren't the two of you on speaking terms? If you don't mind me asking."

" Because I'm..." Trailing off at the end of her sentence, Giovanna had begun to still her breathing. Just as her dark brown eyes started to glisten, and blur her vision up with tears.

" Because you're what, Giovanna?" Marsha pressed her for an answer, knowing almost immediately? What the younger girls response would've been like, once she re-opened up her mouth to speak.

" ..I'm damaged goods, Miss Marsha.."

" Like I have a heart, of course? And I know how to love and treat someone properly, even though I myself? Never got to receive that same exact treatment, from the people I deserved it from. I still know how to love and treat someone good? Despite that. But I just..."

" You're just a product of your environment. And even though treating someone kindly and loving them correctly? Doesn't come difficult. Sometimes accepting back that same love and energy? Can be a bit difficult. When all you've ever known was toxicity and dysfunction."

" But see, the thing about me accepting it back? Wasn't the problem Miss Marsha. The problem was my self esteem and my communication. Because there were times when I said things out of anger or out of being afraid? That had drove Hassan away from me too."

" Hassan?" Marsha repeated the name of Giovanna's lover slowly. " Hassan is such a pretty name, and I'm sure that she must be a pretty girl too? With how emotional and vulnerable you're getting while talking about her."

And that? She was indeed.

But of course, pretty? Wouldn't even be a suitable word to describe her at all. Because you see, Hassan? Was angelic. Just like everything else about her personality and character? Was too.

" Experiencing her love and even the attention she gave to me, before we ever became a thing? Was a privilege I wish that I never took for granted." Giovanna answered quietly, picking with the bracelet on her arm, that was giving to her by Hassan herself.

" And I know before, when I had first gotten here? I told you about how growing up as a child, with both of my parents while my mom was still alive? Was the time period where my want to do lots of things? Had been very strong."

" But even when she died and my dad became more hostile towards me? I still craved to be something or let alone somebody? Who'd be great. I just didn't know how or where to start first? For me to be able to accomplish any of those things period? Until I met Hassan.."

"..And she came into my world, allowing everything that once looked black and white? Turn colorful and vibrant. So that I could be guided out of my selfish, stuck up ways, and be the person who she swore up above to God and the heavens? That I was created to be."

" And what kind of person was that?" Marsha found herself growing a bit emotional as time passed, as she sat with her arms folded tightly. Trying not to make a fool out of herself, for crying and weeping over her client's newfound vulnerability and bravery.

That she had gained out of the blue, due to talking about her past. Or in this case? Still present lover. Who she wholeheartedly still loved very deeply, to this day.

" The kind of person who always showed patience and kindness, despite being robbed of all their goodness and purity? Far too early than I should've been. That's the kind of person? She saw me as. Even through the good, the bad and the ugly? She always looked at me, with eyes that held so much love and adoration. That at often times? I'd get scared."

" While wondering how a person like me? Could win over the heart of someone like her, you know? But even then after everything that's happened and changed over the years? I'd never stop loving her ever."

" And why is that Giovanna?"

" Because finding someone who'd love you through any and everything, despite the fact that you might not even deserve it at all? Is very fucking rare these days."

" And I have Hassan's heart? In the same exact way she has mine. So why would I ever let go or move onto someone else? When I know for certain that we'll find our way back to one another. Just like we always have? During the past."

" And you're willing to wait however long it may take, until that day ends up coming?"

" Oh? Absolutely." Giovanna's head nodded up and down quickly. " If I had to wait another year or even ten more? I'd do it without question."

" Because Hassan is worth the wait. And if I ended up having to grow old and wrinkly, just for that day to come back to me? I wouldn't have a problem with it at all."

" ..I'd just accept her back into my life fully, with open arms. Because that's all I've been wanting again and looking forward to? For the last two years."

if you’d like to be tagged in the next part? just comment below. & also feel free to leave thoughts down there as well too!

34 notes · View notes

turtle-babe83 · 1 year

Text

@knightish-knight created the most amazing oc, Elijah, and I love him so much. Here is a little taste of Eli and Rise!Donnie from a tactical au. Knight, it is my honor to write for these two. Love you so much bestie. 😘 (Thank you for the title @thelaundrybitch) Also mention of “Chibani” who is an OC belonging to @beckerboopin

Artwork of Eli and Donnie by @knightish-knight ⬇️

•Cock, Paper, Scissors…I win•

Tactical Rise!Donnie x OC Elijah

Warning: Language and NSFW content 18+ only

Eli blinked. Did he hear that correctly? Donnie was staring at him expectantly, one sassy hand on his trim hip.

“Wait, you need me to go with you…where?”

Donnie rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, grabbing Eli’s wrist to tug him down the hallway. Eli, for his part, was entirely confused. Why would Donnie need his help in the supply closet? Can he not carry a pack of post-it notes by himself?

Donnie groused to himself as he dragged Eli down the back hallways, easily avoiding the route most people would take. It was all he could do to not rationalize his way out of this. But dammit, he couldn’t get the guy out of his head! How the fuck was he supposed to get anything done when his brain was hyper fixated on a long body riddled with moths and snakes and other things he shouldn’t find endearing but god. His mouth watered at the thought of discovering what other delightful pictures were hiding under Eli’s clothes.

Eli puzzled over the soft shell’s determined stride. Not that he minded, of course. Just feeling that large hand squeezing his wrist was doing things to him. What would that tight grip feel like down-

Suddenly, Donnie jerked him out of his thoughts when he opened the door and roughly shoved Eli inside. A box of pens fell off the shelf, scattering all over the floor, as his elbow bumped into it. Stunned and confused, he heard the click of the door latch and blinked at the sudden brightness of the overhead bulb.

“What the hell, Dona-“ he sputtered, words choked off as he was spun around and shoved against the shelving unit.

Donnie’s eyes were wild, that much he could see before the turtle grabbed his jacket collar in both hands and smashed his mouth onto Eli’s. As Donnie’s tongue pushed through his eager lips, Eli had the random thought that perhaps they weren’t here for post-it notes.

Donnie felt his stomach clench at his first taste of Eli. Coffee and…what was that? He coaxed Eli’s tongue into his mouth and sucked, drawing a moan from the other man. Licorice! That’s right, Eli always kept his favorite candy in his pocket. His hands dropped to Elijah’s hips and he pressed even closer, devouring every gasp greedily. He knew he was being demanding but fuck if he could help himself. His possessive nature was begging him to capture and claim. When Eli’s arms slipped around his neck, hands tangling in his bandana tails, Donnie growled in triumph.

Eli sucked in a quick breath as the turtle’s lips trailed fire down the side of his neck. He was dizzy with the turn of events and his brain was struggling to keep up with his body. He tilted his head to the side to give him more access, feeling chills break out all over his skin with each nip and lick. Donnie’s hot breath in his ear was almost too much. Eli grabbed the sides of his head and jerked him back to his hungry mouth. Apparently, Donnie approved as he threw himself wholeheartedly into the kiss.

Donnie’s mind was always so loud. A hundred thoughts a minute in rapid succession, ideas and blueprints assaulting him with every breath, but right now? Everything was Eli. Don’s senses were overwhelmed with the taste and smell, the softness of his skin, and the barely audible whimper coming from his throat. These last few months of watching the beautiful Elijah with his dark messy hair, delicate cheekbones, and those fucking eyes that always seemed to see too much, it all came down to this. Donatello wanted to swallow him whole. The human male had him twisted around his little pinky and he didn’t even know it.

Donnie slipped his hands under the tight black T-shirt that had been plaguing his mind all damn day and grasped the waistband of Eli’s skinny jeans. Every pull of his lips sent bolts of desire straight to his groin and it took everything he had not to drop yet. He needed to calm himself down if he wanted to draw this out long enough to enjoy it. He pulled back finally and pressed his forehead against Eli’s, both of them out of breath. Donnie chuckled quietly as Eli continued to play with the tails of his bandana. His heartbeat drummed in his head and he forced himself to take deep, even breaths. His hands were still splayed on the human’s bare waist and his thumbs rubbed back and forth lightly. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look into Eli’s eyes just yet. Eli waited patiently, unsure what he should do.

“Is this, you know, okay?” Donnie finally muttered.

Eli flinched at the sudden break in silence, feeling his face flush. He cleared his throat, but decided just to nod in answer. He had a distressing feeling that his voice might squeak if he tried to speak.

Donnie seemed to understand, relaxing fractionally as he continued, “Yeah? Okay. Okay, so…keep going?”

Eli gulped hard. The second he began to nod again, Donnie hitched his right leg up and around his hip. Off balance, Elijah responded by grasping the turtle’s shoulder and Donnie took the opportunity to haul the other leg up as he pressed them harder into the shelves. Eli wanted to protest the sharp edge biting into his back but Donnie’s hands were now free to continue their exploration so he kept his mouth shut.

Donatello held tightly onto the last shred of his self control but it was rapidly slipping out of his grip. His cock ached from behind his slit and he could feel the dampening of his pants as fluid leaked from the straining bulge. He bucked his hips experimentally and was rewarded with a high pitched gasp.

“Say my name,” he growled into the soft flesh of Eli’s neck.

Eli trembled in his arms, a shuddered breath escaping as he whined, “D-Donnie.”

The mutant growled and nipped at his ear with teeth much sharper than Eli expected. Another roll of his hips, and Eli felt his cheeks flush as his own body betrayed him. There was no way that Donnie couldn’t feel the way Eli hardened at his ministrations. As if reading his mind, this time when Donnie bucked, he rolled his hip to the left, purposefully brushing Eli’s cock firmly.

Desperate for more contact, Donnie shoved Eli’s jacket down his shoulders and pulled his black T-shirt over his head. Fucking hell, did Eli look good with his wavy hair all mussed and wild. Taking the extra seconds to remove his own tee, Donnie was quick to press plastron to bare chest. Another bruising kiss assaulted Eli’s lips, then Donnie pulled back to give him a heated look.

“Again,” he hissed, “be a good boy and say my name, again.”

He punctuated his words with one more hard jerk of his hips, his eyes devouring the flush of Eli’s cheeks down to the flex of his abs. Eli looked completely wrecked and they had barely gotten started.

Eli could hear his heart pounding in his ears, making it hard to focus. Donnie was intimidating and overwhelming and it didn’t help that Eli had been salivating for a taste of the turtle man. But the moment he heard “be a good boy” fall out of that sinful mouth, it was over. If Donnie wanted a good boy, he’d give him one. All his years of servicing others, and he was going to use his knowledge and experience to bring this mutant to his knees.

Donnie was watching him and saw the moment that something changed in Elijah’s expression. A world weary confidence straightened his spine and Eli leaned forward to purr sultrily in his ear, “Dona…tello.”

That’s when Donnie felt his self control snap.

There was no stopping it now. Donnie’s cock had a mind of its own as it slid free of its confines. Donnie bit off a curse as he watched Eli realize what was pressing into his lower belly. That knowing smirk got under his skin and he wondered when he had lost command of the situation. Time to get it back.

Donnie took a step back and let Eli’s legs drop to the floor. It took him all of two seconds to have Eli’s belt unfastened, shoving his pants and underwear to his ankles. A glimpse at the young man’s face revealed that he had accomplished his goal of catching him off guard. Bringing his attention back down, Donnie dropped to his knees. The choked gasp above spurred him on as he eyed the cock bobbing before him. He leaned forward with his tongue lolling out, and at the last second, he shifted to the left.

Eli let out the breath he was holding and quirked a brow in confusion. Then, the tip of Donnie’s tongue found purchase on his thigh, tracing the curve of Eli’s long snake tattoo up to where it ended over his clenched abs.

Donnie chuckled quietly at the huff of surprise. Teasing Eli might have just become his new favorite pastime. He turned his head slightly, dragging his snout up the side of Eli’s shaft and breathing in his unique musk. His mouth watered for a taste and there were few things that Donnie would deny himself if he wanted it. He opened his mouth wide and without preamble, sunk down until Eli bumped the back of his throat.

Eli clapped a hand over his mouth. After the strangled sound he just uttered, he no longer trusted himself to be quiet. He didn’t expect this. Typically, clients expected him to do all the sucking. Why would Donnie do this? Not that he was complaining by any means. Watching that purple wrapped head bobbing between his thighs, wringing such fucking pleasure from him was making him dizzy.

Donnie continued to suck and slurp, completely disregarding the spit running down his chin. He couldn’t remember the last time he got so worked up giving head. What was this guy doing to him?

His own cock was aching and he rummaged through his cargo pockets until he found the small bottle of lube he had stashed there before leaving his quarters that morning. Without even slowing down, he uncapped it and coated the fingers of one hand, then he reached around to Eli’s ass. Using one hand to spread his cheeks just enough for the other hand to start rubbing around Eli’s puckered hole, barely pressing in.

Eli moaned through his fingers as Donnie’s thick digit inched inside little by little, coating and prepping for his intended intrusion. He was rapidly approaching his end and muttered a halfhearted warning to the turtle who was trying to suck his soul out through his dick. It only encouraged the soft shell to increase his efforts and the finger in his ass curled just so. Eli grabbed Donnie’s bandana tails, hips jerking and unable to stop as he emptied himself down his throat. Donnie managed to swallow all of it, and the moment that Eli relaxed, he pulled his finger free and stood.

Hastily, Donatello got his own pants undone and down out of the way. Locating the discarded bottle of lube, he generously coated his cock, stroking it with a firm grasp once...twice…three times. Satisfied, he grabbed a slightly dazed Eli and turned him around to face the shelves.

Donnie growled as he held Eli’s hips, “I suggest you hold onto something.”

Eli’s face was pressed against the edge of one of the shelves but before he could even register the bruising pain of it, he felt his ass being split wide open. His eyes instantly watered with the pressure of Donnie entering him achingly slow. He hadn’t had time to see what the mutant was packing but by the feel of it, his cock must be massive. Eli winced and gritted his teeth as he was stretched to accommodate. The burn wasn’t unfamiliar, but it had been unexpected. Eli took slow, deep breaths as he willed his body to relax and accept the intrusion. He briefly considered turning his head and biting down on the shelf currently digging into his cheekbone.

Donnie huffed and strained, trying not to blow his load too quickly. Seeing Eli’s face as he was consumed by the pleasure of his release had nearly done him in, but by god, he was a grown ass man. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself now. He panted as he eased in further. Eli was such a beautiful man and Donnie had been craving him since day one. He had convinced himself that once he had satisfied the hunger, he could move on. But now that he was balls deep in the sweetest, tightest ass he’d ever had the delight to experience, it was apparent that one time was not going to be enough.

Eli slammed the heel of his palm against the edge of the shelf in exasperation and burst out, “Fucking move, Dee!”

That was all the invitation the mutant needed. He pulled back to the tip, then slammed his hips as hard as he could, enjoying the yelp Eli couldn’t withhold. Donnie quickly found out that there wasn’t much sound that Eli could or would hold back. The young man was whimpering and moaning with every thrust, making Donnie proud of himself but also nervous about being caught. He considered light choking, but feared that might have the opposite effect intended. He settled on sticking a finger into Eli’s mouth and he instantly started sucking on it, bringing his noises down to a muffled whine. Donnie hooked his other arm around Eli’s trim waist and used it to brace as he fucked him harder.

Try as he might, Donnie knew he wasn’t going to last. Eli’s perfect ass squeezed him just right and he knew he was about to cum. Eli’s tongue swirled around the digit in his mouth and as the pleasure built, he found himself sucking it harder. Without warning, the finger was jerked from his mouth and before he could suck in another breath, it was circling his taint.

“I’m about to-ughn!” Donnie broke off as the first stream of cum shot from his cock.

Eli shoved his fist in his mouth, biting down as his own body shuddered from the intense stimulation. Donnie pumped erratically until he was spent, then he slipped both arms around the other man’s waist and panted against his back. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d nutted so good.

“You okay?” he finally managed to ask.

Eli was breathing heavily himself, forehead resting against the shelf as he stared down at his dribbling cock. Was he okay? His ass was gonna be sore for a couple of days but it would wear off. The problem was the feeling tightening his chest. It was terrifyingly close to affection and that was something Eli was not ready to acknowledge. So he nodded and muttered that yeah, he was fine. Donnie reluctantly slipped out and Eli winced. There was nothing available to clean up the mess starting to leak out so Eli rushed to pull his clothes back on, thankful that his jacket was on the longer side. Donnie was dressed in a flash, watching and waiting. As soon as Eli was done, Donnie grabbed the back of his neck, hauling him into a hard kiss, all teeth and tongue, before releasing him abruptly.

“You should grab something from the shelf so if anyone asks what you’re doing back here, you have an excuse. Wait a minute or two after I leave before you come out,” Donnie ordered, before grabbing a new pack of dry erase markers.

Eli sputtered for a moment, then as Donnie reached for the door knob, he blurted, “We didn’t discuss payment.”

Donnie froze.

Eli shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, “Usually…my clients discuss the price of my services…you know, before.”

Donnie turned with a snarl, “Payment? Client? I wasn’t hiring you. Did it ever occur to you that I could actually like-you know what? Forget it.”

Then he left without another word. Eli stood there, stomach uneasy, trying to decipher exactly what just happened. Besides some damn good sex. He needed to talk to Chibani. Confusion was an unwelcome companion as he decided it had been long enough. Eli grabbed the first thing within reach and peered out the door to find the coast clear. He was nearly to his quarters before he looked at his hand and found a neon rainbow pack of post-it notes. He laughed humorlessly as he entered his room.

Stripping down, he headed to the shower to wash off the evidence of their closeted tryst. As the water streamed over him, he thought back over Donnie’s words. Was he saying that he was interested in him? That he actually might like Eli? Nearly everyone in his young life had used him, taken what they wanted, and then turned their backs when they were finished. The idea that Donnie might share the budding feelings that he himself had just started to become aware of was scary and confusing. What should he do now? How was he to act around the handsome turtle?

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and he sank to the floor of the shower as sobs wracked his body. What the hell was he supposed to do with…feelings? 💜

@thelaundrybitch @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @nittleboo @mysticboombox @beckerboopin @morning-sun-brah @shiftandshade @aurora-the-kunoichi @raisin-shell @raphslovemuffin80 @coulrofilia-sexuell @deer-intelligence @donathan @dilucsflame33 @sharpwindow @androidships007 @snackugaki

#tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #oc elijah #oc eli #knightish knight #turtlebabe83 #tactical #tactical turtles #tactical oc #rottmnt tactical au #tactical au

144 notes · View notes

writing-whump · 2 months

Note

Part 2 of the Seline and Matt fic with Isiah coming home to find the two of them asleep in the same bed?

Have this little ficlet as denouement from yesterday's fic then. Thanks for the request, I'm flattered you were curious.😊💙✨️

Isaiah came home to a surprisingly quite and dark apartment.

Normally Matthew's booming voice carried from the living room and he could always track Seline by the number of rooms with the light switched on. She tended to leave more of them on, even when alone.

He wondered if it was to ward loneliness, creating a feeling of presence and warmth.

Today it was suspiciously not so.

He tiptoed around the kitchen, mildly offended no one ate the lasagna he prepared yesterday so his roommates would have stuff to eat after coming home exhausted from classes.

Peeking into his room, he found Matthew's bed just unruly and empty as in the morning.

Huh.

Too curious to even change into his home clothes, he kept exploring in the darkness, climbing up the steps. They creaked enough in the silence he was sure he would not be able to hunt down anyone, if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to.

He had to jump away a little at a admittedly very badly smelling spilled water in the hall right next to the staircase. Who spilled water and didn't clean it after? The wooden floor would swell up from it...

The door to Seline's room was slightly open, so he creeped in.

Matthew lied on Seline's side of the bed, wrapped around her like she was his human plushie, snoring slightly. There was a basin at the side of the bed, which Isaiah took as an answer for the peculiar arrangement.

Seline's bright blue eyes gleamed in the twilight light, meeting his.

"What happened?" Isaiah mouthed soudlessly, coming closer.

The back of his hand went to Matthew's forehead, but there was no fever. Matthew was the most cuddly when he had a fever.

"Concussion," Seline mouthed back, combing her hair through Matthew's hair, her expression the softest thing, making Isaiah's heart melt.

"How long have you been trapped?" Isaiah said with a slight chuckle.

"Very long," Seline said with a smile.

She didn't look too concerned or uncomfortable with her predicitiment. He noticed she watched his reaction, eyes narrowed to slits as she patted Matthew's head, but Isaiah didn't know why. Matthew was his just as he was hers.

He was very very glad, in fact, when the two got along. There was nothing more torturous for him as when the two were arguing.

Though he had yet to have a major argument with Seline, so that was still up to discussion.

Isaiah leaned over to plant a kiss on top of Seline's hair, then went to open the window. The air was way too stale.

Satisfied with being back in the picture, he proceeded to change out of his suit into something more comfortable, then gathered supplies to clean up the puke puddle in the hall. The wood was getting slightly swolled already, so he threw an old towel over to soak up the residual liquid before disinfecting it.

Washing his hands thoroughly and cleaning everything up, he dared return to the room. What was he supposed to do with the rest of it alone, right? It was only natural.

Seline watched him curiously, pressed even closer to Matthew because of the cold air from the open windows.

Isaiah closed them, brought a glass of water from the bathroom for Sel and one more blanket from Seline's closet - he was getting familiar with where she kept what and was very excited about it - before climbing in the bed himself.

Seline turned to her back, sandwiched between them. Matthew was pressed against her side, but she wiggled her legs towards Isaiah, wrapping both around one of his.

Now very satisfied, with warmth and butterflies spreading all over him, Isaiah got his airpods out, gently inserting one into Seline's ear, taking the other for himself.

"Wanna hear the war update?"

Seline nodded, squinting at his phone screen. They followed a podcaster commenting on the Ukraine war. She listened to them alone before, since Ukraine was on on Slovakia's borders.

Isaiah knew how worried her family was about the war. If Putin won, he would not stop at Ukraine, they thought, but continue to usurp the rest of the former Sowjet block countries, including Slovakia and Czech Republic as it was before the Fall of the Iron Wall.

Not that Isaiah thought it was less relevant for the rest of Europe. Why would Putin stop anywhere, once he was that far? Austria didn't have to be saved by its neutrality.

And appeasement politic never worked with Hitler either, did it.

Isaiah snaked a hand under Seline's neck. He wanted to be attuned to her movements in the dark, to feel when she would jolt or shudder. If she was going to listen to this, better with him than alone.

He clicked play on his phone as Seline turned her head towards him, face pressing against his shoulder, taking slow measured breaths. Isaiah took her hand in his.

They stayed like that, huddled in the dark as the podcaster reported about destroyed cities, drone attacks and munition, taking turns at squeezing the other's hand for comfort.

#whump #mentions of emeto #sickfic #comfort #war tw #mentions of war #my writing #werewolf wip #it gets a litttle heavy at the end #but hey it's a contemporary world they can have contemporary european problems #Matt #Seline

21 notes · View notes

rude-harmonixer · 1 year

Text

I was originally going to write on Twitter but character limits are too much of a bother so here I am. This will probably be very messy but I'm dealing with media that probably 10 people are familiar with, so... Whatever!

I've recently found this site: https://nervetower.neocities.org/analysis.html

It has a bunch of translations and essays on the game Baroque, originally released on the Sega Saturn.

This specific bit of info has made me OBSESSED with thinking about the game.

Sure the game was literally written in burst of inspiration by drawing tarot cards because the writers had a deadline and writer's block at the same time, and the protagonist being canonically trans was only in a draft for the prequel material, but the game is surprisingly consistent with its themes and the symbolism can still be read through a trans lens.

And because it's not confirmed and ambiguous, the protagonist can be read through multiple gender povs.

But like, why is this such a big deal? Well, Baroque and its prequel material just so happens to have one of the most incredible anti-bigotry narratives I've ever seen in a game. Specifically anti-ableism and anti-eugenics, among probably some questioning of organized religion and how corporations use it to further alienate the public into a cycle of oppression towards marginalized people. etc.

The protagonist is mass produced and manipulated by the Archangel to "purify" whatever he deems should be "purified", using guilt (the Christians/Catholics favorite thing) to do so as the protagonist is made to not remember anything besides their immense guilt over something.

For the game to progress the protag must regain their memories and find out they're a copy of who knows how many other copies, a human made into a product basically, made to feel special because they won't be distorted by their desperate delusions to escape a world destroyed by corporate greed like all the rest and have the power to "purify" things, when in reality they're just emotionally and genetically manipulated into being that.

A perfect pawn.

Now where is the trans symbolism? Well, aside from how little bodily autonomy the protagonist has, here's where things really get interesting:

In Baroque, God is presented as a woman. Before the Great Heat (aka apocalypse), God's Sense Spheres (her omnipresence, transferring data like the world is a body) assured that no great distortion would come to the reality humanity lived in, God would feel pain and know there was a wound to heal. Then the Archangel, who's really just some scientist, started fucking with the population's mental health on purpose because he wanted to kill God and create his own perfect little world. That's the short summary anyway.

At one point, with a lot of brainwashing using God's screams of pain, he created the Order of Malkuth to help him. But later the members woke up from the brainwashing and organized a desperate attempt to stop the Archangel: they would fuse Koriel number 12 (presented as a boy) with God so she could communicate in data that humans could understand. What they didn't expect however is that Koriel 12 had their own problems, and with Archangel interrupting the fusion, those problems were very amplified.

Koriel 12's guilt over being alive and God's suffering made shit hit the fan for good with the Great Heat.

And that's how the protagonist becomes mute and receives the power of God and anim- I mean, "purification".

The game begins and despite Koriel and God being now two parts of the same being, the Archangel tells Koriel to go to the bottom of the Nerve Tower, where the "Mad God" is basically imprisoned, and "purify" her with a rifle (with ammo made from the embodiment of her pain hormones).

The Archangel is literally making Koriel kill a part of themselves that's already literally buried deep into a mind tower that goes down instead of up but still has the image of a tower instead of a hole. He's basically forcing Koriel to bury the closet with them inside it because the closet isn't enough apparently.

Koriel also can't speak for themselves anymore but their thoughts can be read by the Horned Woman, which she just says out loud without explaining anything and unless you're thinking about it you won't even recognize those are "your" thoughts being spoken by another person.

Jumping ahead, when Koriel gets to the bottom of the tower, you can either do what the Archangel tells you or can just walk towards God and unite with her.

When you do this after some dying and finding out, you'll receive the true ending, in which it is made clear that while it is in a state at which it's harming everyone, the "distortion" is actually the natural way of the world, everyone needs to cope at least a little to survive, the Archangel's eugenicist campaign was the greater problem here, not the people "distorted" into representations of their suffering and coping mechanisms by his actions.

This is primarily focused on ableism and particularly the stigma around mental health.

With a trans reading, it forms a bridge so it can also just mean bigotry in general too.

Why? Well, since the 70s or something, trans people basically have to be diagnosed with a disorder to be granted legal access to transition, that's even truer for Japan, which literally puts it on paper as a disorder. And overall, transphobia and ableism go very hand in hand.

This game is now the closest I've come across to finding a game that's secretly about trans people too like The Matrix.

And this has greatly developed the brain worms 👍

#baroque game #my gaming ramblings #if you're insane enough please try the game #not the ps2 or wii versions tho they're terrible and even if you don't care about most changes you'll most likely care about-#it more than doubling the amount of floors from the psx version which already was bigger than the original and like #please don't do that to yourself the game is already not that fun don't subject yourself to those versions #spoilers i guess but really who even cares #it's not like the surprise really does anything in-game really #you'd just be very confused playing it 100% blind trust me #also there's a whole lot I didn't talk about this is just an incoherent rambling which some might decipher maybe #if you've read all this you're very based and I'm so sorry ahsbsjenzbx

194 notes · View notes

eviesaurusrex · 2 years

Text

Waking up || S. Strange

[picture is not mine!]

pairing: Stephen Strange x Stark!Reader

word count: 3.4k

summary: Waking up beside the man you love more than words could ever describe is something entirely different.

warnings: so much fluff and sugar, you'll die from a sugar shock (maybe), the morning voice of Stephen (yes, that is a warning), kissing, cuddling in bed, suggestive topics because c'mon, they love each other so much, that's why this one is probably kinda 18+ (idk), an "I am so very sorry" end.

author's note: After my first ever uploaded story about Stephen (click me! no, click me!) I impulsively decided to create my own little universe around these two lovestruck fools. Enjoy!

[Minors DNI]

It was quiet inside the halls of the Sanctum Sanctorum while the sun rose steadily over the horizon to start a new day. Only the faint noise of the buzzing streets of New York City was heard where busy people went to their busy but boring jobs and didn’t spend a second glance at the building standing tall at 177A Bleecker Street. If they had, they would’ve gotten the strangest of all views and could’ve had the strangest of all stories to tell. Who would believe them that they saw a floating red cape in one of the windows without an actual human being wearing it? And if they had stood longer than a few seconds to witness the magic within this strange building, the busy New Yorker could’ve seen a Sorcerer hot on the cloak’s heels.

But instead, the steps and grumbling of Wong only woke a sleepy woman in one of the four-poster beds belonging inside the Sanctum. A nest of untamed hair peeked from underneath the large blanket in which she had rolled herself while dreaming of design plans, upcoming orders, and budget meetings. Nobody had said it was a pleasant dream that accompanied the usually busy woman.

A yawn escaped the fort of blankets and pillows, emerging with stretched arms and a sigh full of contentment before the nose of the Stark peeked over the blanket burrito. Ever since understanding how comfortable a blanket could be, she had the habit of transforming herself into a blanket burrito – and stealing every piece of fabric in the process of it. Tearing her mouth wide to yawn again, she rolled as slowly and carefully as she could muster in her current state onto the other side and pulled the blanket with her. Surprisingly, the lower half of the man lying beside her was covered with one of the blankets that usually had its place over the armchair in the adjacent walk-in closet. She couldn’t help herself but softly smile at the view in front of her droopy eyes, still incredibly heavy from the lack of a healthy amount of sleep.

Scooting closer to the black-haired man, she slowly unraveled her own blanket to share it with him like she always did as soon as she opened her eyes morning after morning. After she was content with the result, the Stark woman scooted even closer to nuzzle herself into his warm, inviting side before resting her head tiredly on his chest.

These mornings, lazy mornings, were her favorite because she finally could enjoy his presence, warmth, and love without fearing the alarm to get off to bring them both back into reality. She hated the concept of reality when she could stay with him but had to be a responsible adult again as soon as the sun was up. But today, she didn’t care about responsibilities, being an adult, and gracing the compound with her presence. Today, she would stay in bed as long as she could with the man she loved more than anything else in this world. Neither of them had to save the world today. The superhero exchange market was closed until the end of the weekend. Humanity had to call her brother and his not-so-secret secret boyband group for urgent matters.

Sighing again, the Stark tried to find a comfortable position on the soft mattress but without waking the man next to her, before giving up and just entangling her legs with the other pair in this bed. As soon as skin touched skin, the woman hissed lowly at the feeling of icy cold feet and almost jerked back onto her bedside. Throwing a glance down along the furniture, she determined the problem. With just another sigh – this time with much more frustration – she tried to push the fabric over his feet without waking him up. But his raspy voice thwarts her fruitless attempts.

“I thought we said something about sleeping in,” Stephen mumbled groggily, still half asleep and his blue eyes barely open. With a deeply apologetic expression on her beautiful face, the Stark leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth gently. “I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered, nuzzled against his cheek, and peppering his warm skin with soft pecks of her lips. “I stole the blankets again, and only tried to warm up your ice block-like feet.”

The Sorcerer Supreme hummed contently, eyes already fully closed again and a barely visible smile on his tempting lips. The woman laid herself over the expansion of his chest, both arms crossed over the hard muscles and bed the chin on her arms. “Blanket thief.” Still raspy from sleep, Stephen’s voice rumbled in his chest underneath her, and the woman chuckled. Glistening eyes were trained on the Sorcerer in front of them, and she smiled full of adoration and happiness.

“You knew that long enough to consider not letting me in your bed and near your blankets,” she grinned while bending her head to pepper the bearded chin with kisses. Chuckling softly at the tickly feeling of his stubbles, strong arms wrapped themselves around the delicate body on him, and Stephen pulled the woman even closer. Now they were nose to nose, and the doctor finally opened his eyes fully. “I like having you in my blankets, Miss Stark.” – “Of course, you do, Doctor Strange,” came the retort instantly while memories of last night flooded her mind.

Tangled bodies, flying pieces of clothing, and soft moans echoed through the bedroom after they had finally made it onto the bed, but not without shattering Wong’s worldview and probably marked him for the rest of his life. She still felt his rough, but nevertheless soft, hands on her body and felt the desperation behind each searing kiss that matched her own. Her lips were sore in the best possible way, and her fingers ached to bury them back into the black strands of the man underneath her. She was sure that he remembered as well because Stephen gripped her hips even tighter and tried to pull her even closer, even though not a single atom would fit between their bodies.

A low growl escaped him as soon as the Stark gave in to the desire and buried the fingers of one of her hands back in his hair, lowering her face closer to his. Stephen lifted his head to meet her halfway in an equally desperate kiss like he had given her only hours ago, but the woman had other plans. Instead of kissing him like her life depended on it, her soft lips barely touched his, before wandering from one corner of his mouth to the other, to the tip of his nose, his cheekbones. His forehead. His eyes fluttered shut and remained that way until she straddled him completely and dedicated her attention to his hands.

She loved his hands. They’re bigger than hers, swallowing her hands complete when the Sorcerer grasped them to pin her onto the bed, hold her hand in public or cover them while spooning the woman through the night. The scars reminded her of delicate lines on expensive paintings her parents started to collect and which Tony kept securely locked inside one of their many vaults. Lines that ultimately formed branches and full blooming trees, radiating the calmest of feelings the youngest Stark child had ever felt while looking at a painting. The scars reminded her what a fighter the man she loved was and how he overcame obstacles some people would never face in their whole life. And thus, Stephen Strange became one of the strongest persons she ever had the pleasure to know.

Soft lips left kiss after kiss on his warm skin, warm eyes laid upon his deadly handsome face on which a loving smile tucked at his lips. Blue eyes never left her face, admiring the view as he usually does, and she took her time to kiss every inch of every scar – until she reached his fingertips. “What are you doing, love?” His still raspy - and hot as hell -morning voice asked, full of curiosity, even though Stephen already knew the drill. Sometimes the woman upon him needed to take her time to admire him – and to show him through tender acts like these how much she loved and valued him. Grinning down on the tired Sorcerer, the Stark shrugged nonchalantly and started to kiss the fingertips of his left hand.

“I.”

A kiss on his thumb.

“Just.”

One on his index finger.

“Felt.”

Now, his middle finger had its turn.

“Like.”

His ring finger got a kiss, and the Stark woman instantly lingered a bit longer. At some point, she wanted to see a ring on this finger. A ring that screamed for the entire world to see that this man belonged to her and her alone.

“It.”

A last kiss on his pinkie finger before the woman moved straightly to his other hand. Stephen chuckled lovingly and shook his head in utter awe at this woman. “You are a strange one, darling.” Still grinning, she kissed the other thumb and cocked her head slightly. “Well, we have to match, love. You’re wearing the name, and I’m the fitting attitude.” It was easy as that, even though she desperately wanted to wear his name one day as well. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight – not on her part, at least – but now, after the disaster that was their dating episode and two years living in the relationship they started after date number twenty-three, she wanted nothing else. Maybe the doctor knew, maybe not; she didn’t really care because Natasha and Wanda would point it out to him in a more inconspicuous way if he didn’t start to think about it on his own. Her sisters – not biological, but on an even deeper level – would handle it if needed.

Nothing to worry about.

Stephen’s thumb and index finger gently grasped her chin and held it in place, so he could sit up between pillows and blankets. Nose to nose, they sat in their shared bed, and the Sorcerer couldn’t resist and rub them against each other. She could see how his bright eyes slowly fell shut, and her hands, which fell onto his chest at the sudden movement, rose with his deep inhale. Half-open lips touched hers, and the Stark couldn’t resist parting her lips too and sighing contently as soon as he kissed her lovingly.

“Someday…,” Stephen began, his hand now cradling her jawline and stroking her cheek, “Someday, you’re not only wearing the attitude, my love. Someday…” He only had to move not even two inches to brush lips over lips before kissing the woman like his life depended on it. Stephen’s hand clasped the Stark’s chin again, pulling her towards his awaiting lips and lured a breathy moan out of her body. He smiled a satisfied smile within the kiss while circling the other arm around her waist and pulling the soft body of the woman flush against his. Pressed against each other, he softly licked over her bottom lip before pulling only a mere inch away. She was out of breath, and the doctor showed his girlfriend one of his signature smug grins before he turned serious again. “You will wear my name, love because as soon as the time has come, I won’t tolerate it any longer that you’re walking around without a ring on your finger. Nobody knows that you’re mine.” Except for the hundreds of thousands of buyers of tabloids, she thought, smiling like a stupid teenager. “And I want this. I want you, for the rest of times.”

Leaning her forehead against his, the woman combed through his dark strands and nuzzled her nose against his. “And then you’re always saying that you are so bad with words. I don’t wanna hear this bullshit ever again,” she whispered, feeling tears full of utter happiness emerging. Apparently, she didn’t need her sisters because out of the blue, she knew with a shocking certainty that Stephen Strange loved her as much as she loved him.

The Sorcerer smiled at her words and pushed one of her locks behind her ear, kissing the tip of her nose. “Whatever you say, my love.” Sniffling, the Stark shook her head and laughed in disbelief. “If you wanna outdo this little speech of yours when the time comes, you really have to prepare something in advance, baby,” she said, with her hand settling in its usual spot at the nape of his neck, where she could play with the shorter black hair. Her other hand cradled his jawline now while her thumb stroked softly over his full bottom lip, where a smile tucked at its corner. “Don’t you worry, love. After it, there won’t be any other men in your thoughts.”

If he knew that he already has me wrapped around his fingers…

She grinned at that thought but started to groan as soon as the phone on the bedside table started to ring. Stephen furrowed his brows and shot the device a look that could kill a living human being in a matter of seconds. “Please say it isn’t work.” Stephen’s pleading words accompanied her as she bent over (but never left his lap, of course not) and got a hold of her still ringing and vibrating phone. An unfavorable picture of Tony beamed up towards her, and another groan left the younger Stark’s mouth. With an apologetic glance back to Stephen, she picked up.

“If you don’t have anything important to say, you can hang up directly, idiot. I’m on vacation.” Who needs greetings, right? A scoff came through. “I need fresh parts for my project. The kid blew it up.” Clattering was heard in the background, followed by a familiar voice. “I am so very sorry, Miss… Mrs... Doctor Stark! Please, tell her that I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, Sir! If you can hear me, M... Doctor Stark, I am sorry, and I will make it up to you, I promise!” The kid kept on apologizing, and Tony sighed. “You see with what I have to deal? I need adult contact, so could you just please skip your vacation? Speaking of the suspicious vacation: Since when do we do vacation? Did I miss a memo?”

While she listened to her brother with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, Stephen nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck and peppered soft kisses over the exposed skin over one of his shirts. She tried to push him away to prevent the bubbling giggle inside her throat the farther he got to her weak spots. But the doctor was relentless in his attempts.

Grinning, the Stark submitted to her fate and leaned her cheek on top of his head, whereas her fingers carded again through Stephen’s dangerously attractive grey strands. “I decided I needed a vacation, so I took one. I’m a grown adult, Tony, in case you missed the last… twenty-plus years? However, you have to deal with the kid and the parts alone. Check Hangar o-seven; there should be the newest shipping stored. If you need special-special parts, you’ll have to wait till Monday morning.” She put the phone from her ear and chuckled softly as Stephen’s beard tickled her sensitive neck. “You need to stop, love.” It was only a hushed whisper, but Tony seemed to have picked something up. “Wait a second. You’re not here until Monday?!” – “Nope.” Popping the p was a habit of hers every time she spoke to her brother. Another scoff came through the line. “Let me guess. You’re with him?”

At those words, Stephen raised his head from her neck, took the phone, and ignored the gasp of his love. “Douchebag Stark, always a pleasure, but your sister now has something far more important to attend, so if you’d leave a lovely message on her voicemail and wait for her until Monday, she would appreciate it very much. Have a wonderful weekend; she certainly will have it, and my regards to the spider kid.” And with that, he hung up and threw the phone onto the empty side of the bed after turning it off.

With wide, round eyes, she sat on his lap, astonishment plastered all over her face, and a gaping mouth was all she could muster at this very moment. But then, she grinned, laughed even, and cupped his face while Stephen embraced her hips with both his hands. “So, where were we again? Ah, yes,” the Sorcerer mumbled before pulling her core against his in a swift motion, holding her close, and smugly grinned at the breathy moan that escaped her lips. “You’ll be the death of me,” was all she could whisper before the urge to kiss him grew too strong to withstand it any second longer.

Giggle and laughter filled the now brightly lit bedroom as Stephen pulled the Stark tighter against his chest and tipped them over onto the empty side of the mattress.

Neither of them intended to get up any time soon.

She woke with a violent gasp, eyes flying open and a hand shakily outstretched to feel the empty and cold side of the bed. Turning her head, the Stark felt the first tear escaping her eye, but she wouldn’t believe what she saw.

He is just in the bathroom. Just in the bathroom…

A mantra formed in her mind, and she left the bed instantly. “Stephen?” She softly but shakily called while crossing the room and knocking at the ajar door. It opened through the pressure of her knuckles and revealed a bathroom covered in darkness. Tears stung in her searching eyes, the dream still clinging to her mind, and with a suppressed sob, the Stark ran to the door and tore it open.

The silence within the halls of the compound was deafening, but she rushed through each corridor, nonetheless, calling his name in search of him. She needed to find him, to feel him and his warmth, to hear his voice that would tell her that everything was alright, that the fear was only an illusion.

“Stephen?”

She rounded the corner and stood in the kitchen, where Steve and Natasha had a deep conversation with her brother. The three of them turned around at the sound of her voice while Rhodey sat on the couch in the living room, watching the scene with a compassionate expression.

“Hey, bubba. Everything alright?” Tony walked over to her; his arms opened invitingly to give her a much-needed hug if she wanted to have one. But he stilled in his movements as a question arose from her. “Where is Stephen?” Every person in this room exchanged shocked looks before Steve slowly came over. Tony was too shocked to even lower his still half-raised arms. “He… he is gone, love. Like all the others, he didn’t come back.” Big tearful eyes looked up at him, and slowly the Stark started to shake her head.

No. It’s not true. He was here only minutes ago. I still can feel him on my…

She looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching them, trying to determine if the lingering feeling of his hair, his touch, was an illusion all along or if he still was with her. But she wasn’t sure.

“He… But… He was with me, I… I’m not crazy. Not crazy…” The last words were nothing more than a whisper. Natasha softly touched her shoulders and carefully stroked her hair. “You’re not crazy, we all know that, but he is gone, dorogoy (1). We lost the fight against Thanos three months ago, and Tony saw him as he… as he vanished, remember?” (1 – darling)

Natasha’s words finally pulled the Stark back into reality, out of the dream she had dreamed the previous night, after so many nights without any sleep, and reality hit her hard. Sobs racked through the weak and sleep-deprived body while hugging herself tightly. She felt as if she would fall apart in a matter of seconds, with no hold in this world and nobody to understand her fully. She was alone, lost, helpless. She wasn’t even sure how she was supposed to live further and tag along with the never-ending grief left to hold everything together. The last three months were already like a walk through hell, and her tormented soul couldn’t bring itself to try and mend away again.

Shaking her head profusely, the broken woman would’ve dropped to the ground if Tony wouldn’t have caught and pulled her into his arms. Holding the violently shaking body of his sister close to him while sob after sob escaped her mouth, he felt hopeless. “Everything will be alright, bubba. Everything…”

But she didn’t listen. She couldn’t because she knew that nobody could undo what had happened, and no one could come back.

No one, not even the Sorcerer Supreme himself.

Comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated! Lots of love and thanks for reading! If you want to join the taglist, please reach out and let me know!

#stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #stephen strange fic #stephen strange x stark!reader #doctor strange x stark!reader #stephen strange imagine #universe of stark #fic writing #marvel fic #loads of love ❤️

511 notes · View notes

darkwitch1999 · 16 days

Text

Why My OCs Shouldn't Have A Miraculous….

How SentiBaissier Was Created.....

Odeja Residence

Noelle: (digs through some boxes in her closet) Let's see....I know it's in here somewhere....Aha! Found you!

(Noelle pulls out a black ragged and deformed teddy bear that was missing an eye and had stitches all over its body. Duusu eyes the toy with curiosity.)

Duusu: (tilts her head) What's that you got there, Miss Noelle?

Noelle: (shows the toy to the small kwami) This is my old teddy bear, Jean-Baissier. When I was very young, I used to imagine that he could talk to me and we would play together all the time. I used to carry him everywhere I went and treated him like he was my "very best friend in the whole wide world!". That's how I used to word it when I was five I think.

Duusu: (inquisitive) What happened between the two of you? Why did you stop being best friends?

Noelle: Well Duusu when humans start to grow up, the window of innocence begins to close, childhood wonder begins to fade, and reality overtakes imagination.

Duusu: (looks confused).....

Noelle: No? (thinks for a minute) Okay, think of it this way. When I was younger, Jean-Baissier used to make me happy, but over the years as I got older, that happiness began to fade until playing with Jean-Baissier didn't bring me any joy like it did.

Duusu: (eyes begin to water) Ohhhhhh! That's just so sad!!! (starts crying sparkly tears).

Noelle: (frantically trying to calm the emotional Kwami) Shhhh...it's okay, Duusu! Because now that I have the power to create a sentient creature to life with you, I can stop wondering what it would have been like if Jean-Baissier was actually alive. Who knows, maybe we will become best friends again like we used to be.

Duusu: (starts to calm down) *sniffles* That would be lovely...(flies up excited) Let's do it! Ooo! I'm so excited!!!

Noelle: (shushes the tiny peacock Kwami) Shhh...we got to do this quietly, Duusu. My parents are probably home right no-....

(Noelle was cut off by the sound of a slam and yelling coming from downstairs.)

Alyssa: (screams) FUCKING (*bleep*) (*bleep*)!!!!

Noelle: (sighs heavily and pinches the bridge of her nose) Yep...their home...

Duusu: (tilts her head curiously) Miss Noelle, what is a c-....MPH!

(Duusu's question was interrupted abruptly when Noelle gently placed a finger over the Kwami's tiny mouth.)

Noelle: Trust me, Duusu. You don't want to know. There are just some things best left unknown.

(The sound of a crash and glass breaking followed by more screaming from Noelle's mother is heard. The little peacock Kwami looks anxious and distressed by the noise while Noelle simply rolls her eyes in annoyance.)

Dussu: (distressed) So much negativity! (looks like she's about to cry again).

Noelle: (unfazed) Yep, that's just how it is around here. Long story.

Duusu: (worried) Maybe we shouldn't be here right now? Perhaps we should leave and create the amok somewhere else? What if your parents were to walk in and see you transformed?

Noelle: (shrugs) Nah, it'll be fine. My mom's just throwing another tantrum about my dad. She can yell and scream at him for quite a while so we've got time.

Duusu: (anxiously) I don't understand, what is your mother so upset about with your father?

Noelle: Like I said before it's a long story and you don't want to know. It's not a happy story. But anyway, let's just ignore the noise and get to work. Duusu, Spread My Feathers!

(The little peacock Kwami retreated inside of the brooch as the transformation phrase was spoken, transforming Noelle into Paon Saphir. The newly transformed peacock superheroine plucked a feather from her hand fan and infused it with magical power to create the Amok. Once the amok was created, Paon Saphir then placed it inside the teddy bear, causing the object to become engulfed in dark blue energy. As Paon Saphir began to shape her creation, she heard another sound of a glass breaking and the yelling from her mother becoming increasingly louder, causing the young superheroine to roll her eyes in annoyance.)

Paon Saphir: (sighs heavily) Seriously...just fucking kill me already....

(Focusing her attention back to the amok, Paon Saphir put the finishing touches on her creation and brought the sentimonster to life. The creature maintained its physical characteristics of being a deformed and ragged black teddy bear that is missing an eye, but it was also frothing at the mouth with stuffing-like mouth foam and making growling raving sounds. The peacock superheroine was delighted to see her teddy bear being brought to life as she was beaming with excitement.)

Paon Saphir: (excitedly) Awesome! It worked! He's alive! (thinks for a minute and then crouches down to eye level with the creature) Your name is Senti-Baissier, lil' guy.

(Paon Saphir's excitement soon began to falter when she began to take notice of Senti-Baissier's body language and the growling noises he was making. The superheroine began to wonder if perhaps the sentimonster was in some kind of pain.)

Paon Saphir: (hesitantly) Uh...h-hey little guy...you uh, you doing okay?

Senti-Baissier: (growls lowly) Kill me.....

Paon Saphir: (confused) Huh?

Senti-Baissier: (screeches) KIIIIILLLLL MEEEEE!!!!!!

(Paon Saphir was taken aback by the sentimonster's sudden outburst, immediately standing up and taking a step back.)

Paon Saphir: (shocked) What the f-...

Senti-Baissier: (screams) KILL ME!!!!! WHY AM I ALIVE?!?! WHAT IS THIS PAIN?!?!

Paon Saphir: (frantically places her hands up in a placating manner) Shhh! It's okay, Senti-Baissier! You're alive now! Everything's going to be o-.....

Senti-Baissier: (screeches) KILL ME!!!!! WHAT IS THIS WORLD?!?! KILL ME!!!!! KIIIIILLLLLLL MEEEEE!!!!!!

(Senti-Baissier then starts to run around the bedroom like a maniac while screaming "KILL ME", knocking the superheroine's belongings onto the floor in the process and creating a lot of noise. Paon Saphir frantically tried to catch the creature to try to calm him down, but the little deformed bear from Hell proved to be quite fast and nimble as he managed to avoid the peacock heroine's attempts at capturing him with ease. Suddenly, there was a knock on the bedroom door, which caused Paon Saphir to hastily stop in her tracks.)

Alyssa: (knocking on the door) Noelle? Noelle darling, what is going on in there? Are you alright? What is all that noise?

(Paon Saphir felt her entire body freeze up. She couldn't even hear the bloodcurdling screams of her sentimonster as panic began to overtake her senses. She had to think fast; she needed a quick excuse that she knew that her mother would believe. Regaining her composure, Paon Saphir grabs a sheet off of her bed and starts to chase Senti-Baissier around the room as she answers her mother behind the closed door.)

Paon Saphir: (calls back to her mother) Um yeah! Everything's fine! I'm fine, mom! Sorry! I-I'm just watching a horror movie that's all. Y-Yeah...one of the characters just got possessed by this spirit whose grave they disturbed and now he's running around screaming "Kill Me" because he wants to go back to the afterlife and he's begging for someone to kill him.

Senti-Baissier: (screams) KILL ME!!!!! KIIIIILLLLLLL MEEEEE!!!!!!

(Paon Saphir finally catches Senti-Baissier in the sheets and starts wrapping them around the creature, struggling to hold the wild thing down as it furiously thrashed about in the mess of sheets.)

Paon Saphir: (struggling) Y-Yeah...there he goes again. (mimics the scream) Kiiiiilllllll meeeee!

(Alyssa sighs in relief as she speaks to herself with a slightly annoyed tone of voice.)

Alyssa: I'll never understand that girl's obsession with those dreadful films. But at least she's not as squeamish as her pathetic father...

Paon Saphir: (thinking, slightly irritated) I can still hear you, you know Mom.

Alyssa: Well, Noelle dearie, if that is all then please turn down that movie. I can hear that noise all the way from downstairs. (talks to herself again) If I wanted to hear bloodcurdling screams, I would just throw another vase at Ronan.

Paon Saphir: (rolls her eyes) Oh great, you going to try to hit the side of his face you missed last time? Again, I can still hear you, Mom. Yes, Mom! I will turn the movie down just as soon as I find the remote.

Alyssa: Very good. Thank you, sweet girl.

(Paon Saphir listened as she heard her mother's footsteps walk away from the door and down the stairs, causing the peacock superheroine to sigh heavily with relief. Wasting no time, the young superheroine finished tying the sheets tight into a big sack to contain Senti-Baissier, whose screams had become muffled inside the bag.)

Senti-Baissier: (muffled) Kill me…..

Paon Saphir: (sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose) Crap. What a mess. Hopefully Ladybug and Chat Noir will have some idea about what happened...

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

And that is how the demonic creature known as "Senti-Baissier" came into existence. As we know, sentimonsters are a manifestation of emotions whether they be positive or negative. And Noelle was definitely feeling A LOT of negative emotions while she was making that thing. Hope you enjoyed reading this little backstory on this demonic Sentimonster's origins. As always, feel free to share your thoughts and opinions, and if you have any ideas for which of my OCs you want to see with a miraculous as well as why they shouldn't have them, feel free to share them with me in the comments or questions.

@nerd-chocolate @princessbutterflysposts @artzychic27 @andromeda612 @username8746489 @msweebyness @imsparky2002

#miraculous ladybug #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #ao3 writer #ao3 stuff #original character #amok #original sentimonster #sentibaissier #mentions of abuse #negative emotions #original female character #duusu #peacock miraculous #original miraculous holder #what if scenario #mlb ocs #Noelle Odeja

7 notes · View notes

hellcheer-heaven · 10 months

Text

90s!Pregnant Hellcheer - Tenderness (NSFW)

Thank you @phoenixwrites for proofreading.

Beard Eddie created by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Chrissy reflects on how she feels regarding herself and her body, especially now during her pregnancy. She’s been feeling worse about herself more than she did in her adolescence. Eddie finds a way to help her feel better: Words of reassurance and a little something more.

Chrissy’s body was never her own, it always belonged to someone else. As far back as she can remember, autonomy wasn’t even an option for her. As a child and growing adolescent, her mother owned her. As a budding young lady, Jason owned her. She believed everything that was ever told about how women were supposed to look, how they were to act, and what was considered the one way to be deemed acceptable by everyone in her life. Yet the messages she heard through her mutuals, friends, and Jason were pinpointed on the exact opposite end of the scale. She shouldn’t have to restrain herself and be as loose as she wanted to be, of course that was only ever allowed in a more private setting like the back of car, a closet at someone’s house party, even in an alleyway; so long as the person making those decisions was Jason Carver. Be a lady, but don’t be a prude. Be a slut, but don’t be a whore. It all felt so confusing and nothing made sense to her.

Even when Chrissy and Eddie were together, she expected him to use her and come up with his reasons as to why. Yet he never did. While Eddie Munson was definitely the human embodiment of spontaneous, he never tried anything with Chrissy out of fear that he’ll scare her off or even hurt her. Asking to kiss her, let alone hold hands seemed like an impossible task. He had to take on a role and so did she, but over time they learned that they could just be themselves. Two lonely people who just needed each other, perhaps more than they realized. For company, companionship, and love.

The journey to self love and acceptance would be a long and perhaps even an arduous one. Eddie never thought of himself as being very handsome, being “skin and bones” made him feel unworthy of Chrissy’s love. While he did like his tattoos, sometimes he saw someone that belonged in a circus sideshow (all he needed were even more tats to “cover his flaws.”). Chrissy was always told that she was “beautiful” according to others, well except for her mother of course. Beauty was defined by her looks alone, which meant having to put in so much work to stay small, fit into her clothing, be strong but not muscular, and to never leave the house without make up and a smile. What a way for the two of them to live.

Spending time together meant that neither of them had to put on show. A date didn’t need to be a big grand gesture, it could be something simple like staying in to watch a movie while chowing down on some take out. Taking a short walk in the woods. Going for a late night drive while singing along to the music blasting from the radio. Even resting beside each other was better than spending time at some party where everyone knew everyone and you had to have a connection to get in. Those parties were all the same: Get in, drink, dance, go make out with someone in the hall, cry on the staircase, drink some more, break shit, and never think about tomorrow. Of course tomorrow would come with a terrible hangover and pretending not to have any regrets. That’s not the kind of life that Chrissy wanted.

Each day she spent with him allowed for Chrissy to see that perhaps there was a chance for a brighter future. Call them old fashioned, but Chrissy and Eddie believed that love at first sight was truly a real thing. On that day when they met up at the bench, a tiny spark began to ignite, glowing and growing each time they saw each other. Call it faith, destiny, or just a simple coincidence; all they needed was each other, in more ways than one. Their attempted first time involved laying beside one other on his bed in their underwear for about 10 minutes, awkwardly looking at anything except each other. Waiting for someone to say something, anything. Eddie was the first to break the silence by asking if they should try for another time. While that moment may have seemed embarrassing to others, Chrissy realized two things: She was given a choice and she was never made to feel ashamed and pressured. Whether if Eddie realized it of not, that suggestion meant the whole world to Chrissy.

The first time they did make love, it was a bit cumbersome to say the least. They had an idea of what to do, but it felt strange and a bit uncomfortable. Yet once they were able to see that they didn't need to put on a performance, they could guide and encourage one another. Encouragement was key, there was no need to make it a competition, it was about communication. Letting each other know that they were safe, heard, and loved. Even after a whole decade after graduation, they still spoke to one another in the kind of way that strengthened their romantic connection.

The world and their lives changed as the four seasons do every year. Hawkins was experiencing a slowly rising population boom with children being born and new folks moving in. Eddie was still hard at work with creating music for Corroded Coffin while taking up extra shifts at the auto garage. The man practically owned the place, there were talks of the owner passing it onto Munson, but as far as anyone knew that was just speculation. Chrissy made her way through college to study psychology and human development, taking an interest in wanting to learn more about the human mind and even learning a bit about herself in the process. Somewhere along that line, they had a small wedding and a little bundle of their own. Well that is a soon to be bundle. Chrissy had taken the last month of her third trimester off to stay at home, getting around was becoming too much for her. Many of the mothers in Hawkins were able to switch around to assist her, giving her whatever she needed during that difficult time. Chrissy was truly grateful, but the one person that she needed the most was Eddie.

Perhaps it seemed too archaic and out-of-date, but Chrissy really needed Eddie's encouragement and loving words. Pregnancy was exciting but it also terrified her, even though the doctors reassured her that she and the baby were healthy. Maybe it was considered selfish on her part, but she felt out of place with her changing body. She was no longer the lithe young lady that she was in the past, sure she continued her attempts to keep in decent shape, but she missed how she used to look. Everything appeared so large and oddly shaped: Her arms, breasts, abdomen, legs, rear, and even her feet increased in size. Chrissy tried her best to avoid mirrors at all costs, still hearing the voice of her mother criticizing her; almost as if Laura was right behind her. Her cruel, cold eyes looking disapprovingly as if Chrissy committed a horrible crime. Would she have treated her any different if she went through with her mother's plan of marrying Jason and bearing his child? Would she be allowed to leave the house? Would she be forced to ingest certain kinds of meals that Laura would create because it would "guarantee a strong boy just like his father" or "guarantee a delicate flower just like her mother?"

None of that should have mattered to Chrissy, but it did. Seeing herself now and then holding up her old cheer uniform made her feel sick to her stomach. She felt like a pig, a fat pig just like what her mother used to call her when she was unable to fit into the modified uniform.

She called Sue Sinclair and Claudia Henderson, informing them that she was going to "rest" for most of the day. No one was around when she broke down and cried in bed, believing herself to be a failure. She didn't see herself as successful, meaningful, or beautiful. She hated herself and what she looked like. If her cries were like a homing signal, then Eddie was the ship coming in to respond to her distress. Receiving the calls from both Mrs. Sinclair and Mrs. Henderson worried him greatly. He told his boss that he had to check on her, and sure enough the owner let him take the rest of the day off; offering him a couple extra days if he needed it. Eddie hurried back to their small house, praying that the worst possible scenarios didn't happen. His fears had vanished knowing that she was still alive, heart still shattering at the sight of her weeping upon the mattress.

He sat beside her, reaching out to held her hand, "Chrissy are you hurt?"

She couldn't look at him, shaking her head that she buried into the pillow. She felt ridiculous for feeling this way, but Eddie never saw anything wrong. He saw his beloved in need. After removing his work clothes, washing off any oil from his hands and face, and placing his shoes aside he laid down beside her. Cradling her bump and kissing the back of her neck, unable to stop his own tears from forming.

She sounded so hurt, “E-Eddie… I’m s-sorry!”

“No baby, don’t apologize. It’s okay, just let it out.”

Time passed and they ended up falling asleep that early afternoon. The two of them at peace as the only sounds that could be heard were the duo’s gentle breathing and the twittering birds just outside their window. He was the first to wake up, smacking his dry lips as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Gazing over the sleeping beauty with nothing but love behind those earthy brown irises. She was truly radiant, glowing with such incredible warmth and grace. Maybe love had blinded him, but seeing Chrissy was truly a miracle. He couldn’t see or recognize any of her flaws, all he could see was the most wonderful person in the world. Someone that he would love with all his heart and so much more. He gently rubbed her protruding belly, moving aside his old dress shirt to see more of her. Still as gorgeous as the night they were first intimate.

He pecked her strawberry pink lips first, lovingly whispering, “Chrissy wake up… Chrissy… wake up.”

She groaned a little, her voice making any kind of attempt to say something. Eddie kissed her mouth again, smiling when she giggled at the ticklish feeling of his hands gently rubbing her sides. The hairs upon his face scratching her cheek when he nuzzled her neck.

“Eddie… Eddie… oh baby,” she cooed, ruffling his dark curls. “I miss you Eddie.”

He cradled her face between his strong hands, pressing the tip of his nose against hers, “I miss you too Chrissy.” One kiss to her cheek, “My sweet princess.” One to her forehead, “My Queen.” One more upon her lips, “My Goddess.”

She covered her face, “Eddie please you’re making me blush.”

Eddie continued to shower her with love as if the two of them weren’t just laying in bed semi nude. His lips following down to her neck, licking the hollow of her throat. Chrissy couldn’t prevent the moan that managed to escape her lips.

She stopped the next one from approaching, “Eddie, wait stop.”

He was off of her immediately, keeping both hands behind his back, “I’m sorry Chrissy.”

She sighed heavily while her hands absentmindedly drew circles upon her stomach. Feeling guilty over her breakdown and the feelings that she had been harboring about herself and her need to be with Eddie.

He reached out and held her hand, his voice still so gentle, “What’s wrong Chrissy?”

Everything felt wrong, but she believed that she needed to word it better. Still that didn’t have to be the case, they’ve been together for ten years. Why censor herself?

She patted the pillow beside her and he laid back down until they were eye to eye, “Eddie, I’ve been feeling really awful lately. About myself and… my body… I’m sorry this is stupid.”

“No. It’s not stupid,” He placed her hand upon his heart, the beating was so soothing on her palm. “It’s alright, just take your time.”

She looked away at first, but found the courage to look at into those sweet, forgiving eyes. “Do you still love me?”

“Absolutely.”

“And my body? Do you still like it?”

He smiled and pecked her knuckles, “Yes Chrissy, I love your body. I love everything about you.”

There was genuine adoration in his words, but her brain tried to convince her otherwise, “But look at me, I look so huge and I feel so gross.” She looked over at the floor length mirror, the reflected surface facing the wall. “I just… I hate how I look. Every time I see myself I just want to throw up! I look like shit!”

Eddie had to remain strong, even when his heartstrings were getting plucked. “You’re beautiful Chrissy. No matter how you look, I’ll always love you.”

She tightly shut her eyes, pressing her cheek into his palm. He scooted in and held her trembling form, brushing his fingers through her hair. Eddie had told her the truth, he loved her so dearly. He would have moved the earth, sun, moon, and stars just to proclaim his ever lasting love to her. He’d fight an army of orcs, a dragon, and an otherworldly entity just to ensure her protection. The only thing that endangered Chrissy was all of the trauma in her life, she needed support, and he was there. Eddie believed that now was the time for action. The first thing that he did was run a warm bubble bath, preparing the bathroom with bottles of her favorite body washes and lotions. Lit scented candles adorned the sink while an old boom box sat just outside of the room. The tape consisted of the very first playlist that he gifted to her during their first Christmas together back in 1986. It wasn’t much, but it was truly the best gift that she received. He eased her into the tub, scooping up the warm water and letting it cascade down upon her head. She laid back and allowed herself to relax, her favorite tunes from a decade prior whispering softly in her ears as did Eddie’s heartfelt voice.

“You look amazing Chrissy. You look just like a mermaid,” Eddie noted as he carefully lathered her locks with shampoo, gingerly massaging her scalp. “My pretty mermaid princess.”

A smile spread across her lips, craning her head back as she fell into his touch. Sighing at the sensation of his seemingly rough hands being so kind to her. Nibbling her bottom lip when he accidentally tugged on her hair, giving him the bedroom eyes when he profusely apologized, only to stop mid way when those ocean irises stared at him. He was feeling something that he didn’t think was appropriate, his mind chastising himself; if only he knew what she was thinking. The bathing continued, his words of adoration and her moans and groans drowned out the music. Eddie dried her body, his eyes examining every curve, crevice, and stretch mark that was in his sights. His mind went into a frenzy when he looked up at her while toweling her thighs. Being below her made his skin feel so warm, quietly exhaling through his nostrils. Chrissy could only barely see those those eyes of his, having to move her breasts in order to see him. It’s like he was in a trance, completely and utterly bewitched by her. His blush spreading all over that supple face of his.

His voice cracked when he tried to speak, causing her to bust out laughing. A nervous grin was plastered across his lips, but his heart was filled with joy when he heard her lose herself. Her giggles, her snorts, her guffawing. He helped back onto the bed so she could let herself be as loud as she wanted to be. Eddie figured that maybe he could prolong this just a bit more, but her laughter was infectious and he couldn’t stop himself either. Finally they just laid there, looking deeply into each other’s eyes.

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do this, all he wanted was to have her sit in his lap. Guiding her so that she rested her back upon his chest, letting his hands wander all over her gleaming naked body. So round and supple, so big and beautiful, so perfect in every way. She closed her eyes, a blissful grin plastered on her face as she let her one and only touch her. Eddie was a good man, he loved her so dearly. Yet even his more primitive side would crawl its way out of the lower regions of his brain. Hands gliding between her thighs, giving them a very careful squeeze. Climbing just a little higher to slither his palms beneath her large breasts.

“Ooh, oh Eddie,” she groaned, looking down at the tatted up hands. “Mmm, your hands.”

His voice sounded so deep in her ear, “You like that? Hmm? You like when I hold your tits?”

She groaned, rubbing her thighs together as she repositioned his hands to hold them exactly how she wanted. Sighing when she watched the way those long fingers gently squished her skin, thumbs circling her enlarged and sensitive areolas.

Eddie growled against her neck, “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

How strange that she didn’t feel disgusted by that comment in her current state, and he didn’t feel regretful for saying that. Chrissy was hot, no matter her size and shape. She felt even hotter knowing that her husband was quite a hunk, all those years of working on cars and getting those new tattoos made him the hottest thing that ever walked on two legs. He was no longer a wild looking young man, but instead a grown man with life experience, a little muscle, and a whole lotta love to give. That love was for her and only her. She gasped when he nibbled her earlobe, his hands continuing to massage her chest. She could feel that familiar dull pulsation between her legs and the hardened imprint of his jeans prodding into her back. Oddly enough there was another wet sensation coming from her.

“Eddie!” She squealed frightfully.

He was too in love to look, his lips focusing on her ear, “Yeah?”

“I- I’m… Look!”

He parted and looked at her, his palms feeling a bit dampened. That’s when he saw the thin trail of milk emitting from her. Chrissy just wanted to scream out of anger, the insane amount of embarrassment that she felt made her wish that a giant hole would open up and take her away. The moment was ruined and there was no going back. At least that’s what she thought. Eddie brought his moistened hand closer to his face, his mind calculating how her body was capable of creating something so simple yet so powerful, maybe even healing.

He moved his hand and watched how the snow white liquid dripped, “You’re lactating.”

She covered her face, “Oh god, kill me!”

He pecked her temple, “Chrissy, there’s nothing for you to feel ashamed about.”

She glared at him intensely, “Easy for you to say! You don’t know what this feels like! You’re not the one carrying this watermelon sized thing inside of you!” She sadly gazed down at her fully formed breasts, “I’m a cow Eddie. A big fat cow!”

In the past, Eddie would have take that harsh insult, turn it around, and tell her that she’s was a pretty cute cow. That is if 1986 Eddie had a death wish of course. While he was one to help lighten the mood, he knew that this was not the right place or time for it. All he could do was cuddle up with her, and say the sweetest things that first came to his mind, “Chrissy, you’re not a cow. You’re a strong, confident, and brave woman. And you’re right, I don’t know what it feels like to be pregnant and I never will. You know what comes to my mind whenever I see you?”

“What?” She grumbled.

“I see someone who brings sunshine wherever she goes.” He stroked her belly adoringly, “You’re a Goddess, Chrissy. An all powerful and divine figure that’s capable of creating and bringing something amazing into this world.”

Her face began to soften up, placing her hands upon his, “You really think so?”

Eddie nestled in and kissed her cheek, “I know so. And you know what else? I know you’re going to be a badass mama! I’ll always be here to do whatever I can to keep you and this little rugrat safe.” He rested his chin on her shoulder, “I’d give up playing at Madison Square Garden if it meant spending the rest of my life with you. Both of you.”

Not a single hint of sarcasm or wit behind those words. His intentions were clear as his words were honest. Chrissy could only cry, but her tears were those of absolute joy. He made that promise years ago, even before they got engaged that he would never leave her side. Oh hell, the man quoted some of Bon Jovi’s lyrics to her. Not just because she loved their music, but because he never broke a promise: I’ll be there for you. These five words I swear to you. When you breathe, I wanna be the air for you. I’ll be there for you.

“Thank you Eddie,” she whimpered. “I just wish I could stop wasting this milk.”

He chuckled nervously, “Do you want me to… um… sorry for saying it like this… milk you? I know, I know, that sounded really wrong.” He rubbed the back of his neck, absolutely hating himself for what he just said, “Jesus Christ, I promise that I’m not calling you a cow, sweetheart. Okay, I’m going to stop talking and go get some bottles from the kitc-”

She interrupted with such gumption, “That’s it! Why didn’t we think of this before?” Chrissy turned her face, determination in her eyes, “Eddie, I need you to help me with my breasts.”

In any other moment, Eddie would have gladly jumped to that opportunity without hesitation. Of course that was before the two of them decided to try for a baby. He needed to make sure that he heard her correctly, “Okay, I will. How am I going to do that exactly?”

An exasperated huff escaped her nostrils before she offered him a smile, “I want you to drink from me.”

He still couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “What?”

Clearly the gears in his head were still turning, so she figured that speaking crudely may help with translating her message, “Eddie, suck on my tits. Please.”

Well he was already known to be a freak, might as well continue to live up to that reputation. He set up a bundle of pillows upon the headboard, helping Chrissy lean back and making sure that she was well adjusted and comfortable. She truly did look like a divine figure in a painting, if he was an artist he would capture this image and frame it up. Even though she felt exhausted from crying, she was calm and at peace knowing that he was here to take care of her. No amount of rebooting could fix up the short circuiting occurring in his brain, but he had to focus. There were only a small handful things he could put his whole attention onto, this was definitely going to be one of them.

He offered her a kiss to her lips first, sugary sweet ones upon her neck and then another just centimeters above her chest. She smelled incredible, her natural odor and the fruity lotions filled his nostrils, the smell shooting straight to his cock. Eddie gulped at the soft bundles of flesh, looking up into her forgiving eyes before planting a careful peck to the left one. She nibbled her lip, she was extra tender and she needed his love. One to the right and this time she groaned, but not in pain, but in pleasure. He held her breast, his brain calculating the weight and warmth of it by touch alone. Eddie had big hands, but the flesh had spilled over and even between his fingers. He looked down, his jaw dropping when a bead formed after giving her a very delicate squeeze. The contrast between the milk and her darkened nipple was striking. Chrissy didn’t know what made her squirm more, the visual of Eddie gingerly licking her teat or the deep groan that soon followed. A little more came out when he carefully compressed her, and again he got another sample and loved it.

“Wow, holy shit Chrissy. You taste so sweet.”

His comment went straight to her heart, the organ drumming loudly, “You don’t think it’s gross?”

He kissed the top of her head, “Nothing about you is gross, sweetheart. You taste as sweet as you look.”

“Oh Eddie,” she breathlessly moaned, bringing his face closer until he was engulfed between her heaving bosoms. Pressing herself intimately around that handsome face of his, giggling when he motioned his head quickly from side to side. “Eddie that tickles!”

There was such a sweet sense of innocence when his big brown eyes gazed up. Lathering her skin with gentle licks at first, watching and listening to her reactions. Her entire being was extra sensitive and he wanted to do nothing more than spoil her with kisses. His slightly calloused hands ran along the sides of her body, giving her always developing form the love that she deserved. Caressing and lightly tickling her in the process with his finger tips and beard. While really enjoyed being snuggled up between her big boobs, there was so much more that he intended to do.

One hand held her left breast, kissing every inch of soft flesh, his bulbous nose nuzzling into her so sweetly. Her scent was intoxicating, better than anything he’s ever smelled before. Chrissy rubbed the apples of his cheeks with her thumbs, smiling at the gentle man grinning back at her. He stared at her chest before his eyes darted back up.

His voice was only a whisper, “May I?”

Her hand slid to the back of his head, “Yes Eddie.”

He kissed her nipple first, being careful not to put too much pressure on it. Closed pecks transitioned to open mouth smooches, lathering her bud in wet, warm saliva; the sudden coldness made her shiver only to be cured by his continued kisses. He was so good to her, wanting to ensure that she was safe and comfortable at all times, especially in this state. They haven’t had any sexual contact in what felt like a lifetime. They promised each other that everything would be off limits during her pregnancy, but perhaps indulging just this one time wouldn’t kill them.

“Eddie, ooh I love you,” she groaned, playing with his bangs. “Do you want another taste big boy?”

He bit down on his lip, adjusting his hardening cock, “Chrissy, oh babe you’re too good to me. And you’ll still have enough?”

She giggled, “Eddie, baby, don’t worry. I’ll still have plenty left over, and then some.”

“I just don’t want to take it all.”

Chrissy rubbed the nape of his neck, “Eddie believe me I’m not gonna run out anytime soon.” She brought him closer until his mouth was centimeters from her nipple. Giving it a quick squeeze and rubbing the little droplets on his cotton candy lips. “Refreshing isn’t it?”

He couldn’t speak, let alone even think for that matter. Eddie swiftly latched on to her before she could close the gap between them. The sudden motion caused her to gasp, followed by a throaty moan as she watched him. Perfect pink lips engulfed her budding nipple, stretching and pulling it with every suckling. He was a menace with that tongue of his, playfully painting her with flat swipes and quick flicks. She moaned at the sensation of his tongue slowly swirling around her large nipple. Encouraging her milk to flow out just a little more, stopping at nothing until it came out. Eddie groaned when he tasted a few more drops, his puckered wet lips sucking loudly. Chrissy held on to his locks, staring in awe and amazement at the man she loved so dearly. The rush of desire spread from her chest throughout her body. Satisfying sparks leapt and charged in her mind, feeling them flow everywhere before returning back to her bust. Finally she could feel it, the flow of her own milk emanating and falling into his mouth.

The sensation was relieving and as it was pleasant, like a great weight had be taken off of her shoulders. Of course she couldn’t deny how strangely titillating this was. Chrissy Cunningham breastfeeding Eddie Munson, it wasn’t something that she would ever dreamed of when they first started dating a decade ago. She was no stranger to having her breasts being touched and sucked on by him, but this was different. It was a good kind of different actually. Doing this wasn’t only good for their stress, it was also healing for Chrissy. All those days and nights questioning her sense of self worth, wondering if this pregnancy was a mistake, hating the way that she looked, and believing that Eddie found her unattractive and repulsive. She experienced tremendous guilt for having those feelings and it was becoming too much for her. Seeing her sweetheart desire her while pregnant, even if it was just sucking on her titty, meant so much to her.

“Eddie… oh Eddie, y-yes…”

His eyes never broke contact, she looked so glorious from his perspective. His own heart fluttered at the sight of seeing her so happy and turned on. He had no intention of wasting a single drop, gingerly and gently holding her bosom as he drank from her. After all she worked hard to create something so incredible and so powerful, it would be utterly disrespectful on his part if he made a mess. Chrissy simply leaned back and sighed, so at bliss and filled with glee, lightly scratching the back of his head as he continued, groaning when he parted from her. A string of snow white saliva had still connected them briefly, the web stretching out until it began to gracefully fall onto her stomach. The flush across their bodies glowed so brightly, eyes overtaken by dark pupils. She was a Goddess of springtime, big and soft with an ever growing flowerbed and a certain flower becoming damper with each passing minute.

He reached up and shared her lips, pushing his tongue in just so she could enjoy the taste as well. Chrissy groaned his name in between licks, her voice muffled when he pushed a little further. Her curiosity got the best of her and she needed to know what it tasted like as well.

She cooed against his lips, “Eddie, I want some.”

He carefully held her right breast until she was able to hold on as well, his other hand groping at his jean covered cock. Chrissy closed her eyes and focused on her suckling, breathing through her nostrils as she waited for anything to come out. How strange it must have been to be seen feeding herself like this, but to Eddie he just let his mind imprint this astounding moment in his memory bank forever. She whimpered at the droplets, surprised by how they leapt onto her tongue, moaning when a more began to spill. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but the sweetness was definitely a nice surprise. She smiled around herself, holding up the left one for Eddie, an invitation he happily took. Two pairs of eager lips sweetly and hungrily basking in the wonderfully delicious taste of her milk. Eddie’s method was all about being soft and smooth, never biting down or going too hard on her. Chrissy on the other hand was feeling very parched, having to swallow as quickly as she could suck. Eddie was impressed with her, stopping for a moment to really witness her before going back and attempting to match her as well. She let out a loud moan, getting lost in pleasure, unable to latch back on, so she gave herself to Eddie instead. He pressed both of her heavy breasts together until her nipples touched, opening his mouth wider until he was able to put both teats into his mouth. His vibrating moans sent erotic shockwaves throughout her form. The sensitivity of her body and their little bonding time was really getting to her, those same sparks from before were rising and shooting through her whole being. The growing pulsating dullness between her legs had become too much for her, she needed more, so much more from him.

Chrissy squealed and cried out, “Fuck… oh god Eddie! Eddie!”

He looked up and saw the white droplets cascading down from her parted lips to her neck. Eddie reached up and licked her clean until he showered her moistened mouth in kisses, “Yeah? Yeah what do you need little Mama? Tell me.” He couldn’t stop smooching, “Tell Daddy what you want.”

Oh shit, he called himself Daddy, now that’s something she’ll need to definitely remember. “Fuck me, oh god fuck me! Need your… cock.” Her fingers delved down to find some kind of ease, pushing and circling her clitoris.

Eddie hurried and removed his jeans, his cock sprang up hard with an aching purple tip ready to be pleasured. Eddie was well past the point of lubrication, but he needed a little something extra for this moment. Perhaps it seemed wrong, but then again him and Chrissy were feeding in tandem just a moment ago; so at this point almost nothing seemed off limits. He stood up and brought his dick to her tits, begging her for just a small helping of her milk; she gladly obliged offering him more than just a tiny amount. Another memory would be forever etched into his mind, watching Chrissy squeezing her bosoms together to squirt her milky white sustenance on his shaft, bed room eyes flashing and a big smile across her bubblegum lips. She just wanted one taste of him, it had been so long since she licked his cock. Swirling the tip of her tongue around the milk and pre-come coated head for just a moment, offering it a pretty little peck before she laid back on her pillowed throne. If Eddie didn’t have the excruciating amount of self control that he harbored currently in his adulthood, he would have shoved his cock down her throat and then let his manhood get lost in a sea of abundant flesh as he fucked her tits. Eddie took a deep breath, easing himself onto the bed, his strong and tattooed arms helping the lovely woman onto his lap. Chrissy couldn’t hear the voice of self consciousness, in fact the damn thing never uttered a single peep. Whether if she knew it or not, Eddie really loved the extra weight on top of him. There was just something so special about having Chrissy, so developed at this stage in her pregnancy, sitting on him. She was felt so nice, warm, squishy and sensitive; she was all his.

He looked at her up and down, his beloved wife and soon to be mother. He didn’t feel that it was appropriate to say it out loud, but knowing that the bundle that she was carrying was his made him feel very proud. Call it a paternal instinct, a need to protect, and a need to serve the one he loved; but watching her at all stages of her pregnancy awakened something in him that he never knew was there. He often thought about what she would look like while pregnant, wanting so badly to fill her and keep thrusting into her until she was a terrible dripping mess. They followed doctor’s orders and she did what needed to be done to ensure a safe and healthy progression, but that didn’t stop Eddie from jerking off to the fantasy of fucking her like that. If only he knew that Chrissy had that same fantasy as well, just as detailed and filthy as his. They both felt awful for these thoughts and kept them buried in the darkest recesses of their minds. While the previous stages were long gone, they could finally enjoy themselves now and perhaps again as she learns to love and heal alongside her new body.

“I love you Chrissy.”

“I love you Eddie.”

He kissed her deeply, holding her as best as he could and making sure to carefully help her onto his erection as he laid down. Eddie’s splayed out curls were like a halo around his hairy face, his smile was just as soft as an angel’s wing. Chrissy could feel his bent thighs supporting her back, sighing breathlessly as she moved herself, slowly gyrating on him.

“Oh shit, ooh babe,” she moaned, biting down on her lower lip.

Eddie rubbed her supple thighs, crescent moons forming as his nails pressed down on her skin. Good god the way she motion her lower half was like heaven to him, squeezing and teasing him so deviously and deliciously. He could see the way she smiled, gazing deeply into his eyes as she took in every inch of him between her thighs.

“Chrissy, oh fuck, you feel fucking great,” he whimpered, his eyes having a hard time deciding what to focus on more.

She giggled and groaned, having a little bounce in her as well, seductively sucking on her finger, “Daddy.”

Eddie nearly creamed himself, caressing her sides until he found her hands. He couldn’t keep his jaw shut, all of his moans tumbling and filling up the bedroom. Chrissy craned back her neck and continued to let the waves of absolute satisfaction flow all around her. Really making sure that Eddie could endure and enjoy her jouncing. His whining was music to her ears, her body was a work of art brought to life. Their fantasy came true and it was so much better than they could have ever imagined. So intimate and endearing, much more than what either of them expected.

Chrissy looked down at Eddie again, his eyes were crossed, lines of drool fell from his agape mouth, and his long tongue had stuck out as hot puffs of air were getting pushing out. She was doing this, she had the capability to make him feel so good and so loved. She missed being this close to him, now everything seemed right again. Chrissy no longer believed herself to be ugly in that moment, she felt absolutely beautiful. She was loved by him and she loved him back

“Eddie,” she mischievously stated, giving him a playful shimmy.

His eyes realigned and he followed the movement of her bust, palming and cradling them. She was one hot Mama and he wanted to embrace every part of her. Over the years, her body would change and he would still show it the same love she deserved now as he did then when she was underweight.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie stated when she squeezed herself, hearing her groan when her milk streamed out and landed on his chest and face.

Eddie sat right back up and took one between his lips, sucking hard and fast. Both hands held on to her hips, humping her relentlessly. Chrissy squealed at the sudden change in speed, the pressure from his famished mouth and hurried hips made her feel as if she were floating on a cloud. This changed angle allowed for his cock to touch her in just the right way. Never stopping with his thrusts even when he moved to her other breast. All she could grasp onto were his thick wavy curls, tightly shutting her eyes and screaming his name. Eddie couldn’t stop, he was too close to finishing; quite frankly if Chrissy could formulate words she wouldn’t tell him to stop. His wet lips loudly popped away from her nipple and went straight to her mouth, lathering and rubbing his milked coated tongue all over her lips until she opened up. They could feel each other’s body heat, temperatures rising as they shared that kiss. They were ravenous and desperate, much more than either of them would have realized.

Chrissy’s fingers harshly tugged on his roots, it was happening. Her orgasm hit her like a freight train. A full body tremble took over while her legs violently shook, struggling to keep her eyes open. Eddie’s body quivered as well, trying to keep his legs firmly planted onto the mattress as he kept her steady. The two of them were coated in sweat, beads of drizzling milk, and complete orgasmic bliss. The stain below their forms was larger than them, completely dampening the sheets and mattress to the point where it felt as if they were sitting in a shallow puddle. They both felt so full, so incandescently happy, and, not surprisingly, no longer parched. Eddie very carefully helped her back onto her throne of pillows, crawling down to kiss her feet. How incredible that after all that, he still wanted to give her everything and more.

A kiss to her calves, “Sweetheart.” Pecks on her legs, “Angel.” Both hands on her big belly followed by a long kiss, “Baby girl.” One kiss for each breast in each hand, “My Queen.” Earthy soil gazed into those forever ocean blue pools, “Goddess.”

Her tired and excited smile made his heart dance, locking lips with her while his other hand massaged her side; letting it slide upon her bust. His smooches went right back down, gifting her with hickies all over her neck and collar bone. He nuzzled his face between her breasts, breathing her in.

“I love you,” Eddie mumbled against her heaving skin.

Chrissy ruffled his curls, “Are you telling me or my boobs?”

“Both.”

She batted her eyelashes, “Which one?”

He smirked, “Well I’m kinda liking the left one more than the righ- Ow! Ow! I’m kidding! Kidding!”

How Chrissy managed to have such strength in those little fingers was beyond him. Clearly his pinched and pulled cheek was enough of an indication that she was not going to let that comment slide; even if it did make her chortle. Eddie rubbed his face, smiling when she pecked his other cheek.

She sighed, “You’re a big dummy Eddie. But you’re my big dummy.”

Eddie kissed the tip of her nose, “Why Mrs. Cunningham, you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”

Chrissy couldn’t hide her smirk when she pouted, “Did you just call me a ‘Milf’ Eddie?”

He proudly shook his head, “Nope, you did that yourself. And honestly the title suits you.”

She rolled her eyes, an affectionate smile emerging before she sweetly and intently looked at him, “Well, I think ‘Daddy’ works for you too. Does that mean I get to call you a ‘Dilf,’ Eddie?”

She was being serious, still she didn’t expect Eddie to blush so profusely. Chrissy laughed at the sight of his embarrassed expression, sympathetically cooing his name when he hid his face between her bosoms. Coaxing him with a little offering and smiling when he agreed to her proposal; having some for herself as well. Their bellies were full and their eyes felt heavy. Eddie and Chrissy hunkered down and snuggled up, breathing lightly until the calm and inviting pull of sleep took them away. Everything felt right again and tomorrow would be another day that they could face together.

All three of them.

#hellcheer #eddissy #munningham #chrissy cunningham #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #pregnant #pregnant hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer fan fic #hellcheer fanfic #hellcheer fanfiction

32 notes · View notes

p3ski · 3 months

Text

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now punished in the same way as crimes against humans. A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' be the thing to change this?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Eventual Smut

Word Count: 5K

"Are you sure you want to do this? It's not too late to back out."

Gavin was only vaguely tuned in to what Tina was saying as he rummaged through his closet in search of a ‘nice’ shirt. Nice was less of the primary concern, with the more pressing issue being that the majority of clothes were either horribly creased or visibly snug—a testament to all the morning jogs and laundry he’d been skipping out on.

With all his usual favourites piled in a hamper, he settled for a long-neglected button-down pushed to the back of the hangers. He couldn’t remember where he’d gotten it, but he suspected it had been from a misguided Secret Santa a couple of years back.

Maybe it’ll look better on, he thought to himself. With his phone on speaker, he slipped his arms into the shirt and fastened the buttons. "Ti, you were the one that said I have two options: Either I screw Nines or I screw a stranger. I'm opting for the latter; it's less complicated."

Upon surveying himself in the mirror, any optimism he had dissipated. The shirt fit, but that was about all it achieved—with the wide cut creating a box-like shape and the red, satin material clashing widely with his usual style.

"But is that what you want?" Tina pressed. "Gav, I'm worried. You haven't been this torn up over someone since Jake."

"This is nothing like Jake", he grumbled defensively. "We dated for five fucking years, and then he cheated on me. I've known Nines for five fucking minutes. He's my...."

Gavin honestly didn’t know. Maybe they had been friends—or something resembling that—before everything had gone to Hell. As things stood now, he would be hard-pressed to call them friendly acquaintances. 'Distant’ or ‘begrudging’ seemed more accurate.

Leaning towards the mirror, he continued to scrutinise his underwhelming appearance. He noted the coarse bristles that had lengthened significantly around his jaw as he attempted to smooth down his hair. A dormant self-loathing churned his stomach, wreaking havoc on his already tenuous confidence—as he picked up the keys that he had set on his nightstand and readied himself to leave the apartment. "I've got to go."

There was silence from the other end of the receiver. It was clear that Tina regretted the advice she had given to her increasingly volatile friend—but did not want to allow this to manifest as coercion or nagging.

"Have fun", she said with an exhale, as if straining to keep her tone light. "And try to be nice. I know that can be challenging."

"I won't bite his dick off unless he's into it."

"Gross." She made an exaggerated gagging noise before chuckling. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. If it's a fucking disaster, which it probably will be, you'll wanna hear all about it."

By the time Gavin arrived at the restaurant, he was twenty minutes late. Waving off a doorman who had come to greet him, he quietly surveyed the illuminated bar opposite the entrance, looking for anyone resembling his date. While his search came up empty, the plethora of bottles that adorned the shelves quietly teased him. Unable to resist the growing temptation, he decided he'd order a drink. Or two. However many it took to quell his nerves.

As time ticked by, he grew increasingly suspicious that his date had given up waiting. While the loss of a prospective hook-up was disappointing, it was no major blow. All it meant was an evening free to enjoy more familiar comforts—like a fridge full of beer and a room full of cats. Downing his glass in record time, he sent a quick update to Tina:

You:

Wanna see a pic of my date?

He followed this up with a blurry snap of his right hand, to which Tina replied with a series of hearts.

Actually Decent

[8:31 pm] Omg he's cute you must be so nervous.

[8:32 pm] Guessing you got stood up?

You:

I mean I was pretty late. So I guess I stood him up

Just paid $10 for a whiskey. i'm going home.

He was about to make his exit when he felt a light tap on his shoulder: "Gavin?"

As he turned to face the stranger, his interest subtly reignited. His date was more handsome in person. Tantalisingly tall and lean, styled impeccably in a fitted black shirt that hinted at well-sculpted muscles. After a respectable pause to savour the view, Gavin cleared his throat. "Last I checked. Alex, right?"

As it soon transpired, Alex was a talker—which made matters easier for Gavin, who was far from having the mental exuberance to exert into conversation. His voice was pleasant enough to listen to, rich in tones and inflexions that the detective was struggling to place the origin of.

"—I’d been friends with the captain for a couple of years, but I was still surprised to be invited to play with them. They had always been pretty exclusive."

"Uh, yeah. Football." He made a strained attempt to reply, hoping to sound at least somewhat engaged. "I played for a bit in Middle School."

His efforts backfired horribly as Alex put a premature end to his story, eyebrows pinched in confusion. "It was basketball…are you okay? You seem distracted."

"Oh, yeah, I'm alright, just—" He stumbled with his words, trying to think of something to say. While the wine his date had purchased for them was providing a pleasant buzz, it was doing little to bolster his social skills. Any semblance of a filter swiftly abandoned him as he stumbled headfirst into a verbal swan dive. "You said your name was Alex, right? You don’t sound like an Alex."

In what could only be considered an act of divine intervention, his date didn't take offence. If anything, he seemed charmed by the remark, chuckling around the rim of his glass before lowering it to reply. "It’s short for Alexei. I was born in Moscow, my family and I moved to America when I was nine. I have never been able to shift the accent, as much as I've tried."

"Huh. Russian." Gavin cursed the vacancy of his reply, treating himself to a particularly large swig of wine.

"Where did you grow up?"

"Down the street. I didn't get far, I'm not that interesting."

"I wouldn't say that." Alex chuckled, his eyes focused on the glass that seemed perpetually drawn to the other man's lips. "You shouldn't be nervous. I'm enjoying your company."

If their current locale was anything to go by, Gavin found that hard to believe. The tables surrounding them were extravagantly adorned with floral centrepieces and expensive silverware. Well-dressed couples stole sultry glances under the glow of candlelight. It was a far cry from the low-rent bars, and back alley fumbles that he was used to.

"This isn't really my scene." He motioned himself up and down, drawing attention to his less-than-polished appearance. "If I’d known you'd be slumming it going out with me, I probably wouldn't have messaged first."

Alex tilted his head to one side as though taking some time to process the words. Gavin waited in anticipation for him to realise his error—to fold up his satin napkin and stand up, politely calling it an evening. Surprisingly, however, he stayed put, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. "I don't mean to undermine you, but I was the one who messaged first. Several weeks ago."

More than a little dubious at the smoothly delivered claim, Gavin picked up his phone and opened USwipe. Scrolling back through the previous chat logs, he scrutinised them in greater detail. He soon discovered that the man was being genuine.

"Huh. Guess you did." His voice was low and deadpanned in hopes of disguising his embarrassment. It seemed almost comedic for him to have missed such an obvious detail, especially given his profession. "I've been off the app for a while. Must have missed the notifications."

"We're here now, so I’m willing to forgive you." Alex leant forward in his chair as he shot him a candid wink. "I'm sure there are ways you can make it up to me."

Gavin only half-acknowledged the flirting, his attention divided as he methodically scrolled through the backlog of messages. Considering how blatantly out of his league Alex seemed to be, it was astonishing how persistently he'd been trying to flag his attention.

"Damn, you were keen." He had not meant for the comment to sound as condescending as it did.

Fortunately, the other man appeared to take it in stride, laughing exuberantly as he threw up his hands. "Guilty. Aside from the obvious physical attraction, you seemed like an interesting person, and I wanted to get to know you better."

"Like I said, I'm not that interesting—

Which is why my profile is full of bullshit."

"Oh?" Alex looked down at his plate, using his knife and fork to cut a piece of neglected steak. "You mean to tell me you aren’t really 6 foot?"

"5'9 on a good day."

"Devastating. I’m unsure how I’ll ever recover."

This managed to draw out a laugh from Gavin. "Seriously though, it's not all bullshit. I do have a cat, and I am a Detective."

"Sounds to me like you were honest enough. About the things that matter." Alex forked a piece of meat into his mouth, chewing appreciatively. "Do you enjoy your work?"

Any temporary uplift in mood seemed to dampen almost immediately as Gavin stared into his glass, scowling. "For the most part, I do."

"Why only most?"

"The case I'm on is taking a lot out of me and my partner." The words only exacerbated his rising anger. He gripped the stem of his glass tightly, trying his best not to let the unpleasant emotion get the best of him. "We don't see eye to eye."

"I can understand difficult co-workers", Alex said attentively. "Is it a case of conflicting work styles, or is it more personal?"

"A bit of both, it's complicated."

Lips forming into a silent ‘ah’, Alex returned his attention to his plate. "Some differences can be hard to overlook." It sounded genuinely sympathetic as he spoke through another soft smile. "What department do you work in?"

"Homicide."

He waited in trepidation for his date's response. There had been more than a couple of times in his life when prospective encounters had run a mile upon hearing what he did for a living. Perhaps it was the intrinsic involvement with corpses.

His current company didn’t seem to mind, responding with an intrigued hum. "I know very little about the work, but I’ve always had an interest in True Crime. Have you worked on any cases I may be familiar with?"

Gavin frowned, acknowledging this as the other response he'd grown accustomed to. People fascinated with the macabre, keen to know all the gruesome details. He was hardly in a position to judge, given his contentious taste in movies, but he'd always found it a little tone-deaf when applied to real-life suffering.

His personal sentiments made little difference, however, as it was a line of inquiry he was obliged to shut down. "Can't really say. Confidentiality and shit."

Alex's expression fell. He promptly abandoned his cutlery, staring up at Gavin intently. "Of course not. I'm sorry for asking."

"It's fine, you're just curious." Reaching for the cooler in the centre of the table, Gavin retrieved the bottle and generously refilled his glass. Taking note of his date's dwindling supplies, he reached for the other glass when a hand shot out to stop him.

"I’m a bit of a lightweight", Alex informed, chuckling sheepishly. "Unless you want to carry me later, I think I ought to slow down."

Gavin scoffed, struggling to believe that the man was light on anything. Even seated, his imposing stature could not be concealed, with large hands and limbs that seemed to dwarf the perfectly average-sized table. "Couldn't carry you out if I tried. You're like 8 feet tall."

It clearly wasn’t the first time Alex had heard this sort of remark, as he rolled his eyes with well-rehearsed dismissal. "Maybe I should put that on my profile. I've only lived here for a couple of months; is there much of a market for giants in Detroit?"

"You'd be surprised how many people are into it—" Gavin smirked, taking a sip of his newly poured drink. "like to be thrown around."

"Are you one of them?"

This uplift in confidence proved poorly timed, as Gavin nearly painted the table with a splattering of wine. If they were going to start talking about kinks over dinner, he would need something a lot stronger.

"It's not a great time to be living in Detroit", he continued, trying to stay at least somewhat on topic. "For dating, or anything else, really."

"It does feel like things have become a little…unstable." There was a looming severity to Alex’s tone as his gaze bore forward, intense and unwavering. "Rapidly degrading infrastructure and an increase in violent crime. Why do you think that is?"

Gavin struggled not to laugh at the verbose question. It was glaringly obvious the sort of lifestyle his date was accustomed to, with 'sheltered rich kid' was all but tattooed across his forehead. "I feel like a lot of it has to do with the Revolution."

Alex hummed in understanding, "I never had an android myself, but it must have been difficult for those who did. A bit like receiving a government mandate that your smartphone be granted equal rights."

The same joke he would have laughed at a few weeks prior now left Gavin with a painful churn in his stomach. "A lot of people don't wanna believe it," he fired back, with a little more firmness than intended. "That the 'machines' they've been using and abusing for years think and feel just like us."

"I imagine many can't believe it."

"This is getting depressing as fuck." The detective looked down at his bowl, absentmindedly twirling the noodles he had lost all appetite for. "Let's change the subject. What do you do for work?"

"I'm a Senior Urban Planner."

Gavin raised his eyebrows, humming in bemusement. "That would explain the sexy architect talk." It was undoubtedly an attempt at flirting, although perhaps not one of his best. "It's funny, you were starting to sound just like a—"

Fuck.

Fucking shit.

His fork fell into his food with a thud. It was hard to ignore that Alex conformed to a certain 'type'. One that he was developing a burgeoning taste for.

"Any projects I'd be interested in?" he asked, trying his best not to dwell on the similarities between his estranged partner and the handsome stranger sitting across from him.

"The primary focus of my team is Historic and Cultural Preservation," Alex began, a glint of excitement in his eyes, "Tell me: If you had to choose between prioritising the restoration of more traditional establishments or focusing on ongoing modernisation, which would you pick?"

Gavin shrugged, unsure how to answer. "Well, I'm not really a History guy, so I'd probably go with modernisation."

The vibrant light was promptly extinguished. Alex moved back, lips turned downwards in distaste. "Not an uncommon answer, but still…a shame. Your city has a rich history, the appreciation for which is rapidly dwindling."

With hindsight, the detective realised that he should have dialled back the honesty—or, at the very least, delivered it with a little more tact. "Okay, no more talk about work", he insisted. "You're up next on the 'small talk' draw, let's hope you pick a decent topic."

Alex laughed, returning to his previously relaxed state with remarkable ease. Either the man boasted a tremendous capacity for positivity, or he had a thing for 'projects'. In any case, he seemed completely undeterred by Gavin's persistent lack of charm.

"Tell me more about your cat. What’s their name?"

"Tiffany—and there’s not much to tell, really. She’s a furry little hellspawn with a diva complex." His lips pressed together in thought, and his gaze drifted to his phone. "...Wanna see some pictures?"

"Yes, please."

Gavin smoothly adjusted his chair until they were seated side by side. As he scrolled through his camera reel, Alex appeared genuinely captivated.

"This one is very cute," he commented, pointing to a snapshot of Tiffany snuggled rear-first on Gavin's chest, tail coiled around his face. "You should add it to your USwipe profile. I guarantee it would net a few more matches."

"Bit a cheap move, though, isn't it? Using my pet as date bait." In his absent scrolling, Gavin didn’t realise how far he was travelling back. This was until he landed on a picture of a much younger Tiffany being held in the arms of a smiling brunette.

"Who's that?" his date asked casually, "A friend of yours?"

"My ex, actually." The admission flowed with remarkable ease as it struck Gavin just how little it hurt to say. "That was the day we brought Tiff home; she was a gift for our one-year anniversary. Lost the guy but kept the cat. Shit happens, I guess."

Alex cast him a look of sympathy. "Was the guy worth keeping?"

Lips pursed, Gavin examined the photo with greater scrutiny. Tina had been right after all. With small, beady eyes and large ears that protruded a little too much, Jake really did look like a rat. "Hell no."

"Then I'd say it was a fair trade-off." The man beamed with infectious enthusiasm, revealing a row of straight white teeth. "What breed is she?"

"The kind you find rooting around in the garbage."

Gavin laughed a little too enthusiastically at the joke. Considering he'd been the one to make it, and that it wasn't all that funny. With self-awareness creeping back in, he went to re-retrieve the wine bottle, only to discover that it was empty.

"I'm guessing you're a cat person." He pronounced each word carefully in an attempt to downplay his intoxication.

"A hundred per cent—

Unfortunately, mine passed away recently."

"Shit." Gavin blurted out thoughtlessly. He silently lamented that he could not think of anything more comforting to say as Alex stared into space, trapped in forlorn introspection.

"Her name was Coco, a Ragdoll-Birman cross", he wistfully recalled. "She was an old girl, had a good life."

"Don't suppose you're in the market for another cat? Mine just had babies, and I'm gonna go bankrupt if I decide to keep them all."

"That's very kind, but I'll have to decline. I had Coco for fourteen years. I was very attached." He paused, watching the other man closely as he took a slow, measured sip of wine. "I would, however, love to meet yours."

Despite his thickening haze of inebriation, the implications of this were not lost on Gavin. He tried his best to maintain his composure despite the small flutter of excitement blooming in his stomach. "Are you inviting yourself over?"

"That depends. Are you interested?"

The question seemed absurd. The man was stunning, comparable to a model. Of course, he ought to be interested. Despite this, Gavin hesitated, with no clear reason as to why.

This had been what he'd wanted, after all. A chance to release all his burdensome tensions. The opportunity was presenting itself on a silver platter, and he'd be an idiot to pass it up. "I mean, kittens are great therapy. Who am I to say no?"

Upon leaving the restaurant, the AutoTaxi rank outside was frustratingly empty. With some persistence, they were eventually able to hail a ride in a driver-manned car. It wasn't long after its departure that Alex took advantage of the darkened surroundings, indulging in some stolen touches.

A wandering hand settled down to stroke the contours of Gavin's thigh, travelling upwards until fingers were brushing the line of his zipper. The teasing did not progress much further, however, as a long, disparaging cough from the driver put an abrupt end to the advances. Alex moved away, showing a willingness to restrain himself for a little while longer.

This restraint extended to the length of time it took to enter the apartment—as not moments after Gavin had shut the door, hands were on hin again. A gentle grip encompassed his midsection, tracing the line between his navel and hips. The touches were light, almost tender until fingers dug their way in, firmly pulling back. The subsequent friction came with a host of silent promises as the shorter man was unable to suppress a gasp.

"You know, I'm startin' to think that you don't really want to see the cats." Gavin leant into the touch, struggling to keep his bearings.

"I can want more than one thing." Alex mused, allowing his breath to teasingly ghost the nape of his neck. "How about we say a quick hello, and then you can show me to your bedroom?"

As requested, the detective clumsily guided his guest to the bathroom, almost stumbling headfirst on a cat toy as he did. "Just keep your distance from mom", he advised. "She isn't great with strangers."

The warning had been well-deserved, as throughout their time in the room, Tiffany's eyes remained trained fixedly on Alex. Her apprehension quickly morphed into hostility as she shifted to an upright stance, poised to strike. When the man made the error of leaning in to steal a look at the kittens, the cat swatted a paw toward him, hissing aggressively.

"Hey, fuckin' stop it", Gavin chided, subduing his agitated pet with a gentle stroke of her back. "Sorry. Like I said, she's a little feisty."

Alex seemed almost completely unfazed, chuckling gently as he drew back to a safe distance. "Protective, I'd say—of you and her babies. I think that's sweet."

"Just don't take it personally, she's like it with everyone. The only person she hasn't immediately gone for is—"

Dammit.

Gavin felt lips on his neck, forming a tight seal as they sought to leave marks. "She's lucky to have you caring for her." The low tones rumbled against his flesh as a scrape of teeth wreaked havoc with his clouded senses. "Tell me: When was the last time someone took care of you?"

Swallowing a shaky breath, Gavin's reply was low and strained. "It's been a while."

"Let me change that."

Then he was pressed to the wall, a pair of strong hands securing his wrists as a tongue gently prised at his lips. Any anticipation that had been building promptly fizzled out, as the experience was immediately tainted by an unfortunate sense of deja vu.

Gavin tried his best to indulge in the man's fumbled touches but found himself drifting subconsciously. The hands that bound him were a little too coarse, and the tongue too rough as it poked its way through. It left him feeling unfulfilled, wishing for something else.

Feigning enthusiasm, he moaned weakly into the kiss, sliding a hand up Alex's chest. Gavin waited for something to ignite, anything that might tell him he still wanted this—but found nothing but persistent numbness.

His lack of excitement had not gone unnoticed by the other man, who seemed confused at the lack of activity when he ground their hips together.

"Are you okay?" Alex asked slowly. "We can slow down a bit if you want."

Gavin could have easily made an excuse about being too drunk—or pushed himself forward despite his reservations—but found himself unable to do so. It felt wrong to allow things to continue, knowing full-well that any intimacy shared would be plagued by thoughts of someone else.

"Look, it’s not you", he sighed, eyes shut tight in frustration. "Obviously, it's not you. I’m just in a bit of a shit place right now."

"I wouldn't want to force you into anything. We can cuddle—or even just talk—if you think that might help?"

"I don't think so." He placed a hand on Alex's shoulder, encouraging him to move away. "I just can't do this right now'.

The other man did not resist the touch, although he did persist in his questioning. "Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?"

"No, you haven't, I just—" There was a nausea that was becoming increasingly harder for Gavin to ignore. He was unsure if the source was psychological or if there was a real danger he might be sick. "It’s really fucking complicated."

A thoughtful pause hung in the air as Alex digested the information. Then he hummed as if arriving at a quiet revelation. "...Your partner. I see. That is unfortunate."

"It's probably best if you leave", he replied, coming to his own sobering conclusion. "I'm sorry for messing you around."

"I understand." The other man stood up, masking any disappointment as respectfully as possible. He seemed to take a moment to gather himself before finally speaking again. "Maybe it's not my place to say, but I can see that you're hurting. I hope that you'll act in your best interests and make the right choice."

"Thanks." Gavin leant his head backwards, finding it increasingly hard to hold upright. He stared at the whirring extractor fan, trying to focus his vision. "And sorry—again."

"It's okay. You have my number; if you ever need to talk to someone, I'll be happy to listen."

After Alex had left, Gavin sat alone in the bathroom for quite some time. The mewls of the kittens and the noise of the fan were the only things to ground him as he sank to a new emotional low. With fumbling hands, he grabbed his phone, opening an unread message from Tina:

Actually Decent (2)

[10:59 pm] did you jerk off yet

[11:00 pm] how would you rate the experience on a scale of 1-10

You:

ti im fucked up

its nibes

nines*

hes got my head messed up. i dont know what to do

It wasn't until after he sent the message that he realised the time. There was a very good chance his friend was asleep and wouldn't see his text until morning, long after his crisis had ended. Spurred on by drunken reasoning, Gavin concluded that if he wanted to find any semblance of closure, he would need to confront the source.

It only took three rings for his partner to answer:

"Detective Reed…?" His voice was slow and cautious like he was questioning the plausibility of the call.

"Nines, this is fucked," Gavin groaned down the receiver, any sense of shame having deserted him with his sobriety. "It's all fucked up. Can we please just talk about it?"

The silence that followed was stifling. It was unclear if the android was working to decipher the man's disordered words or if he had simply hung up on him. Gavin lifted his phone to check when a voice called out, beckoning his attention:

"It is very late," Nines informed, in a way that nestled uncannily between reprimand and concern. "It would be best to defer this discussion until morning. After you’ve rested."

"If I don't say this now, I never will." The man kicked out his legs, trying to find a more comfortable position, only to lodge himself awkwardly between the wall and the bathtub. "I don't want to ‘wash my hands’ of you. I like being partners, I like havin' you around, and I wanna believe that you do as well."

"You're slurring your words. I'm struggling to understand what you're saying."

"If it means forgetting about the…thing that happened, I'm happy to do it." In an attempt to wriggle from his unfavourable position, he allowed his head to slip further back, inadvertently knocking the sink.

The dull thud that ensued was clearly audible through the receiver as Nines was quick to address it. "Gavin, have you fallen?"

"Nah, I just hit m' head."

"Are you alone?" The concern in his tone had become much more apparent, "Do I need to come over?"

"I'm fine, seriously. I just want us to be fine as well. I know that sounds stupid; we've only been partners for a couple of weeks, but I really was startin' to feel…" He trailed off, rubbing his head as a sharp ache set in. "Fuck, that really hurt."

"You're drunk", his partner concluded with a low exhale. "I suggest you go to bed before you cause yourself any further injury."

Gavin grappled with another wave of nausea, sending him on a sloppy recline towards the toilet. "Can't. Think I might puke", he complained, retching as he did. "Look, just listen for a minute. There was somethin’ else I wanted to say. I need to think."

"If I listen, will you promise to heed my suggestion? After you've emptied your stomach, of course."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

As his head slipped into the bowl, Gavin realised he had no clear plan for what he wanted to say, having hoped that the words would find him in a moment of drunken enlightenment. Unsure how else to proceed, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You're not a toaster. I don't know why I said that. I was just mad."

"I believe you implied that I wasn't a toaster—as a toaster would be incapable of being such a 'cruel, vindictive asshole'."

"Fuuuuck", the strain in his voice, combined with the echo of his current surroundings, lent a strange theatrics to the expletive. "That's worse, isn't it? I’m really sorry."

Nines dismissed his concerns, albeit with an amused huff. "Don't be. My behaviour over the last few days has been deplorable. I was upset over a personal issue, and I took this out on you. That was wrong and deeply unfair. I hope you can forgive me."

'Personal issue' invited more questions than Gavin would have cared for. While he considered pressing for more information, he ultimately decided against it.

If it meant salvaging the budding connection they had established, he would delay speculation about what it meant—or what it might become. "If you're sorry too, does that mean we're okay?"

"I sincerely hope so."

#dbh #reed900 #dbh fanfiction #dbh nines #dbh fanfic #dbh gavin #detroit become human #dbh rk900 #gavin reed x rk900 #gavin900 #gavin reed #gavin x rk900 #dbh fic #gavin x nines

10 notes · View notes

green-fifteen · 3 months

Text

Day 6: firewood

Prompt: Fire Fandom: Marvel Comics, Spiderman, Fantastic Four Pairing: Peter Parker/Johnny Storm Summary: Peter and Johnny get out of the city to celebrate their anniversary. Word count: 787

read on ao3 instead

written for @fluffyfebruary

Peter had never thought of Johnny as an outdoorsy kind of person and he wasn't shy about saying so. As they packed their bags for the trip upstate, Peter watched his husband roll up a sleeping bag and raised one very eloquent eyebrow.

"You're not serious?" he said.

"What? I thought we could spend at least one night outside. Under the stars. It'll be romantic."

"You replaced our last mattress for being 'lumpy' and you think you can sleep on the ground?" Peter looked at him skeptically as he folded their underwear and tucked them all neatly in a duffel bag.

"Just wait until you're in my arms in the moonlight, Pete. You'll be thanking me."

"Sure," Peter said sarcastically, and then threw a red and blue pair of briefs at his head. They were patterned with little Spiderman faces. "And I told you about this, Johnny."

He caught them easily and threw back a wide, toothy grin. "What, no Spidey-shorts on our big night?" he quipped. Peter wasn't fooled-- he already knew Johnny considered it a challenge to sneak the Spider-pants into their bedroom activities. It always made him laugh, which made Peter laugh, but Peter wasn't going to stand for it on their anniversary trip.

"Not happening, flame-brain. Put them away before I throw them out a window."

Johnny made a wounded expression and the underwear disappeared inside a drawer.

They arrived at the cabin before lunchtime. It wasn't too far away from the city (just in case) but they both wanted some time out of town. Ben had clapped Peter on the shoulder (he swore he felt the tiles in their kitchen crack beneath his shoes) and reassured him, "We'll watch the city for you. Go and have fun." Johnny had teared up a little.

The place was stocked already with everything they'd need for the week. When they came through the door, they quickly unpacked their bags into the drawers and closet, then spread out to explore the rental.

"Peter!" Johnny called from the bathroom. "Jacuzzi jets!"

"That's nothing," Peter told him, coming in from the main room. "There's a fireplace." Johnny looked offended.

"You're married to the Human Torch, web-head. In sickness and in health and everything."

Peter smirked. "But a fireplace is romantic." He stretched the word out over his tongue. Johnny's expression turned thoughtful, then wicked.

"I promise you, baby. You won't need it. It's gonna get hot enough in here without it." Peter narrowed his eyes, evaluating.

"I think I'd like you to prove it."

Johnny's teeth gleamed as he lunged for his waist.

That night, to Peter's bewildered consternation, they found themselves stuffed into one sleeping bag on the ground outside the cabin. It was big enough for two, but just barely.

Peter had tried to make a fire nearby to toast marshmallows and warm his hands, like he remembered from camping with his aunt and uncle. Johnny had shamelessly sabotaged his efforts, sucking the energy from any spark he managed to create over the kindling. He gave up after a while and crawled back into the bag, clearly Johnny's plan all along.

Now they were staring up at the dark sky, Johnny's leg thrown over Peter's and his arm under Peter's head. Peter had Johnny's hand held between his own, stealing warmth that didn't seem to have an end. He pressed it to his mouth to warm his face, and placed the lightest kiss on his palm.

"I told you this would be romantic," Johnny whispered. "I'm the best at this husband thing."

Peter snorted. "Who's the competition?"

He looked serious as he answered, "Reed."

"What about me?" Peter asked, smile evident in his voice.

"You're my husband, it doesn't count."

"Come on. Where am I in the ranking?"

Johnny turned his face, his tip of his nose just barely touching the tip of Peter's. "This is a team sport," he said. "You're with me, at the top."

"We're both the best at being husbands?"

"Exactly."

Peter stretched out his neck to kiss him, long and sweet.

As the night grew colder and the wind picked up around them, neither one budged from their little spot on the ground, both as warm and comfortable as they ever were in their bed at home. Peter dreamt of crackling logs and playful yellow flames.

In the morning, he would unwrap the sleeping bag and pull up Johnny's shirt to kiss him awake there. His mouth would follow a trail down to the waistband of his sweatpants and he'd tug at them insistently until his mind caught up with his heart and he realized Johnny managed to sneak the Spiderman underwear into his bag after all.

He'd forgive him eventually.

#my computer is dying hurry!#fluffy february #spideytorch #fluff #fifteen fanfic #marvel fanfiction #fantastic four #spiderman #peter parker #johnny storm

11 notes · View notes

the-crow-binary · 10 months

Text

After this post, I am now going to focus on Isaac and Hector, and I dedicate the post to my friend @beevean <3 (And also at least partially to you, @azerothx, since I will talk about Hector and your ask have been raising dust in my messages closet for a while... alongside a few others >:<)

So. Let's talk about those boys' themes in Curse of Darkness (mangas are incuded).

First theme: Loneliness and Finding a place to belong to (to cling to).

Before they even met, Isaac and Hector already shared a similar story. The one of a child, hated and rejected by all, who just needed a place to be safe in. Like any child deserves to. Granted, Isaac had Julia... but being with someone doesn't mean you cannot feel lonely. Children need a home. And Dracula gave them one.

Isaac clung onto Dracula's "love". He felt happy in repaying him for his "kindness" and mercy by serving him body and soul. He felt accomplished in being nothing but a tool for him, to do his bidding. Hector, however, will take a different paths...

Second theme: Rivalry.

They were both Dracula's generals and Devil Forgemasters, but Hector was the stronger one. He was Dracula's favorite, his protégé. Though Isaac tried and tried, he never reached Hector's level. It festered his mind, created an inferiority complex. And yet, at the same time, he secretly admired Hector. Probably envied him as well. They were rivals in ideals as well. Hector clung onto his humanity, Isaac threw his away. Hector wanted to be his own person, Isaac felt fulfilled being what Dracula wanted him to be. Hector felt bad about killing humans... Isaac could not have cared less.

Wich leads to the third theme: Betrayal.

Hector, unable to stand the massacre any longer, ran away. Both Dracula and Isaac took it badly, but this isn't about Dracula. <3 Isaac clearly cared about Hector, in someway. In the PtR manga, before the Curse take a hold of him, Isaac is honorable to Hector. He praises him, clearly admires him, even brought two swords with him to confront Hector after his betrayal because he cares about a fair fight. In the MF manga, Isaac was ecstatic when felt and then found Hector (who he thought might have been dead, though he had a doubt). He even seems desperate, screaming "why did you betray us?!" at him when they fight. He gives him a chance to go back to the Castle... only for Hector to laugh at him and call him out for being nothing but a pawn. (and Isaac is very expressive. You can read his emotions in his face. You can see when he is worried, when he is in pains but tries to hide it behind a smile, when he's straight-up mad...)

But Hector running away is not the worst part of the betrayal, no... the worst part is Dracula's death. :)

In the PtR manga, Isaac doesn't know Dracula died before he makes it back to the Castle and finds it in ruins (an injured bat flies to him, only to die in his hand. Talk about symbolism). In the MF manga, both Hector and Isaac feel Dracula die while they fight. In both scenarios, Isaac goes mad with grief and put all the responsability on Hector, because if he hadn't ran away, if he had stayed alongside Dracula (or did as ordered and went to kill Belmont), he would still be alive. Because of Hector, Isaac lost the only person who ever made him feel home. Now he has no one.

Fourth theme: Coping (or the lack thereof)

Comes the three years happening between CV3 and CoD. Hector learns to live peacefully with his wife Rosaly, he learns how to be a human again, he learns about how strong humans can be in their own way and how not all of them are bad. He heals and copes alongside his woman and finally, everything seems to go smoothly for him... he is happy.

But not Isaac. Isaac is alone, spying on him. The Curse eating his soul little by little. He became obsessed with two things: Hector and vengeance. He wants to see him suffer, he wants to make him suffer as he suffered. And for this... He needs to let Hector have a taste of happiness. Just like he had with Dracula. :) Before taking it away brutally.

This is the fifth theme: The cycle of revenge.

Isaac wanted revenge on Hector for basically abandoning Dracula to his death. He got it by causing Rosaly's death. Now Hector wants to get revenge on Isaac. And so he abandons the life he has been building for three years, and goes after his old "friend".

The entirety of the game revolves around this theme. Hector the traitor against Isaac the monster. They both have reasons to hate the other, they are obsessed with getting back at the other. Isaac, especially, as he is alone and fully(?) taken over by the Curse. Hector is not alone, however, and still resisting the Curse, though it almost got him in the end. But then...

Sixth theme: Acceptance/Breaking the cycle.

Right before giving Isaac the final blow, Hector stops himself and realise "wait... what am I doing? That is not me." and drop his weapon, fearing that the Curse is actually getting to him. Then Death appears and use Isaac to resurrect Dracula and Hector defeats him and Hector breaks the curse with his powers... he goes "I can finally rest" but Julia won't let him, of course, and they both flee the breaking down Castle.

It ends with him and Julia having a nice little chat, talking about having hope in the future, they both feel accomplished, and you know what...? Hector never got his revenge. :) Yes, Isaac died (either because of his body being used to resurrect Drac or because Hector killed Drac and so it killed him), and so did Dracula (again), but he did not kill him for revenge. He killed him because Dracula was a threat. The idea to get his revenge disappeared the moment he realised what he was doing. And yet, in the end, he still was happy.

Meaning the way to happiness was never to get revenge. On the contrary, it would have bring unhappiness. By refusing to get his, Hector did not only save himself, but the rest of the world as well. If he had let himself fall prey to the Curse, Death would have had used his body to bring back Dracula, and at this point, Trevor was not in a good enough shape to stop him. Accepting to do the right thing and move on was the good call. Now, he can try to live in peace again...

Now you can easily imagine Hector and Isaac having been close, once. Two lost boys, sharing abilities, sharing similar stories, knowing what the other went through... you can imagine they were friends or lovers, caring about the other, but, unfortunately, Dracula always got in the way (Isaac cared more about their Lord and Hector cared more about Isaac. but what he cared even more about was his own humanity. they were bound to fall appart)

What helps caring about those characters, their relationships and themes, are their personnalities. They're both different from each other, but work well together. They are both gray (they are both victims), but Hector leans more on the "righteous" side, while Isaac lean more on the "evil" side.

Now onto the funny part.

What are Isaac and Hector's themes in NFCV?

Loneliness: We barely touch on that, if not at all. We never see Isaac suffer from being alone, he seems pretty okay with it. The only hint we have that Hector might have been a lonely child is this flashback of him bringing his dog back to life, going home, only for his parents to scream in horror (and he does end up killing them by burning down the house). We can guess that if he often brought undead animals to people, he must not have made many actually living friends... but he never seemed like he wanted to anyway. In fact, as an adult, he did say he prefered his "animals" to actual people (if I remember correctly). So okay, scratch that.

Finding a place to belong to: Neither Isaac nor Hector had a problem with that. They both lived happily on their own until adulthood, when Dracula arrived and asked them for help.

So we already lost two themes that made the OG characters dependant on Dracula (wich was an interesting plot point, love that G!Dracula seemed merciful on the surface, welcoming children to his Castle, when he ultimately uses them as weapons). Okay. A shame, but let's continue

Rivalry: Those characters have absolutely no chemistry whatsoever. They are colleagues who barely talk to each other. And I am not going to call Isaac patronizing Hector and calling him a child "rivalry". There's nothing there.

Betrayal: I don't want to sound harsh, but... lol. Lmao, even. Hector got manipulated by Carmilla, but it's barely if he realised he was betraying Dracula. He probably didn't know any better. And while in the manga, Hector's (actual) betrayal led to neither him nor Isaac being there to protect Dracula, and so Isaac being mad at him and not Trevor made sense (+Hector actively chose to betray them, he was not manipulated by anyone)... in NFCV, there is no such thing. Isaac was aware Hector was manipulated by Carmilla, he saw Trevor and knew who was attacking the Castle, and it's Dracula himself who threw him into a portal to protect him. He had no reason to get mad at Hector. Another theme wasted.

Coping: No such thing. Unless you want to count Isaac's "character development" that, but... doesn't feel right to me. The characters never had the time to process things and just live during the whole show (oh, my bad, there was a few time skips here and there that were used as excuses to rushed developments, haha <3)

Cycle of revenge: It was more of a quest for revenge on Isaac's part. Hector never had any reason to get revenge against him. Well, Isaac neither, but he wanted to anyway.

Acceptance/Breaking the cycle: Okay so we did not get any "breaking the cycle" since there was no cycle to begin with... but "acceptance"? Yeah. Isaac went through character development mostly offscreen and decided to accept Dracula was dead (how did he even know) and that Hector had nothing to do with it (wich he knew from the start but good for him to finally take facts into consideration). And Hector........ Hector accepted to not be killed by Isaac. Cool. I guess.

So at this point, all of the themes revolving around Isaac and Hector in games were thrown out the window or done terribly wrong in the show. So what themes did they have? Well, sisters and bros and non-binary hoes... none that would link them directly. They basically had their own things going on, and it would sometimes get in contact with the other's things, but never mix. That's basically their whole relationship summed up.

Isaac's things were that he was Dracula's friend, that he valued his knowledge greatly to the point he was ready to lead his war and give his life to him, but then he was forced into a journey without Dracula that would make him realise he wanted to be something more, that he wanted to live for himself (you know, the development G!Hector had, but done poorly).

And Hector... Hector's whole thing was "I am a wet puppy getting kicked around by every vampire existing". He got manipulated by Dracula, then Carmilla, then Lenore... everytime the show would focus on him, it was like going from "Castlevania" to "misery porn". And his story ended with him in love with his abuser who never had any consequences for treating him like shit and got to die on her own terms. I know CoD's message was basically "revenge bad", but what about justice. What about Hector's character being respected for once. What about... yeah I'll stop right there this isn't about Lenore nor Lenector, this is about Isaactor.

And, needless to say... NFCV Isaactor is shit. They lost all flavor. Hector got his character smashed into pieces and replaced by a bad clone of him, then his character development was passed down to N!Isaac, but not completely, because N!Isaac kept killing people like it was nothing till the end, and still cared about Dracula, and he never actually betrayed Dracula he just was forced to leave him. Meanwhile Isaac's character was thrown out the window and replaced by an OC with his name. And I'm not just saying this because his design is entirely different, but also because his personnality has nothing to do with G!Isaac. All they have in common is the fact they love Dracula. And even then, G!Isaac literally worshipped Dracula. Meanwhile N!Isaac and N!Dracula are actually friends ("are you still my friend, Isaac?"), they often look like they are on the same level, not a master talking to his servant... actually, N!Isaac did not just replaced Hector. He replaced Death as well, as Dracula's confidant.

And look. If you want to make Isaac the favorite one, go ahead, poor guy keeps getting bullied, he deserves the treat. That is not the problem here.

The problem here is... that the show shat on both Isaac and Hector. And everything, from the themes that linked them both to their personnalities, have been completely erased and replaced with badly written drama.

Say what you want about G!Isaac, but this guy is fun. His gestural, his voice, his personnality... They are so fun to watch and analyze. Just the way he walks around his spear in one of the cutscenes and say "pff! still too soon but all the same..." is... GAH. I love it. (and have you guys even SEEN the STABBING SCENE? PLEASE.) Whoever brush him off as a gay joke needs to either shut up or actually read the mangas/play the games. N!Isaac is just a rock. He has no charm. Everyone thinks he's badass when he's being an asshole. Everyone thinks he's deep because he says so.... And I couldn't care less about his relationship with Dracula. And Hector? Hector was RAW in the game and mangas. He was brooding, he had... questionable self-esteem (comparing himself to a demon) but enough self-respect to get away from Dracula and respect his own moral code. He knew how to fight, he was strong. He was ACTUALLY badass and cool. But he also was tragic, in need of love, and adorable when with Rosaly... N!Hector was a joke. And it didn't have to be this way, they could have decided at any moment to make him stop taking any shit and start actually defending and fighting for himself. But no. We had to wait till the end of S4 to have him cut his finger off, wich is the closest we will ever get to a badass moment for N!Hector. (also Isaac rushing in to help him is cute, but it would've been cuter if they actually had chemistry, y'know?)

Isaac and Hector in CoD were two faces of the same coins. Two people who went through the same things, but ended up taking widely different paths... But in NFCV, they had nothing in common. Nothing more than strangers working for the same guy. And one of them was an asshole to and behind the other's back for no reason. (also, Dracula recruiting them as adults does not have the same impact as him welcoming them as children... but at this point it's clear that N!Dracula was meant to be alone in his Castle before Lisa. Unlike G!Dracula who is "said to be generous towards those who turns their back on god" and have devils and demons and even humans roaming all around)

If I had to tell what CoD's core was, as I did for the whole Castlevania franchise... Well, it was Isaac and Hector. Their characters, and their relationship.

Once again, NFCV wasted good potential.

#also neither Isaac nor Hector ever met the main trio and that is a CRIME #I mean. ANOTHER crime.#(I am glad there was no stabbing scene. N!Isaac is so not sexy and fabulous and slaying. I do not want him kissing Trevor. cringe.)#(also I lied. CoD's core is the raw gay sex and homosexual tension)#castlevania #netflixvania #hector castlevania #isaac laforeze

21 notes · View notes