The Hearse

Harrison shook his head and chuckled at your spiel, finding not enough strength to turn you down again. “Well…”

From behind him, Barry jumped around in silent celebration. Cisco had bet him five dollars Wells would not agree.

The drive to your house made you anxious: nervous excitement in your stomach at the fact that you’d successfully gotten your unshakable boss to agree to a meeting outside of work with now work related things going on in your private residence, without a thought of work. Cisco excitedly asked you how long you had your ‘fancy ass house’ and why you kept it a secret for so long, Caitlyn smacking his arm halfway through.

“What Cisco means to say… is why you haven’t had us over sooner?” Caitlyn says politely, making Barry laugh as he swings an arm around your shoulder.

You shrug. “I guess I never really thought people would want to hang out with me. Is that Wells’s car? Barry can you help me get him up the steps?” When Barry nods, you unlock and push open the door for Cait and Cisco. “Feel free to explore,” you said, seeing Cisco’s eyes widen.

Barry chuckles as Cisco and Caitlyn chatter excited as you go out to Wells’s car. “It’s really nice that you’re doing this. It’s good to be around everyone when it’s not…” Barry trails off, searching.

“A dire situation?” You offer.

Nodding, Barry smiles. “A dire situation.”

“Hey Doc,” you greet him as he opens the passenger seat.

He nods his greeting. “Wheelchair’s in the trunk.” Barry retrieves the mobile chair, places the Doctor in it, and wheels it up to your house in the blink of an eye. You laugh and raise a hand in greeting to the awed driver.

“Thank you for having us,” Wells tells you, turning to see everything in your house. “Truly kind of you.”

You nod, a smile on your face. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you here.” Harrison’s eyes fall on yours suddenly. An unspoken depth in his eyes trap you, holding you and examining your atoms at their barest form and holding your heart in his hands. His head tilts slightly and his lips quirk. He knows you struggle with eye contact yet he doesn’t let you look away with all that emotion in his eyes.

“So! What movie are we watching?” Cisco asks. “Obviously I’d like some Sci-Fi to narrate and correct any mistakes made in the storyline, but I could also go for a Rom Com or unknown indie film. I’ve stalked your letterboxd enough to know you have a good taste in movies!”

You turn your head to see Cisco and feel the weight of Harrison’s gaze on you. Swallowing, you move to follow him to your massive living area. “What does everyone want to watch? I’m down for whatever.”

“The Notebook,” Caitlyn says solemnly at the same time Barry says “nothing sad”. Caitlyn’s face falls. “I never got to see it in theaters and this is the next biggest screen I’ve ever seen…”

“You can come and watch it on here another day if you want,” you offer. “Doc? What do you want?”

“I’m partial to almost anything. Choose away, y/n.”

You sigh. “I don’t like picking.”

Half an hour later, you finally choose a science fiction movie that appeals to everyone and order seventeen pizzas to be delivered within the hour. After coming back in from the kitchen after ordering, you see Harrison’s back, sitting quietly in his chair when everyone else was splayed on your couch.

“Do you want to sit on the couch?” You murmur quietly to Wells.

He looks up to you, watching him from your spot perched on the couch, waiting for him to say yes. “It’s… no issue here.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to sit by you?”

Another moment. You were nodding, finding your anxiety resurface as Wells unlocked his wheels and scooted towards you. Slowly, quietly, he transferred himself to the spot beside you, a solid foot of space between you.

He eased his shoes off and placed them on his chair for later and you felt a swell of emotion in your chest. Wells making himself more comfortable in your space was a reward you didn’t know what you did to earn.

A comfortable silence filled the room except for when Cisco guffawed loudly at stupid jokes or when Caitlyn giggled at something ironic happening to the main character or when Barry inevitably spoke up about the scientific observation of evidence being non-lifelike. You found yourself listening to Harrison’s exhaling laughter at perfectly timed puns and then realized you weren’t actually watching the movie.

When the doorbell rang, you let the movie play as you headed toward the door to retrieve the goods. “Barry!” You called from the kitchen. “Come get your fifteen pizzas!”

In the blink of an eye, you had two pizzas in your hand, a couple paper plates, and napkins in your arms in the middle of the living room. You chuckled as Barry paused so you could get everyone their food.

When you settled back down, you found yourself a little closer to Harrison than earlier. You hadn’t moved, so that must mean… he moved. Closer. To you. You chose not to read into it.

“Is there a sequel? I’ll check,” Cisco asked as soon as the last scene started to fade to black. You chortled, standing up to retrieve your favorite chunky-knit blanket from the blanket rack leaning against the wall.

“Can I also have a blanket?” Caitlyn spoke cautiously. “Preferably a thinner one?”

You grabbed your thinnest blanket and placed the fabric in Caitlyn’s lap. She gave you a thankful smile. You saw her toss the long fabric across Barry and Cisco’s lap, worrying over them like the lovely person she is.

“Did you—“ you began to ask Harrison.

“No, thank you. I’m okay right now,” he said.

There was a sequel to the movie that Cisco had pleaded to watch. After reaching a common consensus, you played the second movie with the next movie being a happy ending romantic movie (courtesy of Caitlyn… and a little Barry.).

Your eyes began to feel heavy about quarter of the way into the movie, the cold atmosphere you thrived in assisting in making you drowsy.

The dim lights gave Harrison the chance to slip closer to you as you fell further asleep. His arm was touching your own through your blanket, head resting between his shoulder and the back of your couch.

Harrison viewed this as an experiment: how much physical contact could he establish with you before you woke up and moved away? After a solid fifteen minutes passed, he pulled the blanket from your arm and pulled it around him so you were both covered. When he did that, you heaved a sigh and unconciously readjusted your head so that it was resting entirely against his shoulder. The warmth in his chest was satisfaction at reaching a new milestone in his experiment, not happiness at you being comfortable around him in your barest state: sleep.

After adjusting his glasses, Harrison reached his arm under the blanket. He watched you from the corner of his eye and discovered you were a heat seeking vessel: leaning closely against him and bringing the blanket closer to you. Eventually, you even wrapped your arm around Harrison’s, bringing it close to your chest in resemblance of a child holding their favorite stuffed animal to ease them to sleep. Harrison had it bad.

“Sleep well,” Harrison murmured against your head, resting his head against your own.

You woke up to a new movie, a comedy, being played on your T.V. Swallowing, your eyes blinked sleepily as you tried to understand why you were pleasantly warm and smelling a very intoxicating cologne. Tight knitted black shoulders led to a familiar face and loose curls. “Hello again,” murmured an amused voice. Your lips flattened against your teeth in an embarrassed grimace. You looked down at where you were leaning almost entirely into him (at this point… you may as well have been sitting on his lap… [as if you would complain about that. Ha!]) and became acutely aware of his unfamiliarly warm elbow linked with your own under the blanket. From an outsider’s perspective it would undoubtedly be considered cuddling.

“I’m so sorry,” you rasped sleepily, leaning back to stretch and find solace from Wells’s soft eyes. Your arm muscles tightened in rigor as they reached behind your head and your legs spasmed as you stretched them out in front of you. Sparing a glance at the trio on the other side of the couch, you took in Barry’s sleeping form and Caitlyn’s eyes—hooded witg exhaustion—and chuckled at the two tired adults compared to Cisco watching the screen intently. You sigh after checking your watch and say “I didn’t realize it was this late.”

Eobard was thankful when you finally met his gaze again, imploring silently to see those glittering glimpses to your emotion and soul- your humanity. “I selfishly enjoyed the closeness. You don’t need to apologize for falling asleep,” he admits.

“Y/n,” Dr. Wells cut in, a gentle firmness in his voice he unconsciously reserved for your interactions. “I see sentiment in almost everything you do for people. I can assure you this is no different. Please come inside. There’s no reason to be standing outside and catching cold.”

You finally retrieved your wrapped package from your bag, following Dr. Wells as he led you into his home. Truthfully you were in awe at the size and layout of his house. You knew Wells had wealth but seeing it up close in a tangible fashion was different. He led you to the kitchen and motioned his head to a chair by his counter. “Uh… here.” You handed your boss the package.

Harrison let his fingers brush against the cool-tempered wrapping paper—dark green background with snowflakes—and curled his pointer finger around the bow—light blue (to match the snowflakes)—before looking back up to see your face. Wells had observed you long enough to identify the quiet anticipation in your raised eyebrows and shy smile.

Inside the package was a canvas. Mildly small, approximately a 10x8 painting of the selfie Cisco had insisted on taking. On the left was Cisco, upper teeth showing as his face tilted up with excitement. Barry was in the middle, caught mid laugh at his idea of taking the picture and then zooming back to be in the picture. Caitlyn stood on the right with a rare smile with teeth that hadn’t been seen since the particle accelerator’s failure. On the bottom, between Cisco and Barry was Dr. Wells, a quirk of his lips hiding his white teeth. Beside him—on one knee with her arm resting against Wells’s arm—stood you: a side smile at the antics that you took for granted.

You worked your teeth against your tongue, anxiously observing the way Dr. Wells’s eyebrows went slack as he took in the painting. His fingertips brushed gently against the paint, feeling the smooth top coat. His tendons flexed under his skin, igniting the same fire that burned when you painted the pink of his lips. It wasn’t your best work, but it definitely was praiseworthy (your tutor approved for once, saying that she was impressed at the emotion you managed to capture in the eyes).

“Y/n, truly,” Wells began after swallowing thickly. “This is beautiful. I knew you had an ability with the arts but…” he shook his head, a thoughtful smirk playing on his lips as his brow quirked that signaled the contemplation crossing his mind, “this is truly wonderful. Thank you. Thank you. I apologize… I didn’t get you anything.”

The whooshing behind your ears dissipated as you exhaled with relief. “Thank you, Dr. Your approval is enough.” Your familiar crooked smile made Harrison want to hold your face in his hands and kiss you until you passed out.

“No, no. It’s not. Don’t worry, I will find you a belated Christmas gift.”

“Unnecessary,” you chortled, rising slowly. “I only wanted you to get your present and make sure you weren’t—I dunno, doing something irrational.”

Harrison watched the way you avoided his eye contact and knew then that he would protect you in a manor that surpassed his devotion to Barry’s future. “Let me escort you out.”

When you reached the door, Harrison paused. “Oil on canvas or acrylic?”

Your face lit up at his question. “Oil. It required patience my therapist says will be good for me. And I selfishly enjoy that I don’t have to be paranoid about making sure my paints are closed and won’t dry out if I walk away for five minutes,” you say.

Noted. “Understandable,” Wells nods. “Thank you for coming, y/n. It was… very nice to see you.”

Smiling, you didn’t mention the fact that you saw each other every day at S.T.A.R. “You too, Doc. Merry Christmas!”

Harrison waved, a true smile gracing his lips. “Merry Christmas, my dear,” he murmured as you got into your car.

——bonus. 💋

Your jaw dropped as you got a good luck at the box sitting on your desk. A brand of oil paints—foreign and expensive—sat waiting for your arrival. Shiny and new and calling your name. Excitement bloomed in your chest and head as you stepped forward closely.

Swallowing, you brushed your knuckle against the thin plastic layer around the box to secure it’s contents. Who would have…?

“Merry belated Christmas.”

Turning around, you saw Dr. Wells’s gleaming smile waiting for you. His eyes held a kind of light you didn’t frequently see. “This is-“

Wells offered “not enough” at the same time you stated “unnecessary”.

“Don’t think about returning it. I want to be the first person you show when you create another masterpiece.”

Nodding, your eyes flickered between Wells’s eyes, determination and finality etched into his retinas. “I understand, sir.”

Wilson’s hand tightened impossibly tight around his phone. The dial tone was practically drowned out by the sounds in the room but he strained to hear if Greg would pick up. He had just heard ‘your call has been forwarded-‘ when another shriek came from you. Wilson crushed the phone as he came to your other side to take your hand. “Don’t you dare say that, y/n,” Wilson said, brushing hair from your forhead as you squeezed your eyes in pain. Shooting a glance at Allison, he shook his head. From behind him, he heard Foreman’s long sigh.

“Damn, mama,” called the doctor. “Baby’s just about here! You’re almost there, honey.”

You whined in agony, a vise hold on the hands in yours. “I can’t do this shit!”

“No choice, honey buns,” came the female doctor’s voice. “You see that clock? It says 2:29. You can get this baby out by 3:00. Do you hear me? We’re getting this baby out.”

Your teeth gritted as you pushed. “I can’t,” you groaned, eyes closed in pain.

“Like hell you can’t,” came a gruff voice. The sound of a thud made your eyes open. Your husband, cane discarded, limped over to you and shoved Wilson away. A wry smile pulled at his lips. “Hey, trouble,” he greeted, leaning down to kiss your lips. When you pulled back to squeeze your teeth to keep from screaming, Greg grasped your hand and held fast, welcoming the pain you offered him. “Faster we get this out, the faster you’re out of pain. Come on, wife.”

“Shoulders are out! Easiest part’s up next, mom!” Came a voice. You sobbed in relief. As you pushed, Greg kept his eyes on you, tracking the way your eyes flickered from being closed, looking aimlessly at the ceiling, and finding safety in Greg’s eyes.

“Baby’s out!” Called a nurse as your back collapsed against the bed. Tears streamed down your face, watching your husband shift his weight to catch a glimpse of his child and to be near his wife. “It’s a girl! You did it, mom.”

“What time is it?” You asked raspily.

“2:49,” Chase answered immediately.

Your lips twitched into an exhausted smile. “Before 3:00.”

“Before 3:00,” confirmed the doctor, a smile on her face.

Allison drifted to the back of the room to commune with the rest of the team. Foreman had his mouth covered. Chase looked at him, a playful expression ghosting hid expression. “Y’alright, Foreman?”

Foreman wiped his eyes. “Fine,” he answered gruffly. “I’m fine.”

“Can I hold her?” You asked quietly, watching the nurses crowd the preemie. “My baby? Can I hold her?”

The nurses gingerly offered you the small baby. Her mouth worked as she adjusted to her new life outside of the womb. Small cooing came from her vocal cords, drawing a soft cry from you. “Look, honey,” you said, looking to Greg. “We made that.”

Greg was sitting on the bed now, you leaning against his shoulder. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyebrows were pinched. “You did most of the work,” he said finally, an uncharacteristic falter in his tone. “Here,” he said, drawing a folded cloth from his bag.

Recognition flashed through your features. “Is that-?” You looked down to the baby in your arms and then back. “You’re such a romantic,” you said through a watery laugh. You shifted your daughter so her head was between you and Greg. While you spoke quietly to your baby and the medical staff bustled around, Wilson, Allison, Chase, and Foreman watched House tuck a medium sized blanket between you and the baby.

Dbf!Joel who is thanked by your dad profusely when you start to come around and Joel calls himself sick when he finds his cock hardening at the reminder that your body in his arms felt like a home he hadn’t had. He drinks a couple beers like normal with your dad, finding solace that your dad doesn’t know about Joel’s perverse thoughts.

Dbf!Joel who hears a commotion from Sarah’s room when you two are having a sleepover at Sarah’s. He hears Sarah’s tone getting higher and higher and your voice soothing her in vain. When Joel raps his knuckles gently, you emerge slowly. “Hi,” you greet. “Hey, sweetheart. Where’s Sarah? You guys okay?” You swallow thickly. “So… that’s… can I come talk to you in a few minutes?” Joel is riddled with worry as he heads to his room, hearing shuffling around the bathroom and Sarah’s room. Eventually, things quiet down and the usual nighttime quiet falls over the house.

Dbf!Joel who opens his door when you tap quietly. “So Sarah got her first period and she said I could tell you because she’s going to talk to you tomorrow when I go back home. I gave her some stuff so she’s okay for awhile, but I can always go and pick some stuff up from the store when I go next if you want?” Comes your low tone, being mindful of Sarah sleeping a few doors down.

“No,” a softer, shaking voice answers. Y/n. “I had… I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?”

“C’mere, honey,” Ryland pulls the covers up so you can snuggle into him, in need of comfort after your unconscious mind plagued you with nasty visions. His chest rumbles in soft cooing, your trembling body making his heart a he in his chest.

Ryland doesn’t know how long he lies there, feeling you shake in scared tremors before you tilts your head up and catch his gaze on you already. “I can’t fall asleep.”

“What do you need, honey? A shower? I can make you some tea, get you some milk. I think I have some melatonin gummies. What do you want, baby?” Ryland’s genuine concern for your sleeping schedule is real: he’s dealt with kids that unfortunately deal with an extreme lack of sleep which makes them ultimately less productive and receptive to concepts of science, school, and altogether the ability to function. Ryland knows that you’re young, growing, and need a rhythm. He doesn’t want his baby girl to be at a disadvantage.

Thoughtfully, you hum. “Milk,” you finally say.

Ryland nods. He brushed a hair from your face and starts to get up. Imagine his confusion when you pull him back to the bed.

“Whoa whoa whoa, honey,” Ryland stutters. You—all sleepy smile and lazy movements—look up from your spot between his legs. “I thought you- what are you- baby, you gotta go to sleep.”

Your swallow, pulling the soft cotton boxers down. “I will. Please, daddy, I just need you first,” comes your voice. In the back of your head, you know Ryland doesn’t think you’re thinking straight, but you know what you’re doing. Seeing his knitted eyebrows and concerned eyes through his hastily put on glasses, you add with a pout: “I want to milk you.”

Without waiting for more, you go to work. Ryland’s already hard in your hand because there’s no way he couldn’t be: pretty young thing in his lap, his sweet baby girl begging to suck his cock… there’s no way he wouldn’t have a boner.

Spit runs down the side of Ryland’s cock as you let saliva run out of your mouth as lube. You see Ryland’s fists gripping hard at the sheets under his hands, biceps taught and flexing. “You’re so fucking big, Ry,” you say before dragging the top of your tongue from the base of his balls to the tip leaking pre-cum.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this-“ Ryland starts, voice shaking, not out of fear.

In response, you fucking swallow him. Lips to the base, tip to the throat kind of thing. Ryland’s hips buck up without warning and slam your nose against his trimmed blond pubes. Feeling him throb, you hallow your cheeks out and suck.

“Fu-Fuck, baby. Jee-zus,” Ryland whimpers, head dropping to the pillow behind him. His dominant hand comes to rest pliantly on your head, stroking your scalp. “Holy shit. You’re so good, so fucking goo-fuuuuck!”

His whiny expletives were cut off as you raised your head up and bobbed up and down to the base again, humming and letting your hands travel up his thighs to his abs to pull his other hand to your head. You pull off him, cock slapping against your chin. “Am I doin’ okay?”

Ryland raises his head to see you going back down, this time to swirl his balls with your tongue. His abdomen clenches as he realizes how fucking good your feel, how good you are, and how disgusting Ryland is for fucking his stepdaughter’s face like it’s her pussy. “Fuck me, baby, you’re- you’re doing great, honey.”

You look back up at him, a smile on your face. “Thanks, Ry,” you say sweetly before going back down on his cock. This time, you feel Ryland’s hands guiding you: slowly, nails scratching lightly at your scalp as he threads his fingers through your hair. His breathy groaning fills your mind and goes straight to your underbelly as you grind into the bed your sweet stepdaddt paid for.

Ryland, bless him, can barely hold back from slamming his cock into your mouth. He doesn’t want to hump your throat so bad you can’t breathe… but you did technically start this whole ordeal. Slowly, the teacher gets more confident: holding you down and shaking your head against his belly until his feels that delicious choking sound you make.

“I’m gonna cum in that throat of—fuck—yours,” Ryland says, “and you’re going to swallow it all like the needy, growing girl you are, right?” He asks, looking at your watering eyes. You hum around his cock. “I can’t hear you, baby,” he cooes, brushing away a tear. “I know you can do it, though. Daddy knows you’ll take all this cum.”

Ryland’s dirty talk genuinely almost makes you cum right there on the bed with his cock in your mouth and your crotch rutting desperately into the bed. He keeps going though, as he violently starts to fuck your face.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses, “you’re so filthy, you know that? Sucking on your daddy’s cock in the middle of the night for milk? Did you even have a nightmare? You just wanted your little mouth to be used for some warm cum in your belly, didn’t you?” When you moan pathetically around Ryland’s girls, he grits his teeth, abs tenser than they’ve ever been for your mother. “I’m gonna—oh, baby—I’m gonna cum,” Ryland groans desperately. “Daddy’s going to fucking cum in your mouth, baby-fuck!”

The obscene gagging noise coming from you end abruptly as Ryland buries his cock down the warm wetness of your relaxed throat, one hand on the back of your head, the other moving down to feel your throat work as you swallow Ryland’s thick spend. He almost cums again when he feels you humming happily around his cock, eyes watching his throat bob as you work him through his orgasm.

Ryland finally releases you after feeling you start to struggle against him. You leave his boxers and pants down as he pulls you up to him. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I got a little rough-“

You press your lips to him in a long, languid kiss. You toss your leg across Ryland’s stomach and he feels the aftermath of your own orgasm. “I liked that,” you finally murmured, voice raspy from the abuse of your vocal cords.

Ryland’s chest feels an overwhelming sense of relief: he never wants to push you too far. He kisses your puffy lips again and tastes himself on your tongue. When he pulls back, you place his hand against your stomach. Ryland finds you looking at him with a coy smile. “Besides, I think you wanted me to have that belly full of cum,” you say.

“Hi,” you greeted to the Eridian in front of you. “I’m ready for the day, boss.”

Irina trilled a happy noise. “Good good good! We will make good day!” She jumped around excitedly, circling your bulky frame as you followed her to the jungle gym you’d help create for the younglings. You were getting new suit fittings from Shuri weekly: she was always working on making fixes to your equipment to further incorporate you into Eridian life (as if you hadn’t been there for almost three years if you were correct). You named Shuri after the character from Marvel: her need to improve things reminding you of the intelligent and witty character.

Irina scuttled to the barrier of the property, seeing little Pebbles climb up and down and into and around the rock formations you’d helped design. Irina had noticed your affinity for the little things and had advocated for you being with them when you’d first started your life on an entirely different planet.

It wasn’t all parks and baby rock spiders and happy chirps, no. When you’d woken up, you were in tears trying to understand what the musical rocks were saying. You wanted your home: your shoddy apartment, plush bed, warm blanket, and friends. You didn’t understand why you were on a literal different planet with a literal animate rock formation and no clue how the hell you got there. Truthfully, you didn’t even know how you were even alive.

As time passed and you clocked the patterns of the music and actions that came from the intelligent creatures, you slowly adjusted. Of course, you were separated from them: your own livable habitat being completely different from theirs, but you learned to carve pictures, tap characters, and interperet all kinds of dances and actions from the other species. The first time you held a conversation with the familiarest of friends, you laughcried for a couple minutes.

Now, you were familiar with many Eridians: names for each of them, personalities that reminded you of people from your home, and had even become a version of a godmother for Irina’s pebbles. You had your own livable habitat, highly based off of Twilight: a forested, green expanse with a medium sized house surrounded by a teasing mist. It stored trinkets, clothes, and other things that showed your unbelievable existence on this planet you were never supposed to be at.

You and Irina spoke for awhile before Shuri bounded toward you. Free from her lab work, she chittered excitedly. “Good feeling,” she said. The large, green being shook with excitement. “So good feeling!”

Irina, mirroring her friend, started to dance with happiness. “Happy, happy! Why happy?”

“Do not know. Possible mate arrival? Excite, excite, excite! How are my friends?” She patted her large three-fingered hands on top of your protective suit. “How is my human?”

“Good, good! No busy day, watching younglings for now.” Irina informed the larger creature.

You nodded. “Suit is good.”

Shuri let out a displeased noise. She clicked quietly and you knew she was very intent on echolocating any weak spots in your suit or body. Shuri was very much a protective thing… but really the entire species was very protective. “Typical answer from y/n. Does follow your movement well?”

“Yes, it does. Very well, actually,” you answer truthfully. The last suit had been more temperature resistant but was a struggle to move in. This new suit was nearly as resistant but let you move particularly freely—something that you personally really liked. “This is one of your best yet, Shur. Thank you.”

The creator did a shimmy. “Happy, happy, happy! Happy day. I see you later. Bye my human, bye my Irina.”

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You woke to pounding on your door. The sound of your muffled name sounded urgent through the material of the building. Swinging your legs from your comfy bed, you padded to the door. “What’s—?”

“Human! Human, human, human! Human! Suit! Now! Dress and we go!”

You stumbled backwards a suited Irina bounded past you into your house. Her jumping shook the frame of your house and vibrated the remaining tiredness out of your body. “What?”

Irina, comically, slumped to the ground in a pile of limbs surrounded by a glinting suit. “Y/n needs understand. Human. Now. Shuri’s mate arrive. We go, you see human, Shuri’s mate. Go! Fast, fast, fast!”

As you reviewed your clothing adornments, you paused. The first human being in three whole years. You hadn’t had contact with anyone even remotely near Earth in three. Years. It was a wonder you hadn’t gone insane. Or maybe you already did. Finally, you shrugged. Your sleepshorts and shirt were decent.

You followed a bounding Irina out of the biodome. Again you thinked your stars for Shuri and her ability to create something that allowed you to jog to catch up to the friend in front of you.

Shuri’s lab was surrounded by Eridians: friends, family, and others. You’d known about the journey that Shuri’s mate had been on. It was about half a full human lifetime ago when the team was sent out and every year on the day of the launch, Shuri had her closest friends to her home to dance. (When you inquired about why dancing was occuring, a friend of Shuri’s explained that her mate was to be remembered with fondness for his bravery. You reasoned to yourself that it was also a kind of way for the Eridians to keep hope for their family against the unknown of space.)

You fit through the crowd easily, Eridians from far and wide knew of you—obviously—and your relation to the people around you. It was hard to miss an outlier among a crowd, anyway. A ship was spotted in the distance, something you recognized vaguely from one of Shuri’s carvings.

Excited trilling buzzed around the atmosphere and you heard the song of your name being sung. You wove through small and large Eridians, green and blues and rusty red creatures who parted with more kindness and empathy than most humans on your home planet. Bizarrely comforting, really. With Irina bounding excitedly in front of you, the pair of you swiftly saw…

“Another human,” you murmured. You ceased all movement immediately: the pure shock had you genuinely paralyzed. Your time as an alien had given you much time for introspection. Quite frankly, you understood that you may never go back to Earth and were genuinely okay with it. Along with that fact came the realization that you will never see another human again. Though, you eventually accepted that you had to take the wins (annoyingly protective and curiously caring Eridians interested in your fragile wellbeing) with the losses (never seeing another homo sapien and never clocking into work again).

Ryland was listening partially to Rocky’s rapid introductions and excited words and partially being overwhelmed by the amount of Eridians around him: some towering over him by twenty feet, some smaller than Rocky. He mused to himself how interesting it was to see a positive response from such a large crowd… something pretty foreign back home. Finally, Rocky got Grace’s attention when he extended one little finger into the crowd and then he saw you.

A faded Pink Floyd shirt stood stark against the reds and browns and greens and teals. You were still, eyebrows widened in a kind of surprise that Ryland was sure he was mirroring. He saw you swallow, blink, and swallow again. He was about to lift his hand in a wave when an Eridian a little bit bigger than Rocky—a forest green—repeatedly bumped your thigh. You softened and your hands rose as you began to talk with this Eridian. With no equipment. Ryland’s eyebrows crept even further up to his hairline: this human had been here long enough to know and speak Eridian.

“-Adrian say another human! Grace have other friend than Rocky. Hm. Is okay. Adrian like other human much much much!” Rocky tells Grace. “Talk to human friend. Go go go. Rocky save Grace social life! Good friend Rocky.”

Ryland peers at Rocky sideways. “There’s nothing wrong with my social life. I’m offended, Rock, honestly.”

Rocky chittered. “Human brain funny. I hear heartbeat fast. Go talk. I miss my mate, my family. Least you do is talk to only other human.”

At Rocky’s sudden seriousness (and his own curiosity… and you walking up and leaning against Adrian’s hulking form), Ryland swallows his anxiety.

“Hi Shuri,” you whistle.

Shuri/Adrian trills. “Y/n! Y/n, meet Grr-Ayce,” the Eridian says to you. When Grace blinks at you, you tilt your head.

“You don’t know Eridian do you?”

Ryland shakes his head. “Uh- no. No, I- I made a kind of transition device. Rocky’d say a word, I’d record it. It was… I don’t know Eridian.”

You nod your head. “I can help.” You lean your helmeted head on Shuri/Adrian’s leg. “Shur, is this the mate you tell me much about?”

Shuri/Adrian quirks up and down. “Yes! Yes yes yes!”

Ryland falls back and observes you conversing easily with some talking rocks. You smile and lean your head back when Rocky says something the follows a little shimmy. You soften at the way Rocky gestures to the circle of Shuri-colored stone embedded in one of his arms. In a way unfamiliar to Ryland, he feels a warmth just above his navel and a haziness at the back of his head, above his neck. He can’t wait to talk to you.

It’s only when you stand up from Shuri’s form does Ryland step forward. “You want to take a shower, maybe get some sleep in a real bed? I let Rocky and Shuri know you can stay with me for awhile if you want.”

Ryland nods. “Yeah! Yes, I’d honestly love to shower. I think anything is better than the water pressure on our ship.”

You nod. “Follow me and be amazed,” you say, running your fisted knuckle up your forarm to Shuri (Adrian?) and Irina. “So… Adrian? Is that what you call Rocky’s mate?”

Ryland nods. “Yeah. I obviously didn’t have an exact translation, so I just picked one. I like Shuri, though. Very intelligent character,” Ryland says.

A smile pulls at your lips. Someone that knows about the Marvel Cinematic Universe. “Yes! Shur really embodies the ‘okay but we can always make it better’ energy.”

Ryland nods. He is significantly slower than you: his bulky suit nothing compared to your slim, able one. As embarrassing it is to have you walk slower, Ryland is happy because it gives him the opportunity to talk to another human! Speaking of which— “So… pardon my blunt curiosity… how the hell did you get here?”

His confusion hightens tenfold when you start to laugh. “Uhh… well! That’s kinda the million dollar question. I… I really don’t know.” You look at him and shrug. “I remember that I tripped and was falling backwards, then I passed out. I woke up and…” you raise your palms and gesture at the world around you, “I was in a hamster ball surrounded by rock spiders that made very pretty music. The rest, I guess, is history.”

“How long have you been here?”

That question makes you sigh. “About three years. I dont have an exact date, but I know I’m going on three years. Enough about me. Perfect timing, too! This is my home,” you say. A large expanse of Xenonite stretches further than Ryland can see. “Shuri was convinced I needed more room than necessary. Anyway, when you want to enter the biodome…”

☄︎₊˚⊹☆

You were lounging on the couch that Shuri had made (firm enough to support your joints and just soft enough to make you sleepy), using the constructed paper, ink, and pen to sketch out a bird. The feathers were your favorite: a cohesive mess of lines and self-made softness that could be used to propel such a small body into the air to soar. You liked birds a lot, often frequenting animal shelters to help your mental health, observe behavioral patterns, and enjoy what Earth could give you. You liked how they had their way of communicating despite the inability to express words like humans. You liked how excited a bird would get when it’s wing was fixed and healed enough to fly. You liked watching the birds dance in the sky and on the ground. You liked the kind of freedom they symbolized: despite gravity constantly pulling them down they always found a way to surpass constraints and fly.

“Hi.”

Your back tensed and your head whipped up. Standing in front of you was Ryland Grace, looking sincerely apologetic and… adorable. His damp hair was messed up and surrounded his head like a scared kitten. He was wearing a shirt and pair of pants that you hoped would fit him (Irina had worked with you to formulate shirts in all sizes so you would have ‘maximum happiness’) and looking at you with wide eyes. “Hi, sorry.”

Ryland shook his head. “No, no, I scared you. I’m sorry. Can I sit?”

You nodded. “Of course. Was the shower nice?”

Ryland nodded, a genuine smile cracking open on his face. “Yes. It was great. Thank you, again.”

You nodded. “You don’t have to be so formal, you know. I’m not going to bite.”

Something in your chest squeezed when the blond man let out a laugh. It rumbled his chest and highlighted the pecs under the worn out shirt. “Sorry. I’m just…”

You offered “Awkward?” at the same time Ryland said “nervous.”

This time the both of you laughed. Ryland shrugged easily, shoulder sinking as he relaxed further in your company. “I mean, awkward works. But mostly I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“Uh, I mean, you’re the only human I’ve spoken to in I don’t know how long. You’re… really smart and pretty and also on a foreign planet. I’m just pretty nervous all around, I’d say,” Ryland finished.

You nod. “I get the foreign planet one. I’m not that smart though.”

Ryland’s mouth drops. “You know Eridian.”

Blinking, you nod.

“Figuring out a language based entirely off of yourself and no translation device is genuinely very smart. I’m very impressed. And—not to make this about myself—but clearly I would know something about smart if I was sent up to save the stars in the milky way. Also, I have a PhD, so if you don’t take the compliment, that’s… dumb.”

You laugh brightly at Ryland’s rant, finding his offensive reaction to your words about yourself endearing. “Guess I’m dumb,” you say, egging him on.

Ryland throws his hands up and melts against the couch with a loud groan. “This is going to be a long rest of my life if you argue like this about everything!” He complains.

Your giggling, though, makes Ryland smile against his hands. “It’s okay, you’ll get used to it!”

Ryland turns when he feels the weight of your gaze prickling at the skin between his shoulderblades and scalp. Your head is tilted a little bit, a smile on your face as you watch Ryland move toward you.

He barely murmurs a small “hi” before he’s got his lips on yours, feeling the rushing blood under his fingertips as he brings his hands to your waist. Slipping his hands under your shirt, Ryland feels the warmth radiating through your lower back and feels a pulsing in his own body. Feeling you, here and now, hot and loving him was just… an answer to a prayer he’d forgotten he’d asked for.

You do that thing where you press your front to his after your pointer finger sloooowwwly pulls him closer to you by his belt loop, and damn is Ryland a goner. You groan a little into Ryland’s mouth when he pulls you up and towards him: the sheer tangibility of his want only adding to the lust in your mind. You feel the little spikes of his hair as you slowly bring your hands up to the nape of his neck to feel him and then the smoothness of his skin as you bring your hands to his face in any attempt to mold you two impossibly closer.

Only when you start to feel your head physically weigh heavier and when you hear the loud whooshing of your blood behind your ears do you force yourself away. Panting, you see Ryland’s eyebrows screwed up. He whines and rests his forhead on your chest: how could you be so cruel as to pull away from him? Ugh. “I’m hard,” he whispers.

You chuckle breathlessly. “What’d you say?”

Ryland looks up: the epitome of want and desire and undercover eroticism. “I’m fucking hard.” His hand reaches for yours and he palms the back of your hand. Eyes locked on yours as he brings your hand to the crotch of his pants to make you feel just what you do to him. The way his throat vibrates with a barely withheld whimper when you palm him makes you want to drop his pants right then and there. “Y/n.”

An evil glint is in your eyes. “I love when this happens.”

Ryland groans, this time from embarrassment. “I love that you love it but I- it happens so often.”

So boom you’re in the car, sitting on the far right side. Ryland’s right hand clutches desperately at the handle on the side of the door and the other is wrapped around your stomach, pressing your warm body flush against his chest. Speaking of body, you’re wearing a bikini and a sheer white little coverup: the two colored triangles covering your bouncing tits are both a boon and a threat. Ryland, frankly, is grateful for them being there because if he saw just a little bit more of your skin he would probably do something very unsavory…

Oh but then comes the bridge. Your shoulders tighten as your friends keep yelling along to the music. Ryland feels you stiffen and he leans forward, a rumbling “what’s wrong, kiddo?” He feels a pulsing warmth under his stomach when you say “bridge” and turn into him.

“Let me try something, baby, okay?” Ryland asks. When you nod, he inconspicuously pulls his boner from his swim trunks. Thank fuck for your chattering friends—if they weren’t this loud and obnoxious, he doesn’t think he would get to do this with his pretty baby. He guides his hardening dick under the short fabric of your cover-up and stalls when he feels the swimsuit bottom at the top of his fist. “This alright?”

You turn and a wry smile is on your face: you’re fucking scared of bridges, but you know your caring daddy is tryin to make you focus on anything but the fear. “Put your cock in me, daddy,” you whisper teasingly.

Ryland knows you’re being a little shithead, but it doesn’t matter because he could make you regret it just be not letting you cum. So he doesnt give you any warning, just lining his cock up with your entrance and pulling you down with out warning. Your molars grind as you try to keep quiet. As you naturally bounce and grind and squirm around from the car, Ryland wraps both arms around your stomach to keep you right where he wants you.