#cross posting

[400badrequest]

a bit presumptious | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

SUMMARY: Mr Murdock is a good boss - it's not his fault that you day dream about him fucking you.

WORD COUNT: 4.6K

cw: enthusiastic cunnilingus, gratuitous smut, office sex, age difference

A/N: ik i spelt the title wrong this is a cross post from AO3 here

Interning for Nelson and Murdock was supposed to be good. Well, it was, but it was exhausting. While it was definitely better than the other less ethical options there was always so much to do. Your desk was constantly buried in paperwork no matter how late you stayed, things to be sorted, filed, signed by Mr Murdock (“Please. I know I’m older than you, but Matt is fine.”) or Mr Foggy (“Better than being called Mr Nelson!”). You were beginning to understand why Karen said fuck it and decided to pursue a journalistic career. It didn’t help that the heating was always broken and that even with your scarf and stockings you were still freezing your nips off. 

“Mr Foggy left some files on your desk before he left for his date,” You tell Matt when he arrives from the cold outside, watching as he tugged off his bulky coat. “Said that Detective Sergeant Mahoney wanted a second opinion on them.”

The wind had left his soft hair tousled, and he huffs a little as he runs his fingers through it in an attempt to fix it - you bite back a laugh as he somehow manages to make it worse. “Thank you,” Matt says softly, a gentle smile on his lips. “I can’t believe Foggy and Marcy’ve been together for two years now.”

You can’t help but watch as he takes his glasses off to wipe the rain off them, immediately locking onto his soft, unfocused eyes. He rarely took them off around you and tended to slip them back on when you entered a room. Foggy had explained once that he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the empty vacant look that they always had, glazed as he looked slightly past you - and you’d never really quite known how to tell him you didn’t mind.

“They’re cute,” you offer as he walks past you to his office. “Mr Foggy said something about um- Danny being an angel? They’re going to the Met for dinner.”

“ Danny?” Matt says from the doorway of his office. “That’s one hell of an anniversary date.” There’s a fond chuckle in his voice as he turns around. “Ow.”

“You okay?” You stand up quickly, heels clicking as you dash to his office. He waves you off, hand resting on the edge of the corner of his table, fingers rubbing at the corner. Your breath stutters as you can’t help but watch as his index and middle finger part over it, circling slowly.

“Bumped the desk,” he admits. 

“Oh uh- that’s my fault,” you say, embarrassment colouring your voice. “I ran into it when I put the paperwork on your desk - I completely forgot to move it back, I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, hey it’s okay,” he chuckles softly, shifting the table back. “Accidents happen.”

You can’t help but hover awkwardly in the doorway as he sits at his desk. The only light filtering into the room is from the dandelion yellow street lamp outside, peeking through the slats of the open shades. Shadowy impressions of rain trace their way down Matt’s face, tinted glasses almost black. Your eyes trail down with a droplet that slips down the window, following as its dark echo dancing down his throat and shirt, until it disappears into the shadow hidden behind his desk. He hums, fingers tracing the braille of the file. 

“Do you want coffee?” You blurt. “I- yeah. I need coffee. I’ll get you some-”

You turn on your heel and beeline for the tea station that Karen had set up ages ago. Matt’s chuckle follows you while you click on a new pot of coffee.

It made you feel like a perv - tracing your eyes across him when he’s across the room, watching his hands flex when he held his coffee cups, staring at his scruff when he smirked. Foggy sometimes stifled laughter at your rising flush whenever Matt pressed his hand to your lower back to move you out of the way, or to figure out his way around an unknown space. It was even worse when it felt like Matt had caught you, head sometimes tilting in your direction when you looked. You knew he couldn’t see you, but still. 

You sigh as you slump against the counter, fighting the want to bury your head in your hands and scream. The crush you were fostering on your boss was just a crush (at least that’s what you told yourself). It stemmed from admiration - Matt was so terrifying and silver tongued in court, but kind and soft spoken to clients. And it didn’t help that he liked to act like he cared about you sometimes; making sure you were sleeping, eating, draping his coat on you when it got too cold, tsking softly and exasperatedly when you prioritised studies over basic needs.

It wasn’t helpful either that you’d seen the types of women he went for - slim, willowy and assertive. You… you weren’t that. You didn’t have the genetic gifts of mile long thin legs and a godly metabolism. Your tummy pressed up against your pants whenever you tucked your button downs in, and the insides of your thighs rubbed together when you walked. Marcy said it made you a real woman, not some waif - but that didn’t stop you from believing that despite his lack of sight, Mr Murdock would somehow know.

Giving in, you groan into your elbow as the pot dings, giving yourself a single minute. Then, you straighten your blouse, pour two cups - both with milk, one with sugar - and walk back to Matt’s office. 

“Coffee,” you say, putting it on his desk, careful not to place it on any paper. “6 o’clock, 7 and a little bit inches.”

Matt hums as he grabs it smoothly. “You’ve gotten better at that,” he praises and you flush as you lean in the doorway, trying to ignore how hot the coffee is as it burns down your throat. 

“I’m trying,” You reply, a grin in your voice. “Helps that you’re easy on the eyes.”

“What?” Matt startles with a laugh, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow. “Uh-” you stumble over your words. “I mean- like- as in y'know- um-” A small grin starts to curve at Matt’s mouth. “I watch you.”

“You watch me.” He rises at that, hands braced on the table. It’s starting to spread into a proper smirk.

“Wait, no, not like that.” You say, affronted. “As in like- uh- watching how you do things, how you move so I can make it easier.”

“Mm, really.” There’s a chuckle weaved in his words. “ That’s what you mean by ‘easy on the eyes’?”

“Yes,” you squeak, lie tumbling out. “Absolutely.” You can feel your palms start to sweat, and it is not from the heat of the cup in your hands. Somehow, Matt has managed to get around the table, now leaning on it with his ankles crossed, hand braced behind him. You can’t stop your eyes tracing from his dress shoes, up to his belt and hovering there before your gaze crawls to his face. Matt’s head is cocked slightly to the side, as if listening to something. 

“So the way you’re undressing me with your eyes has nothing to do with you finding me attractive?” 

“Jesus Christ, how did you-?”

“I’m blind, not stupid,” Matt says with a smirk, and you can’t help but swallow thickly at how the shadows cut across his front, biceps tight in his dress shirt. 

“Never said you were,” you reply weakly. 

“Vision isn't the only sense that humans have, you know." He says wryly.

“I know that!”

"Do you?” His voice is teasing as he steps forward. “From the sound of your voice, the way you walk, how you always swallow when I touch you - I don’t need sight to know what you like.” You can’t stop the shiver that runs up your spine as he takes the cup from your hand, placing it on a filing shelf. “I can feel the heat coming from your body, the way it radiates off you."

Your head bonks against the door frame as you groan, face colouring with fluster and embarrassment. “Shush. Shut up, sir.” You grumble, doing your best to not look at him. 

His voice is tinged with amusement as he talks. "What's the matter?”

“C’mon sir,” You whine a little. “You’re being unfair.”

"I never knew I could cause you to have a crisis by just speaking." Matt murmurs. You can smell his laundry powder - it’s faintly floral. For a moment you’re glad he’s blind, knowing he can’t tell you’re staring at the soft curve of his bottom lip. 

"I- fucking- I’m going home,” You rush out. "I can't do this. I can't do feelings, feelings for my boss " You moan, face hot with what feels like shame. Maybe it’s arousal. 

“Wait." Matt murmured, the tone of his voice taking on a more serious edge. A small frown pulled at his lips. "You don't have to go. We can just ignore this entire conversation - forget it even happened." His voice is genuine, gentle and concerned. “Please.”

You swallow thickly, having to tilt your head up to look up at him, door frame digging into your spine. 

When you don’t speak or move, a smile lifts the corner of his mouth. His step forward is quiet, and even with your back already against the frame, you can’t help but push into it a little more. “What do you want?” He murmurs softly, gently cupping your hands with his. The calluses of his palms are rough against your smooth knuckles, the contrast jarring. 

“I- I don’t-” You stutter, voice caught in your throat. What the fuck was happening?

His thumb lightly brushed against the palm of your hand, gentle and comforting as he felt across your love line. 

Matt took another step closer, so close you could nearly feel his breath on your cheek, his firm chest gently pressing against the swell of your breasts. 

"What do you want?" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You let out a small whimper, looking up at the scruff on his jaw, the aged lines on his face, the greys starting to grow at his temples. Matt- Mr Murdock was much older, more experienced. There was the faint sparkle of greys in the stubble around his mouth too. 

Without a word, he reached up and gently cupped your soft jaw in his hand. The pad of his thumb gently stroked across your cheek, and you did your best to breathe as he tilted your face up to meet his unseeing gaze behind his glasses. A flush had warmed your face - he could feel the vestiges of innocence in the curve of your face. 

You could tell that even through the darkened shades he was doing his best to focus all of himself on you. Your heartbeat thumped hard in your throat - hard enough that he could feel it on the fingers curled gently around your jaw. 

He leaned in slightly, his breath ghosting over your skin. "Just tell me what you want," he whispered again, his voice low and husky, a tinge of pleading in his tone.

"Please," You whisper, tilting your face up. " Please."

"Please, what?" He tilted his head to the side. He was so close, his lips almost brushing against yours. He could smell the sweat and desire on you, you were sure of it. "Tell me what you want," he said again, his voice almost guttural. Your eyes flutter shut on instinct - from need or shyness, you don’t know. Your free hand twists into the doorframe. 

You know he can’t see you. But at that he groans and holds you still as he presses a firm full kiss on your waiting mouth. It’s slow and gentle, and for a moment he just holds you there - until you groan just the tiniest bit.

It’s like a switch flips - he drops your other hand, gripping at your plush hip and presses you hard into the jamb, squishing your soft tits and the swell of your tummy into the muscled planes of his body. The hand that was once gentle on your face snakes up into your hair, tugging until it’s out and then tangling his fingers firmly at the base so he can manipulate your head so he can deepen the kiss into something wet and filthy. 

You gasp, pulling him in closer with the front of his shirt, scrambling for purchase as you twist your hands in the fabric. As your mouth opens, Matt licks in - he tastes like sweet coffee and spit and sin. A whimper leaves you, unbidden, as he continues to paw at your soft hips, body lighting up from the inside. You know your underwear is ruined as it sticks to your cunt, already dripping from the feeling of him on you. 

He made a groan of his own, the sound escaping low and deep in his throat. His face is flushed, eyes lidded as he pulls away, still holding you in place.

"Oh fuck-" You whine as he pull away, you bosom heaving against his solid chest. "What the fuck, come back-"

Matt wets his swollen lip, his breath heavy. You know that you probably look the same - if not worse. He leaned down and brushed his lips over the soft exposed skin of your neck, leaving soft, feather-like kisses as he used his grip in your hair to gently guide your head to the side. "So impatient," he teases.

At that you moan reedily. “Oh- Matt-”

His grip on your hip tightened, pulling you firmly against him. You squeak as your breasts squish into him, pelvis to pelvis - you can feel him thickening in his pants, a flush climbing your cheeks.

Matt’s lips rove lazily over your skin. He could feel your pulse flutter against his lips, racing harder and faster. You could feel his sharklike grin as he hummed softly against your skin. "Be patient," he chided, biting gently at your throat.

A strangled groan rips from you as you feel him slide the hand on your hip to your chest, gently palming your full tits. “Okay?” He murmurs quietly. You don’t have the brain to be embarrassed about the pudge of your tummy being smushed.

“ Yes,” you whine. “Yes, just- please, Matthew.”

That’s all it takes for him to break - his mouth is back on you, fierce and possessive. “Again. Say it again,” He demands between kisses. You hear a clatter - he’s ripped off his glasses, throwing them carelessly behind him.  

“Matthew,” you breathe out as you slide a hand so it's pressed against his firm abdomen, heel against your abs, fingers ghosting his belt buckle. Matt growls at that, dragging you to his desk roughly - papers and pens alike hit the floor. 

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He grinds out as he tugs open your pants. "Any?” “Matt-!” You squeak as he rips your blouse open, buttons flinging across the room. Your soft breasts sit heavy in your utilitarian bra, and he tuts when he feels it. His fingers are adept and nimble as they quickly unhook the back, wrenching it off - it skitters when it hits the wood floor. 

“ Fuck-” he bites out as he palms the dove soft, squishy flesh of your tits, roughly palming at your nipples. A small shriek pops out of your mouth when he twists a perk nipple, standing proud in the cold. In turn you start to fumble with his belt but he gently smacks your hand away, dropping to his knees.

“Matthew?” You ask confused - but he shoves his way forward, lifting one of your legs so it's hooked over his shoulder. Embarrassment floods your face when he mashes his face directly up against your clothed cunt.

“Matt!” you can help but protest, as he groans and you yelp as you feel him grab at the zip and rip your fucking pants so that your drenched panties are on display. “ Fuck,” He snarls, hands on your soft thighs, fingering at your stretch marks, kneading at them. “I can smell you from here.” Matt sounds enamoured, and he whines as he presses his nose to your soaked cunt, lapping at the cloth. 

“Oh my guh-” You can’t get the full word out - he shoves your panties to the side, latching onto your clit with his mouth and sucking. Your brain shorts out for a moment, all forms of conscious thought disappearing. His moans are almost as loud as yours when he finally unlatches to smack the flat of his tongue against your wet messy slit. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt whines, throaty and wrecked. Your heart stops for a moment when you look at him, where he’s cradled in your thighs - for the first time, you can see the proper softness in his unseeing gaze, the longing crease between his eyebrows. “Can I-”

“Yes, yes,” You rush out, nodding frantically. “ Please, Matthew.”

Normally, Matt was incredibly pedantic about making sure his partners knew what they were agreeing too - but you. You . You made him toss common sense on the window. He groans and shoves his face back into your slick cunt, ignoring your yelp when your legs are stretched open further to accommodate his broad shoulders. He stands so he can shove harder into your wetness, cheeks smearing your arousal everywhere. Spit and slick dribbles down your taint and arse and over Matt’s stubble - but he can’t find himself to care as he laps at you, trying to eat his fill. The rasp of his five o’clock shadow against your hole is sickeningly delicious. The smell of your arousal was so heady and intoxicating that he couldn’t even find it in him to be embarrassed at how desperate he was acting.

He can’t help but groan, realising you can barely see him over the chub of your mons and plush tummy. Your body is so delightfully soft and Matt can’t resist the urge to grab and paw at your soft pudge - your stomach, your padded hips, your thighs. The way your heart ticks faster when he starts grabbing at you only urges him on more. One of his hands drifts back to your swollen clit, still sensitive and puffy from being sucked on - your hand grabbing firmly at his hair when he starts deftly rubbing tight circles as it. The pulling and yowling seems to encourage him of anything, licking more firmly. 

The press of his fingers, the fingers you’d spent hours daydreaming about, finally press into your sloppy hole as he switches his mouth back to your clit. “Are you even breathing?” You can’t help but ask - the rumble of his laugh tells you he’s probably not doing it enough. “Oh fu-” Your back bows as he rubs methodically against the spongy bit at the roof of your cunt, stupid noises babbling out of you when you grip at his hair. “Ma- Matt, Matthew, oh God, oh o -”

His fingers stop moving as much, just pressing hard as your cunt starts to seize, your body curling tightly as your muscles tighten immensely at the precipice of your orgasm. Your clit twitches as the nerves under the skin continue to be abused by Matt’s mouth that was firmly suctioned to flesh directly under your soft mons. His nose was pressed into the flesh, squished happily into you. A hiccuped noise of pleasure rips out of you, reedy and desperate. “I- Plea-”

He doesn’t stop when you cum - he pulls his fingers out of you, yes, but he immediately starts lapping at your now puffy and leaky cunt like a dog, as if desperate to make sure he eats all of your dripping slick and cum. You shriek a little as he shifts you, licking at your taint to clean up all of it. “Mat- that- oh my god-”

“ Fuck , you’re such a good fucking girl,” Matt says, desperately out of breath. Your slick and his spit shines on the lower half of his face, and he doesn’t even attempt to wipe it off before standing and dropping his weight onto you to grab your face, kissing you wetly. You can taste your own thick arousal in his mouth, and can’t help but squeal when the seat of his pants bumps up against your sensitive sex.

“T-thank you-” You hiccup out between the press of his open mouth to yours. “I- please lemme-”

“Yeah sweetheart, hold on-” Matt rushes out as he tugs open his pants, groaning when his engorged cock slaps out against his stomach. It’s as large and as thick as the rest of him, nestled in a thatch of curls. Precum drops onto his shirt, and you can’t help but reach up and deftly unbutton it. Matt huffs a laugh at your gentleness - he’d all but ruined your blouse. Your eyes widen - you knew he was built and had some… rough history, but nothing prepares you for how the yellow street light dips and fills the curves of his trim muscles, the starkness of the thin gnarly scars that sit slashed across his full chest. 

“Jesus, Matt,” you exhale, fingers gently tracing them. His expression softens as he hears the concern taint your arousal. 

“I’m okay,” He murmurs, pressing his forehead to the roundness of your shoulder. His hands are gentle as he pulls you away from running your own over the scars - not to stop you, but to comfort. “It was a long time ago.”

You know there’s nothing you can say here - so you let him guide your face up so he can kiss you silly again, the head of his cock nudging at your cunt. Matt takes it slow, gently laying you out on the table so he can grip at your hips, revelling at the feeling of his fingers sinking into the soft padding. 

“You’re so soft,” He can’t help but murmur, kneading at your hips like a cat. The raised smoothness of your stretch marks feel like a soft pulled silk against Matt’s fingertips. “Feel so pretty…”

“Matthew,” you whine, face pinking. “That’s- you’re my boss, you can’t say that!”

Matt laughs at that - a little disbelieving. “Sweetheart, I just ate you out until you came on my face, and I’m about to fuck you raw. I think I’m allowed to appreciate how beautiful you feel under my hands.”

“Fair enough,” you gasp out as he rubs the fat head of his cock up and down your slit. Matt groans, eyes shut tight with his free hand kneading your plump hip. The heady heat of your dampened cunt makes his senses blur at the edges, the world narrowing down to the throb of your pussy. 

“Tell me I can fuck you,” Matt says, desperately, voice rough. “Sweetheart, please-”

“Yes, fucking damn it, Matthe- ah-”

Your breath catches as he notches the head of his cock into your cunt. It’s thick and hot, burning you from the inside out. “You can take it baby,” He grinds out, teeth clenched as he slowly slides all the way in. “There- there you go, good girl-”

You can’t help but gasp wetly as he bottoms out, eyes slamming shut as he gently starts rolling his hips. His heavy sac kisses against your taint and furled arsehole with each careful thrust as Matt carves a space in your cunt, slowly driving himself in harder and harder , until the table starts to shake with the force of it, your little ah, ah, ah ’s turning into gasped wails, as he whines into your shoulder. “Matthew-” you sob out as he grips tightly at your love handles so he can drag you onto his fat cock in time with his heavy thrusts. “Oh fuck- fuck-”

“So good,” Matt praises, strained as he pounds into you, hips snapping. He’d lowered himself onto you, his firmness pressing against your soft plush front. “Feel so good-” his tendons strain under your hands as you try to ground yourself by gripping at his wrist, spinning embarrassingly fast towards your orgasm. 

“It’s alright, c’mon,” Matt pants out - he noses under your ear. “Cum for me, please- cum for me sweetheart-”

The noise you let out is high and animal, desperate - your stomach tenses awfully and hard, legs shaking as your orgasm rips through you. Matt’s arms tighten around you as he murmurs softly in your ear, hips still rolling gently. “That’s it, that’s it-” His voice is strained and raspy. 

A wet sob gutters you. “Matthew, Matthew-”

Matt groans into your neck - you feel it when he cums, your throbbing cunt ripping the seed out of him. He chokes out a curse, his weight dropping down onto you, sweaty and pressing wet kisses onto your throat. “Good girl, you’re such a good girl.”

It’s like lying in a dense fog when Matt pulls out of you with a wet schlop. “Oh fuck,” You mumble, blinking hazily. Matt chuckles.

“Good?” He asks softly, free hand coming up to cup at your cheek, thumb running softly under your eye. You whimper a little - you can feel the slick and cum dripping out of your puffy wet cunt, pooling onto the table. Matt chuckles. “That good, huh?”

Before you can reply, Matt hums, slowly ducking his head back between your legs. “Matt-” He shushes you softly. “Let me clean up the mess, baby.”

His tongue is gentle as he laps at the mess between your thighs. Matt can’t help but groan at the smell, the bitter salty and heady taste. He’d missed this - being able to indulge in a sweet used cunt, a woman sobbing in pleasure above him. With work and his growing affection for you, he’d lost the want for casual sex. Father Lantom would’ve been proud. Matt locks his lips to your hole and sucks, swallowing down the mix of your cum and his. When your whines turn from pleasured to overstimulated, pained, Matt pulls away, with a final soft kiss to your puffy clit. Then a soft press of his lips to your thigh, and your hip. 

Matt looks like a damn vision when he looks at you - face flushed, hair sticking up in every direction. His smile is soft and heavenly as he gently eases you back into your pants, “Ah- sorry about your shirt, sweetheart,” He says sheepishly.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re impossible,” You murmur, reaching forward and helping him button up his shirt - you’re still out of breath, and Matt’s skin is hot to the touch when you wipe the sweat off his brow. When he leans slightly into your touch, your heart stutters in your chest. Matt cocks his head a little, a small smile ticking at his lips, as if he can hear it. 

He hums, pressing a small kiss to your cheek - then your lips. “Hello,” Matt murmurs - his expression is soft, the street light seeping across his face like water colour paint on a wet page. 

“Hi,” You whisper, almost shy. Oh God, you’d just slept with your boss - your boss who was gently kissing your face as he dressed you. His hands are gentle on you, despite the rough pads of his fingers - like the rasp of sandpaper on silk. Matt chuckles. 

It had started to drizzle outside - the faint sounds of sleet hitting the roof soft and cold as a faint breeze sneaks in through the gaps in the windows. Matt doesn’t say anything - just grabbing his coat off the back of his chair and gently pulling the heavy material onto your shoulders as he tugs you into his lap. 

“Would it be presumptuous for me to take you out for dinner now?” Matt asks after a moment. A laugh startles out of you.

“Pretty presumptuous, yeah. But… I’d like that.”

[zombiecowboy65]

Accidental bitching bc every time alpha Jeremy tries to pop a knot alpha Jean wraps his hand around his dick and refuses to let him and eventually he just stops being able to pop one all together

[boxscreamz]

Even dead, I’m the hero - Ryland Grace & Colt Seavers (Project Hail Mary x The Fall Guys)

Originally posted to AO3.

WC: 1,091

Summary: Colt visits his brothers memorial, years after he saved the world.

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When the first flowers bloomed, the statue seemed to glow. It glowed in the new, rebirthed warm and soothing sunlight. It reflected and shined on all corners and curves. On the large concrete base, stood Ryland Grace, cast in copper, standing above the field of flowers and grass to show that yeah, I did it. For if it wasn’t for him, the sun would not be warm.

And next to him of course, was Rocky. Casted in iron, too. His arm reached up and was holding Ryland’s hand. They posed as if they were walking together. Ryland’s face showed a clear smile, looking out to the world before them. The world they saved together.

The base read: Project Hail Mary - A tribute to the man and alien who saved us all - “even dead, I’m the hero.” - Ryland Grace and Rocky The last line was inspired off of a Marvel movie. The people who designed and created this statue felt as if it was such a good line, they just had to use it. Ryland and Rocky were presumed to be dead, and because of that? Because of their research? The flowers are blooming. Clearly, the name of Dr. Captain Ryland Grace and Rocky would live on for generations.

There were memorial sites everywhere for Ryland and Rocky. When he was first sent out, memorials of all three crew members were created in honor. World leaders went on national television and read off their speeches loud and proud for the brave people who will save the stars. And when the beetles came back, they found out about Ryland and Rocky, and the death of Yao and Ilyukhina. There were statues built in all their honor, but Ryland and Rocky got the most.

The most popular memorial for Ryland was in Kazakhstan. That’s where Colt Seavers stood right now, alone. Colt was Ryland’s twin brother. They used to call at least once a week, until Ryland randomly went MIA when Project Hail Mary went underway. Colt remembers his brother calling him, telling him about the Petrova line and all the scary stuff that was coming with it. Colt told him he shouldn’t worry about it, then he never heard from him again.

It filled poor Colt with anxiety when he disappeared. But he was seemingly unreachable. Voicemail after voicemail. Ryland Grace is currently unavailable, please leave a message- Ryland Grace is currently unavailable, please leave a—

He knew Ryland was a part of the project. Because they spoke about him on the news. Dr. Ryland Grace, world's lead expert on Astrophage biology. Colt tried calling when he found out, no response.

Guess he was just shit out of luck. Until now. Because now he knew what happened. It’s been a couple years since the sun came back to full luminosity. The flowers bloom and the oceans melted, humanity went back to how it was- stronger than ever. But Colt felt the weight, the weight of his dead twin. The brother he couldn’t even say goodbye to.

Now all he can do is stand alone in a field looking at the copper casting of his brother, walking beside a literal pile of sentient rocks.

Even dead, I’m the hero.

How true was that statement? It was true, because of his brother's findings the Earth thrives like it never has before. And now if we face an apocalypse like this again, they’d go to Ryland’s research and findings for help… it was. Strange.

“You told me you wanted a simple life, Ry,” Colt said, staring up into Ryland’s copper face. “So tell me, man. What the fuck were you doing up in space, huh?”

He chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye that threatened to fall. He wouldn’t cry, not here.

“They uh. They released those videos you made on that spaceship.. uh. I wish you just chose to come home, y'know?" Colt let out a sad laugh, shaking his head. “But I uh.. guess I see that Earth didn’t treat you that well didn’t it? You make everyone who likes escapism jealous…”

He held a bouquet of flowers in his hand. White lilies and roses. People came from around the world to place things around the base and on top of it near Ryland and Rocky’s feet. Flowers, trinkets, stuffed animals. Silly things like that.

“I thought I’d bring some flowers. Like everyone else. The lady at the flower shop said white lilies are good because uh, they mean death or something like that,” Colt said. “Then I got roses because they’re pretty.”

He placed the bouquet on the base, “wish I got you more,” he said. “But I didn’t think about it when I got the plane ticket here.”

He stepped back from the statue, gazing up at it. The warm sun shined its rays down through the breaking clouds, beating down on the statue and making it look so pretty. It was a good memorial, Colt thought. His brother deserved more than honor, though. But Colt didn’t know what else they could even do.

“We still talk about you,” Colt said. “They’re making a movie. They wanted me to act in it, but I declined.”

He was quiet for a few moments, the cool breeze rustling his hair.

“The school you taught at has a memorial for you too,” Colt continued. “San Fran's got a big one. But I think there’s memorials everywhere- like this huge one at NASA, right outside one of the facilities- yeah.”

Colt sighed, this was stupid. To him it felt like that but he knew it wasn’t. He put his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“I miss you, Ryland,” Colt said, his voice cracking. “Even dead, I’m the hero, huh? I always knew you’d turn out to be a badass.”

He wiped his eyes quickly, and he looked right back up to his brother's face.

“Whenever I look at the stars, I’ll think about you, brother,” he said, “don’t forget about me up there, Ry.”

He turned around, it was time to go before he started really bawling his eyes out. “See you on the other side, Ryland…” And with that, he walked away. Down the path of the field that led to the memorial, past all the flowers that bloom because Ryland saved the world.

Back to his place, back to California. He still felt a pit in his stomach every time he thought of his brother.

Even dead, I’m the hero. But did Ryland even want to be the hero…?

Colt didn’t know.

[s1eepy-0]

a look inside

[melheartsfrank]

no charm equal to tenderness of heart

The Pitt | Mel/Langdon

oneshot | 15.7k

Mel’s 30th birthday crisis leads her to ask Frank to take her virginity

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[precure-stuff]

I didn't expect this blow up of all things

[miaqc1]

396 crossposted works from Ao3 to Squidgeworld. 2000 to go. 😮💮

MiaQc - Works | SquidgeWorld Archive