#Tender for Sanitary Work

[kykyonthemoon]

How to take care of your on-period girlfriend

During that time of the month, you receive special treatment from him.

ಇ. Character x Female Reader

with Rafayel, Xavier, Zayne and Caleb.

ಇ. Tags: fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, pain & comfort

ಇ. Word count: 3k4

ಇ. Note: Some details in this fic are inspired by in game Tender Moments.

ಇ. Requested by Mỗi ngày nhặt một anh làm chồng and an anonymous reader on my ask box.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic ♡

𝑹𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒍

In the middle of the night, you awoke with such discomfort in your lower belly and an aching feeling throughout your body. You knew it was that time of the month; in fact, it was a few days late due to recent work-related stress. You didn't expect to have your period today, so waking up at this hour with discomfort all over your body was quite uncomfortable to you.

Your hand found the phone on the nightstand beside the bed. Rafayel has left you several messages and missed calls. Perhaps you fell asleep without realizing it due to fatigue. You decided to get up and use the bathroom for a while. That's when you discovered you were missing what you needed most at home.

You grumbled and switched the phone screen back on. You were reluctant to disturb him at this time, especially because he was attending an exhibition in another city and you were not sure if he had returned yet. But you were upset and missed the times like this when he took care of you. Just before dialing his number, your phone rang.

"I've seen you online for a while. What's up? Can't sleep?"

Rafayel's voice rang out from the other end of the line, full of energy still. You just answered with a few short phrases, summarizing the current situation for him and told him that you were about to go out and get the necessary supplies.

"Just stay there." Rafayel stopped you. "Do not go anywhere. Wait for me."

You were a little confused why he had told you to stay home. But just now, you were too tired to have the strength to ask. Besides, you could not go out in this state, when you just wanted to faint on the floor.

You washed and changed into a new set of pajamas. Luckily, you found a spare sanitary pad left over in the closet that was sufficient for your needs. As soon as you got out of the bathroom, you heard the front door open. Rafayel appeared there, with a bunch of bags wrapped in both hands.

“How are you now? Does it still hurt?"

You shook your head, primarily to reassure him. But glancing at your pallid face, he knew you were lying. And you were taken aback when he arrived here, at this hour.

“Didn't you leave Linkon for the exhibition a few days ago?”

“That event was nothing special. I was on my way home when you called. I stopped to get you a few things before coming here.”

"Just a few things?" You gazed at the mound of items Rafayel had just purchased and set on the floor. "Why does it look like you bought everything in the store?"

Rafayel grinned at you. He softly aided you in getting down, leaning your back against the cushion and placing your feet on the couch. After that, he began taking out everything from those bags, which startled you a lot.

He had purchased you sanitary products in the form of pads, panties, tampons and even menstrual cups. One of each type and brand. There were also several pain relievers, vitamins and more. When he noticed your amazement, he said:

“Since I don't know which type you usually use, I bought one of each.”

Rafayel laughed. And you, even though your face was pale, felt so content due to his silliness.

“You could have just asked me.” You responded.

“I won't be able to see your surprised smile then. Since I've made you laugh, I must be a fantastic boyfriend, right?”

You slumped entirely back on the couch, still laughing but murmuring: "You must be a fantastic fool."

Lemurians' bodies are not like humans, you appreciated Rafayel's efforts to learn about your cycle and care for you in this manner. He plopped down on the couch next to you, lifted your legs and placed them on his lap. His slender hands rubbed them gently.

“Does it hurt a lot?”

You shook your head. “It doesn't hurt much. Just mild cramps.”

Rafayel nodded. He still remembered you often got cramps in your legs every time your period came. He continued massaging your legs before moving on to your tummy.

“What about this place?”

When your lower abdominal contractions resumed, you let out a tiny cry. Rafayel immediately withdrew his hand. “Sorry… Did I hurt you?”

“I-It's okay…” You tried to smile. “I'll probably feel better after a good rest.”

Rafayel's expression shifted slightly. His hand returned to your lower abdomen, continuing to gently rub it. “There you go again. Just say you're hurt when you're in pain. No need to try to act strong in front of me. Did you forget about our agreement last month? Whenever you have your period and are so weak like this, I will become your bodyguard.”

In the lying position, you could see half of Rafayel's face illuminated in the warm glow of the nightlight. His eyes were both concentrated and kind as he continued to ease the pain in your stomach. Suddenly, you couldn't help but jab your finger into his face. He pouted and puffed out both cheeks. Just like a puffer fish.

“Okay, it's all my fault. Now I will let Rafayel take care of me without worrying that I'd bother you.”

"Good. Even though I don't know how to take care of humans, I guarantee you'll be satisfied!”

Rafayel joyfully grasped your hand and kissed the palm to make it less cold. He continued rubbing your abdomen, singing a melody that put you at peace.

“Get some sleep. When you wake up tomorrow, I will still be here, right next to you.”

𝑿𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒓 

As a child, you imagined your knight arriving in shining armor on a white horse.

It turned out that your knight did not have a horse, but rather a white Hunter's uniform and a coat that he had just removed to wrap around your waist.

It happened when Xavier and you had just finished dealing with the Wanderers on the outskirts of Linkon City. Late at night, an unusual incident occurred. You hurriedly arrived to take on the task, unaware as that time of the month had come.

Perhaps you were too preoccupied with work to remember when your period would start. After finishing the task, you were dismayed to realize that the blood on your dress was not the blood of the Wanderers at all.

Xavier discovered it through your frightened eyes and trembling body. Immediately, he took off his coat, wrapped it around your waist to cover the blood stains, and even carried you a long way home on his back.

Your arms were wrapped around Xavier's neck, your face completely hidden in his shoulder. You felt so embarrassed to let him catch you in such a messy state. However, Xavier continued to soothe and console you. He said:

"It's not a problem at all. You don't need to be embarrassed about this very normal thing."

Even though it still did not feel right, you said nothing more. You were exhausted enough, and your aching body was screaming for a rest.

Xavier took you back to your apartment. You thanked him profusely and quickly went to take a shower. After that, sensing the silence outside, you assumed that Xavier had returned to his home. Unexpectedly, you caught a pack of painkillers on the table. Next to it was his phone.

You did not intend to peek, but because the phone screen was still on, you accidentally saw the content that Xavier was reading: How to take care of your girlfriend during her periods.

You chuckled to yourself. It turned out Xavier was learning how to take care of you. Then, his hand appeared out of nowhere to take the phone back.

“Are you done? Take your pill now."

Xavier gave you a cup of warm water. You smiled: "I thought you went home."

He slowly dropped himself into the seat next to you. “You are so hurt. How can I go home?”

"I'm alright. I'm going to sleep soon, tomorrow I'll feel better.”

Xavier did not seem to take your word for it. He grasped your hands.

“Aren't you going to be in pain for two or three days to a week?”

“Did you just read that on the internet?”

Xavier pondered for a time before nodding: “I... am not very familiar with these things. But I'll stay here until you feel better. Is that okay?"

You gave him a nod and a smile. Xavier got you a painkiller. After taking it he let you lean on the sofa, held your hands tightly, rubbed and breathed on them to bring some warmth.

After a while, your lower abdomen started to hurt. Xavier expressed concern as he noticed your expression:

“It hurts a lot, doesn't it? May I give you a massage?”

He waited for your approval with a nod before placing his hand on your tummy. He gently stroked it clockwise and inquired: "Is this better?"

You shook your head. One hand pointed to the lower abdomen, somewhat below where Xavier's hand was lying. “Here.”

“I see.”

Xavier's fingers went lower, causing you to flush slightly. Xavier said again:

“I only have two hands. One is warming your right hand, the other is massaging your belly. What should I do with your left hand?"

You gazed down at your hand. It wasn't chilly enough to warrant staying warm, but Xavier insisted on it. He also came up with a new idea:

“How about you put your left hand on me.”

You were astonished for a second. "Put it… on you?"

"Yes. Here..." Xavier raised his shirt slightly, showing his abdomen, and glanced at you with anticipation. You sheepishly placed your hand there, and he pulled his shirt down again. “Is it warm?”

You nodded, not sure what else to say. The warmth from his body made you feel heated within. Xavier proceeded to rub your hand and belly. Your hand, which had been put on his body for a short period of time, now became restless. It crept gently upward, to where you could feel his heartbeat quickening.

Xavier stared at you, considered for a time, then said nothing. Since he had let it slide, your hand glided down, past a layer of firm muscles, and then a bit further…

“If you continue to be so naughty, I'll get angry.”

Xavier leaned close to your ear and murmured, his tone irritated, but his gestures seemed to lean heavily on you.

Your fingers twitched slightly as you attentively watched Xavier's slightly furrowed expression. He went on to say: "When I'm angry, it will be quite terrifying. So be a good girl for me.”

Your hand, which was resting in Xavier's, was drawn to his lips as he pressed gentle kisses against it with heated breath. His eyes darkened somewhat; perhaps it was simply the light. You whispered an apology and returned your hand to its previous position. Xavier gazed at you with a small smile.

"If you're sleepy, just lean on me."

"Yes." You responded gently, placing your head on his shoulder and yawning loudly. No matter what the situation was, with him by your side, you would always be safe.

𝒁𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆 

You were astonished when Zayne showed up at your door late at night after his shift. Seeing your pale and fragile appearance, he asked you to go to the bedroom for some rest. After faltering a few steps, you nearly collapsed to the floor.

Fortunately, Zayne's dominant arms caught you in time. With one quick movement, he lifted you up with ease.

“Put your arms around my neck.”

Zayne said, and you obediently followed. He carried you to your room, put you on the bed, and drew the blanket over you.

"Give me your hands." You placed your hands on his. Zayne stroked your hands briefly to warm them up before placing them beneath the blanket. "I will make you some tea. Remember to keep yourself warm."

You nodded sheepishly. Your eyes followed Zayne's wide back as it vanished beyond the bedroom door, and you wondered how he knew you were on your period.

You were not convinced this was a coincidence since Zayne prepared you a cup of jujube tea that he had brought with him. He used to give you that drink on days like this. He said it would make the pain less severe. And it was true.

"Drink this. Then eat the red dates, too."

Zayne handed you a cup of tea that he had just blown to cool down the heat. He sat down next to you on the bed. You ate a jujube, turned to look at him, and noticed his palm was already open in front of you.

“Spill it out here.” He said. You looked at him for a moment and then did what you were told. Zayne smiled with satisfaction, patted on your head, then took back the almost empty cup of tea from your hand to it on the night table.

“Feeling better?” Zayne inquired pleasantly as he assisted you in lying back on the bed. 

You smiled faintly and said:

“Just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle bit better.”

He laughed at your childish behavior. “If it hurts too much, you'll have to go to the hospital.”

You frowned and shook your head vigorously.

“Don't want to? If so, you need to get a good night's sleep. When you wake up, you will definitely be better.”

You gently tugged on Zayne's arm, whispering: "So... Can I get special care from Dr. Zayne? That way I'll get better faster..."

He looked at you with smiling eyes then nodded. You shifted slightly to the opposite side of the bed, making room for him to lie next to you. He instructed. He said:

“Turn around. Then slightly bend your knees closer to your stomach.”

You did what he told you. Your back turned to him, and very soon, you felt the warmth from his body enveloping you.

Zayne embraced you from behind. One of his hands went under the pillow to lift your head up a bit, the other was placed on your stomach. His hand appeared to be large enough to cover your entire stomach. With a delicate touch, his hand began to travel in a circular rhythm on your lower belly.

At first, you felt ticklish and heated given the embarrassment caused by his touch. In addition, Zayne's steady breath was blowing on your hair from behind. He asked:

“Feeling better yet?”

"Yes." You replied softly. “Doctor Zayne's hand is so warm…”

You caught his quiet laughter. He pressed his body closer to you, while you just wanted to hide your face in the pillow. Then, you suddenly remembered what you had wanted to ask him just now:

“How did you know my period would start tonight? You even brought me tea.”

“Can you guess how?”

“Hmm… Let's see. You knew the exact date last month even though I didn't tell you about it... And the month before that too..."

Doctor Zayne allowed you to think about it for a minute. Zayne's knowledge of the days your menstrual cycle would start was most likely due to his perfect memory. Thinking about this, you turned around and his lips brushed your forehead.

"Eh…"

You froze for a second. Doctor Zayne gazed at you. He was so near that you forgot what you were about to say.

"You've got the answer yet?"

Your face became as crimson as the jujube tea. His breath danced over your cheeks as you responded:

“Um… I already knew the answer… Dr. Zayne is so busy, yet he still remembers my cycle?”

“I remember everything related to you.” Zayne spoke, his expression very serious and full of concern. You reluctantly turned aside.

"T-Thank you…"

You noticed Zayne's body pressing closer to yours. He buried his face in your hair and the nape of your neck, his hand continuing to rub your lower abdomen. He whispered:

“Get well soon. Although I hope that what makes you better is not painkillers or tea… but me…”

The corners of your mouth stretched out, smiling so widely that you could not close it. You grabbed his rough hand that was placed on your stomach and replied:

“Doctor Zayne has always been my elixir!”

𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒃

The door to your room opened in the middle of the night, and Caleb emerged, blocking the entire entrance. He was holding a hot compress bag, a glass of milk, and sanitary pads.

"I'm here to rescue you, Pipsqueak."

Caleb turned on the nightlight to see your pale face and unkempt hair. You were writhing on the bed, in anguish from your period. You could only send him a text message with the strawberry emoji and a sobbing expression. He arrived at your bedside about five minutes later.

He assisted you up, gave you some painkillers, and then pressed the hot compress bag on your stomach. You frowned.

"Do you need to be so harsh with someone who is sick?"

"It's on you for not listening to me. Even though you knew you were about to start your period, you still had the urge to drink lots of cold drinks. You only listen to me when you're in pain?"

You grimaced and rolled over on the bed. Due to your sudden movement, you got cramps in your shoulder blades. You cried loudly for help. Caleb just sighed in helplessness. He helped you lie upright again and rubbed your shoulders.

“If I'm not here, who would you whine to?”

Since you knew Caleb was home, you texted him. However, you did not say anything after that. The anguish had utterly drained you. Caleb couldn't stand to torment you any longer after knowing about your situation. He leaned you on his lap and helped you sip your pain reliever and warm milk. The hand on your back kept rubbing you.

"Is it so painful? "Can you try to get some sleep?"

You replied by shaking your head. Caleb patted you some more. "Then I will stay here with you. Okay?"

This time you nodded. Caleb drew you closer. He removed the hot compress bag from your tummy and began rubbing it with his hand. All of a sudden, your childhood came back, when you had your period for the first time and Grandma was not home; there was only Caleb. Even though you had learnt in advance that all girls would have to go through her period every month, you were nevertheless terrified when it arrived. Fortunately, Caleb was by your side. He raced to get sanitary pads for you, poured hot tea, and helped you warm your hands and feet.

At that time, you were really timid. And perhaps from there you saw the differences between you and Caleb. Both of you were no longer innocent children. This unusual feeling also steadily grew since. 

"Lucky you're here…" You whispered, a hand softly tapped on Caleb's.

"Of course. I'm always by your side, pipsqueak." He responded, then lavished you with several delicate kisses on your hair.

"Caleb… Don't disappear, okay?"

Surprised, he said, "Where can I disappear to?I still have to comfort you with your favorite meals tomorrow."

"Tomorrow…" You instantly recalled having a date with Caleb at the amusement park. But this unexpected menstrual cycle ruined that plan. "I'm sorry…"

"No problem." Caleb stroked you on the head. “You can compensate me another day. For now, you just need to rest well.”

“But I still feel like it's my fault… It's been a while since you could have a day off, yet we can't go out…”

Caleb smiled gently. He tucked your loose hair behind your ear. When he looked into your eyes, he said:

“If you're bored, we can watch the series you like together tomorrow. Or play some games.”

Upon hearing that, your mood brightened a little. You loved spending with Caleb, whether it was a date outside or just hanging out at home. They all brought joy to you.

Caleb placed a kiss on your forehead. He went on:

“Don't think too much about it. Go to sleep now so you'll have the strength to bother me again tomorrow."

You laughed. Caleb was always such a teaser, but that was the reason why you were so happy around him.

Coaxing you for a while, when you started to fall into a deep sleep, Caleb whispered softly in your ear:

“Being able to come home and be with my pipsqueak, that's the best kind of vacation for me.”

[margareth-lv]

😇🤡 She was a secular saint, and he was a clown 🤡😇

It's a good day already. The kissing scene from the Taylor Swift concert has done its job (@sgiandubh, you're a true treasure of our fandom!).

Well, here we are in June 2024, Caitríona has been 'married' to Mr McWalking Dead for almost five years and not more than a week ago Sam was strolling hand in hand with a trollop (quoting Jenny Murray), he in the gutter, she with her mouth taped shut.

And suddenly our two lovebirds are kissing in public like two teenagers in love. She, a 'married woman' of considerable experience, he, a prostitute's client.

You know what I think? I think that true love always wins. And I say this as a grown-up woman, as a mother of children, as an adult with a serious job.

I am not some kind of exalted teenager, and yet I believe that true love will triumph over hate and contempt, over all kinds of negative energy. All obstacles can be overcome by the power of love.

*** *** ***

So it's a good day because that's what I'm here for. I am here for love, however lofty that may sound. I'm not here for Caitríona, nor am I here for Sam. I have no interest in either of them individually.

I am drawn to the energy and power that comes from their interaction. True love is bigger and more important than the people involved.

*** *** ***

And why some people only support one of our loving couple, I just don't understand.

She's 'too good' to go to a Taylor Swift concert?

🤦🏻‍♀️

(I think that at that concert, in order to comply with any sanitary restrictions, she kissed him through a plastic bag, or at least sprayed him in the face with disinfectant before putting her tongue between his teeth. She certainly did it, you have my guarantee. Take my word for it. Even if you can't see it clearly in the video.)

Yes, she is a secular saint.

After all, she 'married' a guy who did not love her and showed her no tenderness. Only a saint could have sacrificed so much.

Well, when I think of Caitríon's 'sanctity', I think in images. So this scene from The Wolf immediately comes to my mind.

😏

And what about him? Well, yes, he is a clown. At least since May 2012.

*** *** ***

He goes out with a prostitute. He walks around with a handbag of blonde Valkyria from Glasgow. He goes out drinking with 20-somethings. He doesn't know how to have relationships because his father hurt him when he was a child.

Yes, he is a complete clown. He's a whole bloody circus.

But the power of love will overcome any obstacle.

[Photos courtesy of @sgiandubh and @diggsydogsquee. Thank you, ladies, for your work!]

[12 June, 2024]

[pearlofthesirens]

How dating Gaz would be like(GN!reader):

sweetest boy, loves you with everything he's got

definitely makes you visit his family asap, would love to see your parents too. might as well become best friends with them

didn't want to let you know about his job at first, but he felt like lying to you wasn't nice either. knows that you will end up worrying so takes his time to plan how he would break the news

gives you kisses now and then. when you're waking up, when you're cooking, when you two are doing chores together, expect his lips smooching you any given moment

loves to lie on you and rest his head on your chest, listens to your heartbeat

will let you sit on his lap and hug him if he's working at home and can't give you attention

(for afab!readers) surprisingly knows when your period will come. stocks up on sanitary items and snacks if you're craving anything

loves going to the gym with you, will spot for you. after each exercise, he gives you small head pats for doing good

will whip up a recipe if you want him to cook for you, might as well be the most patient cook out of tf 141 besides Price.

once you two are comfortable, he will let you play with his hair and maybe try hairstyles? i feel like since his hair is really curly and short, the most he will let you do is put clips on(if you promise not to tug on them and pull a bunch right from the roots).

will feel extremely grateful if he catches you learning how to take care of his hair type. probably smiles like an idiot for the rest of the day and gives you surprise hugs.

if he sees you giving him extra attention when you're jealous, he would intentionally try to make you jelly more often just to feel your hands on him. expects you to kiss him directly in front of the person who's hitting on him.

knows how to recharge you when you're exhausted from a day out with your friends or family. will prepare a bath, wash your hair, pamper you all he can. also don't forget all the kisses he'll give you.

since he's a soldier, realistically i do not expect him to be not fucked up at all. i feel like there had been some incidents at his job that has bothered him but he doesn't talk about those in hopes that the bad memories would go away.

i feel like he's the type to opt for therapy more eagerly than the rest of tf 141. wants to be better for himself and for you.

arguing with him might get dirty if you two do not handle it maturely. might shout a little but apologizes immediately when he sees the hurt on your face. engulfs you in a hug and kisses you, repeatedly saying "I'm sorry." and "so sorry, love. i'm such an idiot."

will put a ring on it asap. i don't think he's the type to make a grand gesture when he asks you to marry him. it pretty much happens when you two are cuddling on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket with soft music playing in the bg accompanied by rain. he places the most tender kiss on your forehead before popping the question. "wouldn't it be nice if you and i were married?" "mm yeah." "we'll buy the ring next week then, the prettiest one for the loveliest person I've ever known." "Kyle, you're at it again." "you're mine now, love."

doesn't really fancy any kids of his own. just wants to spend his sweet time with you after retiring, might travel a lot. will adopt a kid or two if you want to.

overall, such a nice boyfriend, even better husband. loves you very much and even though he likes teasing you a little, he enjoys the attention he gets from you and vows to never leave.

[luveline]

For zombieau requests, before r and steve make it to the college, the story of their first kiss?

thank you for your request <3 first kisses are confusing. fem!reader 2k

The beam of your flashlight is weak and stuttering. Steve has somehow managed to fix it for you yet again, but he's no miracle worker. Or, that's what he'd said. 

It feels rather miraculous to you. Nearly everything he does delights you these days, even his chastening snips. 

"You'll run down the battery." 

You look at him through the beam. He's wearing a simple short sleeved t-shirt, much more skin than you're used to seeing on display. His muscles shift under skin as he pulls back his hair. 

You let the encyclopaedia you'd been reading shut with a soft thud. "Did you know that our solar system orbits the centre of the milky way galaxy? We're spinning double." 

"That sounds sickly." 

You smile at him and put the book back in your bag. 

You ruffle through your things to get ready to sleep and sigh, irked. "Have you seen my– uh, my leather thingy? The square?" 

He sits up. His movements are distinguished in the quiet, the cotton of his clothes shushing against hardwood floor. Steve knows exactly where the leather square is, fingers slipping inside the pocket of your bag to procure the small zip lock bag you keep it in. 

You grind your teeth in your sleep sometimes, anxiety-driven, and this is the most sanitary solution Steve had been able to think of. 

"You need painkillers?" he asks, offering you the ziplock back. 

"No, not really. Just worried, I guess." You get killer toothache from the teeth grinding, all tenderness. Some days you haven't been able to eat, which is never good in these conditions. "I don't want you to have to pull my tooth one day. That would suck for both of us." 

He claps your wrist loosely, a quick and fond squeeze that genuinely makes your night. Every time he touches you is better than the last. Sometimes, you sit next to him, and you want him to hold your hand so badly it's like you can feel his fingers between yours. 

"If something like that needed to happen, we'd take care of it." 

It's a nice sentiment. In reality, an at-home tooth removal would probably traumatise you, or kill you via infection. 

"Well," you say, softened by his closeness, "lucky you, it's fine. It aches a little, but it's not hurting." 

He reaches into your lap, which is an entire thing, your stomach twists and your eyes widen. The heat of his hand ghosts your thigh as he clicks off the torch. 

You don't put the leather square in your mouth yet. You reach out for his side and use him to navigate the dark, lying down on the blanket beside him, hip to hip. Talking to him in the dark is your favourite part of the day. 

You take your hand back and drape it over your own stomach. It isn't long before Steve's hand is on your hip, not flat or caressing, just there, like it fell there incidentally. 

"What are we gonna do tomorrow?" he asks. 

You feel your eyebrows jump. "I don't know. Same as we always do." 

"If you… wanted to stop, we could stop. We don't have to keep going." 

He sounds tentative, like he's worried about your answer. 

"I would never ask you to stop looking for your friends," you say, trying to work out his angle. 

"I'm not saying stop forever. I just figure we don't need to always be moving. Not when you're…" His teeth click together as he shuts his mouth. 

You turn your head to his face though you can't see him in the dark, not one detail. You're in a small house in the middle of nowhere and the isolation hasn't felt as startling as it does now. 

"When I'm what?" 

"I'm putting you through the wringer." 

You understand what he means. You're not the kind of girl meant for this life, and it could never be his fault, but you're constantly on the road even when there's food for weeks and shelter. He wants to find people, you would never stop him. You're sick often, injured when you're not. 

"I…" You swallow. "I didn't realise I got to call the shots." 

"You do. If you want to stop, we'll stop. We can stay here for a week or two, we have the food for it." 

You're scared of going too far with Steve. While you know he cares about you indisputably, you're afraid —petrified— of his rejection. No matter how sure you are that he likes you, that he wants you, it isn't worth messing up what you have with the wrong assumption. But if you want to stop? That feels like a confession, at least in part. 

"It never mattered to you before," you say. 

True and not true. 

"I know," he murmurs, and you swear he's looking at you too, "I made you follow me around. But I've always taken care of you, haven't I?" 

"You have." 

"And I always will." 

Yeah, when you'd first met, alone and unhappy, he'd let you tag along with him out of duty and nothing else. If you hadn't saved his life, he probably never would have agreed to take you with him, because he has a fierce loyalty to the people he loves. If you got in the way of his finding Robin, there was a time when he would have left you behind. 

That time period was remarkably short, to his credit. He warmed to you reluctantly and then less so. And now he touches you all the time, your face and your neck and your hips. He zips up your coat for you because the cold makes your fingers shake, and he lets you sleep in the dip of his lap with your arms around his back, and he says nice things when you're not expecting them. When you lost weight at the beginning, he was concerned, and when you said you had it to lose, he was disbelieving. He keeps the good shampoo for you. He smiles when you talk, now. All these flags. 

His hand opens against your hip. You feel it unfurl, and the gentle thrust of him offering it to you. 

Steve works your hands together. Just like that. One of those perfect wood joints where the seams disappear, two hands linked together tightly, like they were made to hold one another. 

"Does the leather really help?" he asks. 

"I think so," you say, wanting more than anything to rest your face against his naked bicep. 

"Maybe you have a locked jaw, or something." 

"Maybe I do. Know any chiropractors?" 

"No," he says, tip of his thumb roving over the meat of yours, like he's marking down the lines of your skin. "I could try it." 

You laugh nervously. "I'm alright." 

"You don't think I could fix it?" 

"Not really, Steve." 

"That's offensive." 

"Letting you mess up my jaw rather than offend you, though?" you tease. 

"Is it bad right now?"

You make a curious sound as he sits up. "No, I already told you, it's fine." You feel rather than see him looking down at you. When his free hand touches your shoulder, you breathe out. "Steve?" 

"It's not gonna hurt if I try to kiss you?" 

You still under his soothing hand. His fingers brush up the length of your neck. 

"No, it won't hurt," you choke out. 

He leans down slowly, his hair tickling your forehead, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips and chin like a wave. 

"Are you sure?" he asks. 

You don't even think he's flirting. 

"It won't hurt," you say. "Please." 

He slips his fingers under your head and encourages you up toward him just a little. You close your eyes despite the pitch dark as he closes the gap, your breath shuddering against his lips as they find yours. He kisses you once and indulgently, a soft and searching thing, the pad of his thumb rubbing a  trembling arc under your jaw. 

You're still holding hands. Your fingers flex in his and reaffirm, worried he's going to pull away, that this moment will end too soon. 

He cushions your head with his hand and kisses deeper. At this angle you have to twist yourself to meet him, and you're quick to do so, kissing back with a shy ardency — you want to kiss him more than anything but you don't have a clue what you're doing. 

Like he can tell, he slows, and the tips of your noses touch as he pulls, nudging your nose until you lift your chin.

"Just–" His thumb strokes your throat again, saying more than he does physically. "Just kiss me," he encourages gently. 

You nod and almost bite him as he moves in again, too enthusiastic, maybe, your eager hand in his hair and your fizzing lips under his enough to make him smile. 

He's soft. He's warm. Your heart spins, hurtles. The earth orbits the sun, and the sun, the whole solar system, orbits the centre of the milky way galaxy at almost a million kilometres an hour. Steve's weight against your chest and his fond kisses: you swear you can feel it, you can feel the orbit, the spinning. You're dizzy with it. 

A sound disturbs the peace, ripping all the sweetness from the air in a millisecond. 

Steve flinches up, hand cradling the back of your head. He pulls the other free from your panicked fingers and grabs your shoulder like it might protect you from whatever it is that's coming. 

A silence ensues, the two of you waiting for another sound. 

"Probably an animal," he says. 

"Yeah," you say, heart racing. 

"It's late. You should try and get some sleep." 

You nod though he can't see it, heartbroken as he takes back his hands, as he settles again in the place where he'd been. Your hand feels strange without his fingers filling the empty spaces. 

"Don't forget your mouth guard," he whispers. 

You search the floor beside your impromptu bed for the ziplock bag, find it, and peel it open. You slot the leather between your bad teeth at the back and sigh, disappointed and exhausted and, somewhere underneath it all, excited.

"Steve," you mumble, disrupting the stifling awkwardness between you, "I want to keep going." What was it he'd said? He always takes care of you? "You know I'll follow you anywhere." 

"I know. I want you to have the choice." 

You do as he'd done, your open hand an offering over his hip. He draws lines in your palm with two fingertips before weaving his fingers through yours. You tighten your grip. 

If it's a choice, you’ll choose Steve. 

[doukeshi-kun]

Cannibalism stalker! Nikolai has me on a choke hold.

My brain has been rotting for it like ajheikwg ueu

Imagine stalker!nikolai comes to his silly campervan to see you asleep on his bed, and he has the urge to tear into your skin, rip and preserve your flesh, maybe even take a chuck out of it and swallow it so a piece of you would be within him, with him for as long as he lives.

He gently encases your frame and digs his hands into a wound whilst giving you plenty of face smooches, gliding his tongue over your shoulders before leaving bite marks stained with blood all over.

If he could, silly guy might rip open your chest to kiss your heart tenderly before setting it back into your ribcage, maybe still holding it.

Merge bodily souls with your or smth.

I'm kicking my feet, punching the air, giggling to a phantom over this rn.

But he can't, cause silly guy Cannibalism stalker!nikolai doesn't want you dead but he has urges so he settles for biting you hard enough to draw blood (●’∇’)♪

And even better, he's doing all of this with his hand intertwined with yours at the end of it.

And then, being romantic fanatic, he is (he is not, I think). He's bites around the base of your pinky finger, placing a morally and physically questionable bind that applies to you even though you're silly asleep and didn't say yes, but you will when you're awake.

When his teeth leave the flesh, prominent markings can be seen etched onto it, serving his own delusions. However, it's, of course, not something drastic.

It's a simple 'you'll never leave me' because he's silly and insane like that (he'll kill you if you do).

Ajjdndnfjsknajfjdbfjfj meow.

Being the silly clown he is, he obviously doesn't clean up the split blood just yet.

He lets your blood drip and seeps into the pristine white sheets of his blanket before smiling like some maniacal happy face clown because you are now imprinted onto his belongings as well.

Due to sanitary purposes, he would of course change the sheets and clean you up before snuggling to you and drift off to lala land to dream about ripping your body to chunks, piecing you back together so that he can obviously soak into your blood and fully, in physical form merge with you.

MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW MEOW

I'm mentally deteriorating from this brain rot, oh my fucking god, pray to the lorddd 🎣

tw: gore, vore, cannibalism, nsfw

surprisingly anon, gore isn't that heavy of a topic in my blog lmao but hear ye—! our dear laotianye has come to the rescue, doing the lord work!

mmmm i really love our silly guy is being SO tender with the heart like omg that's the organ that beats for his name 🫀 and brrrrr i love the thought of him doing it while holding hands like HE WOULD TALK THROUGH IT HE WOULD TALK THROUGH ITTTT

i also like that he would bite and make a bite ring around your finger. like yes bae, embrace that primal ferality of yours 😍 he'd probably get hard as fuck when you do the same to him. on a second thought, imagine stalker!nikolai is fucking you dumb and purposely slip his fingers into your mouth in hopes for you biting him hehe

and i like that his dream is literally about devouring and murdering you like if that ain't love, idk what is 😌❤️ also, imagine after he dreams about all of that, he just scans your body, not for lust purpose but he's imagining dissection marks lmao i'm gonna stop

PRAY TO THE LORD

[innocentlymacabre]

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Alastor McGumbo had a name almost as ridiculous as he looked, not that anyone would ever dare tell him so. He took a long drag of his cigarette and turned to his top hat-wearing client, an accessory he believed to be universally nonsensical. The job had been beyond insane to begin with, but it had only gotten steadily worse since work began; the chocolate river running across the entire compound had been the least of his worries.

“Look, you can make the ground edible, but to keep it cured and set you’re going to need to keep this room chilled. And for a room this size, that’s going to a few thousand right there – and no, you cannot pay me in chocolate. The answer to that question will never be yes, so stop asking.”

William’s face fell. “No matter, my good man,” he said, recovering with a literal pep in his step. “You will be paid in full. With legal tender from this here country!”

Alastor’s response was to grunt. He barked an incomprehensible order at one of his people, but the boy scurried off anyway, apparently having understood him perfectly.

William leaned over Alastor. Standing almost a whole foot taller than him, he was able to do so very literally. Everything was literal with William, as Alastor learned only too late. When William said he wanted pneumatic tubes big enough to fit an elephant, Alastor had just laughed – until the job began and he had to figure out a way to do just that.

“Anything else?” William asked in a voice laced with artificial sweetener. Although he apparently wouldn’t dream of putting the stuff in his chocolate.

Alastor straightened up and pushed past him. There was lots else. “With all the extra pipes you’ve got running through the place – the chocolate, the transport, what have you – in the confusion, it seems regular old plumbing has been neglected in Room 2. We’re going to have to rip up the flooring and lay that down. We’re looking at about a month’s delay there – and that’s if I can get Romey to wrangle a couple extra hands for the job. I told you adding all of those pipes would only lead to disaster, and here we are. But no matter, it doesn’t matter who was right – I was – and who insisted on eccentricity.

But, blessing in disguise, because the “cooking marble” you insisted upon for the room’s walls so that you could “roll and dole” – was it? – has come in but there are cracks in the shipment. I warned you that would happen, if you remember, so you can’t hold me liable. Ordering something that delicate from that far away, no way it was going to arrive undamaged. I can fix it, but it will no longer be sanitary enough to bake on. Even if you manage to get the health department to sign off on the rest of this lawsuit waiting to happen, no way will they go in for that.”

William seemed unbothered by the issues. “Oh, no matter. Pipe a little frosting into the cracks and throw it into a kiln. That’ll fix it right up without invoking the ire of the health department.”

“Uh huh,” Alastor replied uncertainly. “Okay, well, moving on. Those trees you wanted? Candy cane and gummy worms for vines?” Alastor internally groaned at the words coming out of his mouth. “They need two different soil types if you want them to continue to grow and putting them next to each other would mean erecting an impermeable barrier between the two, which in turn means an extended timeline and extra cost for the barrier. I would say move one of them to another room. Keep things simple.”

“Oh no, that simply won’t do,” William said firmly. He had been fiddling around with something in his hands the entire conversation but this seemed to demand his full and present attention. “Those trees need to stay together. Pulling from all sources of cacaotastic fauna is an unmovable requirement of what that room represents.”

Alastor let out a heavy sigh. He was losing his patience with this man. “William -”

“- my name is Willy. Willy Wonka. You’ll do well to use it.”

“I am not calling you that.”

“You are aware that all of these extras mean extra manhours, yes?” Alastor pushed on. “Come payment time, I don’t want you dragging your feet and whinging over all the charges.”

“Yes, by my estimations we’re already a hundred and twenty percent over the budget I gave you. How’s that? Am I right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I already said you’d be paid in full, so I really don’t see what you’re standing here for. And no, not in chocolate, although I still think you should at least consider it.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a squat square wrapped in yellow, a golden W stamped across it.

“I don’t want your candy, Willy,” Alastor pushed out slowly, forcing a tenuous smile across his face. Willy didn’t bring up the fact that Alastor had already pocketed the chocolate for himself. “I just want to make sure my people are paid.”

“It’s chocolate, not candy, but fret not! You just handle the construction and I’ll handle the little stacks of paper."

“I’ll send you an invoice...” And with those inspiring words, Alastor walked off, readying himself to deal with whatever new thing was due to go exasperatingly wrong.

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[bkh-s-7449]

In the morning, Florix wakes up early, like he always does. 

Lucidity comes slowly. His fingers unfold from his palm, and he can feel them. His long legs are tucked close, knees nearly beneath his chin. How newly sore everything is. It is his body, the one he’s always occupied. The one given to him. His Corpus’ first gift, alongside life and consciousness. It feels heavy, but not so much that it cannot be moved. He is just tired. 

Just himself. Just tired. 

Even with the dosage of painkillers he’d been given eased back, the clan would not let him clock in to his shift if he wanted to. It is no small part of him that does, naturally — the urge to be of service so entangled with his identity that he cannot always tell who he is in these moments of stillness. Necessary stillness. To what end do you hold a lamb that kicks and cries? Maybe for its own good. So he will be still. So he will learn his own name, his own face. These things are significantly more difficult than clocking into a shift at work. More difficult than being busy. More difficult than being obedient. 

Florix and The Highwayman’s dormitory is fitted with a bathroom. It is a cramped, tiny space — a willing concession on behalf of the lodging plans for Florix’s sake. Sanitary to an obsessive degree, yet cowed away from the public baths, discovering him apologetic and skittish in the emergency decontamination showers off of the laboratory had happened one too many times. While embarrassing in the moment, it is a constant relief. Especially now. After everything, he feels like he cannot get clean enough. It is the first place he goes upon dragging himself out of bed, fawn-stepping the entire way on wobbly legs, reaching without looking up to undo the closures around the neckline of his nightclothes. He shudders out of them, an uncomfortable second skin. He does not want to linger in the space outside of the shower. He does not want to do anything but stand underneath water so hot that it hurts, and hope the process purifies something out of him, chases it out from beneath his skin. 

He reaches for the faucet, then stops, his eye catching on the dressings around his wrists. Those have to come off, first. Simple. Obvious. Just think. Just think before you do things. 

He withdraws like an animal caught misbehaving, despite being alone, despite having done nothing much at all. Slim fingers slip beneath where the gauze folds over itself at its very ends, loosening it, then unraveling. The septic scent underneath makes him flinch, and in his effort to look away from it, from the raw and bleeding wounds where his skin had sloughed off, looks up at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. Something strange and sallow peers back at him. Its mouth splits at the corner. It has only one eye with which to look. 

It’s just himself. 

It is not often Florix looks at himself. Really looks, past the soothing ritual of getting himself ready for work. He does not want to. Had he changed? It is the logical thing he knows to be true, but he is not sure he would recognize himself, even if he hadn’t. Did any of it matter? He was made for a purpose, and it wasn’t gawking at himself. 

His fingers brush over the tender skin, shaking, from his shoulder to his sternum, over the stand-out relief of his ribcage. If his eye follows the lines of his tattoos, he can pretend he is not grotesque. If he does not acknowledge the other half, the lack of symmetry. If he can. He cannot. The lesions in his skin glimmer queasily, glaring at him through the mirror, all guttered flesh and infested filth. It is as if a part of himself had been flayed down to the sinew. His palm rests over one small breast, consumed by scar tissue, and if it is rough to the touch he cannot tell because his hand is rough, too. It is not an idea he entertains. He is disgusting. Humiliation stings at the corner of his eye. His jaw sets, clamping down on something swelling in his chest, crawling up the back of his throat. 

Florix-S never cries. Not on the clock, at least. 

He needs perfection. 

When he turns his head, he can see faint, discolored impressions on his face, an ugly forming bruise. This, he remembers. A wire cage fitted over his mouth, tightened restraints to keep it in place. An awful taste that still lingered on his tongue, condemning. But why? He was good, he is good. He cannot imagine behaving in a way that would warrant that type of retaliation. Did he have to imagine? Where had he gone, in that moment? He tries to move his hand to cover his eye, but even without fetters it stops halfway, bid to stillness by something else that he cannot name. There is an ache at the back of his head; a hole yawning wider, angrier. He had not gone anywhere. Fragmented, maybe, frightened into delirious submission, but never left. He can remember, if he tries. 

Pop! the stitches in his uniform. Lay bare the thing underneath. Worse still, touch it. Her hand had passed his face. Seething, terrified, he had lunged off of the table and bit. Bit until he heard a pop of his own. Until he tasted blood in his mouth, until it spilled over his lip, until it ran back his throat. He would have kept going. The hive would have kept going. 

He watches the way his chest flutters rapidly in his reflection, nearing hysteria. How his body heaves, fragile as bird’s wings. This time his hand manages to lift, pressing over his mouth. He gags into his palm.

Florix-S never raises his voice. He does not like to. 

He needs control. 

He screams.

In a fit of panic, he grabs the first thing in reach on the counter and swings it at the mirror, watching it shatter. It is not enough. Again. Again. He drops what he holds with a rattle, driving the heel of his palm into the splintering glass instead. It burns when he cries. A cold sheen of sweat prickles at his skin, growing feverish with exertion. In his agitation he nearly crawls up onto the sink, clawing at the hairline fractures webbed across the mirror’s surface. 

He finds only that he has brought himself closer to his reflection. That he moves in fractals, the image repeating.

That big blue eye stares back at him, a thousand times over. 

[mrsreginagold]

Fic: Immaculate Dream

Fandom: Nikita 

Pairing: Ari Tasarov x Nikita Mears (Nikari)

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Season 3 Canon Divergent AU. Ari survived and Nikita is not engaged or romantically involved with Michael. 

Summary: Nikita is very distracted by Ari’s presence. 

Author’s note: Blatant Ari fanservice drove this one, brought on by how Peter happens to be exceptionally gorgeous in blue (and out of it for that matter). 

On AO3

Immaculate Dream

            It was her own fault really. She had been the one to pick that specific set out, and now she had to pay for the decision. 

            The main problem was that Ari Tasarov, attractive devil he was, had the natural tall, lean build which happened to look good in just about anything. 

            Currently: it was a light blue, thin, slightly sheer button-down shirt that managed to hug the contours of his broad chest perfectly and clung to the muscle of his arms, paired with black slacks.

            The way the outfit hung perfectly on his elegant form only served to scratch at the itch to see it removed and discover just what hid beneath the layers of fabric. 

            Nikita Mears swallowed and did her best not to stare when the former head of Gogol decided to take a seat next to her before the next scheduled Division briefing. As he was sticking around for the foreseeable future and aiding with intel – it only made sense that he would stay close to her, particularly since she had been the one to save his life. 

            It was just luck that they were the only two people in the meeting room so far.

   ��        “Good morning,” he murmured, sliding his chair an inch closer.

            “Morning,” she flipped a pen around in her fingers in an attempt to appear casual. “How’s the apartment?”

            “Much easier to get a decent night’s sleep in than the cell they provided here,” he admitted, reaching for his coffee mug. 

            She plucked up her own, filled with tea, and took a sip. “Not to mention there’s a private bath, which is nice after weeks of dealing with our showers.”

            “True,” he agreed, blowing gently at the hot liquid before drinking it. 

            Feeling more at ease, she turned to speak to him more candidly, only to notice that he had left several buttons to his collar undone. Her eyeline strayed directly to the chest hair that peeked over his clavicle.

            God dammit Tasarov, stop being a temptation, she thought helplessly, her brain immediately going into fantasy-mode. 

            She imagined something decidedly not safe for a work environment: involving clothing being torn right off and the table they were sitting at being requisitioned for a long-desired lovemaking session. Probably not sanitary, but lord help her – she wanted this man. Badly.  

            Ari took note of the glazed-over look in her eyes because he waved a hand in front of her face, brows knitted in concern. “Earth to Nikita.”

            She managed not to keel over despite her precarious position close to the edge of her chair and straightened up her back immediately. “I’m fine!”

            His mouth twitched, clearly suppressing a laugh, and he placed a palm over her forehead gently. “You sure? You looked a little flushed.”

            Well, it wasn’t exactly how she wished for him to place his hands on her; but she’d take it. She leaned into his touch instinctively and shook her head. “Really, Ari, I’m okay.”

            Slowly, he nodded and let go. “You’ve been on several missions in a row lately. I can’t help but worry that you aren’t taking proper care of yourself.”

            Her heart flipped. “You worry about me?”

            “Of course I do,” his tone grew soft, and his gaze was tender. “You saved me; I would hate for anything to happen to you.”

            “That’s so sweet,” she murmured, getting quickly lost in the blue of his eyes. “When did you get so thoughtful?”

            “I’d like to think that I’ve always been,” he was leaning closer. And they were still alone in the room. No one would notice. 

            It was impossible to tell if he moved or she did but in the next second, their lips were brushing in a chaste kiss. 

            He pulled back first, to study her, hope evident on his handsome features that only served to make her want him more.

            She cursed inwardly when the door to the room opened and several of her co-workers walked in. 

            The pair quickly righted themselves, but Ari took her hand under the table and squeezed at it lovingly. “We’ll discuss this in greater detail later, all right?” He whispered. 

            “Yes. Later.” She entwined their fingers together, refusing, for the moment at least, to let go of him just yet.

            It turned out that getting to that promised point proved downright torturous. Due to how mundane all the reports ended up being, Nikita’s mind wandered directly to Ari, since he was sitting beside her.

            The thoughts became increasingly risqué the longer she had to remain there, not helped by her companion discreetly touching her hand or leg under the table whenever he had a chance. 

            What was especially maddening was the fact that his motives were entirely innocent. There was nothing overtly sensual about the way he laced her fingers with his. It was the sheer factor of his warm, soft skin brushing along her own that sent her whirling into outright fantasies that would make the most skilled of romance novelists blush. 

            She was part-way through an imaginary scenario involving strawberries when their boss, Ryan, finally ended the briefing. 

            Delighted, she looked at Ari and gestured that they should leave, when the head of Division cleared his throat. “Actually, you two, if you have a minute…”

            Nikita’s expression fell. God fucking dammit. 

            Sensing her disappointment, Ari merely stood and inquired. “This won’t take long, will it? I’ve been meaning to treat Nikita to a meal.”

            “No, it’s just that I got that request of yours finally cleared, Tasarov.”

            “A request?” Curious, Nikita rose as well.

            “Yes, regarding the tracker implementation. After what happened in South Ossetia, I don’t exactly blame you for not trusting our medical staff, but they were under orders from me and Michael at the time. I assure you that we won’t be putting anything in without your express permission. And Nikita…he wants you.”

            She blinked rapidly. “Beg pardon?”

            “I want you to put the new tracker in,” Ari elaborated, amusement crossing his face from seeing how red hers had gotten. 

            Embarrassment only made her color deepen and she cleared her throat. “You sure about that? I’m not exactly medical trained.” 

            Strong fingers wrapped around her hand, prompting her to look directly into his stunning, cobalt-hued gaze. “I’m positive. I trust you, Nikita. More than anyone else here.”

            “It’s a simple matter of being shown how to use the device,” Ryan added, breaking the mood slightly. “You can be in and out in about ten minutes.”

            “In that case, why don’t we go ahead and get it taken care of so we can have that lunch that’s been long delayed?” Ari suggested. 

            Doing so would alleviate her nerves on the matter, and as a bonus – she would finally get to see what he looked like with his shirt off, which ultimately was what drove her to nod in agreement. 

            Luckily, learning the basics of tracker implants didn’t take long at all, and the technicians were quick to leave them alone after. It was almost as if they sensed that what was about to occur would be a very intimate moment. 

            The concept was not lost on Nikita one bit while she ensured that she had loaded the device she held correctly, willing herself not to shake.

            Ari stood behind her. He’d observed the whole tutorial and was quick to place his hands reassuringly on her shoulders. “Breathe.”

            “I should be saying that to you,” she turned. “Are you absolutely certain –

            His mouth sought hers out, cutting off her ramble effectively with a much more passionate kiss than the one they had shared earlier. 

            Unbidden, a moan escaped her when he traced at her lips with a talented tongue, beseeching entry that she gave oh-so-willingly, and then exploring with a deft expertise that sent a thrill up her spine.

            As they embraced, he gently took the implant device from her and placed it on the gurney next to them. He then guided her hands to the buttons of his shirt. 

            She pulled away to focus on undoing them, one by one, molten heat gathering at her core the more his exquisitely built torso was revealed to her. 

            He sighed quietly when she parted the fabric over his chest and began to slide it down his arms. “Better?”

            “Well you’re giving me a distraction, so yes,” she glanced up, asking silently if it was okay to proceed. 

            He rotated his shoulders so the garment could be fully removed. 

            She tossed the shirt to the side and finally took a long, appreciative look. 

            There was something inherently masculine about a natural, yet perfectly chiseled upper body. The tone he possessed was not overwhelming but certainly enough to trace with her fingers, which she didn’t hesitate to do. 

            Her hands danced slowly across a taught abdomen and then moved up over his pectorals, pausing in order to stroke at the soft, downy hair that dusted his skin before she delicately skimmed over his broad shoulders and then down the definition of his arms. 

            She heard Ari’s breath hitch as she continued in her quest for discovery, prompting her to meet his eyes once again. 

            They stared at each other for a long, erotically charged moment before he lunged forward and kissed her soundly. 

            Nikita gasped, her balance staggering, only to be caught safely in his arms and pulled flush against the solid chest she had been exploring only seconds ago. 

            They embraced ardently, his hands wandering under the hem of her blouse, and she was incredibly glad that she had pulled a modesty curtain around the area because it was the next item to be removed. 

            “Ari…” she parted for air, and to regain a semblance of reason. “What are you doing?”

            “I’m evening the odds,” he confessed, toying with the strap of her bra but not going so far as to take it off. “I figure neither of us will be leaving until we’re properly dressed again.” His gaze trailed admiringly across her exposed torso. 

            “You’re quite a smooth operator when you want to be,” she remarked, reaching for the implant gun so she could finish her task. 

            He chuckled, low, throaty, and filling her to the brim with lust. “You were the one who started this by clearly undressing me with your eyes this morning.”

            “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that” she muttered. 

            “Pretty sure I wasn’t the only one. Or have you not noticed just how quiet this floor has gotten?” He caressed at her long, dark hair, which was down and flowing over her shoulders. “It’s like they expect us to make love after.”

            “Oh we definitely are, but not here,” she pressed the cool metal against the left side of his abdomen. “We’re going back to your place.”

            “As you wish,” he touched his lips briefly to her temple and steadied her hand with his own. “On three?”

            She inhaled deeply. “Yes. One…two...three!”

            There was a pained sound from her companion after the trigger was pulled, which made her quickly look at him in concern. 

            The worry melted away rapidly to be replaced by a raw hunger for the man in front of her. 

            Ari’s head was tilted back, exposing the slim column of his throat, his lips parted, and eyes closed. His features were frozen somewhere between a grimace and something far more seductive, which made arousal jolt through her system. 

            Then, he shifted forward and touched his forehead to hers, his eyes slowly opening so he could look at her, promise burning in the fathomless depths.

            She discarded the device she had just used and framed his face between her hands, capturing his mouth in another passion-filled kiss before steering him towards the closest surface. “Okay, maybe we aregoing to make love here. That is if you’re not in a huge amount of pain.”

            He laughed and shook his head. “I’m sure I can handle it. Besides: you’re worth every second we spend together.”

            “And we’re still getting lunch after.”

            This only served to release more laughter.

            In spite of all – she did her best to be gentle.

The End

[moralesk]

With its mouthwatering tastes, Bekus's Fried Liempo Silog surely makes a lasting impression. Every bite of the flavorful fried liempo provides a delightful crunch as the skin's crispiness contrasts with the meat's tenderness and moist texture. This traditional Filipino meal offers a delightful fusion of textures and flavors when served with a substantial portion of garlic rice and a properly cooked sunny-side-up egg. Even if the spice could have been a little stronger, the dish's overall flavor deserves a good 4 out of 5.

I immediately noticed the crowded and warm environment as soon as I entered Bekus, which regrettably detracts from the entire dining experience. Despite the unassuming location, the reasonable pricing of their Fried Liempo Silog makes up for the unfavorable ambiance. The location gets a 3 out of 5, taking into account the small amount of room because it might get a little uncomfortable during busy times. Bekus's is still a strong contender for people looking for a delicious dinner that is also affordable.

With their excellent customer service, the Bekus' crew earns a well-deserved 5 out of 5 stars. Customers feel respected and appreciated because of the inviting atmosphere the staff provides, even during peak times. However, it's important to note that Bekus's sanitary standards could use some work, earning a rating of 3 out of 5. Despite the deliciousness of the food, a cleaner dining area would improve the overall dining experience and guarantee more customer happiness.

[akshayenterprises46]

High-Quality 290mm Sanitary Napkins Available for Wholesale Supply in Jaipur

There has been a high demand for sanitary napkins in India, whereby the people are becoming more and more conscious about their menstrual hygiene and health. Amid this awareness, one product that has become indispensable for comfort as well as protection is the sanitary napkin 290mm, which is known for extra length and better absorbency. These napkins really work well for women, particularly on those heavy flow days, as they cover a larger area and do not leak. Among all the names that the city of Jaipur relies on for their sanitary napkin 290mm manufacturer in Jaipur, Akshay Enterprises is one such name. Here, we are reaching out to know why 290mm sanitary napkins are essentials for women and how Akshay Enterprises is working to promote health by producing those sanitary napkins of the highest order.

Why Choose a 290mm Sanitary Napkin?

This sanitary napkin 290mm has several advantages over the shorter ones, hence being a product preferred by women in terms of added security and comfort. Some of the most important advantages are listed below:

Better Coverage: Considering the length is 290mm, these sanitary napkins provide better coverage that can be asked for, especially on heavier days of flow or for overnight use by women.

Enhanced Comfort: The product being longer than others ensures that the pad stays in place and minimizes the discomfort associated with frequent shifting or bunching.

Leak-Proof Protection: The pads come with multiple layers and strong absorbent cores for leak-free protection so that women can move around freely without any apprehension.

Manufacturing Excellence in Jaipur by Akshay Enterprises

Akshay Enterprises, sanitary napkin 290mm manufacturer in Jaipur. It's basically a hygiene-care product company set to provide comfort and hygiene through our 290mm sanitary napkins. The company is mostly focused on the standards of international quality production and is tendered with the purest materials for use.

Quality control is strict and we check each napkin out one by one for absorbency, softness and durability. We consider sanitary products as essential commodities for women's health, so are absolutely confident of the safety, comfort and effectiveness of our products.

Bulk Supply for Retailers and Distributors

Sanitary napkins offered by Akshay Enterprises for easy or convenient high volume acquisition of sanitary napkins of 290mm size for any business which wants to buy sanitary napkins in bulk from wholesaler. We prepare our wholesale sanitary napkins to meet the requirements of retailers and distributors working across India so that they can carry sanitary napkins of superior quality at a reasonable price. We offer customized bulk orders based on your requirements with timely delivery and effective service.

Benefits of Partnering with Akshay Enterprises for Wholesale Supply:

Cost-Effective Bulk Pricing: Wholesale pricing ensures the best profit margins for our partners and affordability for the end user.

Flexible Ordering Options: Our wholesale service offers you the flexibility of getting your customized bulk orders delivered in time as per your business requirements.

Trusted Quality: Being a quality sanitary napkin 290mm manufacturer in Jaipur, Akshay Enterprises makes sure that products it manufactures will be good in quality, allowing our partners to believe in what they are offering to their customers.

Advanced Features of Our 290mm Sanitary Napkins

Our sanitary napkins by Akshay Enterprises are made from advanced features based on comfort and protection:

Soft and Breathable Layer: The soft and breathable top layer we use provides a silky feel, hence ensuring that it will not irritate or cause rashes.

High Absorbency Core: The center core of our napkins is designed with a high absorbency core, which would lock fluid inside. This way, even on heavy flow days, it ensures you to be absolutely dry and fresh.

Odor Control: Advanced odor-neutralizing technology helps minimize odors, making you feel fresh all day.

Secure Fit with Wings: The napkin has wings which stick on its sides to ensure secure holding and prevent slippage.

Why Quality in Sanitary Napkins is Essential

Good sanitary products prevent infections and ensure health of menstruating. Crude and low-quality sanitary napkins may cause discomfort, rashes, or even infections that may have a good influence on general well-being. Akshay Enterprises is committed to manufacturing sanitary products with the highest hygiene standards. Consequently, we ensure that in terms of best materials and production processes, our products not only provide comfort but also reliability.

Akshay Enterprises: A Reliable Partner for Menstrual Health Products

Akshay Enterprises is the most trustworthy sanitary napkin 290mm manufacturer in Jaipur, committed to meeting up with the health and hygiene requirements of women through quality products. Quality, with an affordable price for the wholesale deal, is ensured in our company, and hence we have emerged as the most favorite business outlet in India. We believe that menstrual health should be accessed, and we will keep on driving women and businesses through our extensive network of wholesalers.

Environmentally Friendly Approach

Akshay Enterprises is conscious of the threat to the environment sanitary products have on it. We are constantly working towards minimizing the waste generated from our production lines and also are on a quest to find more environment-friendly options for developing our future products. Our goal is to offer sanitary napkins, which not only deliver good performance but are also environment-friendly to create something positive for the consumer's health as well as the health of the earth.

Final Thoughts

There are no excellent suppliers who can make truly good sanitary napkins of 290 mm size available in the market. Akshay Enterprises is the best option for retailers and distributors looking for a reliable supplier of 290mm sanitary napkins. Quality commitment, affordable wholesale pricing, and reliable service help us in establishing ourselves as leaders in the sector of menstrual health products. The sanctions for sanitary napkins of high quality are constantly increasing, and Akshay Enterprises shall make great use of this opportunity with its product that balances health with comfort.

If you are a user who wants to purchase sanitary napkins in bulk quantities of 290mm or want to know more about our products, then contact us at Akshay Enterprises today. Together, we can do our part to make hygiene products during menstruation more accessible in order to support the health and confidence of women across this country.

[shifa-alkhobar]

A Comprehensive Overview of Menstrual Disorders and Their Treatments

Menstrual health is an essential aspect of every woman’s life. However, many women face challenges with their menstrual cycles that can cause discomfort, disrupt daily life, or indicate more serious health concerns. These challenges, known as menstrual disorders, are more common than one might think and can range from mild to severe. In this article, we will dive into the various types of menstrual disorders, explore their symptoms, and discuss available treatments in simple, easy-to-understand language.

Menstrual disorders, while often overlooked, deserve attention because they impact physical health, emotional well-being, and overall quality of life. So, what exactly are menstrual disorders, and how can they be treated?

What are Menstrual Disorders?

Menstrual disorders refer to various conditions that affect the regularity, timing, and intensity of menstruation. Most women experience menstrual irregularities at some point in their lives, but when these irregularities become a pattern, they may signal an underlying issue. Some disorders lead to heavy bleeding, others cause severe pain, and some women may even miss their periods entirely.

In simpler terms, think of the menstrual cycle as a clock. When the clock runs smoothly, everything is in order, but if the clock starts to skip beats or slow down, something might be wrong.

Types of Menstrual Disorders

There are several types of menstrual disorders, each with its own set of symptoms and challenges. Let’s break them down:

1. Dysmenorrhea

Dysmenorrhea is the medical term for painful periods. Most women experience some discomfort during their periods, but dysmenorrhea is more severe. It involves sharp, cramping pains in the lower abdomen, and in some cases, the pain can be so intense that it interferes with daily activities.

There are two types of dysmenorrhea:

Primary Dysmenorrhea: Caused by natural chemical imbalances, such as high levels of prostaglandins, which trigger uterine contractions.

Secondary Dysmenorrhea: This is often the result of an underlying condition like endometriosis or fibroids.

2. Menorrhagia

Menorrhagia refers to abnormally heavy or prolonged periods. Women with menorrhagia may find themselves changing their sanitary products every hour and may experience fatigue due to blood loss. It’s more than just “heavy periods”—it can significantly impact a woman’s life and can be a sign of hormonal imbalances or other conditions such as uterine polyps or fibroids.

3. Amenorrhea

Amenorrhea is the absence of menstruation. There are two types:

Primary Amenorrhea: When a girl has not had her first period by the age of 16.

Secondary Amenorrhea: When a woman who has had regular periods suddenly stops menstruating for three months or more (and is not pregnant).

Amenorrhea can occur due to several reasons, including significant weight loss, excessive exercise, stress, or hormonal imbalances.

4. Premenstrual Syndrome (PMS)

Many women are familiar with Premenstrual Syndrome (PMS). PMS refers to a group of emotional, physical, and behavioural symptoms that occur in the days or weeks before a woman’s period. Symptoms may include bloating, mood swings, irritability, fatigue, and breast tenderness. While most women experience mild symptoms, some find their daily life significantly affected by PMS.

5. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD)

Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) is a more severe form of PMS. While PMS may cause discomfort, PMDD can lead to debilitating mood swings, depression, and severe irritability. Women with PMDD may struggle to maintain relationships or focus on work due to the severity of their symptoms.

Causes of Menstrual Disorders

Menstrual disorders can stem from various causes, such as:

Hormonal imbalances: The most common cause, often related to estrogen and progesterone fluctuations.

Medical conditions: Conditions like polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), endometriosis, and uterine fibroids can disrupt menstruation.

Medications: Certain medications, including hormonal birth control, can influence the menstrual cycle.

Stress and lifestyle factors: High levels of stress, poor diet, and significant changes in weight can all play a role in disrupting regular menstruation.

How to Diagnose Menstrual Disorders

Diagnosis usually begins with a detailed discussion with your healthcare provider about your symptoms, menstrual history, and any underlying medical conditions. Common diagnostic methods include:

Physical examination: A pelvic exam to check for abnormalities.

Blood tests: To evaluate hormone levels.

Ultrasound or MRI: To examine reproductive organs and detect any structural issues like fibroids or cysts.

Treatment Options for Menstrual Disorders

The treatment for menstrual disorders depends on the type and cause. Thankfully, there are various options available:

Lifestyle Changes

Sometimes, lifestyle adjustments can alleviate symptoms of menstrual disorders. Consider:

Diet improvements: A balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, and whole grains can help.

Regular exercise: This can ease symptoms, especially for those with PMS or dysmenorrhea.

Stress management: Techniques like meditation or yoga may reduce the impact of stress on the menstrual cycle.

Medical Treatments

When lifestyle changes aren't enough, medical treatments may be necessary. These include:

Pain relief: Over-the-counter pain relievers like ibuprofen can ease the discomfort of dysmenorrhea.

Hormonal therapies: Birth control pills or hormone replacement therapy (HRT) can regulate periods and reduce heavy bleeding.

Surgical options: In severe cases, surgery may be needed to remove fibroids or treat endometriosis.

When to Seek Medical Help

While occasional irregularities in the menstrual cycle are normal, it's important to seek medical help if:

You experience severe pain during periods.

Your periods are extremely heavy or prolonged.

You’ve missed three or more consecutive periods and aren’t pregnant.

You have severe mood swings or depressive episodes related to your period.

We highly recommend you to consult a gynaecologist before start any kind of treatment.

FAQs

1. What are common signs of a menstrual disorder? Common signs include heavy bleeding, severe cramping, missed periods, and extreme mood swings before or during menstruation.

2. Can stress cause menstrual disorders? Yes, high levels of stress can disrupt hormonal balance and lead to irregular periods or even missed periods.

3. Is it normal to have severe period pain? Mild discomfort is normal, but if you experience severe pain that interferes with daily life, it could indicate dysmenorrhea or another condition.

4. Can menstrual disorders affect fertility? Yes, certain menstrual disorders like amenorrhea or conditions like PCOS can affect fertility. Early diagnosis and treatment are crucial.

5. What is the best treatment for heavy periods? Treatment depends on the cause. Hormonal therapies, such as birth control pills, can regulate bleeding, while surgical options may be considered for structural issues like fibroids.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"A CINCH FOR MARRIED MEN," Hamilton Spectator. January 24, 1912. Page 5. ---- City Scavengers to Cart Their Garbage Cans Out --- And Without Any Extra Cost to the City ---- Council Members Barred From Harbor Commission ---- In connection with the movement he has launched for a reorganization of the garbage system, Controller Allan notified the controllers at their session yesterday afternoon that he was working on a scheme by which the city, without any additional cost, would be able, as part of the service, to have the scavengers remove garbage cans from backyards, instead of the citizens carting them out as at present. He had devised a plan by which the high wagons now in use could be lowered from eight to twelve inches. This would not only lessen the labor of the men and increase the efficiency of the service, but would also result in a reduction in the cost. which would leave a margin large enough to provide for carrying the garbage cans out from the yards without imposing any extra burden on the city.

Controller Allan also called attention to the fact that eight double wagons collected the garbage under the old system, while twenty-five single wagons were used now and five more were being called for. He asked that he be authorized to consult a practical wagon maker about the plan he has in mind and permission was readily granted.

The controllers are satisfied that the scheme works out as successfully as Controller Allan explains it will be a fine thing for the long-suffering public.

The board went over the proposed harbor bill and made two important changes. One of these was that no member of the city council should be eligible to sit as a member of the commission, and also that copies of all by-laws which the commission contemplates passing shall first be submitted to the council so that the controllers and aldermen will be in a position to keep thoroughly in touch with the work.

Controller Allan's kick yesterday about the amount of time taken up at regular meetings with deputations and lawyers, while other important business is held up, bore fruit. The board decided that hereafter it would hear deputations from 19 to 14.30 'clock, and not after that hour It has been the rule to hear the city engineer each morning at 11 o'clock, but hereafter he will have to confine his business before the board to the Thursday meetings.

Controller Allan wanted to know who authorized the purchase of 18 sanitary nozzles for drinking fountains. There was no record of any order from the board or any tenders being called.

Ald. Wallace, chairman of the committee, said that the nozzles were ordered by last year's committee. It was only a small matter and the committee did not go through the formality of notifying the controllers. Controller Allan sad if such a thing occurred again he would raise a fuss. In view of the kick some of the aldermen are making because they are not represented the committee which is to negotiate with the street railway for a better service and extensions, the board decided that instead of dealing with the matter it will ask the council to appoint a committee and also to grant a sum of money for the purpose of employing an expert, if necessary, or gathering other information.

Controller Allan recalled that when he was on the board before it was the custom for the controller on each committee to sign the pay lists and orders from his department He said he had not been requested to do so this year. The board passed aл огder that during the year all pay lists and requisitions should be endorsed by the controller connected with each department.

The owner of the Mellwraith property, which the Children's Aid society wants for a shelter, informed the board that he intended withdrawing his offer to sell for $10.000. The city will offer $8.000 for the house and land.

[avisakefitness]

Taking Care And Conducting Extensive Research Could Help Nurses Select The Best Nursing Tunic

The classic white nurse's uniform, often connected to the image of Florence Nightingale and the early pioneers of nursing, is deeply ingrained in the history and symbolism of the medical field. This essay will examine the beginnings and development of the white nurse uniform, how it influenced the nursing field, and if it is still relevant in the modern healthcare setting.

Body: With a rich historical heritage, the white nurse's uniform is a classic representation of nursing. Its inception may be linked to Florence Nightingale's trailblazing actions during the Crimean War in the 1800s. Nightingale saw the need of a distinguishing nursing uniform and is sometimes credited as the creator of modern nursing. She popularized the idea of nurses wearing simple white gowns, aprons, and hats. The color white was chosen for more reasons than just aesthetics; it represented cleanliness and purity, two concepts essential to white nurse dress.

The care worker tunics had other utilitarian uses at that period. It made pollutants and stains easier to see, which encouraged nurses to maintain strict cleanliness standards. The apron and hat served as useful accessories as well, offering defense and facilitating nurse identification. Nightingale's outfit evolved into a symbol of commitment and empathy, paving the way for the revolution in the nursing field.

The Relationship Between Evolution and Adaptation

The classic care worker uniform has changed throughout time to meet the evolving demands of healthcare personnel, even though it is still a timeless emblem of nursing. The contemporary white nurse's outfit integrates design features that promote comfort and convenience while maintaining the core ideals of professionalism and cleanliness.

These days, white nursing gowns are often composed of breathable, light fabrics that let nurses move freely during their physically hard shifts. They could include pockets that provide quick access to necessary instruments and supplies, eliminating the need for extra attachments. These gowns are made to seem elegant and respectable even after withstanding the demands of a medical setting.

The Significance and Expertise

The white nurse's uniform is still a representation of compassion, professionalism, and commitment to patient care. The white garment instills confidence in the treatment given since patients and their families generally link it with competence and reliability. The concept that the patient's wellbeing comes first rather than the healthcare provider's apparel is furthered by the dress's simple and understated design.

Additionally, the white nurse's uniform serves to emphasize the need of infection prevention and cleanliness. The white garment nonetheless denotes a dedication to maintaining a sanitary and secure environment for patients, even if contemporary healthcare uniforms may come in a variety of colors and designs. It serves as a reminder of the significance of regularly washing hands and paying close attention to cleanliness—values that are fundamental to nursing practice. Go for the Care worker uniforms there.

In summary, a timeless emblem of tenderness

In summary, the white nurse's uniform is still a classic representation of nursing commitment and caring. The nursing profession is still influenced by its roots in Florence Nightingale's groundbreaking work. The design has changed to meet the functional requirements of contemporary healthcare, but the meaning of professionalism, patient-centered care, and purity has not altered. The timeless ideals and concepts that characterize nursing as a noble and vital profession in the healthcare industry are powerfully brought to mind by the white nurse's uniform.

Author Bio: For the white nurse dress David is a professional writer having the specific ideas for the same

[pellucid-constellations]

No Questions Asked

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Enhanced!Reader

Summary: Steve Rogers loved you gently, but Captain America treated you like a soldier. You learned the dangers of that dichotomy when his orders became too hard to follow. 

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: Canon level violence, descriptions of injury, angst, Steve being a bad listener

a/n: Tiny break from ftlotg oneshots! First time writing for Steve :) 

I discontinued my taglist, but you can follow my library blog @pellucid-library​ for notifications 🤍

Masterlist

Steve Rogers loved you gently. 

He whispered in your ear when the kitchen got crowded, morning sunlight pouring into the Avengers Tower. Short and sweet. Just to tell you he loved you—in case you forgot. His hands would be fleeting on your waist as Tony yelled at you to get a room, and the coffee he made you would taste even sweeter on your lips. 

He let you drag him to that farmers market on the other side of town, carrying the baskets full of produce and armfuls of flowers you fawned over. It would be easy for him to tell you it was unnecessary; Tony had people for grocery shopping. But he loved you, and he loved the way you looked in the Sunday morning breeze. 

His broad hands were almost always found on your back. Guiding you through the tower. Pressing you to his chest. Finding the right grip to lift you over his shoulder and toss you on your shared bed. Always touching you—almost like the act was as easy as breathing for him. 

And his fingers—artist’s fingers, although he would disagree—were so tender they could bring you to tears. They smoothed your hair back when you cried and brushed tears from your cheeks. They pressed into your lips when his eyes no longer held enough depth to convey his affection; the moments when air felt heavy. And they kneaded into your skin when the days were long, pushing comfort into your body. 

But your favorite way Steve Rogers loved you was with his lips. 

When you first started dating a few years ago, he had been hesitant. He hadn’t kissed many people; overlapping wars and 70 years spent in ice didn’t leave much time for practice. You took it slow, gentle kisses after dinner dates and lips that lingered on your temple. And while those were nice, what came later was what made you fall so deeply for Steve, you’d never find your way out. 

It was as if his lips were a drug; gliding over yours and finding the places on your neck that made you gasp so effortlessly, you’d think he spent his whole life studying you. He’d wait until you were so breathless you were grappling at the nape of his neck, and then he’d trail back up to swallow the sounds for himself. 

He’d leave you dazed, lips swollen and head so foggy you had to lean further into the wall he pressed you against until you could get back to work. Because that was Steve’s favorite time to love you—when you were busy and unexpecting. 

It was common knowledge that Steve could be found in the medical wing more often than not. You were the resident healer after all, enhanced to mend broken bones and stitch skin together with just the press of your palms. And Steve was in love with the resident healer. So, Steve could be found in the medical wing. 

Since your job was to heal the Avengers, when no one was injured, you had a lot of time to humor his frequent visits. He pretended they were mandatory at first. He was the Captain after all; he needed to make sure everyone on his team was in order, and you were part of the team. 

That facade crumbled the first time he kissed you against your exam table, the sanitary paper ripping under the force. 

And he kept visiting—kept kissing you when you were supposed to be working—even when you moved in with him. Even when he got to kiss you as much as he wanted the second you shed your lab coat and rode the elevator to his floor. 

Steve Rogers loved you gently. 

But you had no idea Captain America saw you as a soldier. 

~~

Panic. Cold, intrusive panic gripped your chest as all eyes in the debrief room turned to you. 

“I can’t do that.” The words spilled from your lips before you had the chance to wrangle them.

Nick Fury raised a brow. “And why the hell not?” 

“Why the hell not?” you parroted. “Fury, I’ve never been on the field. I can’t—I can’t just jump in like this.” 

“It’s not ‘jumping in’ when Natasha Romanoff has been training you for months.” 

Logically, you knew this was coming. The second the manilla folder hit your desk all those months ago, the inside outlining a rigorous training schedule, you knew the fine print in your contract was being put to use; that the “team” in your job title was coming into play. 

Your official title was “Team Healer”. To the public, you were a full blown Avenger. You were out there saving the heroes that saved the city. In reality, you were a glorified physician, staying back at the tower and ushering your injured teammates in to heal their hurt. 

But obviously, that wasn’t enough, and someone decided it was time you played a bigger role. 

“Right, just for a few months. That’s hardly enough time to prepare for a mission,” you reasoned, your knuckles turning white from your grip on your armrests. 

Fury sighed. “You won’t be fighting anyone. You get in, help the hostages, and then you get out. That’s all.” 

“But—”

“This isn’t a negotiation.” 

You turned your gaze to Steve as Fury continued with the debrief, desperate to catch his eyes and plead with him to say something. To explain that you obviously weren't ready for this sort of thing, and could they please send someone else. A real doctor maybe, or even just let you wait in the quinjet on standby. 

Unfortunately, he was laser focused on the presentation in the front of the room. Avoiding you maybe, but in Captain Mode nonetheless. This side of him wasn’t one you saw often; where he would develop a one track mind so intent on completing a mission, nothing else mattered. Usually, you were the one thing he cared about.

But you had never gone on a mission with him. 

“We leave in 30. This is extremely time sensitive, no time to fool around. Captain—” Fury barked. “You lead.” 

Steve gave a terse nod and was up from his chair before you could get a word out. He didn’t wait for you at the door either. It was a stark contrast from the warm hand on your shoulder that led you into the room an hour ago. 

“You gonna be okay, doll?” Bucky asked. He lingered behind your chair as the rest of the team filed out. 

Bucky became your friend quickly after returning from Wakanda. He gravitated toward you when you didn’t press him to speak, and loved how happy you made his best friend. Plus, he just really enjoyed your company. 

You blew out a shaky breath. “Uh, yeah. I mean, it’s my job, isn’t it? And those people might be hurt.” 

“True. But if you aren’t ready for this kinda thing, you could end up hurt more than anyone.” 

“That’s the risk though—of being an Avenger I mean. It’s what I signed up for.” 

He pulled your chair out, guiding you up with a friendly hand. “What you signed up for and what you’ve been doing for the past few years are completely different stories.” 

“It’s still in my job description,” you replied. The glass door was warm compared to your hands. “And—Fury’s right. I’ve been training.” 

Bucky didn’t look comforted by that, especially when your voice wavered in false determination. “I wasn’t really talking about your skill, y/n. I know you could take someone down if you had to. But I guess I’m just worried that you wouldn’t.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Means you’re a healer. You see people on the brink of death and you bring them back. Don’t know if I’m so comfortable with you tryin’ to do things the other way around.” 

How was it that Bucky saw through you so easily, while Steve wouldn’t even meet your eyes?

“Fury said I wouldn’t even have to fight.” 

Bucky stopped you in the hall then, fingers brushing at your arm. “Just make sure you’re lookin’ out for you, okay? You’re sorta my best friend. Need you and all that. Talk to Steve.”

You tried to talk to Steve. It didn’t go well. 

“Sweetheart, we covered this in the debrief room,” Steve exhaled. His bag was packed, and he had started on yours. 

“We didn’t, really. Fury covered it and I didn’t get to talk.” 

“Talking wouldn’t make much of a difference. You’re part of the team. This is what the team does.” 

“I know that, trust me I know that. But I’ve never—I mean what I’d be expected to do if—” 

“Y/n.” Steve’s voice was sharp. “Are you really going to leave all those people helpless? There are children there. Children that could be dying, and you’re the one with the best chance at saving them.” 

“Steve, I know that.” You watched as he resumed packing, clearly not budging on the conversation. “But I’m going to be alone in that room. If anyone gets in I don’t think I’ll be able—” 

He cut you off again. “No one will get in. Sam’s covering the door, sweetheart. No one’s gonna hurt you.” 

You weren’t worried about getting hurt, but Steve—no, Captain America—wouldn’t stop packing long enough to see that. He zipped up your bag as you accepted your fate. 

“Right. Right, of course. Just me being anxious I guess. Everything’ll be fine with Sam there.” 

He finally looked up at you, a small, meaningless smile on his face. He pressed a short kiss to your forehead before throwing both bags over his shoulder, and then you were following him down to the tarmac. 

The dread in your stomach didn’t let up as Natasha smiled at you from across the quinjet, and her encouraging words did little to calm you. She was confident that her training had made you strong enough to take on any attacker. You didn’t doubt that, but that still didn’t mean you were ready for the possibilities this mission entailed. 

You felt extra queasy as Steve kneeled in front of you to strap holsters to your thighs. He’d been in that position numerous times, and this was the first it sent an uncomfortable pressure through your chest. He let his palms brush over your legs after the guns were secured, and even that didn’t lessen the new weight hanging on your body—the weight that wasn’t just physical.

You zoned out as Steve ran through the plan again. You could still hear Fury’s explanation ringing in your ears; you didn’t need a reminder. What you needed was for someone to listen to you. Someone other than Bucky who wasn’t even on this mission. But everyone was so caught up in the idea that you were just nervous about getting hurt, no one would take a second to listen to your real fears. 

That didn’t matter anymore. Not while the jet was making a downward projection toward the Hydra base, and you were the one person that could get those people to safety. And everyone said it would be fine. They had drilled it in your head that you weren’t going to fight. You were going to go in, help the—

“Agent.” Steve had never called you that before. “It would do you some good to listen when we're going over the mission plan.” 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, reaching down to fumble with the new metal against your thigh. 

He looked conflicted for a moment, eyes turning soft and reminding you of the Steve that woke you up each morning. Ultimately, he decided it wasn’t the time for that. “Pay attention.” 

Your mouth felt dry as the quinjet landed. It jostled you and gave you whiplash when your neck twisted. Your hands were clammy as you raised yourself up to follow your team down the ramp, and all you could do was repeat the only words of comfort you had received that day. 

You get in, help the hostages, and then you get out. That’s all.

No fighting. No chance for you to hurt anyone. Bucky had said to look out for yourself, but you were sure if it came down to—

“Agent,” Steve hissed. “What did I say earlier? You don’t get special treatment here. You need to be paying attention when I talk.” 

You were so lost in your head you hadn’t even realized he was talking. Embarrassment flooded your senses as you shakily provided a nod. The captain was already continuing his speech. 

“You got this, y/n. No sweat,” Sam comforted, voice low beside you. “Steve gets all uptight during missions because he cares. He’s probably just extra tight with you since he loves you.” 

You didn’t answer. You were pretty sure if you opened your mouth you were going to hyperventilate. 

Sam nudged you again. “Come on. We’re going this way.” 

Another blink and you saw the team dispersing, going to the targets Steve assigned them. You were lucky you had Sam with you; having to ask Steve to repeat the direction you were supposed to go would have likely ended in another embarrassing call out. 

You tried to catch Steve’s eye as you jogged behind Sam, but his blue stealth suit was already almost out of sight. He wouldn’t even look at you. Was he really that disappointed in your hesitance that he wouldn’t say goodbye? You were trying your best; it’s not like you had years of experience. 

You were pulled from your aching thoughts by the comm in your ear. “Okay, I have sights on the room. Sam, get y/n in and I can watch the window.” 

Apparently, Steve wouldn’t be addressing you over the comm either. 

“Roger that, Cap. We’re closing in,” Sam replied. He turned to you. “You got this?”

The healing? Yes. Everything else? Well, that didn’t matter. “I got it.” 

A lock pick later, and Sam was offering you a comforting pat on the back and standing guard in the hall. 

It was almost impossible to see anything in the room; the small desk lamp in the far corner was dim and flickering. You could make out a small group of people huddled against the wall, and began shuffling toward them. Their fearful whimpers slowed you.

“Hey, hey,” you soothed. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m with the Avengers—I’m here to help.” 

The relieved sobs they let out almost quelled the tension in your muscles. This was why you joined the team. After Tony found you, it didn’t take much convincing to get you to become an Avenger; you loved helping people. You had forgotten what it felt like to heal people other than those that lived at the tower. 

You continued, crouching down in front of the group. “I’m a healer. Are any of you hurt? We can’t get you out until the base is cleared, but I can help any of you that need it.” 

“My—my son,” a woman stuttered. “His leg. Can you heal bones?” 

You offered a small smile. “I can.” 

No one was gravely injured, but you still felt needed. You worked through the hostages one by one, healing their breaks and bruises and comforting them the best you could. It hurt your heart to see the number of children in the room. You were suddenly very glad you braved the trip, even if no one was in imminent danger; leaving anyone here in pain would’ve been a loss in your book. 

They thanked you more times than your hands pressed to their injuries. They had glistening cheeks and dirt covered skin and were just thankful that someone was finally there for them. You could see why Steve was so passionate; you could see why missions took over his mind. 

With everyone healed, you pressed the comm in your ear. “I have everyone safe here. No fatalities. All ready for transport.” 

“Affirmative,” Steve replied. “What’s the count?” 

“Fourteen. There are six children and—” 

A thud resonated off the walls of the bare room. The door rattled, a struggle taking place just on the other side. 

“Y/n?” Steve asked. “Six children and what?” 

Your breath picked up as another bang disrupted the hinges. The hostages behind you huddled together again, and you stood, instinct driving you to cover them. You trusted Sam to cover the room. He said he would cover it. 

“Sam! Is y/n down?” Steve sounded on the verge of panic. He had a view of the window, but couldn’t see inside; he had no idea what was happening. “Sam!” 

No answer. 

You reached up to your comm to give Steve some reprieve, when the door gave in.

Splintered wood bounced off the walls and fearful sobs followed. You tried to shield your face from the blow, but your first priority was blocking the hostages from view. You felt the debris draw blood on your cheek. 

You shakily reached for one of the guns on your thigh. The metal was heavy in your palm and almost foreign, even with the amount of times you followed Natasha down to the shooting range. Maybe it was because those same hands were healing just moments ago. 

“Line up!” a deep voice called. “I want one of the kids.” 

The Hydra agent hadn’t seen you yet, and you used that to your advantage. You pulled the gun taut in front of you, aimed directly at the man. “On the ground.”

He looked up and laughed. “Now I see why that bird wasn’t letting me in.” He shook the gun in his own hand. “I got one of those too, you know. And something tells me I’ve used mine more.” 

“I said drop.” Maybe if your hands weren’t shaking so much, that would have been intimidating. 

“I know you, little girl. You’re that healer—see your pictures in all those stupid commercials. I’m not afraid of you.” 

You couldn’t breathe. If this guy had taken Sam down, there was no way you could. No way you could physically, or mentally. You had tried to tell Steve that. He hadn’t listened. 

His voice crackled through your comm as the man eyed you. “Y/n, if you can hear me I’m coming, sweetheart, okay?” He was running. “I’m coming. I love you.” 

If Steve was coming, you could hold out. You could distract the agent until your super soldier came running through the broken door frame, and you wouldn’t have to hurt anyone. If you were someone else, the man would probably be dead by now. Protecting the hostages was just a single shot away, and yet, your finger couldn’t press that trigger. 

The man took a few steps forward and you tightened your grip on the gun. 

“You’re not gonna shoot me. I just need a kid to bring out there and show off. Human shield and all that.” 

“Stop fucking moving,” you yelled. “You’re not taking anyone. If you move again, I’ll—I’ll shoot you.” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Not very convincing when you’re all scared like that.” 

And then your hand slipped. The perspiration that had built on your palm slid against the handle of the gun and frightened you, and you jerked the weapon forward to catch it. That movement was enough to look like a real threat. 

You heard the shot before you felt it. 

It was deafening. It reminded you of the splintered wood on the floor, but this time it rattled your brain as well—vibrated your body until you could feel it in your fingertips. You briefly let your mind wander to the earplugs Steve always secured on your head when you went to the range with Natasha. 

Feeling it was worse. It was indescribable; searing, unrelenting agony ripped through your stomach until you could feel it in your back. It took over your senses to such an extent that you didn’t feel the impact of the ground when you fell. Your head even bounced off the tile, and it didn’t even register. 

“Status, y/n! Anything, give me anything!” But you could hear Steve in your ear. You could hear his cries. “Please, answer me. Sam! Status!” 

Metal in your mouth. It coated your tongue and made it feel wet for the first time since you got on the jet. You struggled to garner enough air in your lungs for a full breath, but failed. It would be fine to close your eyes, you thought. You couldn’t really see anything anyway. 

Until you heard the little boy scream behind you. 

Glancing up from your place on the ground, you saw the man lifting the boy by his arms. He was kicking and screaming and his mother was wailing from beside you. You had to get up and do something. Steve said you were their best chance. 

You could still feel a weight in your palm. It was the same weight that had your stomach rolling on the jet. 

“Please, sweetheart. Please.” 

You lifted it as much as you could, and with shaky aim, you fired. 

A thud, followed by multiple footsteps coming down the hall. You weren’t sure where you’d hit him, but you could see his figure drop by the door. And you could make out the boy running back to his mom—two boys, actually. Double vision. You must be losing a lot of blood. 

“Shame you can’t just heal yourself.”

Bucky’s humor filled tone replayed in your head. You remember dropping a cup in the kitchen and going to clean it up, slicing your hand clean open. Steve had fretted over it like you were on the verge of death, running it under water and coddling you for days after. 

You wondered how he’d react to this; if it was different since it was a mission. 

The footsteps finally made their way into the room, and a choked sob echoed in your ears. Hands were on your face; they tilted your head up and rubbed across your cheeks. 

“Y/n? Hey, look at me, sweetheart. Open your eyes.” 

There was a lot of movement surrounding you when you did. You could make out people walking above you as Steve held you in his arms, children crying and maybe Natasha ushering bodies out of the room. 

Steve caught your groggy gaze. “You did such a good job, baby.” He was crying. “We’re gonna get you out of here, okay? You’re gonna be fine.” 

“Sam,” you whispered. At least you think you got it out. Your throat ached.

“Sam’s okay, just knocked out. He’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” His voice sounded farther away, and it was then you realized he was carrying you. And he was running again. “You have to keep your eyes open. You have to for me. I’m so sorry I made you do this. I’m so sorry.” 

Your neck rolled back as the walls of the base rushed past. It was hard to keep your eyes open with so much movement, but you would try for Steve. You had to make up for failing the mission. 

He kept speaking, but you could only make out half of what he was saying. He was apologizing and telling you to stay awake. You would lose his voice behind tears, just to find it again as he told you how much he needed you; how if you left him, he wouldn’t know how to live anymore.

He finally laid you down somewhere, hands cradling your head as if it was made of glass. So many people were talking at once. Something was unzipped and the air suddenly had more bite to it. A phone was ringing and there was shouting and ripping. Something was ripping. 

Darkness crept into the corners of your vision, and you fought to say one last thing. “‘M sorry, Steve. Make it up to you, I swear.” 

Another choked sob, but this one held much more pain. “No, no. Don’t be sorry for this. Don’t be sorry, just—” In your dimmed sight, you could see his eyes squeezed shut. “Just please. I love you.” 

You couldn’t say it back.

~~

It wasn’t like the movies. 

There was no beeping, or any light keeping you from opening your eyes; your eyelids were too heavy to check. 

There was just the throbbing ache in your middle. And crying—shuddering breaths and frequent sniffs. 

“She’ll be okay, pal. She’s always okay.” Bucky’s concerned tone, you deducted. He sounded congested.

“This was my fault. You told me and I didn’t listen. She tried to tell me and I wouldn’t even let her—” Steve struggled. “Buck, I’m supposed to take care of her. She spends her whole life takin’ care of other people and I can’t even do this one thing for her.” 

“You did your best, Stevie. She acts all tough, but your girl’s not used to all this. You tried to encourage her in your own way, but she knows the other side of you. The side that’s not Captain America. The side I grew up with.” 

A chair groaned. “You think she’ll forgive me?” 

“She will. I do, and you’re just a punk to me. Not the love of my life or whatever.” Footsteps retreated. “Let me know when she wakes up. Because she will wake up, Steve. She’s gonna be okay.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, alright, Buck.” 

The door clicked shut, and Steve’s forehead pressed against the back of your hand. “You’re okay,” he affirmed. 

You tried to shift then, willing your eyes to find the strength to open and discovering the path to the muscles in your hands. With a twitch, Steve was bolting from his chair and brushing your hair back from your face. The touch was reminiscent of the Steve you knew—not of Captain America. 

“Y/n? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Incessant touches reached every inch of skin he could find, urging you to follow his voice. 

You groaned and pried your eyes open. “Steve?” 

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. You can hear me?” 

“I can hear you,” you croaked. His face floated into your eyesight. “Are you okay?” 

He huffed out a laugh. “‘Course you would ask me that. I’m fine, sweetheart, how’re you feeling?” 

Your vision cleared and you could see the sheer amount of concern plastered on his face. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks were sticky from dried tears. You didn’t think you’d ever seen his forehead so twisted up with worry.

“Sore. And confused.” 

“Ask me anything. I’ll tell you what happened.” 

You searched your memories for the questions you would have. You remembered the hostages, the sounds on the door. You remembered Steve’s panicked cries through your comm as he heard the gunshot and—

“Did I kill that man?” you gasped, horrified. Tears stung the back of your eyes. “The agent. Did I—I didn’t, right? Steve.”

If it were possible, pity was added to the growing list of emotions covering Steve Rogers’ face. “Oh, baby, no. No, you didn’t kill him. Hey, listen to me.” He turned your face to him, desperate to calm your breathing. “You didn’t kill anyone. You helped all those people in that room, and you just nicked that asshole in the leg s’all. Okay? If you don’t calm down you might rip your stitches.” 

“I didn’t kill him.” 

“No, you didn’t kill anyone.” 

Your lip trembled. “Are you disappointed?” 

“What?” 

“In me. Are you disappointed in me? Because I couldn't do it?” 

He crumbled then—absolutely shattered in both expression and posture as another tear slipped from his eyes. His beard prickled your arm as he kissed the inside of your wrist with quivering lips. 

“I could never be disappointed in you. You—you’re incredible, y/n. Better than all of us. I’m only angry at myself for not understanding what you were trying to tell me. I thought you were afraid of Hydra. I didn’t think you were afraid of hurting Hydra; afraid of hurting anyone. With what you do everyday, I should’ve known, but I got too caught up in—” 

“Captain mode,” you offered. 

He let a teary smile tug at his mouth. “Captain mode,” he agreed. He stood and pressed his lips to your forehead, hand framing your neck as he pulled back. “I’ll be better with you—for you. I’ll listen. I won’t ever make you do that again, okay?”

“Steve, it’s my job—” 

“No. Your job is taking care of people. So that leaves me to take care of you. And after what happened… well, I just wouldn’t be doing my job if I let that happen again.” 

“Fury will be mad.” 

“Fury doesn’t know what it’s like to almost lose his girl. Y/n, your heart stopped on the jet. You just—” He choked.

“It’s okay, Steve,” you comforted, caressing his cheek with tired hands. “I’m okay. And you said I wouldn’t have to ever do it again, so I’ll keep being okay.” 

“I’m just so sorry.” 

“I know,” you cooed. “You know what might make it better?” 

“What?” he whispered, eyes tracing every inch of your face. 

“If you kiss me.” 

And Steve Rogers loved you gently, but your favorite way was how he was loving you right then. 

I’ve discontinued my taglist! If you want to be notified when I post, you can follow @pellucid-library 🤍🤍

[fahatesyou]

Explicit/Sexual Content (Max/Daniel)

Part 3.

Prev related works 1 , 2

Tw: drugs, cheating [not between them]

Daniel snorts the second line like it's nothing. He can feel the tingles running down his spine, the electric shocks going off inside his face muscles. It's good, really fucking good. Lando'll probably get twenty-five years for it when he gets busted, because there is no way this isn't pure as it can be. The only thing close to this that he had tasted was back in Vegas, when some Argentinian DJ invited him to his suite in an awkward effort to get inside Daniel's pants. 

It's so good he almost forgets about the boy next to him. Max's bare ass on display, his skinny jeans around his ankles, facing the stall, hands clenched by his sides as he waits for Daniel to finish. Daniel's already on his knees. 

It's not the most sanitary way to snort coke, but Max insisted that they couldn't go to Daniel's place or a hotel. They had to do it here, he said, because she has lots of friends everywhere and someone could see them. 

He wipes his nose clean and licks the credit card, sniffing for one last time the tiny dust left on the metal surface. He can kind of see his reflection on it, a blurry image of himself. Max is starting to move, his patience running out. He's polite about it, doesn't say anything to Daniel when he stares at his reflection some more while he lets the real high kick in. Just parts his legs a bit more and bites his bottom lip, his neck so red it must burn to the touch. 

Daniel closes his eyes for a second, hears his own heart thumping inside his chest, it's so fucking good he can't help but chuckle, feeling euphoric.

Lando never disappoints. 

"Daniel," Max says. Daniel forces his eyes open and nods, dragging his knees until he's close to him, trying his best to focus on Max and not the itch around his nose, the involuntary spasms in his fingers. 

"Yeah, babe. I'm here." Daniel slurs, face tight and tense. Max is a sight to see. He's so pale and smooth, his ass fuller than any other part of his body, baby fat lingering here and there. Daniel can see him clenching, the shy arch of his back growing as he squirms more and more in eagerness, trying to get closer to Daniel's mouth. "So fucking pretty everywhere, baby. " Daniel says, or thinks, he can't really tell at this point. 

He must have said it out loud because Max whimpers something he can't comprehend. Daniel grabs him by the hips, hard, pushing both hands until he can see Max's ass jiggle, taking a bite of the fullness there and leaving the marks of his teeth behind. Max whines, jerking himself frantically while Daniel keeps sucking and biting Max's soft muscles.

The sounds Max makes play in the background like a song, beautiful and comforting as Daniel loses himself in Max's skin and turns it pink with the rash of his stubble. Daniel lets go, reaching for the almost empty baggie resting on the floor, giving it a squick final sniff and licking the inside of it for what's left, so he can be able to fully focus and not worry it'll fly away once he's nose deep into Max.

Max's hand stops.

"Daniel." He begs, his breath agitated and body shaking against the wall. Daniel touches him again, kissing his hip twice for reassurance, letting Max's nervous fingers tangle in his hair as he pushes Daniel closer.

"Sorry, baby," Daniel apologizes.

He spreads Max with his thumbs and licks over the pink muscle, sucking harder than he should until he can feel Max's leg tremble and see the way his full balls go up inside himself and almost disappear from his sack as he tries not to come. Max is very vocal, has always been each time Daniel fucked him, whimpering and whining when Daniel's tongue gets more and more inside, riding Daniel's face and pulling at his curls until his scalp feels tender. Daniel loses himself in Max, kisses and bites around his hole and presses a finger under Max's balls to hear him yell his name as he comes all over the graffited stall.

"Oh my God," Max moans. Daniel can see him stroking his pretty cock in agony, he's still coming, making a thick white mess around his fingers, the sticky sound filling Daniel's ears as he waits for Max to stop trembling, his left cheek resting on Max's ass, enjoying the view of his youthful pleasure. It takes some time but it finally ends, Max heavy breathing as he squeezes the base of his cock, protecting the tip from any more contact.

Daniel chuckles, pulling and helping Max to sit on his lap. He comes down easily, resting all his weight on Daniel, chest heaving. Daniel brings Max's fingers to his mouth and licks them clean and Max squirms at the sight. His face is ruined, a deep blush going down his chest, lips wet with spit and obscenely plump.

Daniel grabs him by the neck and kisses him, he yelps, surprised, but rapidly joins him as Daniel starts sucking his tongue. He sneaks a hand under Max's shirt to pinch one of his puffy nipples, making Max squeal.

Daniel's touch trails down until he cups Max gently, feels how he's still half hard, his small dick messy and pretty, red and hot everywhere. 

Daniel almost forgets about his own hard on until Max starts moving in circles over him, trying his hardest to make Daniel cum inside his pants. It doesn't take that much, even under the coke haze Daniel is in, he ruts against Max's bare ass and jerks him off harshly, finishing with a groan and milking Max's cock for a second time. They sit there for a while, Daniel hugs him close and Max doesn't complain, melting on Daniel's chest, sucking Daniel's fingers until they are clean. He lets them there, getting them wet inside Max's mouth, watching Max suck harder every time he tries to pull them out. 

"You're so fucking amazing," Daniel sighs, kissing the skin under Max's ear. Max shakes his head and Daniel pushes his fingers deeper into Max's throat; he doesn't even gag. "You are. So good for me every time. Shit." 

Daniel has to kiss him again, it's too hard not to when Max stares at him like he's the fucking sun. Like he's not fucking him for Lando’s grade A coke and because he's a creepy cunt. 

People use the stalls around them, Daniel can hear muffled voices, the music louder each time someone opens the door, sees some pair of shoes as a guy probably shits next to them. He closes his eyes again, drowning in Max's warm body, relaxed and beautiful over him. Daniel mouths over Max's hair and fixes it softly, gently rubbing his sides and soaking in the last moments they'll have together before someone knocks for them to get the fuck out. 

"Daniel?," Max says, voice a little wavery and unsure. "Daniel, can we— can we dance, before you leave?"

"Here?" Daniel asks, a bit far away from reality but present enough to hear Max's giggle. He giggles too, inhaling Max's perfume and trailing more and more kisses over Max's neck and face. 

"Outside," Max says, he grips  Daniel's hand, forcing his fist open until their palms touch. "If you want, of course, I don't have to go home yet." 

Home.

Max's home. Where he has his beautiful girlfriend and his little family, where he lives with two cats and stores his trophies in perfectly organized shelves. Max has a home. A home where he doesn't have to take two planes and cross the whole ocean to get to.

"I have to work." Daniel mutters, "Sorry." 

Daniel does have to work, that's why he's here, that what he's been doing for ten years in this place. Cyril is probably looking for him right now. Daniel has to wait for the DJ, be friendly and charming to him and search the floor for some girls that look easy but hot enough; so the guy wants to come back and play again without charging Cyril double next time. When he drops another song and thinks of himself as the new next hot shit.

"Oh, of course. ." Max says, no longer touching Daniel's hand, stiff as he gets up from Daniel's lap, struggling with his hunched up jeans around his ankles. "Thanks."

Daniel watches him fix his clothes, he's not even wearing underwear, the reason he's here is more obvious as Daniel gets his senses back.

"No problem, mate." Daniel smiles, taking Max's offering hand. "Part of the job." He jokes.

Max doesn't laugh. He stares at Daniel and then scans the floor, he's looking at the empty plastic bag, he nods again.

"Yes, of course."

Daniel wants to pull him into his lap again. Get his finger inside Max's mouth so he gets sloppy and happy as he was a minute ago. Daniel reaches, weak and jerky, just has to touch Max one more time so he can go on with his life. So he can focus and to his job, get enough money for his over due rent. Max flinches, but Daniel's hand is firm, kissing Max's lips quick and hard. "I'm joking."

"It wasn't funny." Max mumbles.

"Yeah, I'm just too high. I'm sorry." Daniel says, practically speaking over Max's mouth. This time is Max the one who kisses first, hand's gripping Daniel's shirt until they're completely over each other, making out desperately, stopping only when Daniel runs out of breath.

"Next Monday, I'm free. The office is in the back, my boss is leaving to Paris." Daniel says, not really knowing why. But Max smiles this time, his grin too big for his face, eyes wrinkling. He's such a fucking kid, dear God, Daniel thinks.

"Okay." Max beams, Daniel has to kiss him again in order to not say something even more stupid. "Next Sunday is good."

Daniel doesn't ask but he's sure this is no longer what it was. He knows Max will show up by himself, that this is not just some horny fun night.

He wonders what Max will say when he gets back and sees her there, sleeping perfectly on their bed like some stupid movie scene. It's not good, it's not a good thing to do. Because Max obviously doesn't have an idea of what life is like, but they do. Him and her know it, Daniel could see it on her face. He doesn't feel bad for her, but that doesn't make this better. Doesn't make Daniel the better person. But then again...

Who gives a fuck?

"Let's dance, yeah?, fuck Cyril, he'll be better off me, anyways."

[luasworkshop]

I don't know how much of @the-midsummer-masquerade I'll be able to get to - but I did want to design a few outfit ideas for Evander (why, yes, he'll gladly do enough scenes to clean up and change between - I'm sure he has more outfits than this to hand. I think he may have found the last one in the palace storage - some sort of guard costume Lucio was too much of a coward to use.)

Evander Murena is absolutely fair game for anyone who would like to play with him for Midsummer Masquerade. He is pretty much exclusively a dom but very much a vers.

A few quick notes for him:

He does not like to have his face touched.

He does not use his mouth in a scene and prefers to remain masked (though is not weird about taking off his mask around others - it's fine.)

He's wealthy, powerful, a strong swimmer, and a competent sailor (all a product of being head of a massive trade business). He's very good with his hands.

He may use assistive devices depending on his taste/needs at the time - these can include: practical wheelchairs, magically augmented (but personally controlled) wheelchairs or similar, prosthetics (not magical) usually accompanied by use of a cane or crutches. He can also move well on what remains of his legs and has tremendous upper body strength.

He either speaks through magical assistance (usually channeled through a brooch or pendant) or through sign and touch - he prefers sign, but blindfolds and other restrictions mean it may not be practical for a scene.

He does not like to be called 'Daddy' and prefers other terms of respect in a scene. Pretty much anything else will work.

He enjoys playing with magicians but does not like magic used on his body that in any way impedes his own personal, physical control of it.

He's an amenable sort (and has a healthy sense of humor) - so long as it's safe, sane, and sanitary, he's down for a scene. He's old enough to have seen and done most things in his time. He's not afraid to be rough, and can be very tender too.