#but he can still see what's unfolding in front of him ya know?

[gallawitchxx]

🖤 barber!mickey & (not so) shaggy!ian 🖤

here's the 49th installment for this week's @galladrabbles prompt: karma by @stocious

catch up/read in full HERE -- updates weekly! [ read scenes one & two in their entirety ON AO3 ]

- - - - -

His ears are wide open, yet unable to grasp much meaning, so Ian lets his eyes try.

They wander towards the warm, yet curious glint of Lucia’s smile, to her worn and weathered hands pushing away crumpled cash, and the soft and secret stare they share as she relents, taking what was once Ian’s, then Mickey’s, now hers: like an endless knot of karma, weaving seemingly disparate actions into the whirling wheel of will.

His thoughts grow dangerous and hopeful as Mickey turns, then stops dead, like he knew Ian would be there, but is still surprised to see him.

[idontego]

Kaji Conceals His Relationship With You From His Friends

Summary: well, the title explains it, but do you think he can keep it a secret for much longer?

Warnings: swearing and suggestive violent behavior

A/n: I hope the ending didn’t disappoint! I thought it was a unique twist, pls.

As much and Kaji loves you, it was a mutual decision that your relationship be kept a secret from his friends because he didn’t want you to become a distraction because of how his friends would act towards him.

His friends knew who you were and looked at you as a mutual. They had no idea that you had a particular love interest and it was better kept that way. Kaji and you have been in a relationship for less than 6 months so far, but the more you stuck around him and his friends, the more they gained interest in you. Some of them even considered you a love interest and in fact had crushes on you. It wasn’t until recently that all of this unfolded.

Kaji was getting lunch with some of the second years, along with the first years. Kaji wasn’t too fond of most of the first years and would normally tune them out, that was until at Pothos you were brought up to the table. He immediately paused his music, but kept his headphones on.

Taiga was waving around his phone and said “Should i text y/n? I have her number and I’ve been thinking about asking her out on a date or somethin’.” Taiga said with his feet propped up on the table. “not if i beat you do it first, buddy.” Mitsuki said, leaning over the table grabbing Taiga’s phone from him. “There’s no way you haven’t even texted her yet. I’ve been knocking on that door for a few weeks. It’ll work soon, trust me.” Mitsuki proceeded.

“HEY GIVE ME THAT BACK!” Taiga said now also reaching over the table to get his phone back. Mitsuki was now typing something on his phone.

“I’m just gonna see if she at least responds to you! Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. You know how i am with the ladies.” Mitsuki reassured him.

Kaji sent over a piercing gaze to the both of them, crushing his lollipop between his teeth, making a loud cracking sound. He bit right through, all the way to the stick and he then realized he was gritting his teeth pretty hard and needed to keep listening to see if things got more out of hand. Would you actually respond to them? He wouldn’t expect you to say anything back to them, or at least he still hoped. He was now full of regret. Why did he not tell them sooner. It was for his own selfish reasons. He didn’t tell them because he felt he couldn’t genuinely handle them picking on him for being with you and making gushy jokes. Don’t even get me started on his phone. He just knows that if it was left unsupervised, they would try to send you some silly text or even worse, go through your messages.

Kaji began to mumble under his breath, completely consumed by the idea of their scheme and the reality of it happening right In front of his face. He ripped open another lollipop placing it in his mouth and put his headphones around his neck.

“You morons really think she’d say something back to ya’?” Kaji said with a straight face.

“What’s it to ya, Kaji? You like her or something? You’ve been pouting in the corner the whole time we’ve been here.” Taiga said.

Kaji’s eyebrows furrowed and he stood up and walked over to them stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket. His fists were clenched so tight in this very moment he was breaking the skin in his palms from his nails.

“What’s it t’me?! Pick up the Goddamn phone, and send it, i dare you. Unless you wanna find out the hard way, ‘what it is to me’. ” He said. He closed his lips back around his lollipop and stood there, waiting for a response. His chest was heaving up and down, fast. The blood rushing to his face at a faster pace. Did he just give himself away?

“That’s it.” Sakura was now tuned into the conversation and started making his way to their table. He didn’t like all of this girl talk and was about to say something to all three of them until Nirei pulled Sakura’s arm, turning him around and saying “S-Sakura that is not a good idea! Please trust me! For starters, you know you don’t want to get Kaji fired up and second, it’s rumored that y/n is his girlfriend.” The room went silent. You could’ve heard a pin drop. Nirei’s face was unexplainable.

Kaji turned around to Nirei, spitting out his lollipop and lunging towards him, but Kaji was swiftly restrained.

“Of course you would be the one… TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP AND NOT LET ME HANDLE IT!” Kaji barked, his nose was scrunched and yelling at this point, showing his canines.

“I-i didn’t m-mean to, Kaji, please. Please forgive me.” Nirei pleaded.

Kaji took a deep breath and realized the two forces holding him back and relaxed his body, ripping open another lollipop, tossing it in his mouth. He knows you wouldn’t want him to be acting this way right now and concluded to own up to it. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of you by any means, he just wants to protect you so bad, even if that means from his own friends, but he truly doesn’t need to worry now that they all know.

“Secret’s out.” Kaji responded as he smoothed back down his hoodie and put his headphones back on. He walked out the door of Pothos by himself and the only thing that made a sound was the chimes of the bell on the door as he exited.

[entitled-fangirl]

Bike problems.

Jason Todd x mechanic!reader

Summary: Jason Todd keeps having problems with his motorcycle. The man has known vehicles in and out since he was nine. So, why is he now taking it to the mechanic shop?

A/n: Jay has the white streak in his hair for context :))

Masterlist

No.

No, Jason didn't like her.

Did he?

Suddenly, knelt down next to her as she explained something she had fixed on his bike, he realized it.

He truly liked her.

It was a frightening thought. It felt scary to grow feelings for anyone- much less romantic ones for a mechanic at the shop down the road from his apartment.

After all, why else would he bring his beloved bike to a mechanic shop when he knew exactly how to fix it?

He nodded along, his eyes solely focused on the light glimmer of her chapstick and the grease that somehow managed to get on her cheek. There's no way he'd be able to remember anything she said.

Finally, he snapped to when she hit the seat of the bike twice in a finishing fashion and stood. "Should be good to go now, though. That part was tough to find but I got it cheap once I found it. C'mon." She ticked her head to the side, encouraging him back to the small front counter in their office/waiting room. 

"Wally's usually here to help at the counter, ya know. But… something came up." She wiped her hands off harshly on the rag tucked into her pocket and grabbed a pen, writing some things down the old-fashioned way for a receipt. 

Jason didn't care about how much it was. Still tied to Bruce in some fashions, he'd drain the old man's money if it meant being here with her everyday. He handed her a credit card and watched as she completed the transition on the old register that should have retired long ago.

Once the card was put back into his wallet, he leaned against the counter, broad arms holding him steady. "Can I-"

"-Yes!" She answered immediately like she was anticipating a question from him. Her face flushed in embarrassment. "I mean… sorry. What was your question?"

Jason couldn't help his lips quirking up in an amused smile. A nervous hand absentmindedly scratched at his chin. "Was just gonna ask for a second receipt."

He didn't even need a second receipt.

"Oh," she answered. Was that a hint of disappointment? "Yeah. Yeah, of course." 

He watched her scribble away at a new sheet. A sense of determination swept over him at her flushed expression.

She tossed the pen aside, ripping the paper from the pad and folding it neatly to hand to him. "Sorry 'bout that."

Jason gave her a look, dramatically unfolding the receipt and inspecting it. His brows pulled together and he squinted as he read it. "You forgot something here."

"Hm?" She asked worriedly. "Did I?"

"Yeah…," he droned out in a confused manner. "Don't see your number on this anywhere."

God, he loved watching her turn red. He wanted it to be a regular occurrence. 

"W-What?" She squeaked out.

"Your number. I don't see it anywhere." He flipped it over, pretending to look for it. He set it down gently and slid it to her. "I mean… How else would I call you? Seemed like you wanted me to ask." Now, he was milking it, and he knew it.

"I just thought… I-"

He leaned further over the counter, his voice growing softer. "Don't gotta. Just thought that was the question we were both waiting for. Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He nodded, eyes roaming over her face now that she was closer. "Great. Paper's right there."

She couldn't stop the bright smile from her lips when the pen made it to her hand.

"Don't know why you like me," Jason teased. 

"I just think you're cute," she spoke, eyes still glued to the paper as she left a small heart next to her number. "Even if you're greying and all."

His head tilted.

When her head snapped back up, a teasing smile was there. She gestured to his hair with her pen. "I actually think the white hair is nice."

Jason had always hated that white patch of hair. 

She looked back to the paper again. "I like it even better when they're clueless. Seems you're the whole package, Jason."

This girl was just confusing him, one sentence after another.

She folded the paper again and held it out to him. "Next time your bike needs fixed, why don't you fix it and I get to watch for once? You're smart, Jason. You already know how to do all of this. Lot cheaper visit that way."

He blinked. A warm feeling crept up his spine. He pocketed the paper as if keeping a treasure and he coughed awkwardly. "Yeah. Yeah. Will do."

…

When the problems with his bike dwindled from a weekly appearance in the shop to one night in the garage of Wayne Manor every few months, she knew just how much he liked her.

Especially when the bike problems declined and the regular apartment visits multiplied.

Red Hood. Smitten.

What an odd thought.

Divider by: @super-marvel-dc 

[devildomditzy]

Mammon/Asmo would object to a wedding. They might not even know the people, they just like drama

Who's Most Likely to... Object at a Wedding?

That would be Asmo and Mammon

(And oh my god you gave me a great idea)

Link to the masterpost

"I object!"

Gasps resound around the crowd at the shrill voice that erupted from somewhere in the group. Well, one side of the crowd. Namely your side, your relatives and friends all shocked by the scene unfolding in front of them. As for the demon's side - well, groans accompanied by eyerolls fall over the section, all as everyone in the room looks to Asmo, standing from his seat with his hand raised to the sky, puppy dog eyes making direct contact with yours.

"Oh come on!", Mammon yells next to your side, letting go of your hand in favor of facing his brother and pointing accusingly in his direction.

"Whaddya mean you object!"

Asmo glares back with a smirk, hands flying to his hips. "I mean MC should be marrying mwah! Not some scummy idiot with a gambling addiction!". He folds his hands together, bringing them to his face, tilting his head, looking at you as if you were an injured kitten. "Poor thing."

"Hey! Why dontcha say that to my face, ya self-obsessed air head!", Mammon calls back in response, beginning to step off the alter. You give Barbatos, who was officiating the ceremony, your most apologetic smile as you grab Mammon by the back of his collar, preventing his tirade further.

Your family exchanges worried glances, with murmurs of "What's going on?" and "Someone do something!" echoing through the room.

"I already did!', Asmo giggles, smiling as he looks om at his brother. "And so, I object."

"W-Well, I object to your objection!", Mammon yells, still raring to make a run at his little brother.

You swear you hear Lucifer audibly groan among the commotion.

"It's not up to you!", Asmo sing-songs, taunting him.

"It's not up to me? I'm their groom for cryin' out loud!", says Mammon, increasing angry. He shakes loose from your grasp and starts his march towards the fifth born.

"Mammon, don't make me-", you begin before Asmo cuts you off.

"Yeah, Mammon, don't make them choose! Why don't we just swap places? I'm sure they'll be much happier with me!"

"Mammon!", you call after him, but its no use. You can tell when your first man is seeing red.

He makes his way through the aisles, grabbing Asmo by the collar.

"Oh my~", he coos in response.

You've just about had it with this mess, and it seems you're not the only one. Barbatos clears his throat from next to you where he stands at the ready.

"MC, I do believe its time to do 'the thing' that you were mentioning."

You sigh in annoyance, handing him your bouquet momentarily. You face the two pain-in-your-asses causing a ruckus and clear your throat, balling up your firsts at your side.

"STAAAAAYYY!!!!!"

Both boys suddenly fall to the floor. Hard.

In fact, all the brothers fall to the floor.

"Whoops."

There are moans from the seats behind where Mammon and Asmo now sit on the floor.

"Oww", Levi whines.

"What the hell was that for?", complains Belphie, who sits up, rubbing the side of his head.

"No, it was necessary", Lucifer sighs as he stands, brushing off the front of his coat, looking up at you. 'They're all yours."

Everyone's attention now snaps to Mammon and Asmo, who look up at you pathetically from their positions.

"You!", you say, pointing at Mammon, "need to learn to recognize when Asmo is just trying to get under your skin. Seriously, how do you not know by now? You've known him for what now? A gajillion years? And why would you think for a second I'd leave you for anyone else? When I'm literally standing next to you trying to become your lifelong partner!?"

"And you!", you shift yourself, pointing at Asmo now, "know I love you. And I know you love me. But we both know that love is strictly platonic! I get you like to mess with Mammon, but did you have to do it on my wedding day?"

"Sowwy!", Asmo baby talks, knocking himself in the head lightly with his fist. "But this is just the rehearsal, right? I'd never do this during the real thing, silly! But I thought that the mood was so drab that we could use some drama!"

"Are you fuckin' with me right now!?", Mammon stares at his brother in disbelief.

"Not right now, no. I was 'fucking' with you about three minutes ago", Asmo winks., before continuing.

"But, sorry Mammon. I didn't think you'd take it that seriously. I mean, we all know you two were made for each other. Why would I really have a shot with MC anyway? Why would any of us?", Asmo looks sheepish as he crosses his arms, shaking his head.

Mammon blinks heavily and looks back to you as you stick out your arm, helping him to his feet. Asmo smiles as he watches.

"I mean, do you see the way they look at you?", he questions, prompting Mammon to blush deeply as he looks into your eyes.

You smile, walking backwards as you lead Mammon back up to the alter.

"Sorry!", you apologize brightly to your family. "It's always something", you shake your head, laughing.

"Now, may I...", Barbatos asks you, searching both of your faces for acknowledgement to proceed.

"I do!", Mammon blurts out, red as can be.

"Mammon, we already said I do", you giggle, grinning brightly at him.

"R-right. Yea, alright", he says, barely paying attention as he turns to Barbatos. "C'mon, can I kiss them now?", he asks, pointing at you.

Barbatos makes a small sound of defeat as he stops his speech, opting instead to smile. "I don't see why not."

For the first time today, the crowd is filled with cheers instead of startled gasps as Mammon grabs you and - of course - dramatically dips you, sealing your lips with a kiss.

He pulls back and smiles.

"I can't wait to do that to ya again tomorrow."

[redheadspark]

Can i Ask for an Oliver Wood x female reader, with promote 1 were reader is like very smart and they are like enemies to lovers or something. Only if you want of course😊

A/N - YAS! This will be cute for Oliver! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Poke

Summary - You and Oliver were always at each other's necks....until now

Warnings - Just some cute fluff

“You can cut it with a knife,”

“You think so?”

“Come on, look at them!”

Ron looked over at the small argument that unfolded in front of them out on the lawn.  It was between you and Oliver Wood, two captains from rival teams that were bickering with each other on practice times on the pitch.  It was awkward mostly, since both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams were awkwardly waiting on the sidelines to see who was going to win the verbal spat between their Captains.  But this was no real shocker to either team nor was it the first time this has happened.

In fact, this was the fourth time this season alone.

“You’ve always hogged the pitch twenty minutes longer than what’s on the practice schedule, Wood!  You needed the extra time because your team’s sloppy?!”

“Come off it, Jones!  You must be that bored in counting the minutes until we leave the pitch to gloss up your maneuvers.  They’re pathetic!”

“Bloody hell, this is one the worst ones,” Rom grumble as he leaned against his broom that was propped up.  His twin brothers were overseeing with small looks of amusement on their faces, arms folded in front of themselves, and looking at their mannerisms and how close you both were at poking each other’s chest with rigid fingers.  Of course, to the others that were watching this weren’t seeing what the twins were seeing.  They were seeing two Captains who hated each other fight overtime on the pitch.

Where as the twins saw two Captains who had it bad for each other.

Ever since you became Captain of the Ravenclaw team Oliver was intimidated by you since you were sharp and had a great wit about Quidditch.  Like Oliver, you grew up on the sport and knew it far more than most of the students at Hogwarts, becoming a Chaser your second year and then Captain a few years later.  Although your love for Quidditch was not as intense as Oliver’s, it was still there and you were smart in your tactics and plays to make Raveclaw a challenging team to beat.  Gryffindor was the top competitor against them, not even Slytherin could handle themselves again Ravenclaw when you were the Captain.  But Oliver saw you as a threat, your eyes ever trained on your teammates and knowing how to stay a few steps ahead of others.  

Arguments between you two became a regular ritual, though it would get far too heated at times about Flitwick and McGonagall having to have talks with you two.  Of course, you felt bad that you were making such a scene, you knew better since you were representing your House.  Then again, you were letting someone like Oliver get under your skin and fester there.  His stubbornness, his fiery temper, and his thirst to win, it always rubbed you wrong.  It didn’t make things better that you were also harboring a crush on him.  His handsomeness in his face and smile, his playing ability in Quidditch, it gave you butterflies when you didn’t really want it.

So your relationship with Oliver was…complicated?

“I bet you 5 galleons she pokes his chest,” George said to his twin as you and Oliver were still arguing back at forth.

“You’re on,” Fred replied as he shook George’s hand.  The rest of the players were watching and almost talking to each other as there was a pause in your argument, finally.  You and Oliver were nearly nose to nose, but there was a sense of ease then as you both were taking a breath.  You realized that arguing with him was not going to make things better, only worse.  You inhaled deeply, looking over at your players in their blue robes and you sighed.  The last thing you wanted to do was make this worse for them, and perhaps this was an eye-opening moment for you as you looked back at Oliver.  He saw the shift in you too, the fire in your eyes was no longer there and you were simply yourself.

“Go ahead,” You replied, Oliver’s eyes going a bit wide as you picked up your broom that was by your boots on the grassy ground, “We’ll go over plays and practice tomorrow,”

Oliver was shocked that you gave in easily, you gripped your room tightly in your fingerless gloves as you were about to walk away.  He reached over and placed a hand on your arm, not in a grip but just a simple press of his fingers along your blue robes.  You looked at the contact, seeing his fingers near your wrist and how you could almost feel the heat of his skin through your robe.

“You…you sure?” He asked, his voice low and almost uncertain as the heat in his voice was also gone. You two locked eyes again, close enough for him to count your freckles and for you to see the specs in his brown eyes as you nodded.  Now that you were close, you were feeling butterflies and almost weak in the knees. 

“It’s not a big deal, honestly.  We’ll come out to practice tomorrow, don’t worry about…Oliver,”

Oliver felt his own heart skip a beat from you saying his name, and he gulped and nodded his head slowly.  You smiled, for the first time at him and he softly smiled too.  But before he could walk over to his own team, you gently poked his chest with one finger.

“Make sure you tell your Beaters to not be sloppy with their swings.” You advised him, then turned on your heels to walk off. Your team followed you, asking you what happened and why you had the change of heart as Oliver stood there in shock and looked on at your backside.  Without him realizing it, he touched the spot on his chest where your finger touched, gasping like a fish.  

George grinned, looking over at Fred with his hand out, “You owe me 5,”

“Shut it,”

The End.

January Prompt Session

Tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 13

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: I am not doing well with the time change lol

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wallow in the jagged fragments of reality, skipping through the cracks into delirium. The pain is dull but tolerable as you languish on the couch, forgetting now and again where you are, even your own existence. Figures pass by you and vaguely familiar voices waft in the air. 

“See ya, sweetheart,” Hansen's face comes clear through the haze as he leans over you and taps your thigh, “don't have too much fun without me.”

He struts away, fading back into the obscurity of your prescription laced coma. The relief is more than physical, it feels nice just to stop thinking. No kids, no scummy husband, no skeevy boss. It's just you and the sofa.

Your lashes flick as you sense another shadow. You can make out your name but nothing else. The world shifts painfully around you as a grunt cuts through your brain. Your eyes open as Pete lays you sideways on the bed.

“Honey, you okay?” He asks uneasily as he peers down at you. He leans over to touch your forehead, “hey, I'm gonna get you changed, alright?”

You garble and stay as you are. You could just fall asleep right then and there. He sighs and you sense him pacing along the foot of the bed.

He returns to you, undressing you clumsily. Each time he jars you, you whine and he apologises. You barely register each sorry as he strips away your armour.

As he unhooks your bra, you wave him off. You cover your chest, clinging to the pilly satin blend. He touches your wrist gently.

“Hey, I got a shirt,” he waves a length of fabric over you, “come on, honey.”

You pout as he pulls your arms apart and slips your bra off. You close your eyes, the mortification the only feeling to break through the medicine’s blur. He helps you sit up and unfolds the tee shirt, opening the head hole only to pause it just in front of you.

You feel him staring.

“Babe,” he rasps, “you know I still love you, don't you? It was stupid mistake–”

You groan as a surge breaks through the muddy waters of your mind. You snatch the shirt from him and hiss, your back spasming. You ignore the vicious twinge and throw the shirt over your head.

“Babe, please, let me prove it to you.”

You scoff and shove his shoulder, “look what you did,” you snap, “you did this. You hurt me.”

“I didn't mean– I was trying to make it up to you–”

“I told you to stop,” you lay back with a whimper, “but you never fucking listen.”

Your eyes roll back and you heave a shaky breath.

“Honey,” he squeezes your shoulder, “please, just give me another chance.”

“Leave me alone,” you sneer as you hide beneath your eyelids, “I got enough pain as it is.”

🗄️

You plummet into a shroudlike sleep. Your head is foggy and swimming as you body detaches from your mind. You are nothing in the ether of your subconscious.

The depths of your drugged coma recede slowly, like crumbs falling away from a scone. Little by little, the tension coils in your muscles and the ache becomes less dull. It isn't until the thrumming becomes an agonizing pounding that you escape your medicated stupor.

Your eyes snap open as a tickle along your thigh sends tendrils through you, knotting between your hips as you whimper. God, you hurt so bad. You need more of your pills.

Your discomfort is made little better by the stiff bend of your legs. At first, you don't understand why you're splayed like that, knees at an angle, hips wide open. The cool sensation along your folds has you gasping as you throw your hand down to ward off your assailant.

You lift your head shakily and stare at your husband bent between your legs. If you hadn't already uncovered his sliminess, you'd be in disbelief. You're only dazed by the dregs of your prolonged slumber and the intensity of your tortured tailbone. You push on his head, his hair slightly greasy as it dangles down to tickle your pelvis.

"What..." you eke out, "are you... do--"

You drop down and wrack with pain as he prods along your folds. Your tailbone is on fire. He continues he violation as you squirm and whine helplessly. You're nearly blinded in agony.

"St-st-stop," you stammer between shallow breaths.

"I told you, baby," he purrs as he pokes his fingers past your entrance, "I can show you how much you mean--"

"It hurts--" you babble, "Pete, please, you're hurting me---"

He hushes you and bites into the tender flesh along your thigh as he dips his fingers into the knuckles. Your eyes well up as your muscles draw tighter and tighter. You want him to stop but you can't fight your own weakness.

"Stop," you snivel as your head lolls back and forth, "stop, please..."

"Baby, you're wet," he snarls and laps at your folds, "you were wet..." he breaths humidly against you, "before I even touched you."

"N-n-nooooo," you mewl and close your eyes.

This isn't happening. You said stop, you said no, but he's not listening to you. When does he ever? But that's about the chores and schedules and responsibilities.

"P-p--" you puff out.

"Shhhh," he purrs, "gonna wake the kids..."

His tongue delves along your cunt again and he rams his fingers in deeper. Your tears spill down your temples as you clutch rumpled duvet to one side of you. You can't believe this is happening. And you can't believe after the months you spent pleading for you to touch you that it feels so rotten. He doesn't want you, not really, he just doesn't want to lose what you do for him.

You close your eyes, trying to forget what's happening, trying not to feel but it's too goddamn painful. Flashes glimmer in your mind. Another man, another touch. Lloyd's silty slither taunting your mind. You're back on the couch and he's crowding you, touching you, but it's not the same. You can't find that peak. The final release.

Pete slips his fingers out of you, growling as he lifts himself over you. You sense his shadow and the bed jostles you, drawing several squeaks from your wrought lips. He bends over you, his breath scalding you as his body heat roils across your skin. He rubs his tip against your folds and sighs.

"You came," he snarls, "I felt it."

You don't even have the strength to argue. You can't feel anything but repulsion for him. You're not even close to orgasm. You're only delirious because of the ringing at the base of your spine.

He angles himself along your cunt and holds his breath as he leans his weight into you. He forces himself inside, jolting you as he loses all patience. Your cheeks are a flood of horror and helplessness. Your legs fall flat as he begins to thrust, short, harried bursts that have him panting into the crook of your neck. He growls and grits out your name as he ruts.

It doesn't last long. You don't even have time to wish it's over. He's done. He collapses on you and your voice fizzles to a weak rasp. Ow.

"Figure we could get some of that tension out," he nuzzles your neck.

"Get. Off," you gnash through your teeth.

"Huh?" He gurgles and raises his head to gape down at you, "honey--"

"Why--" you gulp back your disbelief and push on his shoulders, "get off!"

"Woah, woah, the kids are sleeping--"

"Yeah, so you do that," you sneer as you slap him, your hand only weakly glancing off his cheek, "get off of me."

"I was only tryna make it up to you," he whines as he slides out of you and sits back on his heels, "come on. What do I have to do to get through to you--"

"Owwwww," you sit up with as much strength as you can must, nearly sobbing from the agony, "stay away from me."

You push yourself off the bed and crumple to your knees. The shirt clings around your middle as you quake, putting your hands flat to the floor as you crawl across it. The bed lurches as Pete bounces off behind you.

"Here, let me help--"

"You touch me again and I am going to lose it," you snap, your breath laboured around your threat.

"I..." his protest shrivels up. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck off," you reach to pull open the door, ready to break down as you think of the trek ahead of you. Two floor down to the cot in the basement.

You hear him harrumph and can picture the pout on his lips. You hate him. You hate him so much that you don't even feel bad about what Hansen's going to make you do. You might even like it.

🗄️

You only make it down to the couch. You manage to drag yourself onto the cushions and get under the throw blankets. You think of snagging some more pills but think better of it. It'll be up to you to get the day started, as always.

You don't sleep. You just lay in the aftermath of what happened. Of what Pete did. It churns your stomach so violently it makes you hurt even more.

It's over. That's what really keeps you awake. Your marriage is done. It's not just his doing, it's yours. You need to cut the fat and yet you feel guilty at just the thought. 

You wake up at your usual time. You swallow a single pill with a cup of bitter coffee. You pause as you look at the label of the amber bottle.

‘Take one pill every six to eight hours.’

You think back to the two tablets in Hansen's palm. You should've known better. You do. You just can't think straight through the pain.

You climb the stairs one at a time and hobble down to the kids’ rooms. You get Simone up first and she helps you with Malik.

“Mom, you look tired,” she says as she takes a sleepy Malik by the hand and tugs him away from his bed. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little,” you answer evasively, “come on.”

You usher the kids downstairs, gripping the railing for life. As you come to the bottom, your legs wobble. You can’t hide the moment of weakness from Simone as she turns to watch you.

“Mom, please, sit down,” she begs, I’ll make cereal for Maiik and get him ready.”

“Sweetie–”

“Where’s dad?” She interrupts, “he should be doing this?”

You blink. You think of telling her to go find him but given the last time you saw him, you’re too nervous to do that. You wouldn’t want her to find him in a certain condition.

“He’s getting ready for work,” you sigh, “I got some time off for my back, I can handle the morning.”

“You won’t get better if you don’t stop–”

“Simone, I get it, okay? But I’m your mother, it’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around,” you say firmly, “you can get Malik his cereal and you get yourself some too, okay? You two can catch the bus with Erica today.”

She frowns but accepts your order. It’s a compromise. You know you can’t drive. Just the thought of getting in the car makes you want to vomit.

You grab the inflatable cushion and add a few breaths to it before setting it on the couch. You lower yourself with a grunt and shift, your comfort dangling just beyond grasp. The problem is you can’t stop fucking tensing up.

You lean your head back and blow out a breath. You listen to the soft clink of two bowls and the fridge, the pouring of hard cereal into porcelain. It’s not that bad. You’ll get up to help them brush their teeth and brush their hair and all that.

“Come on, Malik, you have to eat at the table.”

“I’m sleepyyyyy,” he grumbles as you hear him stomp across the tile.

“So am I, be quiet,” Simone snaps and the bowls clink down. “Sit down and eat.”

You rub your forehead, yawning as you commiserate quietly with Malik’s struggle. A dash of colour flits by and before you can call after her, Simone is rushing up the stairs. Dammit. You can’t keep up. You’re old and fat and hurt and useless. Explains a lot.

You cringe as your ears tweak, listening above for the commotion.

“Dad, get up! You have to come down and help mom,” Simone’s voice is loud as she nearly hollers at your husband.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbles as footsteps come muffled through the ceiling.

The stairs creak as they descend. Pete wears a pair of boxers and a grey tank. You look away, mortified.

“I can’t get Malik dressed by myself and I don’t know how to make coffee,” Simone says.

“Right,” he utters as he lingers by the kitchen door. 

Simone goes back to the table and you hear her spoon hit the bowl as the chair legs scrape on the floor. Pete stares at you as you ignore him for the wall. He huffs before passing into the kitchen. You hate this. You hate feeling so futile.

You flinch as a knock hammers on the front door. You whine as a pang strikes up your spine. Pete comes back in, a coffee filter in hand. He clammers across the room into the entryway and the lock loudly grinds back.

“Oh, hey, uh, Lloyd?”

“Sup, Petey Pie,” Hansen’s voice chirps back, “hope you like Dunkins. They got a cinnamon roll ice coffee I thought the missus would love. Got you a tall black and the kids some donuts.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to do that.”

You hate these men and how fake they are. More so, how pestilent they are. Two sides of a sleazy ass coin. Counterfeit at best.

“Figure you could use the help,” Hansen continues, “get the kids out the door. Oh, I also called my specialist. Can get her in for scans at noon, make sure nothing’s totally broken.”

“That’s great,” Pete croaks, “uh, come in, I guess.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hansen sings.

[spidergutz-writes]

What are some fluff hcs that you have for any and all of your handsome boys?? How would you spend a day with them? What are dates each of them would take you on?

meadow! Your spoiling me with all these delicious and amazing ideas!!

I’ll actually probably make this in 2 or 3 parts just so I can fit all mah bois :) (if requested, I will also add in some of my favorite gals!)

RED GUY:

Hand holding to the max!!

could be watching the most horrific thing unfold infront of him, and his hand would still be slotted in with yours

making dinner? He’s holding your hand.

watching tv? He’s holding your hand.

sleeping? Yup, he’s holding your hand!

he's a very shameless person when it comes to the softer things in your relationship

will not hesitate to pull you into his lap for cuddles.

also won’t hesitate to cling to you on every part of the day.

your cooking? Well so is he, now.

he loves cooking with you. It’s just so…normal.

normality is not something he experiences a lot, so even when you two are doing simple and mundane things, he enjoys it to the fullest :)

bro's sense of humor is so bad, but it gets to the point where it’s so ungodly terrible, that it becomes funny.

“Hey...what do you call a prisoner walking downstairs?”

“i dunno..What do ya call 'em?”

“..a CONDESCENDING… :D”

he thinks he’s funny, so please laugh :((

dates include him and you cooking a dessert of some sort.

his favorite is making apple cobbler pie with you :3

often you’ll end up with flour hand prints on your ass and some whipped cream on your nose.

he's just a silly guy doing silly things with his ooohh sooo silly partner!!

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

JIN BUBAIGAWARA: (what? He dies? No. No he doesn’t. Not here. He lives. That’s the reality we have here. Deal with it. Go argue with the wall idc.)

my sweet sweet baby boy. Where should I start?

okay, before he overcomes his trauma:

Took his mask off infront of you once, and now he can’t stop.

hes addicted to how you kiss his scar

how you coo at him and tell him he’s so handsome 🥺

Will fight for you if it’s serious. He’s still scared he’s a clone :((

will stand up for you tho

anyone says anything bad about you? He’s cursing them out while his alter ego is making weirdly terrifying threats.

”YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY, HUH?” “I hope you sleepwalk into oncoming traffic...” “DONT YOU FUCKIN SAY ANYTHING ABOUT MY PARTNER” “I hope everyone you love leaves you.…”

Dates consist of you two sitting on top of rooftops while having a picnic. Talking shit, cuddling, and eating.

you two end up falling asleep in each others arm a lot, admiring the sunset or the moon.

he is a human heating pad. Like seriously. You don’t need a blanket when he’s around

Loves lying on his back with you laying on his chest :)

is a little shy :(

Thinks you don’t want others to know you two are a thing :(((

but when you hold his hand in public or in front of the league? He melts.

When you first kissed his lips over the mask in public? He cried a little

tears of joy :)

can’t cook for shit. That man burns water.

don’t ask me how, but you tasked him to make breakfast one morning, and a fire broke out.

there was also mayonnaise on your ceiling. Again, don’t ask, not even he knows.

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

Simon Riley "Ghost" (this motherfucker doesn't die either. if anyone tells me otherwise, meet me at the Arby's parking lot at 6, BECAUSE I WILL FIGHT YOU)

oh my lawdy lawd. he is just SO FINE, WHERE DO I EVEN START??

this man has issues. he's really touch starved, but doesn't know how to accept any light touches.

he might shy away from your light advancements, because he's so used to any physical bringing harm or ill intent towards him.

but when you kiss his cheek, and hug his (slutty) little waist, he folds like a lawn chair on a hot summer day.

will scream, cry, throw up, roll on the ground, and promptly die if you ever serve him tea in a bowl (the French do this.)

likes to go to the gym with you. he loves to see you work out iykwim.

Ghost has never been a man for soft things, but he Isn't Ghost with you. With you, he's Simon Riley, a man who longs to have a sense of normalcy, a man who wants to take you out to nice restaurants, and a man who wants to bend down on one knee for you, and ask that burning question that lays in the back of his mind 24/7

he wants to do all of those things, but its going to take time. his insecurities tell him you deserve a man who can do more for you, but as always, you wash those thoughts away for him.

for now, his dates consist of concealed places, like the safety of either his, or your home, where he can take off his mask, safely. sitting, watching movies, drinking wine or scotch, and cuddling.

He's a big advocate on "actions speak louder than words" so he doesn't say "I love you" too often, but when he does say it? you better get the tissues. because he only says it during a really vulnerable moment of his, like when he's calming down from a PTSD induced flashback, or a panic attack, or when its late, in the middle of the night, when he knows its just him and his demons awake, with you sleeping soundly in his arms.

believe it or not, THIS MAN CAN COOK-

listen, i know he's British, and i know he's in the military, but that man just radiates "I'll make you a five star meal before i snap your neck"

he is a god when it comes to making steak. give him a basic ass steak, some spices, and a few other side ingredients and he'll give you a true taste of heaven. A taste of heaven from a man from hell.

we love him all the same though <3

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

holy fucking hell this took WAY too long, and I took some extra time on Ghosts.

as always, any type of constructive criticism is appreciated, no matter how harsh or small it is <3

[dreamkidddream]

It would be hilarious if MC was part of a septet, but never mentioned that they and their six siblings were all identical when inviting the brothers to meet their family in the human world.

When the brothers arrive, all they see is a horde of MCs, and the siblings don't change back into their normal clothes until MC has been picked out of the group.

LMAO this is so chaotic I love it 💀 reader is gender neutral!

We’re they all going insane?

When the brothers took your invitation to finally meet your parents and siblings, it was fair to say that they were both ecstatic and anxious. Lucifer was more tense than usual, Mammon tried to play it cool even though he would stumble every time the thought crossed his mind, Levi refused to leave his room to attempt to the use this time to mentally prepare himself as well as planning what anime merch he was getting and so on- the gist was that the house was in more disarray than before.

But they somehow made it to your home in one piece, gathering in front of your door preparing to knock when you already opened the door. Which would have been fine-

Until they glanced behind you and saw another you.

It was a moment of silence before Mammon let out a laugh, “Good one, MC! Ya been hanging around Solomon too much that you’re starting to act like him, cause this is something that he’ll totally do!”

His laugh died off when another “you” walk up to the door. And then another. And another.

It wasn’t until there was seven of you that crowded the entrance, all with that same familiar smile that they know and love.

The group just stared back with a frozen smile.

“…Huh?”

They remember you saying that you had siblings, but never that you were all identical!

And then the usual chaos commenced in trying to find which one was you.

Satan already pulled out his magnifying glass, setting up a mock interrogation room in the kitchen. Asmo was loving every second of this, already planning each look he was going to try on who and double checking his measurements (in which this just made it easier for him- now he can try all of the outfits he had planned for you and save some time!). Beel began to lift everyone up one by one while Belphie closely inspected them.

Levi tried to calm himself from getting overwhelmed at the new revelation and finally worked up some courage to find his Henry until he was faced with two of you smiling at him- he overloaded and ran to the nearest corner, not knowing whether to consider this a dream or a nightmare.

Lucifer just stared as everything unfolded, feeling a headache coming on. He pinched the bridge of his nose, biting back a sigh while Mammon was…oddly quiet. He glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye, who had a strange focused look on him.

He really didn’t want to know what Mammon was planning, but whatever it was, even he found himself getting curious with how laser-focused he was- especially on one twin.

“Oi Lucifer.”

He hummed, motioning for his brother to continue.

“I know how we can find MC.”

“How so?” Lucifer wasn’t expecting a sound answer of course, but he would humor him for now.

Mammon didn’t answer, only walking forward to the one being held up in Beel’s arms, who had the same concentrated expression on his face. They both shared a look and nodded.

He could feel his pact mark tingling, and from how much the sensation was growing he had no doubt in his mind.

“Ya can’t fool me- you’re our MC!”

Everyone froze, watching on as Mammon pointed at “your” chest.

“Are you sure? Pretty sure you said that about the three over there-“

“No- he’s right.” Beel brought you closer, lightly sniffing. “You still smell the same.”

With the confirmation, the other brothers began to swarm you- prodding and pulling at your cheeks while also claiming that you really are their MC.

“Well, that went quicker than I expected.” The older one spoke up. “That’s a little disappointing, I was definitely hoping to drag it out longer.”

“Still entertaining though.” Your siblings huddled in a corner, letting you and the guys get some space.

“And I can finally get out of these clothes!” One chimed in. “I might take up that guy’s offer on getting some new threads though.”

As they watched on, they couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for you- your friends now still can’t tell the difference between all of them, but these guys were able to with little to no issue.

When you told them that you were inviting the family that you stayed with during your exchange program, they were excited. As much as you talked about them when you came back, they definitely wanted to see what the big deal was about them- while also having some fun at it.

But they understood now.

As bright of a smile they all had for you, it felt like they never really left you.

Like they were already home.

[engiebabey]

Hihi!!! Ur fanfics are so cuteeeeee

Can I please have one of cg Demoman? Tysm!!!!

— @thetinyblossom (sending this via main)

YAYYY i love writing for him i think demo is so uncle like thats him right there !! i call him demmy when i feel little cuz i think it's cute so that's what i used here

chose to write a blurb instead of a hc bc i had a very specific idea pop into my head for this one (+ surprise appearance from engie yayy!)

warnings: mentions of alcohol, one bad word

As you finish the last scribbles on your masterpiece, you hold up the paper proudly. "Demmy will like!" you announce to yourself, standing from your sitting position and toddling your way to the common area, where you knew he would be.

As you enter, he nearly does a spit-take, shoving the bottle of scrumpy he's holding behind his back, not having expected you. "Aye, little one, thought ya were down fer a nap."

You shake your head "no", and scramble to sit on his lap. "Don't wanna nap, look, I color." you say as you proudly hold up your paper. He takes it in his hand, studying it closely with a hand on his chin as he thinks.

"Well I'll be.. aye, this one may belong in a museum!" he declares, causing you to giggle.

"Nooo Demmy. Is for home only." you respond, and he nods.

"Alright. Still beautiful though." he smiles. "Aye, you want to play a game? I'm thinkin hide and seek!"

You clap excitedly, chanting, "Yes yes yes!" You crawl down from his lap. "You seek, I hide, okay?"

He doesn't respond, rather covers his one eye and starts counting down from 100. Quickly, you bolt your way out of the common area and down the hall, unsure of where to hide. Suddenly, an idea pops into your head.

You make your way down the slope of the hallway and find yourself in front of the Engineer's workshop, Slowly, you push the door open and watch for a second as you see him working on his machines. You head inside, little socked feet making no noise against the concrete floor as you successfully slink past Engie without him noticing.

As you settle into a spot under a table, you wonder how long it's been. For entertainment, you count (the best you can) how many tools you can find scattered on the floor. One wrench, one hammer, one...

The door of the workshop bursts open, and Demo comes stumbling in, causing Engie to jump. "What in the hell are ya doing?" He asks, dropping the wrench he's holding.

"Lookin' for the little one." Demo answers proudly, hands on his hips. His voice drops to a whisper. "We're playin' hide an' seek"

"Well, there are no tinies in here. At least, that I know of." the Engineer answers. As you watch the scene unfold, you can't help but inhale all the dust that has collected underneath the table, making you sneeze. It comes out as a little squeak as you try to suppress it, and the two men whip their heads in your direction.

Demo grins as he notices you, but doesn't let you catch on that he's already found you. He saunters over to the table, leaning a hand on it as he speaks. "Are ya real sure there's no one else in here?" he questions aloud.

Engineer doesn't really help him play along, instead staring straight at you, surprised that you were able to sneak past him so well. He shakes his head returning to his work once more.

"Aye, where are ya, baby?" Demo calls again. "I've been lookin' fer hours!" he jokes, trying to coax you to come out.

Hesitantly, you tug on his pant leg from underneath the table. "'M right here, Demmy!" you giggle as you crawl out from underneath. Laughing, he scoops you up into his arms, tickling your tummy as you screech.

"There ya are, little one. Was startin ta miss ya." He smiles, but stops for a moment as he looks at you. "Well, you're just covered in dust, aren'tya? Somebody needs a bath, aye?"

You squeal, trying to squirm from his arms to avoid a bath. "No, Demmy, have to play more!" you demand.

"Ach, well, I suppose one more round can't hurt. I'll hide this time, alright?" he sets you down and sloppily runs out the door of the workshop. You giggle, and cover your eyes, not quite counting in order of numbers as you start from 100.

"100... 89... 86... 74..."

banner by me :)

[whatacaitastrophe]

Everything Has Changed - Chapter 6

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "I Can See You" - Taylor Swift

Chapter Warnings: none

Spotify Playlist: Here

Author Notes: Thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, liking, and commenting on this fic (and the first one)! If you are interested in supporting me in other ways, I have a Ko-Fi link. ya girl has been behind on bills for two months and i've got a dog to feed, and every little bit helps <3

Chapter 6: Baby, If You Only Knew

Fallon shouldn’t be laughing. Firstly, laughing was incredibly painful. This was the primary reason that Fallon was desperately trying to hold in her laughter as the situation unfolded in front of her. Second, it was Astarion who was the misfortunate one who they were laughing at, and he would definitely be bothered by the fact that she laughed with Gale and Arabella. Then again, it wasn’t every day that her boyfriend was accidentally turned into a cat by her ex-boyfriend’s wild magic, so perhaps this was one of those rare moments where, despite her lover’s displeasure, laughing through the pain was acceptable. 

She didn’t need to be able to understand the meows coming from the fluffy white cat at her feet to know Astarion was furious. “Gods, to have a Potion of Animal Speaking on me right now,” Fallon giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. She looked between Gale and Arabella. “Do either of you have one?” 

“I do, actually.” Arabella offered, quickly standing up and rushing to her tent to grab the potion. 

“You know he’s never going to forgive you for this.” Fallon warned Gale, and the sorcerer chuckled. 

“I’d expect nothing less,” He shook his head. “Is it bad that I’m not sorry?” 

Fallon snorted, which earned them both a devastating glare and a hiss from the cat. “Maybe a little.” 

Arabella returned with the potion and handed the bottle to Fallon, who quickly uncapped it and swallowed down the potion in two gulps. 

A tingling sensation worked its way through her body and within moments, the angry meows coming out of the cat’s mouth were in Common. 

“Not sorry, I’ll show that bastard what not sorry looks like.” Astarion ranted as he paced and his tail lashed rapidly back and forth. 

“Are you okay, Astarion?” Fallon asked, trying to suppress her giggles once again now that she could speak with him. 

“Don’t bother holding back your laughter now, darling, it didn’t stop you before,” He huffed. “If by ‘okay’ you mean 'not at risk of being burned to a crisp by the sun', then yes, it appears I’m fine! But if you’re concern is regarding the fact that Gale turned me into a bloody fucking house cat, then no, I am ABSOLUTELY NOT FINE!” 

The last time Astarion shrieked at her like this, it was when Fallon accidentally locked him in the Githyanki creche after she and Shadowheart convinced him to steal The Blood of Lathander, and the building exploded with Astarion still inside. The effect was lessened, however, by his current fluffy situation.“Well at least we know you’re not a vampiric cat.” She offered, trying to find the silver lining of this situation. 

“Tell him to change me back this instant, or I will shred his pillow.” Astarion demanded, ignoring her optimism. 

Fallon looked at Gale. “Do you think you can turn him back?”

Gale shook his head. “I’m not even sure how he got turned in the first place, so, no. I don’t think I can.”

“Perfect, just bloody perfect.” Astarion growled, and Fallon offered him a sympathetic look. 

“Any ideas, Arabella?” Gale inquired of the teenager, a slight blush creeping back into his cheeks at the embarrassment of having to ask someone more than half his age for advice about magic. 

She shrugged. “I could try, but transformational magic that complex isn’t something I’ve done much of, so I could end up just making it worse.” 

“Yes, let’s not leave my fate to the teenager, thank you.” Astarion hopped up onto the log and perched next to Fallon. 

“He said no,” Fallon summarized, leaving Astarion’s passive aggressive insult out. Instinctively she reached over and began scratching behind Astarion’s ears, like she would with any other animal. “Is it any comfort to know that you’re an extremely handsome cat?” It was a hilariously awkward situation, but maybe if she could appeal to Astarion’s vanity he would calm down enough so he wouldn’t hurt Gale once he was human again. 

Astarion huffed again. “I know what you’re doing, and no, it is not,” He pressed his furry head into Fallon’s palm and purred. “Though that feels nice.” 

Fallon continued scratching behind Astarion’s ears, and kissed the top of his head. “So none of us have any idea how long this is going to last?” 

Arabella and Gale shook their heads, and Fallon sighed. “Well, at least we weren’t planning on traveling today anyway.” 

“Gale, would you like me to show you some more basic spells while we wait for Astarion to turn back? That way, you’ll at least be able to defend yourself when he tries to murder you.” Arabella offered.

Gale glared at the teenager. “Yes, that would be most appreciated, thank you.” He replied dryly before turning his attention to Astarion. “Astarion, I do hope you know that I didn’t turn you into a cat on purpose, and that you will consider this fact before maiming me or my belongings.” 

“I’ll maim whoever the fuck I want, I got turned into a bloody cat.” Astarion hissed, and Gale flinched. 

“He said he’ll think about it.” Fallon grinned, giggling again at the sight of a grown man being afraid of a cat. 

“Don’t lie to him.” Astarion ordered her as Gale walked away with Arabella. 

“You’re not really going to hurt him, are you?” Fallon asked, scooping Astarion up into her arms and carrying him back to their tent so she could lay down. She might as well spend their rest day curled up with a book, and a cat in her lap. “It kind of feels like bullying a toddler, with the way he can barely control his magic right now.”

“Gods, will you ever stop trying to make me a better person?” Astarion whined.

“Probably not.” 

“Fine, on my honor, I will not harm the baby sorcerer.” Astarion rolled his eyes. Fallon didn’t know cats could do that. “Can I at least be a thorn in his side until I turn back?” 

“You don't need my permission, love, but why would you do that when you could stay here and have a cuddle with me?” Fallon set Astarion down on the ground once they were inside the tent, and sat down next to him. She scratched behind his ears again, and the cat purred. 

“Mmm tempting as that is, I think I’d rather be a nuisance to the man who turned me into a cat since you won’t let me kill him.” He licked her hand affectionately, and then trotted back out of the tent, leaving Fallon alone. She shook her head and picked up her book.

Over the next hour, every so often Fallon heard the sounds of something being knocked to the ground, followed by the sound of Arabella giggling and Gale snapping Astarion’s name. With each sound of an object clattering to the ground, the volume of Gale’s voice increased, as did his frustration. She knew that Gale didn’t have many personal items with him, so it was very likely that Astarion had taken it upon himself to repeatedly knock the same object over, much like a normal cat would. She would never say this to his face, but Fallon was of the opinion that Astarion made an excellent cat. He certainly had the right attitude. 

Fallon did not put her book down until she heard the telltale “wooshing” sound of transformational magic, followed shortly by a surprised shout from Gale and the sound of Astarion’s voice.

“Don’t you run from me, Gale!” Astarion shouted, and Fallon moved so quickly she barely had time to register the pain that shot through her body as she exited her tent to bear witness to whatever was happening outside. Arabella was standing between the grown men with a large force field surrounding her body, causing Gale and Astarion to run in circles around her as they tried to get to each other. A wide grin bloomed on Fallon’s face and she just stood there, watching, not bothering to intervene. Gale’s gaze fell to Fallon and lingered there a moment too long, grinning at her. That was when Astarion struck, tackling Gale to the ground. 

They tumbled in the dirt, wrestling each other like two schoolboys. Fallon looked at Arabella, and the tiefling shook her head. Whatever the goal was, neither Gale or Astarion seemed to have any intention of actually causing the other serious physical harm, so Fallon was inclined to just let them burn each other out. Fallon walked over to Arabella. “How was spell training?” She asked. 

“It actually went pretty well– Gale is a fast learner. Of course, we didn’t get through many of them, thanks to Catstarion causing chaos.” Arabella giggled, her eyes still on the men in the dirt. “I don’t remember the two of them being this…combative the last time I saw you all.” 

Fallon laughed once. “You’ve missed a lot.” 

“I mean, I had a feeling since you’re sharing a tent with Astarion now, and not Gale.” Fallon had forgotten that the last time Arabella shared a camp with them all, Fallon had been in a relationship with Gale. 

“Fair enough,” She conceded. Fallon turned her head to look at Arabella. “Did you see Gale blush earlier when you asked if they kissed?” Fallon needed to be certain she hadn’t been the only one to notice. She’d heard the way Gale flirted with Astarion the night the vampire called him Fallon’s new stray dog, reminding him that Astarion loved Scratch, too, but Fallon had assumed that was just to shake Astarion’s confidence and confuse him. 

“Oh, he totally blushed.” Arabella confirmed. “Do you think they have? Kissed?” 

Fallon went quiet for a moment and turned her attention back to Gale and Astarion wrestling. As Astarion’s partner, the thought of him kissing someone else, especially her ex-boyfriend, should bother her. Only…it didn’t. When she pictured Astarion and Gale kissing, it wasn’t an unwelcome sight. Her mind drifted and the picture in her mind shifted. Fallon pictured herself between Astarion and Gale, their hands roaming over her body as they kissed each other, and she could feel her body heating at the thought. After perhaps a second of hesitation too long, Fallon shook her head to rid herself of the fantasy and to deny Arabella’s question. “Definitely not. Astarion can barely stand to be around the same campfire as Gale. It would never happen.”

Gale and Astarion had finally slowed, as Gale had finally tapped out and apologized to Astarion for turning him into a cat. As they lay on the ground next to each other panting, another image flashed through Fallon’s mind: the two of them laying next to each other, panting because they’d just satisfied her so thoroughly she couldn’t remember her own name. Fallon’s heartbeat picked up as treacherous arousal bloomed inside of her. No, she wouldn’t mind any of those things at all. 

Well, she thought to herself. That’s going to be a problem. 

Chapter List

[dreamingofep]

Strangers in the Crowd pt. 5

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No, just another one of my delusional fantasies.

Prompt: You and your best friend are on are annual girls trip and go to see Elvis at the International.

Little did you know this would be a show you'll never forget. Fem!Reader

TW: SMUTTT, cussing, fingering (f. receiving) teasing/ tension, oral, the usual really dirty stuff.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: Hi lovlies. Thank you for being so patient! Sorry it took so long for me to write this part but hopefully it was worth the wait! I’ll never get enough of 70’s Elvis🤭 Get ready for some smut, and more smut… I went overboard lol.

Feel free to message me or comment what you think!

Thanks for all the love. Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Tell me you’re mine…

His words give you goosebumps and echo loud inside your head. Your answer came flowing from your mouth so easily, it was at the forefront of your mind from the moment he met your eyes and pressed his soft lips onto yours.

Elvis is still cooling down and heat slowly radiates off of him. He grabs his robe and wraps it around himself and brushes his damp hair off of his forehead. He takes some deep breaths before facing you again, still sitting on the table. His eyes bore over your body and he goes to grab a blanket off the back of the couch. Unfolding the blanket in front of you, he wraps the warm, soft blanket around your shoulders, scoops you up off of the table, and carries you off into the bedroom.

The low-lit room feels safe with Elvis’s arms wrapped around your body as he gently places you on the bed, the pillow resting comfortably behind your neck. He places gentle kisses on your forehead and caresses your face. You sigh at how tender he is with you and wish you can live like this forever.

“Why you gotta be so stubborn, honey? Why are you so afraid of being with me?” He asks softly, his icy blues calm and serene compared to the fiery storms they were. You look at him with pleading eyes, the silence in between you two is deafening. You play with your rings in a nervous state and try to muster up the words that will show him how you really feel.

“I’m sorry, all of this is so overwhelming. I met you last night and I just…. Never really thought you’d care so much bout me. I’m just one girl.” You say insecurely.

“Honey, I care about you so much. I want you, and I mean it. Please be with me, I want you here. I haven’t felt like this for anyone in a really long time,” his boyish charm shines here and his voice dips low, showing his own insecurity.

Your heart melts for him, seeing him not as the untouchable force of Elvis Presley, but just a fragile, lonely man needing love. It feels silly the more you think about it how it never crossed your mind how sensitive he may be. The image of a man is one thing, the human being is another.

You inhale deeply and meet his eyes again, “Elvis I want you too, more than I can ever show you. I don’t want to, but I have to leave tomorrow,”

“But I can give you everything right here. I promise to take good care of ya,” he coos, “how many times do I need to prove that to you,” he snickers into your ear.

You blush at his tempting words and shake your head.

“Elvis I’m finishing college, I have a few more weeks to go. I really need to go back and finish and graduate. I can’t put my entire life on pause,” you say regretfully.

He gets really quiet and looks away.

“Would you like to visit Graceland on the weekends when you’re free? I don’t think I can not see you for so long,” he says in a hushed whisper and kisses your lips softly.

You sigh into him, wanting to succumb to every last wish but reality does set in and you know that’s just not possible.

“I can try. I’d love to see Graceland. It looks beautiful in pictures,” you say as you look at his gleaming eyes.

This brings a cute smile to his face and he nods in agreement.

“Graceland is wonderful dear. You’d love it. It’s my true home.” He takes a pause, “Can you stay one more night with me? I don’t want to wake up without ya,”

“Yes, I’ll stay with you,”

You get comfy on his chest as he runs his fingers through your hair. You didn’t realize how tired you were until you closed your eyes and the darkness of sleep takes over.

*

Your eyelids flutter open and feel Elvis’ arm around your shoulder. Your head is on his chest, rising and falling with the pattern of his breathing. You hear his heart beating away, ringing like music to your ears. Your hand rests gently on his stomach and the feeling of his soft silk pajamas on your skin feels divine. You rub your fingertips softly over the fabric, down past the waistband of his pajama bottoms. There you pause as you feel the outline of his cock, soft, but laying heavy down the side of his leg. You hold your breath as you continue to run your fingertips along his shaft. Your body aches for him, doesn't matter what time it is, you just want him and for him to be showering you with love and affection.

You carefully adjust your head and your body lower, hoping Elvis won’t wake up.

Your hand skims over the soft silk and around the length of him. You want him, more than it’s possibly feasible and your mouth waters at the idea of having him.

You slip your hand under his pajama pants and wrap your hand around his girth. You feel the length of him respond to your touch and grow harder. The heat from the blood rush to his cock and you start to slowly pull his length above his waistband.

You pull back his foreskin and start to slowly jerk his cock in your hand. Heat rushes to your core and you feel the wetness start to pool. His length gets hard in your hand and the sight of him has you completely weak for him.

You wrap your lips around his head and slowly lick, sucking lightly. You feel his body stir, responding to the attention he is getting. You take more of his length, swirling your tongue on his shaft. He inhales deeply and lets out a grunt as you suck more on his length.

“Goddamn mama, whatcha’ doin’ ta me,” he slurs sleepily, his hand reaching for your hair.

You hum slightly and suck harder, causing him to moan heavily. You lower your hand to gently cup his heavy balls, massaging them softly with each suck. His hips jolt forward when he feels this, letting out another moan that sends a shockwave straight to your core.

He tightens his grip on your hair and pulls your head up to look at him, making you whine.

“What’s my little girl think she’s doin’? Being bad so early in the morning,” he chuckles.

You nod your head at him with pleading eyes and bite the inside of your cheek.

“I’m just trying to take care of my baby. Want him to feel good for the day,” you say sensually as you stroke his dick in your hand.

His hips involuntarily move up with your motions and he clears his throat.

“Let me teach you how to do that honey,” his voice deep and full of temptation.

You sit on your knees and watch as he sits up, taking your face in his hands and kissing you intensely. His hands wander down your chest and finds your erect nipples. He plays with them in between his fingers and puts pressure on them causing you to moan softly. Elvis’ eyes look calm, but nevertheless intense.

He scoots up higher on the bed and sits back with his head resting comfortably against the lush pillows. You watch as his slender fingers work the button of his pajama top and start to take it off of himself. He spreads his legs open a bit and you stare at the most perfect-looking man in front of you, tan skin glowing, his raspy southern drawl luring you in like a siren would.

“Come mere’ lil’ mama. Lemme teach you how to ride me,” he tantalizes, his hand wrapping around his length, slowly rubbing the precum that is leaking from him. You swallow sharply, nerves sizzle through you and yet you are so turned on. You want him to take care of you, but nothing sounds more tempting than for you to have the control and fuck him.

You nod your head and straddle his narrow hips, his cock resting up on your mound and the heat of it making your core drip with wetness. You stand up on your knees and wait for his instructions readily.

“I want you baby, please show me what you want,” you beg, ready for him.

He smiles and starts to rub his length through your sopping folds, coating his length. You gasp at the sensation and feel the throb in your core become more prominent.

“Okay honey, I’ll show you,” he shifts your hips and aligns his cock to your entrance, and rests it there, “I want you to sink down just on the tip, feeling it rub on your walls, slowly stretching you to get ready for the rest of me,” you instantly whine at his words, craving him carnally.

You lock eyes and you feel both of his hands on your hips, hovering over his cock, and slowly sink you down on him.

You bite your lip as you feel him start to enter you, and he lifts your hips up and holds you there. You moan at the loss of him inside you and stare at him with pleading eyes. He tuts his tongue softly and squeezes your hips.

He lifts his hips up and enters you this way, only putting the tip inside, and taking it out over and over. This drives you mad, you want him to let you take over and release a frustrated moan. Suddenly, he lets go of your hips and moves his hands up to your face, placing it on your jaw.

“Take more of me, baby,” he instructs.

Your instincts take over and swivel your hips, taking more of him and sighing when you feel him stretch you. He moans with you and watches as you enjoy moving up and down on his length, finding the perfect angle that makes your eyes roll back. He feels so irrefutably good, the way his hard length fills you up so completely and has you clawing at his for release.

“Being so good, taking this cock so well,” he praises as he takes your breasts in his hands and squeezes them with his large hands. His breathing becomes labored and his eyes drink in the sight on top of him. How you roll your hips with him and hit that spot inside you that could send you flying. How you claw at his chest when you put more of him inside you. You take inch by inch of him, feeling your walls taught around his length giving you the most fervent feelings surging through your body.

Elvis puts his hands back onto your hips and smiles up at you, “I want you to take all of me now baby, want you to bounce on me and come apart like that,” he says in a hushed whisper. Your heart races uncontrollably, so turned on, and yet a bit scared too.

You take more of him and feel the overwhelming sensation of him getting deeper inside you. “I don’t think I can…” you say breathlessly.

“Yes you can baby. You like it when my cock is stuffed inside you like that. I want you,” he coos as you feel his cock twitch inside you.

You know he’s right. You want him more than anything right now and to have him hit your most sensitive spots deep inside you. You bounce on your knees more, taking it slow and watch how he gets a crooked grin on his face watching you get off on him. You ride him faster, snapping your hips at the perfect angles that make you want to scream.

Your walls begin to flutter as you bottom out on him and cry out. You grab onto his shoulders and ride him harder, the obscene sounds coming from you fill the otherwise silent room and Elvis is loving every moment of it.

You lean your head back and he watches how his length disappears completely inside you every time you sink down.

You start to lose control and grind back and forth, rubbing your clit on the base of his cock. You gasp as you feel your coil about to snap and you stare at Elvis with wide eyes. He helps you rock into him more and without saying a word, beacons you to give into him.

You cry out his name when you feel your orgasm washes throughout your body. Your toes curl and you squeeze your eyes shut as you ride out your high.

You hear his groans grow louder as he feels you squeeze his length over and over. His hands grasp all over your body all at once, like he is so overwhelmed by it all and doesn’t know where he wants to touch.

“Aw hell mama, you’re gonna make me cum,” he moans as he reaches to grab a fist full of hair. You moan his name as you continue to buck your hips on him.

“I want you to cum,” you moan breathlessly, “cum inside me please, Elvis.”

A deep growl comes out of him and he squeezes your hips as he moans in pleasure and you feel his cock twitch. Hot spurts start to coat your walls and his hips buck up with every movement. You cry out for him, wanting him to keep going and make you feel even more incredible. The grunts that come out of him are animalistic and everything about the sounds of it has you hooked. You never want to stop having him make those sounds for you.

Your body gives up and you collapse on top of his chest. Your body trembles and you hold onto him tightly as if you’re about to fly away. Both of your chests are heaving and try to soothe each other down by running your hands in each others hair.

You look into his eyes and look at him in awe.

You start to giggle and he starts to laugh with you.

“What are you laughin' at woman,” he teases and tickles your side causing you to laugh more. Tears start to slide down your cheek from laughing so hard.

“I’m just… I loved that. I have never come so much, you felt great,” You say embarrassed as you cover your mouth with your hands.

“Mmm good baby, I can say the same for you. You looked so good. I could watch you do that over and over,” he says and you blush bashfully.

He really likes to watch… you think.

The silence grows loud around you two and you get off of him and cuddle close to him, resting your head on his chest.

“I wish you can stay longer with me. I have so much more to learn about you,” he quips.

The blood rushes to your cheeks, still shocked that this man is so attached to you despite being able to have any woman he wants.

“I know, I feel the same. But I really need to get back. These last few weeks are crucial for me,” you say gently.

“You never told me what you’re studying,” he says inquisitively.

“Oh, yea I guess I forgot. I’m studying Journalism. I think it’s really important, to tell the truth and tell the world that. I’ve never seen myself do anything else. I think it’s my calling or something,” you stop yourself not wanting to sound too cheesy.

“I love that darlin’. You’re gonna be a great journalist unlike a lot of them nowadays. I can see you on the tv now,” he teases.

“I don’t think the tv thing is for me. I would much rather focus on writing. I think my best ideas come to me when I have a pen and paper in front of me.”

He smiles and his eyes light up as he looks at you with amazement.

“You’re really something. I’m just so happy we found each other,” he says softly leaning in to give you a warm, wet kiss.

You sigh into the love he’s giving you. You are beyond thankful you decided to see Elvis’ show and be that stranger in the crowd and feel like two magnets trying to meet for the first time.

Another wave of emotions wash over you and you feel tears start to well.

“Me too, Elvis. This was a trip we’ll never forget.”

He placed a few more kisses on your lips and sees the emotion about to spill over. He holds you tight and tells you it’s going to be okay.

“Would you like some food before you go? Can’t have you going hungry.” He says tenderly.

“Mmm yea, I can go for some pancakes and bacon.”

“Okay honey coming right up,” he puts on his pajama bottoms and walks to the phone on the desk across the room. You sneak into the bathroom and wash your face and grab a robe from behind the door.

*

After breakfast, you start to gather your things and make the painful goodbye. You get dressed and decide to put on a lilac sundress that was conveniently placed in the bathroom for you. You step out of the bathroom and see elvis standing by the window in a black long sleeve with sliver cherry blossoms on it and black slacks. His hair was perfectly put into place and his sideburns trimmed made him look even better than usual.

Fuck he looks good…

Get a grip, you think to yourself. Everything in you was telling you to not go but you knew that just isn’t possible.

You sit on the bed staring up at the ceiling, taking this all in and remembering every detail of the wildest 48 hours of your life. None of it feels real but based on how your body feels, it was very much real.

You feel the bed sink down beside you and you feel Elvis wrap his arm around you. The warmth of his body next to yours makes you sigh with comfort and you snuggle closer to him. There are so many emotions going around on in your head and you’re on the cusp of crying. But you hold it together the best you can. You told yourself a million times to not get attached but here you are, about to go and feelings bubbling up like lava.

“Thank you, for everything. I had a wonderful time.” You say shyly, realizing how dumb you sound for thanking him for fucking you.

“Me too darlin’. I’m gonna miss you,” he says as he squeezes you tighter. “I’m serious about you coming to Graceland. Give me your number so I can let you know when things can be arranged,” he reaches for the nightstand where there’s a small notepad and pen.

He hands you them and you scribble down your number and put a heart at the end of it.

You pathetic little girl.

“I’ll be waiting for your call,” you wink at him. He grins cutely at you and kisses you on your forehead. You breathe deeply through your nose and let the scent of him wash over you. The impeding silence fills the room again and you nervously pick at your nail polish.

He shifts slightly on the bed and you can tell he is a little nervous about something.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Well, umm… before you go. I was wondering if I could take some pictures of you?” He says shyly with that little boy innocence.

You blush immediately and press your lips together, “Yea I don’t mind. Do I look alright?” You ask straightening out your hair, pushing it to the front of your chest and smoothing out your dress.

A small crooked smile forms and he nods at you, “just perfect honey.” He reaches into the drawer of the nightstand and pulls out a Polaroid camera. He checks to see if there’s film in there and pulls out another pack of film and puts it on the nightstand.

You start to stand up when he puts his hand on your shoulder, “I think you can stay on the bed. You look gorgeous in my bed,” the possessiveness rolling off his tongue so easily and barreling right at you. You decide to play his little game and sit up with the pillows behind your back. “I’ve only got 10 of these so hopefully we can get a few good ones,” he teases.

You stretch out your legs and smooth out your dress over your thighs. You look up at him and he’s staring at you like you’re his next meal.

“Okay, tell me how to pose,” you say cheekily.

He nods his head at you, “stay just like that pretty girl, give me a smile,” he says playfully.

You tilt your head a bit to the side and give him a teeth-baring smile and you hear the shutter.

Click…1

He hums softly to himself and pulls the Polaroid out of the camera and shakes it a bit.

“This one is going to be a cute one,” he quips.

You giggle at him and get ready for the next pose he wants. He sits down on the bed to get a better angle and raises the camera to his eye.

“Hmm, now blow me a kiss doll,” he says.

You smile to yourself and pucker your lips at the lens and put out your hand in front of your chin to make it seem like you’re blowing a kiss to him. You hear the click and the flash of the bulb goes off.

Click…2

He takes out that picture and gives it a shake and puts it to the side. He has this ear-to-ear grin and you can’t help but gush over the fact that Elvis Presley finds you this attractive.

You insecurely bite your finger and look down. A low grumble comes from his chest and you look up to find him looking at you with need. You start to put down your finger and he stops you.

“Do that again honey. You look so good like that,” he says quietly as he lifts the camera in your direction. You listen to him and make the same gesture and look up into the lens. Your heart starts to beat faster not out of nervousness but more out of enticement.

Click…3

Elvis bites his lip looking at you and gets that fiery look in his eyes and you know he is thinking about things he probably shouldn’t be. He leans in and caresses your face and kisses you. You moan into him. His thumb rubs on your cheek as he breaks the kiss. He rubs it along your bottom lip and he puts the camera up to his eye.

“Open that mouth for me, baby. Show me how I taught you to suck on me,” he commands.

This sends a shiver down your body and you breathe in heavily. Your core starts to grow needy and you feel yourself starting to get wet for him. You bat your eyelashes at him and open your mouth and he pushes his thumb inside you. You swirl your tongue around his long digit and close your mouth around it and suck. You let out a small, airy moan. You continue these motions and look at Elvis behind the camera. His cheeks are starting to flush and his chest begins to heave.

“Fuck,” he moans.

Click…4

Your whole body is buzzing and you want to keep making him want more. You brush the straps of your dress off your shoulders and cup your breasts in your hands and squeeze them lightly, making them look extra full. 


“Take one like this honey,” you say sensually. You bite your lips gently as you watch him raise the camera.

Click…5

“You’re trying to kill me I just know it,” he says exasperatedly. He brushes his hair back with his hand. You give him a cheeky smile and reach out your hand to place it on his thighs. You give it a small squeeze.

“What else would you like from me?” You pause as a devilish idea enters your head. “You probably wouldn’t want to see how wet I am for you,” you say.


His eyes grow wide and he clears his throat. Your heart pounds away with what you’re about to do. You start to sit back and lift both of your legs up and spread them open. You slowly start to scrunch your dress in your hand, carefully lifting it up, a sliver of your panties becoming exposed.

“What? I thought you like to watch, baby. Are you gonna just stare at me or take the picture, honey?” You quip and give him a mischievous grin. You have no idea what has come over you, this type of display would have scared you half to death a few days ago. He groans and leans back and sets up for the shot.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” he mutters under his breath.

Click…6

You look over at Elvis and see his cock straining in his pants, leaving a hard imprint down his leg. You start to get flustered by just the sight of him. You feel the heat coming off of him and crave for his touch. Scrunching up more of your dress, you lift it up to expose your wet panties, showing Elvis the wet spot that has accumulated there. He takes in a sharp breath as he sees you laying there waiting for his next command.

“Mmm, I see those soaked panties baby. Show me that weeping pussy,” he coos. Your heart thumps loudly in your ears and you stare at Elvis’ dominant eyes. Your fingers play with the lace and feel the wet pool that has formed at your core. You watch as he looks wide-eyed and starved for you. You play with the elastic of the waistband and pull it down, then back up, and he lets out a frustrated grunt.

“Oh, you want to be a tease?” He questions sternly.

You press your lips together to hide the smile you want to give him. You should listen to him, you think, you already know what happens when you don’t listen to him…

“Maybe a little,” you say sheepishly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

“Hmm, I guess I need to make you listen,” he says shortly, a devilish gleam in his eyes.

He reaches out his hand and rubs his fingers on your soaked panties. He moans when he makes contact with your throbbing core and moves his fingers in a circular motion over your sensitive bud. Your eyes roll back as you feel the much-needed friction on your clit. He moves your panties to the side and exposes your core to the cool air of the room. He rubs his long finger through your sopping folds and gathers the wetness on it. He then slips it in your taught hole and you whimper out.

“Look at me,” he says sternly, “Look what a needy slut you’re being.” You bite your lip as he slowly moves his finger in and out of you, the wetness seeping out of you with each movement.

You look at him, watching him point the camera to you, and hear the shutter yet again.

Click…7

He curls his finger deep inside of you and your hips involuntarily buck up. You try to hide the moan emitted from your throat but he only makes it come to the surface as he pumps his finger faster into you.

“I want to make you cum lil’ mama. I’m gonna get it on film. Put your fingers inside of yourself now and show me,” you moan at his words and your hand instantly move to your throbbing core.

He slides his finger out and you put two of yours inside yourself. You moan his name and curl and pump your fingers in and out of you. Looking at him, his eyes blown wide and his free hand lazily rubbing his cock through his pants. You groan loudly, “Elvis, please.”

“Being sucha good girl finger fucking yourself. Making me want you so bad,” he groans sensually. His words make your core clench around your fingers and your mouth forms into an O shape.

Click…8

You start to become desperate and feel the coil in your belly tighten by the second. You desperately want to do as he says.

Elvis reaches over again and grabs your breast and squeezes it, pinching your nipple, making you gasp.

“Cum for me darlin. I wanna see you,” he begs. You move your other hand and start to move it on slow circular motions on your clit, working yourself up to the brink of ecstasy. You fingers move faster and you curl them as Elvis would do to you. You squeeze your eyes closed as you feel your coil snap and you moan out his name over and over. He watches with intensity as your core flutters around your slender fingers. The sounds of your moans and the squelching coming from in between your thighs fill the room and then, the sound of the shutter.

“Fuck mama, just like that.”

Click…9

Elvis groans deeply and reaches for your wrist and pulls your fingers out of yourself. You feel the wetness seep out of you and Elvis aims the camera at you.

Click…10

You lay there breathless, your body tingling from the high you’re coming down from.

You glance back over to Elvis and he look awestruck.

“Did I do okay?” You ask coyly, hugging your knees to your chest.

He scoffs at you and shakes his head, “you were beyond good, baby. I-I-I don’t know what else to say,” he smirks at you.

He looks over to the discarded photos that are developed. You can’t help but blush at the sight of yourself on display like that.

You lean over to the nightstand where the extra film is and grab the camera out of Elvis’ hand. You take out the used cartridge and pop in the new one. He gives you a confused look and tries to grab the camera from you. You pull it out of his reach and raise it up above your head.

“Oh no, no, no. I think It’s only fair I get some pictures of you too honey. Please? Can I take some pictures with me?” You plead, your hand traveling up his leg, barely grazing his hardened cock.

He takes a sharp breath in through his teeth and squirms a bit.

“Ah hell mama, I don’t know…” He trails off.

“Please baby, I’m gonna miss you so much. I want pictures just for me.”

It only takes him a spilt second to change his mind once he sees your pleading eyes.

You smile proudly, happy you’re getting exactly what you want. You both switch positions on the bed and you raise the camera to your eye.

“Smile for me baby,” you tease like he did to you.

He presses his lips together, then flashes you that million dollar smile.

Click…1

“Now its time to give me a kiss,” you say cheekily. He can’t help but laugh at your antics and he tries to hold it together.

He puckers his lips and winks at you.

Click…2

He looks so damn good. You want to tease him just as much as he did to you and you know he’s not going to like it.

“I want you to touch yourself honey. Show me how bad you want me,” you say cutely.

“Woman I swear…” He trails off.

“Show me, please,” you beg.

Elvis groans heavily and his hand travels down to his length, rubbing it slowly through his pants. He holds his hand at the tip of his cock, perfectly showcasing his entire length in his pants and you know that’s the shot.

Click…3

“You look so good baby,” you praise. You can’t help but feel your own cheeks getting flush through this whole ordeal.

“Now I want you to take off your shirt and pants for me,” you plead.

He tuts his tongue, “what am I going to do with you,” he mutters.

“You can worry about that later, right now you need to listen to me,” you say firmly.

He hides the smile on his face as he looks down, unbuttoning each small pearl button and pausing to look at you mischievously. He discards his shirt on the foot of the bed and then reaches for his pant’s button. You watch as he slowly drags the zipper down and hooks his thumbs into the waistband and pulls them down achingly slow. He keeps eye contact with you, waiting on you with bated breath and groans slightly when he feels the friction of the pants coming off of him and rubbing along his cock.

His pants finally fall to the ground and he kicks them to the side, standing there completely naked. Your eyes wander every inch of his body and you can’t help but bite your lip when you see his length. He looked so good, his head leaking with precum and red.

“Mmm looking so perfect honey. I want you to take your hand and slowly jerk yourself off for me,” you direct as you raise the camera up to your eye. He takes his right hand and wraps it around his length and starts to ceremoniously pull and hold his foreskin back, using his thumb to spread his precum around the tip of his shaft and he looks up at you through his long lashes. You feel yourself melting into a puddle watching this incredibly powerful man succumb to your every last wish.

“Get on you knees now,” you say. He takes a sharp breath in and watch as his eyes go aflame. He sees the game you’re playing and wants to see how far you’ll take it.

He kneels down and sits on his heels, his cock still in his hand. You stand up and press the button.

Click…4

You feel completely weak for him like this, it takes everything in you to not tell him to fuck you right then and there.

You sink to you knees and place your hand on his shaft, using the similar motions he was making. He instantly groans and looks up to the ceiling, the veins along his neck protrude and you want to take a bite right there.

Instead you place a long kiss there, sucking at the sensitive flesh before parting your lips from him. You continue to move your hand and point the camera lens down.

Click… 5

Elvis lets out a frustrated moan and grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away from him.

“You’re succeeding in making me desperate for you, is that what you wanted?” He grins coyly.

“Yeah, just a little,” you say matter of fact, “I think you should take these last four pictures. You’d probably get a better angle,” you say and wink at him. He swallows sharply and takes the camera from you.

“What did my naughty girl have in mind?” He says low, his voice raspy.

“You should probably stand up for this,” you say.

He gets up and you remain on your knees, excitement coursing through your chest.

You place your hand on his cock and look up at him looming over you.

“I think now would be a good time to take a picture baby,” You tease.

He bites his lip and nods his head in agreement.

Click… 6

You start to place soft kisses up and down his thighs, getting dangerously close to his most sensitive spots. He leans into every touch and you can feel his body quiver in your hands.

You finally give what he wants most and wrap your lips around the head. The gutteral moan that comes out of his mouth sends an electric shock straight to your core. You continue to tease and only give him as little as you can. You flatten your tongue along his shaft and he produces another deep groan.

His hand finds your hair and he wraps his fingers around it, making you a whining mess.

You look up at him innocently with his cock in your mouth and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what you want him to do next.

Click… 7

He releases your hair for a brief moment to take the picture out of the camera and toss it on the bed, then his hand goes back into your hair, pulling it taught.

“Please take more of me baby. Show me how well I taught you to take this,” he says.

Your mouth waters at his words and you instinctively take more of him, swirling and sucking on him. He uses his hand to gently bob your head up and down along his shaft and he moans more.

Click…8

Your core tightens and you feel wetness drip down the side of your thigh.

Drool dribbles down you chin as more of his length fills up your mouth.

His breathing becomes heavier and the gruffness of his voice becomes louder. Your hands trail up and down his thighs, tightly squeezing them as you prepare to take more of him. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and then you hear the shutter.

Click…9

Elvis moves his hips with you as you suck on him, bringing him to the edge. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth and you know he’s not going to last much longer.

“Oh baby, I-I-I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum all over your face.” He says in a rush.

You moan at his words and feel him take his cock out of your mouth. You watch as he jerks it in his hand and the thick, white spurts hit your face and tongue.

He lets out loud moans and being a tingle to your core. Drips of his cum go onto your chest and take your finger and lick it up. This produces another wave of pleasure and another groan from Elvis.

Click …10

Elvis puts the Polaroid on the bed and picks you up off your knees and sits you on the bed. He bites his lower lip when he sees the mess on your face. He reaches for the box of tissues on the nightstand and carefully removes any remnants of his seed.

“You were so good, remembering all the things I taught you,” he says with dominance.

You nod you head and squeeze his arm.

“I promise I’ll still remember when I see you next,” you say teasingly but also trying to stay hopeful for your own sake.

“I don’t doubt it honey,” he says reassuringly.

You glance over at the clock and realize you really need to meet Cicily downstairs now to make it home in a timely manner. You breathe deeply in through your nose and pull the straps up on your shoulders and brace yourself for the goodbye.

“I- umm… I have to go meet Cicily now,” you say softly.

He gathers up the Polaroids scattered on the bed and hands you the ones you took.

“Cant forget these,” he teases.

You can’t help but laugh and put the pictures inside your purse.

He gets serious for a second as he’s looking at you and pulls you into his arms.

Your embrace feels too quick and you would give anything to stay here. Pressing your head to his chest, you feel the warmth of his body, being comforting as ever.

You feel his chest rise and fall as he takes in one last squeeze of you, hearing his melodious heart beat one last time.

“I’ll see you in no time dear. I’ll call you as soon as I get to Graceland,” he says with tenderness.

You believe him… but the other part of you is skeptical.

You flash him a believable smile and reach for one more kiss. It’s brief, but you still feel the passion seeping through. He helps you to the door and squeeze his hand, hopefully not for the last time.

Tagging 🖤: @powerofelvis @plasticfantasticIOver @burninlovebutler @kendralavon7 @ab4eva @cryingabtab @peaceloveelvis @returntoelvis @woundmetender @thatbanditqueen @kaitaesupremacy @18Ikpeters @lookingforrainbows @presleysdarling @marriedtopresley @missmaywemeetagain @literally-just-elvis-fics @flwrs4aust @prayerstopresley @kiankiwi @elvisbf @austinswhitewolf @tkappi @thatgirlarabella @arianatheangel-girl @myradiaz @homer1960 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @cinnamonandmercury @ohjustpeachy1

[slashingdisneypasta]

Good Day For It Thugs x Reader || Excerpts

Happy New Year! ^^ Wishing you all a wonderful 2025!

Plot: You've been wondering who would be your new years kiss this year; looking around the bar all night searching for someone else alone. You're on 10... 9... when you finally think oh well maybe next year, when-

Warnings: Kissing. Its really just kissing XD The whole fic.

Dale Acton:

-when appears beside you, his arm curling heavily over your shoulders, around your neck; a bottle in his fist hanging over your chest. When you turn to laugh at your closest friend for being so drunk, though, you look in his eyes and see a surprising amount of sobriety. "Oh!"

8... 7...

"What??" He grins, dopey and wicked and cute- you always thought so. Even when he's an idiot, or mean, Dale's cute. Its unfair, how blue and sincere those eyes can look considering what an asshole he is. You always thought so.

The sound in this bar is off the charts, your ears throb with the beat, so you know he wont hear you if you talk normally. You have to lean in and yell into his ear. "You're not pissed! I thought you'd be drunk off your ass!!"

6... 5...

Dale looks lost for a second, blinks, then laughs. "All I heard is somethin' about my ass!" You have to laugh at that, covering your face and hiding in his shoulder a moment. Nooooo!

4... 3...

He doesn't say anything else but you feel him shift so he can pull one of your hands away from your face with his free hand. You notice he's so close, now. The world between the two of you somehow still in the insane crowd you're huddled in the middle of. A look at those sincere blue eyes again, flickering carefully from yours to your lips, tells you exactly what he's thinking as the clock ticks down on to close the year.

2...

With a happy grin, you draw your arms up over his shoulders. Its like you've done this a million times before together, its so natural the way you lean into eachother. His free arm goes around your waist, drawing you against him, and meets you halfway. Then you're kissing your best friend at 1 when the sky explodes.

Norman Tyrus:

-when Norman appears beside you, handing you a drink. "-Oh thank you!" You accept, gratefully. You were gagging for that- how does Norman always know what you need?

"Thought ya looked thirsty." He explains, shrugging it off. Luckily in the quiet corner you've found, you can hear him perfectly well, because he's barely raising his voice. "You also look like you're searchin' for someone. Huh?" When you turn to glance at him, you see a teasing glint in his grin. Jaw dropping, you look aghast at him. Try not to laugh. "Whats that about?" Oh, he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." You grin, looking away.

8... 7...

"Uhuh, yeah right." He nods, shaking his head. Takes a sip of his beer. A moment passes, and the pair of you just watch the new years chaos unfolding around the rest of the bar, just brewing in each others company, before Norman pipes up again. "You know, if you want, I could help you out."

6... 5...

"With what?" You laugh, distracted and unsure what he means, taking a sip of your own drink; still looking out at the rest of the bar. Norman is looking at you, though.

The next words in that husky voice of his definitely draws your attention. "I could kiss ya at midnight." Your eyes immediately widen and you look to him, this devastatingly handsome older man you've been working with for the past year, pleasantly surprised.

"You would??"

"Sure. I want to."

4... 3...

"You want to??" Your mind's blowing away. You're gobsmacked. You've have a thing for Norman since you met him, but you never thought that he would look at you like this; Like he is right now. You never thought he would have a thing for you, too.

While you're still standing there looking like a shocked confused bunny rabbit, Norman sets his drink down on the table behind you both and saddles up directly in front of you, hands on your waist. Tall.

2... 1.

Your drink spills all over the ground when he leans in and presses his mouth warmly against yours; his beard scratching your face in just the way you imagined it would, and he draws your hips into himself like he needs you. Midnight strikes and you barely notice because you're busy kissing him back.

Wayne Jackson:

-when you get an idea. Wayne's outside at the car drinking. Said he doesn't like rowdy parties; he's too old for that shit. He also said if you needed him for anything-then you would know where to find him. (;

Well you just laughed at the time. Oh. In your dreams, grandpa. You rolled your eyes, but gave him a kiss to the cheek before hopping out of the car and following Dale into the bar to get a drink. It wasn't that you don't like Wayne, you do. He's a bit nasty but he's funny. But you just cant let the old bastard get what he wants so easy. You've gotta tease him a bit.

If you can get to him in time, though- that could definitely work.

"Dale, watch my drink!" You call, not really caring if he actually heard you over the noise or what happens to that cheap beer as you set it down on the table and start weaving your way through the bodies and towards the door.

8... 7...

The countdown makes your heartbeat faster, even as you make it to the door, feel the cold wind on your face. Feel shocked at the sudden fresh air in your lungs.

6... 5...

You make it to the car with seconds to spare, and just try to catch your breath; huffing and puffing, hands on your knees. Wayne watches you, from the hood, with an amused expression on his face. "You alright there, sweetheart??"

"Yeah yeah yeah- Hoo." Straightening up, you give a laugh at yourself. You're elated from the run, and the fresh air, and the drinks you've had. And Wayne, absolutely part of it is Wayne. "I'm good."

4... 3...

You step up in front of him, stood with your feet set between his, hands fisted in his denim jacket, drawing him close. ".... I'm fine," You repeat, again, in a whisper; your forehead brushing his. "Happy New Year, grandpa~ " You grin, eyes flickering slowly from his lisp to his eyes. Asking. Is this okay? Are we gonna do this, or not? Its time.

2...

"Toldya you'd want my help with somethin'."

"Uhuh, shut up."

He gives a chuckle at you just before you kiss him, swallowing the sound and making it yours. The clock strikes 12 inside and the sky erupts in yellow and blue and red sparks. You don't see them.

[multiverse-imagines]

A/N: part 2 baybeee! Hell hath no fury like an inspired fanfic writer!! time for some Disney magic, y'all!! ✨✨

I'll do the best that I can

Plush!Vash au (part 2)

She stumbled out of bed as she does every morning. She got dressed, trying to decide what she wanted to wear. The choice between a short or long sleeve shirt.

"Fuck, it's only gonna be twenty degrees today" she shook her head and chose the long sleeve, tossing the short sleeve back into the clean, yet unfolded clothes. 

After she was dressed, she scooped me up, and brought me out to the living room, setting me on the end table as she grabbed a quick breakfast of cereal. She had been restless last night, a nightmare probably. It looked as if it still haunted her in these early hours.

I was excited, able and willing to get some more cuddles before she left for work. She watched tiktoks as she ate. She giggled at the funny ones, and swooned when a rare Trigun one came on screen. 

"He's so babygirl. Ugh, I love him so much." She fangirled over the Spiky haired blond on screen. She let out a sigh before gazing my way. She used her thumb to stroke my face, with that all too common loving gaze that said, 'Why cant you be real?' 

"Look at me and my silly little delusions." She gave a chuckle of self pity, "Thinking I could ever win over the heart of a man who doesn't even exist." Her eyes seemed to moisten up with threatening tears. She shook her head, as if the motion would remove the thoughts from her brain. She curled her arms around my tiny being, hugging me to her chest. 

"I'd make him so happy though. I just know I would." She whispered, even though no one else was in this big, lonely house. She checked the time on her phone and sighed.

"Time to head out already. Fuck." She picked her unwilling body up from the chair, and walked to her bedroom, giving my forehead a kiss before setting me down on the pillow of her bed. 

"Have a good day, Vash. Love ya." She petted my hair before leaving the room. I heard another fit of self pity chuckles before I heard the front door shut and her car leave the driveway. 

It really tore me up inside to see the loneliness get to her like this. I'd heard her say to a friend who apparently lived far away that they feel like they can never truly open up to anyone. No one is there to hear the whole story, only bits and pieces of her life. A new mask for every new person in her life from strangers to friends, to family. To her, she's a stranger to everyone.

Everyone except me, it seems. The words she rambles to no one but herself, talking out stories, talking out her mental health, things she would say to Vash The Stampede or Nicholas D Wolfwood. 

Why can't I be with her? Why can't I give more to ease her pain? I wanted to throw something, but I can't move. I have to sit here and let my non-existent blood boil. 

A twitch in my arm, something I'd never felt before. Pain? Was this pain? Arms. Legs. Head. Holy hell this hurts. I shut my eyes. Shut my eyes? I can't do that? I could now, I guess, because they were shut. 

By the time the pain subsided, the bed was a lot smaller. The room seemed a bit smaller, but not too much. The reflective surface of the TV showed a man. A man I'd seen many a time, Vash the Stampede. But only in face and hair.

I figured I'd be the same height when I stood up, but my body wasn't riddled with scars. My left arm was real too. The real Vash had scars and a prosthetic arm.

Upon closer inspection, some of the missing scars were markings on my body, tattoos. It was all of the major ones she liked. The one over my right shoulder, the little cross on my left hip, a thick black tic tac toe over my left peck. Then there were two dark lines where the prosthetic would have been, and a symmetrical scar tattoo that he had on the other arm. Moving my right hand, I noticed tattoos of the thumb stitching he had. She'll be excited about that one.

I was pretty fit as well, the muscles he'd worked so hard on, only to be gifted to me.  Looking to my side, a pair of orange W wire rim sunglasses sat folded on the bed. I stood from the bed- oh shit I was naked.

I dug around in her dresser for a pair of basketball shorts, and one of her larger t-shirts. I prayed that they would fit me. The shirt was a little tight, but liveable until she got home.

I looked on the bed to find the ripped remains of my little coat I used to wear. I hoped that the trade off of losing her beloved plush for, basically, the real thing would be acceptable to her. I was starving. 

I went to the kitchen, trying to find something that didn't require cooking. I didn't know how to cook, and didn't want to risk damaging the house or an appliance. I settled on some chips I'd seen her eat before, and sat on the sofa, opening the bag. Thankfully the process of eating seemed to come naturally to me. 

I found myself picking up the controller for the video game system she had. I booted up the system, and chose a game that had multiple files, and started my own. 

By the time I was hungry again, I checked the fridge and found a small pizza lunch able. I'd seen her heat up the little bread rounds in the microwave. 

"Twenty seconds!" She would sing whenever she would put them in the machine. She did that no matter how much time she needed. I smiled at the memory, excited for her to come home. 

I had just finished the last of the pizza when I heard the front door open and her beautiful singing echoed through the house. She was listening to her headphones, considering the lack of pause. She entered the living room, and stopped mid lyric, frozen in place at the sight of me. The bag of fast food she'd gotten, fell to the floor, unnoticed by her. 

"V…Vash?" Her voice was a whisper as her eyes were locked on me.

"Hey… w-welcome home, Mayfly." I said the favorite nickname she would have wanted to be called by him.

"You're… I've gone full on delusional, haven't I? Have I finally lost it?" she pinched her arm. When I didn't disappear, she bit her thumb. I wasn't gone.

"You're real. You're really here."

"Y-yeah, I had to borrow some of your clothes. I uh, don't fit into my coat anymore." I dug the little fabric coat out of the pocket of my shorts, handing it to her.

"You're… little Vashie. You're really Vash."

"Kinda, I guess. My left arm is real, and my scars aren't. Check this out!" I lifted the sleeve on my left arm, "They're just tattoos. All of the ones you like!" I smiled down at her. She was so much shorter now. She just came up to my chest. She looked back up at me, bringing her hand to my face, she seemed to hesitate before cupping my cheek, caressing the beauty mark under my eye. 

"Holy shit, you're real." Poor thing was still in shock. I spoke her name, and took her hand with my left, and cupped her cheek with my right hand. 

"I'm here. I'll always be here. I've wanted this for so long, just to be here with you." I gently pulled her into a hug. She stiffened up for a second, before finally returning my embrace.

It wasn't long before she began to shake, and her throat released a chorus of sobs. I caressed her hair, and rubbed her back. Something I've always wanted to do when she was crying. I could tell these were tears of joy and relief though. 

"Mayfly, I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy. I've seen your ups and downs for so long, and I want to make everything better for you."

"Yes please. Please please please." She sobbed against my chest, "b-but, you gotta let me know if you need anything too, okay? We can't both be neglecting ourselves to make each other happy, ya know?" She looked up at me with a sniffle.

"Of course silly. We can take care of each other. 50/50?" I laughed, wiping some of her tears away.

"Y-yeah, 50/50." She smiled through her tears. I let go of her to retrieve the fallen bag of food.

"I can start by insisting that you eat something." I handed her the bag.

"Oh yeah, I completely forgot about that." 

--

We laid in bed that night, she'd eaten her food, and she'd told me about her day at work. We laid tangled up in each other, while one of her favorite movies played. One she'd probably played a billions times since my arrival. Not that I cared. 

"You're really sure that you're okay with looking after me?" She asked for the 3rd time since the movie started.

"Yes, Mayfly. I want to make sure you're happy, and loved, and heard and can be your authentic self around me. It's all I've ever wanted for you."

"But I'm a lot to handle. I don't wanna be a burden to you." 

"You've never been those things before. You relied on me when I was just your plush toy. Please continue to rely on me."

Her face went red, remembering I still have all my memories of being a toy.

"Oh, oh no, I'm so sorry, that means you've seen me-"

"And it makes me love you even more, Mayfly." I cupped her face with my free hand, "I love who you are. The you that you don't show anyone else. Your real opinions, your real emotions… every inch of your body…" my heart fluttered as I pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

"You deserve Vash the Stampede. You deserve to be loved by him, and your kind heart deserves to love him." I pressed my forehead to hers, "I-I mean, I may not totally be Vash, but I am officially licensed." I chuckled, "so let me be your Vash. It's your turn to be loved." 

[airiat]

northern sky, one. ✧˚ · .

{masterlist}

pairing: joel miller x you / f!reader (wc: 35.3k, 10 chapters)

rating: explicit, 18+

work tags: no outbreak, age difference (27/42), hurt/comfort, ptsd, fate, ldr, explicit sexual content (rough/romantic sex, light d/s & sadomasochism, dirty talk, choking/biting, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected piv, aftercare)

work warnings: themes of death (more details here, contains spoilers), depictions of mental illness/alcoholism, light discussion of theoretical relationship with minor (not condoned by either party), light blood kink

{ao3}

note: here. i've cut out my heart and laid it down beating and bloody on these pages. i needed to do this. you get to see it. this work is complete and will update every sunday bc tlou sunday. it'll be on tumblr in its entirety but also on ao3--pls just head to ao3 though i promise it's not scary there

anyway, i hope u enjoy and then comment to tell me u did thanks luv u

one. {8.5k}

Here it is. The witless beginning to the story you said you would never have. Here it is unfolding in the hallowed, wood-paneled walls of your small town’s bar. The one you always went to with your friends in high school because they’d never card, let the cheap beer flow like water. It’s the one that only plays 80s music, at home against the checkered floor tiles and the dull green vinyl of the bar stools.

There he is. The man with calloused hands built to cradle the very shape of your heart. You’d know that if you could see the grooves of his palms. You’ll know that soon enough.

He’s walking through the front door. He’s shaking snowflakes from the salt, mainly pepper, strands of his hair. He’s running a thumb over the etched-in crease between his brows, tugging the edge of his mustache, sitting down on the stool next to yours so heavily that melted snow wets your cheeks.

“Coming down hard out there,” your friend, the bartender, says as a greeting.

“Yeah, sure is,” the stranger says, coat-clad elbows against the bar top. “Don’t think I’ll be able to drive any further tonight.”

Your friend, the bartender, tilts her head in sympathy. “Well, what can I get for ya, then?”

“Beer’s fine,” the stranger answers. “Anythin’ you got on tap. I ain’t picky.”

Your friend nods and moves to fill a glass, setting it down in front of the stranger who wastes no time taking a gulp.

Here they are. The words you toss into the ether that you can never fish back out. Tongue loosened by your fourth glass of whiskey. Almost enough drink to let you trudge home through the snow, fall face-first into your mattress. Just hope you don’t drown in vomit before it’s time to wake up for the first appointment at your salon. Hope your hands stop shaking enough to give a decent haircut.

The sweaty tumbler in front of you is the wound slotted between your ribs, which coats your hands in just enough blood to make a ring slide off your finger. But just little enough to keep you dazzling, to make heads turn to you. 

Still, nothing sticks. It’ll always be your palms alone pressed against that laceration at the end of the night.

“That sure is an accent,” you say. “Must be pretty far from home.”

Here it is now. The first time this stranger looks at you, like he’s only just realizing a full-blooded woman is sitting next to him. He blinks in surprise, long eyelashes framing eyes that must be brown. There’s a corner of his lip raised, but it’s humorless. Your whiskey eyes don’t delude you.

“Damn, that obvious? Here I thought I was blending right in.”

And there they are. His first words to you. You don’t see how the invisible threads are being tied into place by them. 

It could have gone a million other ways. You could have been you in a bar five hundred miles from here, instead. Where they play 90s rock, and the seats are red instead of green. Where the night is warm and a girl, but sober, but with steady hands, will drive home alone and fall asleep in bed with an orange cat curled up with her.

Instead, here he is, sitting next to you. Here he is for you.

“Almost,” you say. “Don’t talk, and you’ll have it down.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” he drawls, but then he pauses, seems to consider. “What’s your name?”

You smile, shake your head. “What’s yours?”

“Mysterious, are you? Mine’s Joel. Joel Miller.” The unneeded addition of his last name is pointed. He’ll give you more than you’ll give him. He always will.

“Where did you come from, Joel Miller?”

“The road,” he grunts, taking another swig of beer.

“The road from where?”

“Texas. Austin.”

“To?”

Joel flicks his gaze over to you. The furrowed brow does not go unnoticed. “You sure ask a lot of questions for a girl with no name.”

“I’m making conversation,” you counter. Then, you wave down your friend who would never cut you off, ask for another glass of whiskey. “You could make conversation, too, if you answered them.”

“Well, maybe I don’t wanna,” Joel Miller says, but he’s smiling at you, something small and secret, just for you. 

“So, where’s the cowboy hat, Joel Miller?” you ask.

Behind you, another Tuesday night regular walks through the door donning the very thing. It’s Colorado, somewhere. Close enough to the mountains, far enough to block them out with a pinky over the horizon. It’s more ranches and dry plains, the endless expanse of watercolor sunrises.

“You think everyone from Texas is a cowboy or something?”

You shrug, take a sip of your drink. Tastes too much like water. You’d make a scene about it–you have before–but this moment with Joel is better than booze, better than yelling. If only for the time being. “Yeah. Aren’t they?”

He squints at you like he can’t decide if you’re fucking with him. “‘Course,” he says. “Just happened to leave mine in the truck.”

You squint back, but it’s to study his sun-worn face, his coat's old canvas. Maybe. But then you duck down beneath the bar to see his shoes. Come back up, grinning victorious. “Wrong kind of boots.” Work boots. The lace-up kind. “Bet you’ve never even ridden a horse in your whole life.”

“Sure I have. Once…when I was a kid.” He snorts a laugh. “No, I’m not a cowboy. And hardly anyone from Texas is.”

“How disappointing.” You give an exaggerated sigh. “Well, what do you do?”

“I’m a contractor.”

You grin. All cheek. “So, you’re good with your hands, then?”

Joel won’t look at you, but the tips of his ears are growing red. You can’t see that it sweeps across his cheeks, too. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” he answers gruffly into the bottom of his beer.

“Maybe that works out better for us, then,” you say in a low voice, leaning closer. “I’m certainly no horse, after all.”

This has to be the moment. You’ve decided you want this. Want him. Want the heat of him, the weight, his short breaths, the quick snap of his hips, your body pressed under his.

Joel finally turns to you, and his eyes pass slowly over you–your face, your chest swathed in an old flannel shirt, lace camisole peaking through the top. 

“A horse?” he says in a voice like the snow falling outside in the darkness. “No, I wouldn’t say that you are.”

You reach out and brush his hand. “There’s a hotel in town, but it’s kind of a dump,” you murmur. “You could come back to my place instead.”

“Your place?” Joel chuckles. “Kind of you to offer, darlin’, but I can smell that whiskey on your breath from here.”

You smile. Darlin’. “Could be tasting it, instead.”

Joel swipes his tongue along his top lip. “Dunno if that’s such a good idea. You seem a little…young.”

“I’m being served at a bar, aren’t I?” But then you lean even closer, lips next to his ear. “I’m twenty-seven.”

The slope of his shoulders says you’ve eased him, but he still pulls away, shakes his head. “I should really just get to sleep. Have to finish the rest of my drive tomorrow.”

You shrug. You’re not gonna cry about it. This was never really the plan. You would have just been lucky. You say farewell with a soft hand on Joel’s shoulder as you stand up, tossing a twenty on the bar. For you and him, you indicate to the bartender who is no longer your friend.

“Safe travels, then,” you tell him. Kind smile. You’re good at this.

As you leave the bar, you’re stopped by something. It’s not him. No, it’s a voice singing a familiar tune, the one that goes, All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, is here in my arms. You can’t go just yet. You like this one, actually like this one. Your hips are swaying as you go to the small space in the bar where people sometimes dance. You’re the only one there tonight, but this isn’t the first time. It never stops you.

But you’re not there for very long this time. Barely even through the second verse. There’s an arm sliding around your waist. When you look up, you meet brown eyes. Those long lashes.

It’s his turn to dip down to your ear. “Changed my mind,” Joel murmurs. “Seeing you move….” He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. You’re already threading your fingers through his, tugging him back towards the way you came.

His truck is dusted with snow in the parking lot. It’s an older one. Utilitarian. Nothing like those flashy ones that only pretend they have purpose. You imagine his tools cluttered in the bed. Imagine him driving it, sweaty and tired after work.

But now he’s pulling the passenger side door open for you, holding your hand for balance as you climb into the seat, closes the door, and gets into the seat next to you.

You’re warm with him in the cab now. The interior is surprisingly clean, smells of leather and earth, of cigarette smoke, faintly. The stereo is on from how he must have had it before, down low, playing a CD of some artist whose name is on the tip of your tongue. Minimal, mostly guitar, only one voice like it in the whole world. It suits him. You imagine him listening to it on the lonely road, mouthing the lyrics, thumb tapping against the wheel.

Joel’s driving now. Only, his thumb is brushing against your knuckles, hand resting in your lap. He’s asking you how to get to your house, and you’re directing him as he goes, but your voice is drowned out by the feeling of his hand on yours.

You hadn’t expected this. Maybe he’d have his hand on you, sure. But it should have been on your thigh. Maybe even drifting in between your legs. He should be thoughtless. He should pretend that you are nothing more than a pocket of warmth on a cold night. You don’t know what to do with tenderness. It’ll flounder and die if it’s left up to your heart to hold it.

When it starts to feel like he’s grinding glass into your skin, you pull your hand back to yourself. He glances over, but you just grit your teeth and say nothing. You’re approaching your house now, anyway. 

You don’t even have to direct him anymore. Yours is the only house at the end of the dirt road. Joel pulls into the drive, and you think you should be embarrassed. It’s old and neglected–chipping green paint, sagging porch, bare bulb over the front door. A farmhouse with only your garden beds left of the farm. At least it’s tucked into the trees, so no one really has to see it.

“You leave your car back at the bar?” is the only thing Joel says.

It isn’t what you’re expecting. “No,” you answer. 

“And not one here, neither. So you, what, take a cab?”

You don’t like what your response ought to be. You don’t like that he’s even asking. “Why are you asking?”

“Just confused, is all. How were you plannin’ on getting home?”

“Woulda walked.”

“Alone in the dark? In the snow? And taken you something like thirty minutes?” He’s bewildered. He shouldn’t be. This is how it always goes, and you are always fine.

“I like the fresh air. The adventure,” you reply. “So, are you coming inside…or?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry.” He shuts the truck off, and you both exit. You don’t wait for him before you march up to the front door. But he catches up when your unsteady hands take too long with the keys.

“You, uh, you sure you’re alright?” Joel asks.

You won’t look at him; you only catch a glimpse of the white cloud his breath makes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just got a medical condition, okay? I’m basically sober. I barely drank anything.”

Two truths. A lie. But maybe you don’t like playing this game anymore. Maybe Joel and all his questions are more trouble than they’re worth. And so, you snap, “Look, if you don’t actually want to do this, you’re welcome to leave. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

And here it is. The choice. The first exit. The proof of…the proof of what? Desire? Integrity? Pity?

“Just want to make sure you’re…y’know, that this is what you want,” Joel says.

You finally get the key in and shove the door open. The house is as dark as it always is when you arrive.  Quiet, too. Like the inside of the pine box you should have been laid to rest in. But you didn’t get one. You were meant to go on. To live with that.

“Come with me,” you whisper to Joel, careful not to disturb the slumbering darkness.

He follows you as you lead him to your bedroom, just as quiet, honoring the stillness. As though the Earth has paused its orbit and will only begin again once you’ve told it to.

You reach the room and stop to light the single vanilla-scented candle on your dresser. Joel starts to reach for the lamp next to your bed, but you hold a halting hand out.

“No, don’t,” you tell him.

He pauses to look at you, face golden with candlelight, warm like the final rays of a sunset. “Alright, darlin’. Anything you want.”

And what you want is to step slowly towards him, press your hands to his chest, rise on your tiptoes, and kiss him. But you don’t. You pause with your lips a breath from his.

“Never got the chance to tell you how pretty you are, did I?” Joel murmurs, palms sliding against your jaw until his fingers are laced in the hair at the nape of your neck. 

You freeze a little because this isn’t what you’re supposed to hear. Hot, maybe, Sexy, maybe. But pretty? That’s meant for someone without ghosts haunting them. You were never meant to be more than warm flesh. You don’t have eyes, don’t have lungs or a heart. He isn’t meant to tell you otherwise.

But you can’t help how your eyelashes flutter, the bloody corpse of your hope reanimating. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, you are,” he says. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You think this has to be a lie. You make yourself presentable because your business is beauty. Keep up with your hair color, do a face of makeup. But right now, you’re in old jeans and a holey flannel, breath tainted with stale whiskey, eyes rimmed with smudged mascara.

“Okay,” you whisper. “If you think so.”

“Yeah, I do,” he tells you. “Now, c’mere.”

Finally, finally, Joel leans in and kisses you. You can’t help your immediate sigh, open-mouthed and slack against his lips, can’t help your hands from fisting at his chest, almost pushing him away. You can’t help it. You’re not familiar with this kind of gentleness. 

Joel pulls back, and your sigh becomes a quiet whine, hands clutching at his coat. If you let him go, he’ll become a wisp of smoke. You’ll wake up and realize that none of this has been real. That your mind is finally deranged enough to concoct such a beautiful illusion.

But those dark eyes looking down at you are too fathomless to be something you conjured. Your sickness would never let you create something so complicated, would never even realize that a life must exist inside of them. Because you see it all there in those eyes: every moment he’s lived, every teardrop, every piece of happiness witnessed.

“You have nice eyes,” you tell him. It’s all you can say.

“Thank you,” Joel says softly. “Now, here, just let me….”

He relocates your hands from his coat to the front of his shirt before he shrugs out of it, draping it over the back of your vanity chair. This is an appreciated change; now you can feel the shape of his muscles, slide your fingertips up to trace his collarbones.

This time, you kiss him, surrendering to your sadness as your lips meet his, aching. This kiss becomes your arms around his neck, rising on tiptoes to press yourself against his chest. His hands find the skin of your shoulder blades underneath your flannel, warm and rough on you. Warm and real. You break away long enough to tear at the buttons and let your flannel fall to the wooden floor. You still have your camisole on. It isn’t too scary.

But you find yourself backing into your bed, sinking onto it when the mattress presses into your calves. Joel is leaning over you, your head craned up, so the kiss never breaks. But, then, it does, and he’s kneeling in front of you, pulling your boots off, then gripping you behind your knees. Kissing you again so soon that it’s like he never stopped.

You wouldn’t have cared about the boots. You would walk through a sea of mud and still get tangled up in your sheets if it meant Joel would be there next to you. But he’s too considerate to even dream of it. He must be. He must care. He must want to make sure there is nothing about this that you’ll regret.

“You still doin’ alright, honey?” Joel pauses to ask you. 

In this new stillness, you notice the heaviness in your chest, realize your breaths are coming short and nearly frantic. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” you gulp.

He releases one of your knees to soothingly rub your arm. “We can always slow down, you know. Still got all night. Or, we don’t even have to do anythin’ at all.”

You smile at him. You can’t help it; your mind, in all its sickness, never could have dreamt up a man so gentle. “Are you hungry?” you ask him. “Got some leftover pasta, I think.”

He blinks once in surprise, but a smile comes to his face. “Yeah, sure, I could eat. Actually…that sounds pretty good.”

“Perfect,” you say. “Food, then.”

Joel rises to his feet and holds a hand out to help you up. You walk together to your kitchen, then to the fridge. Opened, it emits the brightest light you’ve seen since the sun as you and Joel stand before it. “Well, I said pasta, but I also have….” You rattle off a litany of dishes you’ve made. The fridge is full of these leftovers, the drawers still bursting with ingredients. You love to cook. You would cook endlessly, make enough food for everyone and then some, but everyone is really only just you.

“You made all of this?” Joel asks, glancing at you, but can’t help but bring his eyes back to the food.

“All of it, yeah. It’s kind of a hobby, I guess.”

“God, wish I had that as a hobby.” He steps back from the fridge. “Well, I couldn’t possibly decide. You pick.”

You hem and haw for a moment before settling on a foil-wrapped dish that contains chicken pot pie. Then comes the decision to warm it up in either the microwave or the oven…the microwave, you decide. It won’t be perfect, but Joel probably won’t mind. You’re still thinking about what came before this. You imagine he is, too.

When it’s out of the microwave, you slice two squares and plate them. Joel’s sitting on a barstool at the island–you put one in front of him and yours at the other seat. “You want anything to drink?” you ask him. “Got wine…other things.”

“Just water’s fine. This looks good, darlin’. I’m sorry, you mind if I…?” He looks at you with his fork hovering over the food. “Think it really has been hours.”

“No, no, please do,” you insist, then watch for a moment as he takes the first bite. He closes his eyes and lets out a quiet groan.

“Yeah, damn good,” Joel confirms.

Satisfied, you turn to the cabinets to find two glasses. With his water glass in hand, you hesitate to reach for a wine glass. It won’t look very good…he’s having water, and you’re…you snatch it off the shelf. Your house. You’ll do what you want. And when you sit down at the island with your wine and his water, he says nothing. Doesn’t even seem to notice, really, except enough to take a drink.

“So, you never told me,” you begin, picking at your food, then relenting and taking a drink of wine. “Where are you off to?”

“Oh, I didn’t?” he says with a mouthful of food. “Headed to Jackson, Wyoming.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “What’s there?”

“My brother and his wife just had their baby. Thought I’d pay a visit.”

“Oh, nice. Girl? Boy?”

“Boy.” Joel smiles. “Be good to have a nephew. Have a daughter, myself.”

You glance down at his hands—no ring to be found—but you still feel funny about it. You take a long gulp of wine. “You do?” you make yourself ask.

“Yeah. Sarah. Think she’s plannin’ to be there, too.”

“You don’t know?”

“Well, she and I…she and I haven’t been speaking lately.”

You don’t think you should press, but the wine has reignited your earlier haziness, so you’ll do it anyway. “Why’s that?”

Joel looks over to you, gaze lingering like he’s deciding something, but then he bows his head back to the plate of food. “First, it was that she just started college. Thought I’d give her a little space to grow. But then, she came home this past Christmas with a girl, introduced her to me as her girlfriend.”

You furrow your brow. “You don’t like that your daughter has a girlfriend?”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t know what I thought about it. It wasn’t how I was raised, you know? To think something like that is alright. And my own daughter?” His voice comes quiet, and he’s picking at his food, too. “We fought about it, and then she left early. Haven’t spoken since.”

You stab your fork into the pie crust. “If I had a kid, I’d just want them to be happy.”

“Yeah, I know. I did eventually come to see it that way, too,” Joel replies, almost defensive, but then he sighs. “She doesn’t know I’m coming, but I’m hoping she’ll forgive me.”

If he were anyone else, you wouldn’t want to reassure him, but he’s Joel Miller, so you say, “I bet she will. You seem like a good dad.”

He gives you a soft smile. “Maybe,” he says. “But thanks. Sweet of you to listen.”

You shrug. “I do a lot of listening. Part of my job.”

“You some kind of therapist or something?”

“Hairdresser,” you answer. “Almost the same thing.”

“Huh, yeah,” Joel agrees. “You been doing it for long?”

“Five years.”

“You like it?”

“Well enough, I guess.”

“Surprised you can, y’know–”

“Why, because my hands shake?” You cut him off with a snap. “All that came after. I can do my job just fine. It’s muscle memory.”

“Didn’t mean it like that. Just that it’d be impressive.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter. You’re taking it out on him. You know it. But your haziness will have you let it fester. The vengeance rolls across your tongue in waves. It’s all you can do not to say it.

Joel leans in towards you, sweeps your hair away from your neck. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have said it. You’ve been so sweet to me.”

The vengeance dies when you let him press a small kiss on your cheek. Your cheek. You’d forgotten you could be kissed there. It feels better than you ever thought such a simple thing could. Like a bandaid smoothed over an old wound.

“You done eating?” you murmur.

“This, yeah,” he says, nudging the plate, face still near yours. “But maybe I’m, y’know, still a little hungry for something else.”

You giggle. Actually giggle. It’s a corny line. You know it, but it’s working on you. You’re not ashamed to say so. “Yeah? Well, I have a whole fridge full of other stuff.”

Joel shakes his head, tickling your cheek with his beard. “Not quite what I had in mind. Maybe…maybe I should just show you.”

“Yes, please do,” you whisper.

“Alright,” he says with a small smile. “But first, these have gotta go.”

Your gaze follows his movement down to his boots, which he unlaces with deft fingers. It’s the kind of thing that makes your mind wander, imagine what else he could use them for. You’ll find out soon enough.

Joel leads you back to your bedroom with your hand in his. He doesn’t let go until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed, and even then, it’s only to replace your hand with your hips as you stand before him. He’s looking up at you silently, waiting. You’re breathing in the vanilla of the air, marveling as it mixes with his scent: the woods in summer, a piece of the sky, something almost like blood. You could hold it all against your chest when you lay down under the trees and pull the earth over yourself. You’ll remember it.

But you’re not there yet. You blink, and the house comes crowding in around you, too fast and too much, but you feel Joel breathing beneath you, and you settle. His hands slide from your hips to cup your rear as you sink into his lap, knees on either side of his thighs. Drape your arms over his shoulders, press your face into his neck.

“You smell so good,” you say against his skin.

Joel exhales. “Can I kiss you again, darlin’?”

“Of course,” you whisper. “Please do.”

He lifts your head with gentle fingers underneath your chin, pauses long enough that you start to melt into those dark eyes, but they’re moving over your face, lingering on every feature. Finally, his lips, with their perpetual M-shaped slope, curve up and kiss you.

All the night’s previous slowness is abandoned as Joel’s fingers thread into your hair, tugging at the roots, as you clutch at the back of his neck, forbidding each other from ever letting go. Not as though you would. Not when he’s parting your lips, licking into your mouth, drawing out a quiet moan. Not while his hands travel the road of your shoulders and down your sides, fingertips cautiously dipping under the hem of your camisole.

“Can I…?” Joel murmurs into your mouth.

You don’t answer him yet, instead moving to the buttons on the front of his shirt. You want to undo them, but your shaking hands prevent it. He notices, gently takes your place. 

His shirt is discarded along with the last shreds of your hesitation. You resist the temptation to sink your palms into his chest to find the warmth of his heart. You let him continue. 

First is your camisole shucked off, and then you’re sitting there in your thin bra, bracing yourself as he sees you. There’s nothing wrong with you; you know there isn’t. You know about the shadow of your ribs, the constellation of your beauty marks, the crescent moons of your breasts. There’s nothing ugly about it. But you can only unravel when he smiles, kisses the dip of your collarbone.

Your breath hitches when Joel reminds you of his tongue, licking up the junction of your neck, and again when he introduces you to his teeth as he softly drags them against your skin. You tighten your hands against his back, long fingernails sinking into his spine. He hisses through those teeth, pulling you tighter against him, arms a band around your middle.

“You gonna be sweet for me, honey?” he asks, leaning back to look at you. “I don’t have to be so gentle with you if that’s not what you want.”

Your lips part at his words. Maybe you’d be drooling if you didn’t have your decorum–or if you’d had just one more drink. “I–I don’t know what I want. But I’m not…fragile.”

“No, no, I know you’re not,” he says gruffly. “Well, then, I’m gonna stop asking you about everything. But you’re still going to tell me if you don’t want something to happen, or if something hurts in a way you don’t like, or if you just plain want me to stop. Alright?”

You nod, docile and brainless.

“And you’re not gonna be shy about it, either. You’re gonna be honest with me. Right, darlin’?”

“Yes, I’ll tell you,” you say softly. “I promise.”

“Good. Now, this first.” Joel slips his fingers under the band of your bra, unhooks it with his thumb. “Been wantin’ to see you. Know you’ll be beautiful.”

Goosebumps shimmer on your skin as he guides the straps down your shoulders, slow, making it feel like your arms go on forever. When he’s finally revealed you to him, a shiver wracks through you, probably because of how he’s looking at you: like he’s just sifted through all your layers, reached the empty space in your chest. But it’s not empty, is it? No, the light bathes his face.

He smiles. “Just as I thought. Beautiful.”

You giggle, press your bare chest against his, just as bare, and a kiss to his lips. “And what about you, huh? Most handsome man that’s ever been in my bed.”

“Probably only could have said that about me ten, fifteen years ago,” Joel disagrees lightly.

Then, as if to distract you, he wraps his arms around you and flips you around so you’re on your back. As if to make you forget the thought entirely, he kneels over you and frames your face with his hands, feathering kisses over your mouth, your cheeks. You’re grabbing his shoulders, breathless, floating, but you haven’t forgotten.

“No,” you speak hoarsely. “I’m saying it about you right now.”

His answering chuckle rumbles against your chest as he drags his lips down, attaching themselves to a nipple. You moan when his tongue flicks against it, clutching at his hair. What were you trying to tell him? Something about–he nips at you, just a little bit, and the sensitivity has you seeing stars.

You let it all go as he moves to your other nipple, as one hand grips your waist, slides down to the curve of your hip, where your skin becomes your jeans. There, his hand is all you can pay attention to, knowing what he’s asking of you.

“Joel, please, take them off.”

“You take ‘em off. I got other matters,” he tells you.

His “other matters” are to return his lips to yours and to not let you forget about his tongue, moving against yours in a new way, one that gives you some idea of another use for it. Flooded with the feeling, you’re fumbling with the button and the zipper on your jeans, pouring frustrated sounds into his mouth until he finally reaches down and yanks them off himself. When your hands meet as you go for your underwear next, he laces your fingers with his and presses your hands next to your waist.

“Be patient, pretty girl. Leave them for me.” His voice is like thick smoke.

A small moan is your agreement, enough that Joel gives your hand back, only for you to latch onto his arm braced next to you. His muscles move under your fingertips, and you consider his strength. How your hand was going nowhere, how badly he could probably hurt you, how he never will.

And it’s true: he won’t. Never in all your life. But you deserve at least that much. More.

Joel doesn’t make you wait for very long. His will probably isn’t made with as much iron as he’d have you believe, but his fingers feel sure as he slips beneath your underwear, finds the hollow below your stomach, careful to only just brush the hair there. Maybe he’ll have you beg for it. You look up and see him watching you with a contented little smile. All you can do is blink slowly back.

“Joel…” You try, but your words don’t form.

He presses a kiss to your temple. “I know, darlin’. I’ll give you what you need. Just let me relish it.”

“No, now. Please.”

His smile morphs into something more wicked at your plea, when you reach down and grab at his wrist. He lets you guide his hand toward your center but won’t let his fingers go where you need them. He’s using his strength for that control. A frustrated whine falls from your lips. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe he is an endless well of restraint. He doesn’t even kiss you–only lets his eyes roam your face.

But your own well is more akin to a puddle, on better days, the shallow end of a swimming pool. You show him this when you pull his head down, kiss him so hard that it hurts your lips. And finally, with a growl of surrender, his fingers travel down the length of your slit. Your moan drops into his mouth, his name strung after it.

“God, all of this for me, baby?” Joel rasps at the wetness gathered between your legs.

You can’t answer him because his fingers have made it to where you’ve needed him most, gliding over in slow, but firm circles. You’re tugging at his hair, holding his head, making sure his lips are there to catch all of your noises, to match your shallow breaths to his.

After a particularly sharp pull to his hair, he groans, and then his fingers move down to your entrance, lingering but not going in. There’s almost no sensation, almost unbearable after him having just worked your bud. Your frustration and exasperation have you yanked at his roots, wrapping your hand around his arm in a vice, trying to hold him there so you can move your hips to meet him. But you can go nowhere; his other hand is holding you still at your waist.

“Joel,” you whine, tears pricking at your eyes.

He’s looking down at you, pausing before he leans in and kisses you softly. “Bet I could keep you like this all night, have you delirious by morning. And you’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

Your breath comes quicker with panic, but somehow the thought is still a temptation. To let him work you down until you’re nothing more than your body, until you’re mindless and bent to his every word. It would be a pricklier sort of heaven, but heaven all the same. “Yes, I would. I would,” you say between your ragged breaths.

“Thought so,” Joel says, smug. “But I won’t. Not tonight.”

With that, he sinks two thick fingers deep into your wet heat. Throat bared as you toss your head back with a moan, he closes his lips around the thin skin, nipping until you feel raw, burnt as though by the sun. Your cries are sharp and thin as his fingers work you apart, legs splayed, hands clutching at anything in reach: him, the sheets, your bare breasts.

Soon, the tides change, and Joel pushes himself up, deftly maneuvering so that he’s kneeling on the floor, pulling you to the edge of the bed, all while keeping his fingers inside you. Propped up on your elbows, you gaze down at him between your legs, chest heaving as you realize what will come next.

But your underwear is still devastatingly on, and his mouth is miles and miles away from your center. His lips are on the inside of your leg, yes, but only at your knee. Still, you cannot complain–his fingers have started moving again, and this time, his thumb rubs at your bud.

“Joel,” you breathe, tipping your head back. “I’m gonna die waiting. I’m–I’m…please, my underwear.”

There’s a little spark of surprise as he immediately rips them off you, but you let out a thin wail when he pulls his hand away, leaving you cold and empty. Your arms shoot out to reach for him, but he eases you back with a hand on your stomach, draping your legs over his shoulders.

“Shh, baby,” he soothes, breath sweeping across the sensitive skin. “You’re so good for me. It’ll be worth it.”

“Please,” you whimper as he brushes soft kisses on the inside of your thigh, trailing down closer and closer until he finally presses one right onto–

His name falls like fluttering leaves from your lips as his tongue licks up through your folds. There is no easing into it this time; he eats at you like your body is something exquisite. Lips capture your bud as his tongue flicks over it, and you dissolve into a thousand flower petals as you sink into the bed.

“Joel, please, I need your–” Your moan is loud and throaty as his hand snakes between your legs, and he plunges his fingers into you, immediately curling them, all before you can even finish your sentence.

And this will do it. You know it will. The release is already coiling up in your stomach, heavy and tight, and you think maybe you’ll faint before you can get there. That’s how perfectly he works you. That’s how skilled his tongue is, how steady his fingers are in their movement. It’s like he had spent years studying your body, countless nights giving you this divine pleasure. 

But you’ve just met him. You can’t explain this, and you’re not meant to. 

You forget the thought as the warmth pools in the depths of your core, as one of his hands squeezes your thigh so tightly that it aches. There’s a sound coming from deep in his throat; if you could, you would pull it from him and cup it in your palms. His tongue is ceaseless, and his fingers are tapping against the spot inside you that sends your sense scattering.

“I’m almost there, I’m almost there, Joel,” you gasp, clenching down on him, drawing your thighs tighter around his head. He can’t go anywhere. He can’t stop. You need this. You’ll die without it. You’ll–you’ll–you’ll– “Fuck.”

The release envelopes you like an avalanche, pinning you down so that all you can do is arch your back into his mouth. You can hear his low groan amid your rapture, but you are otherwise so lost, so gone. You are meant for this. This is how you should always live. If it was forever like this, you could make it. His mouth, his fingers, him. Yes. Just like this.

It ends so soon. But your woe is interrupted by the simple sight of Joel, lips wet and glistening from you, shaped into a sloppy smile. He’s stroking the outside of your thigh as he untangles himself from your legs. Then he rises and crawls over you, kisses you soft and gentle, letting you taste the tang of yourself. The wetness of the fingers that were inside you trace against your jaw, leaving it cool in the air.

“You’re so good for me, baby,” Joel murmurs into your hair, holding you closer to him. “So fucking sweet.”

You sigh contentedly into his chest, but you’re still buzzing, still yearning for more of him in different ways. It’s almost without thought when you reach between your bodies and slip your hand into his jeans. He’s already almost hard in his boxers, and as you trace his length, you bite your lip at just how much there is.

He groans, low and quiet, against your neck, pushing himself more into your hand. “Ah, fuck, baby. You don’t–” he swallows. “--you don’t have to.”

“And I’m not going to,” you say. And it’s true: that was never in the plan. It’ll be a while before you let him into your mouth. You’ve never liked doing it, only would if you loved him. “But you are still gonna fuck me, right?”

He chuckles lowly. “That even a question, darlin’?”

“Good. Then, these–” you withdraw your hand to pop the button on his jeans, yank down the zipper “--need to come off. Right now.”

He instantly sits up, tosses you a cocky grin. “Yes, ma’am. Anythin’ you want.”

You sit up to watch him as he gets on his feet to do what you ask. But, god, he still has the reins in this moment. You know this as he takes his sweet time pulling them down, letting you soak in his body for the first time. 

And fuck, how had you not noticed all this? 

All the delicious muscles in his torso were built by hard labor, not at the gym, but still with a leanness–long lines, not bulk. His arms could lift you like you’re nothing. The expanse of his shoulders could eclipse you underneath him. But his jeans are hanging low on his hips, and your eyes drop immediately to the v-lines now exposed, to the wisps of dark, coarse hair peeking over his briefs.

“You’re teasing me,” you accuse.

He raises an eyebrow. “Tellin’ me you don’t enjoy the show?”

“I do. I just–god, I need–” You’re stammering. You’re gesturing frantically with your hands. “Fuck, Joel, I need you. I can’t fucking stand how–how sexy you are.”

The rich sound of his laugh is at home in the flickering candlelight, but he finally lets the jeans drop to his ankles, standing there in only his tight briefs. Your chest is clenching with stifled pants as he returns to the bed, climbing over you until all you can do is flatten down onto the mattress, caged by his arms and legs.

“I…think…you forgot something,” you whisper as his lips dip down to your neck.

“Did I?” he murmurs between kisses. “Maybe you should fix it for me, hm?”

You exhale a trembling breath as your hands find his hips, a breath that he captures with his mouth on yours. You manage to get his briefs down somewhat but can only move so much with him over you, with his hand cradling the back of your head. At your frustrated squeak, Joel reaches around and takes them the rest of the way off.

Finally, finally.

But he curses under his breath and pulls away. Your heart feels like it’s sunken into a hole in the ground as you stare back at him. The absence of him kills you. “I don’t have anythin’ with me,” he admits, looking like he could punch himself. “I can’t believe I didn’t fuckin’ remember.”

“You mean, like, a condom?”

“Yeah.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Might have one in my truck, but this isn’t–this isn’t somethin’ I usually do. And everything’s probably closed now and–”

“Joel.”

He quiets, brings his eyes to yours.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, sitting up. “I don’t really do this either, so I’m clean, and you can just pull out. I…trust you.” You say that last part so quietly. You can’t meet his gaze now.

“I don’t want this to be a mistake,” he says softly.

“I’ve made so many mistakes, Joel. You’d be the least of them,” you say. “I think you’re a decent man.”

“You just met me. How can you be so sure? I coulda, I dunno, killed a bunch of people or somethin’. Just because I’m decent to you don’t mean–”

“Have you killed a bunch of people?”

“Well, no, but–”

You tilt your head, cock a smile. “You’re acting like a dad. Cut that shit out, and please, just please fuck me, Joel.”

He exhales, his shoulders relax, and the easy smile slides back onto his face. “Yes, ma’am. Anything.”

You don’t wait before pulling him to you by the neck, smashing your lips to his. And he’s quick to push you down to the bed, hand behind your back, you arching over it. Your lips never separate. You’ll die if they ever do. He’s roughly palming your breast, licking into your mouth, hot and hungry, desperate and keen. And then, his hand leaves your chest for a moment, finds its way to where your bodies will meet. You tense, knowing what’s coming, and when he eases himself in, your moan shatters into his mouth. The start of his slow, deep thrusts has your eyes rolling back, has you clutching him closer by his shoulders, tossing your head so his teeth scrape your chin.

“Yes, yes. God, Joel, t-thank you,” you gasp.

He lets out another of his low growls before he grabs your head back to kiss you again, quickening his motion as he does. In this way, he continues until your body and your mind belong entirely to him. Every movement you make is to bend with him, to let Joel mold you into something perfect for him, to bear his roughness and welcome his gentleness. 

It’s how he holds your jaw between his fingers to keep you still, but how achingly tender are the kisses that come after. How he hooks your leg under his elbow, folding you into yourself almost painfully, but how attuned to every twitch of your body, every time you react–tempering himself at a wince, going deeper when he earns a moan.

And your every thought belongs to him, too. Every time you catch a glimpse of his dark eyes, the tendons in his neck, the expanse of his shoulders, your world shrinks until it’s taken his shape. And then, before long, it’s just him, and him, and him. 

It’s how he’s looking at you, too, like you’re the woman who filled his lungs with the breath he’s used to make all his beautiful sounds. Every fervent moan, every sweet little nothing he’s poured into your mouth, next to your ear. All because of your shaky hands that coaxed him into being. 

“Baby, I’m gonna…I’m sorry, I have to–” Joel chokes out, bracing a hand next to your head.

His thrusts come rougher, but looser, like they’re out of his control now.

You reach up and let him lean his cheek into your palm. “Go ahead, sweetheart,” you breathe.

Not a moment later, he jerks out of you and spills onto your stomach, tugging at himself, groans hanging in the air. You’re stroking his cheek, admiring him in quiet awe, still so perfectly handsome even at his most animal. The prominent veins in his hands and arms, bowed head, face contorted in an unholy mask of ecstasy. Yes, probably, even more so.

When Joel finishes, he leans over to snatch his shirt up from the ground and uses it to wipe your stomach clean. He’s holding you as he does this–arm slid under your shoulders, lips pressed unmoving to your forehead. You’re still and stiff in his embrace; this isn’t what you expected. The shirt, maybe, sure. His tenderness? Never.

“Sorry, darlin’, usually’d have a towel for this,” Joel tells you, wadding the shirt into a ball–messy part inside, it’d seem–and tossing it back to the floor.

“You got your shirt dirty for me,” you say. “You didn’t have to.”

He chuckles. “Good thing I got more of ‘em in the truck.”

You extract yourself from him, springing awkwardly to your feet, still a little unsteady. It was nice, you have to admit. But you can’t let yourself linger with him. It’s not supposed to work like that. “Let me put it in the wash for you, anyway. You thirsty or anything?”

He’s sat up as though to follow you, a bewildered expression on his face. “I’m not worried about the shirt, darlin’.”

“Are you sure?”

“Never been more sure in my life.”

“Okay,” you say, a little deflated. Now, what do you do? You’re standing at the foot of your bed, wringing your hands. You can’t stay here all night, can you?

“You seem lost,” Joel says gently.

“I–” you start but can’t admit to it. “What now?”

He cracks a little smile, but it doesn’t seem at your expense. “Well, much as I’d love to stay up with you, I’m tired, and I’ve still got a long drive tomorrow.”

You nod. “Okay, you should get some sleep, then. You sure you don’t need anything?”

“I do need something, actually, yeah,” Joel says.

“Sure, what is it?”

“You in this bed with me.”

You freeze. Not what you expected. “Oh, um, okay. If you really want,” you say, but you’re still stationary.

Joel shakes his head. “Not want, need.” Then, he casts his eyes somewhere to the side and says so softly that it’s almost inaudible, “Please.”

Your exhale tumbles out, but you nod, going to your dresser to find a clean set of pajamas–little shorts, big t-shirt. You let him watch you dress from afar and then return to his side slowly, cautiously. Like you think he might pounce, claws out. Instead, he stays where he is but leans in to kiss your bare shoulder slipping from the shirt.

“Would you–?” you begin, passing him his discarded underwear.

“Sure, honey,” Joel murmurs, standing up to put them on. But before he returns to bed, he goes over and blows out the candle. The room is almost completely dark, and you’re still until you feel the mattress dip down next to you. That’s when you lean into him, pressing against him like a cat. “Sorry,” he says. “Shouldn’t leave that burning overnight.”

“Sometimes I do,” you admit.

“I’ll bet you do,” he answers, chuckling. “But don’t, alright?”

You yawn wide, the dark conjuring exhaustion into your bones. “Alright, Joel.”

He gives a sigh of defeat, then you feel him peel back the covers and slide under. When you look over, you see the length of his body in the soft shadows. He’s stretched out on his side, head propped in his hand. The space he leaves is perfect for you.

You need to fill that space. Just not with your body. “You want me to set an alarm or anything, or I could–”

“Darlin’.”

“Yeah?”

“Lie down with me.”

You quietly arrange yourself next to him: on your side facing him, a delicate river of space between your bodies. But he’s so warm. He radiates it. And it’s snowing outside like it’ll never stop, and your old farmhouse is so drafty, and the candle’s snuffed, and your pile of pillows is just not gonna cut it tonight. So, you bury your face into his chest, and he wraps his arms around to pull you closer, wraps you both in blankets.

His heartbeat thrums like the pulse of the earth, and you let yourself be lulled by it.

[boots-with-the-fur-club]

Chapter 3 of my reincarnation fic!

@daboyau

@rottmnt-background-screenshots

“Donnie? What’s wrong? What happened?” Mikey unfolds his legs and kneels down next to him, breaking the hand holding.

He doesn’t respond, seeming like he’s somewhere else at the moment.

Splinter walks over and gently pats his shoulder.

“Donatello?”

Donnie gasps sharply at the touch. Instead of looking at his father, his attention turns towards Leo. Their hands were still held together so Donnie uses that fact to pull Leo into a close and desperate hug. Leo quickly hugs him back just as tight, noticing that he’s starting to shake.

“Blue, take Purple to his room. No one should try doing this again until we know what’s going on.”

Leo nods at Splinter and tries to carry Donnie.

“No! I’m fine, we need to keep going.” He insists while still not letting go of Leo.

“You don’t look like you’re fine!” Mikey frowns.

“What happened Donnie? You’re still shaking!” Raph adds.

Donnie takes a breath.

“I….felt something at the end. That’s it. There was nothing dangerous. I want to see what happens next.”

“What did you feel to make you cry?” Mikey questions with worry.

“They weren’t my feelings. They were Tomo’s.” Donnie slowly let’s go of Leo.

“But they kind of are us? Or they were us? It’s so confusing….”

“Whatever it is, ya felt it. You need a second to handle it at least. How about me and Mikey try it again and we let you know if anything important happens?” Raph suggests.

“Clearly none of you are going to let me continue so I guess I’ll have to agree.” Donnie grumbles.

“Glad you’re seeing reason. Let’s go watch a guy do a review of different number sequences or something.” Leo smiles softly and leads him away.

“Are you sure you want to do this? It could happen again.” Splinter looks at them with concern.

“I told him we would do this and I meant it. Don’t worry, I know we can handle it.” Raph smiles encouragingly.

Splinter sighs.

“Okay. I’ll be right here.”

“Thanks, pops. Your ready Mikey?”

He nods with determination and goes back to his seat, holding Raph’s hand.

They close their eyes and activate their ninpo again.

Mikey finds himself running through a forest.

“Tora! Slow down! Please! We can’t go this fast the whole time!”

Her hair and yukata moved at the same brutal pace in the wind that she did in front of him.

“Maybe you can’t! I could go on forever!”

The raggedness of her breathing and the trembling of her legs proved just how much she was lying.

“You’re going to get hurt!”

“Don’t tell me what to do! I can take care of myself!” She turns her head back towards him which means she doesn’t see the root sticking out of the ground in front of her.

Kosuke has no time to warn her before her foot hooks under it and she face plants so hard her mask goes flying off the side of her face.

He quickly catches up to her and kneels down.

“Are you okay…?”

She lifts up her face with a deep frown and big eyes. From this close, he can tell she’s gotten a little older than she was in the last memory.

“I-I’m fine. I…am….a big girl.” She stands up and wipes the dirt off her yukata.

“You’re way braver than me, I always start crying when I fall.” Kosuke comments as he looks around nearby.

Tora puts her hands on her hips and huffs proudly.

“I guess I’m on track for being stronger than boys already!”

“Here it is! I found your mask.”

He sees Tora pat the side of her head before reaching out to take it.

“I didn’t know it….fell off….” She looks down at it with a devastated face.

He walks closer, seeing that it now has a long crack in it.

“Oh no…I’m sorry Tora.”

She doesn’t look at him at all as she pulls the mask to her chest then falls to her knees.

“Tora!? What’s wrong!?”

She takes a deep breath before letting out a loud wail. Kosuke is caught off guard by the large tears dripping down her face.

“I-It’s okay! We can get you a knew one! A better one!”

“We….we can’t…an…aniki b-bought this for me!” She continues to sob.

Mikey feels some cold sense of dread in his stomach.

Was he feeling it? Or was it what Kosuke was feeling?

Where were Aoi and Tomo?

Were they not here because Leo and Donnie weren’t?

“H-He can buy you another one when he gets better! And we’re helping him do that!”

He remembers now, vaguely. Aoi was sick. Badly sick. With what, he didn’t know.

Tora sniffles and breathes shakily.

“What….what if we can’t….? What if we’re too late? I’m slowing us down!” She stands up and tries to run again.

Kosuke grabs her arm.

“I think we need to talk before we go anywhere!”

“Let go of me! We have to keep moving!”

“Stop right now before I have to make you!” He screams.

She quits trying to move but a few tears keep rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m….I’m sorry for yelling like that….but you’re not okay. I know this is scary-“

“I’m not scared!”

“You don’t have to pretend that you aren’t! Just because you’re trying to be strong doesn’t mean nothing is scary! I know I’m scared! Aoi is nice and we’re only family because of him! He does so much that….I don’t know what we’ll do without him if we can’t get that medicine. I’m scared that we’ll fall apart. Tomo.….Tomo can’t lose someone again either. I’m afraid we’ll lose both of them….”

Tora’s face softens

“I….I don’t want that either….I-I…I am scared, too….”

Kosuke gently hugs her, holding her close and putting a hand on the back of her head so he can pet her hair.

“Then here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to have our scared time, then we’re going to keep going. We’re going to get that medicine and help him. We won’t lose anybody. Okay?“

She nods and leans into his touch.

Mikey wonders if this is why so many people scoop him up. The urge to protect someone smaller than you is so strong.

The urge to protect someone from themselves is too but he knew that feeling well already.

After a little while they collect themselves and keep on with their journey.

Tora is largely quiet until eventually she finally says something.

“I’m sorry…..”

“About what?”

“Saying not to tell me what to do….Aoi told me to listen to you….and I didn’t do that.”

“It’s okay, I get it. I’m not the person that makes you feel safest.”

“Safest?”

“Yeah. You can feel safe with some people, but there’s a different kind of safe you feel with certain people. I feel that way with Tomo.”

“You guys have been our brothers for a year and you still haven’t told us more about you.” She complains.

“What you don’t know about us….are things that hurt to say.”

“Oh….hurt where?”

“The heart. The stomach too kind of. My brain, sometimes.”

“How does it hurt so many places?”

“Because when you get hurt by something that isn’t a weapon or a hand, there’s nothing on your body to fix.”

“How do you fix it then?”

“I’m not really sure, but having you, Aoi and Tomo around helps.”

Tora is quiet for a few moments again.

“Me not feeling safest with you doesn’t make you sad?”

“It does a little, but that’s because I want to be a good big brother. I’ve never done that before. I wasn’t very good at being a little brother either so it’s hard to learn both at the same time.”

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Talk like nobody likes you.”

“Well….it’s hard to know if people do….”

“But you say things like you don’t like yourself either.”

“Wh-What?”

“You say I don’t feel safest with you and that you’re not good at being a brother. That’s not something you should say to yourself.”

“Tora, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Well I’m going to! You are a good brother. You don’t treat me like I’m just a girl. You’re helping me help Aoi, and you got me to stop crying. If I didn’t feel safest with you I wouldn’t be your sister, and I’m a good sister too.” She smiles proudly.

Kosuke smiles back softly.

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“But you still don’t believe it?”

“I’m sorry….it’s not because of you. A lot of people….they told me things. Those things are part of what made me hurt. They said them so many times I remember it pretty well.”

“Then I’ll just have to tell you that you’re a good brother more times than they’ve said all those wrong things about you.”

Kosuke chuckles.

“You’re the most determined person I have ever met Tora.”

“That’s why I’m named after a tiger. Aoi said I’m just as fierce.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“Part of your name means to help. That means you can’t be that bad.”

“I don’t think I’m all bad….Tomo picked me after all.”

“Picked you?”

Kosuke looks down at the ground.

“We’re not blood related.”

“Aoi and I aren’t either.”

“What!?”

“You sound so surprised!”

“You’re the closest siblings I’ve ever seen!”

“Because he is my brother, and so are you. So is Tomo. Blood doesn’t mean anything. Whoever left all of us at our orphanages were probably related to us. Aoi isn’t and he’s never abandoned me.”

“You don’t get upset that they didn’t want you?”

“They didn’t deserve me. Doesn’t matter if they wanted me or not. All of you deserve me and I deserve you. We picked each other so we have a way better family than people who gave us up!”

“….I think….you may have found a way fix one thing for me.”

She smiles proudly once again.

The memory shifts slightly like time is moving forward. Tora and Kosuke made it to a village.

Something informs Mikey that this is where they’ll find what they’re looking for.

They talk to several different people until one of them is able to give directions to the healer that lives there.

Once they get to him they explain the situation and are able to obtain a special herb. Mikey could guess that it was something that wasn’t available wherever they had come from.

The memory shifts once again. The two of them had traveled back the route they came in on and back to the original village they left.

Despite being back, a sense of urgency never left. Slowing down for anything even now would be bad.

They rush to enter a temple, breathing heavily while moving past healers. Tora slams open the sliding door where they see Tomo holding Aoi’s hand as the latter lays on the ground.

Mikey feels like his heart is beating super fast as Kosuke’s eyes scan over Aoi. The rise and fall of his chest makes the anxiety he feels dissipate a little.

“Thank the gods.” Tomo says shakily.

He seems somewhat relieved too, but not a lot. Aoi must have gotten worse while they were gone.

Tora runs to one of the healers and hands her the herbal ingredient they had worked so hard to get.

The healer immediately gets to work into making the ingredient into a paste. They carefully watch as the healer gently helps Aoi sit up.

He smiles at them tiredly, face flushed with fever. It looked like his body had been battling with it for a while now. Probably the whole time they were out.

From the patch over his eye, he has been fighting something else before this too.

“Th-Thanks. That was fast….”

Tora and Kosuke sit at his side.

“You’re going to get better after this, right?”

“O-Of course. Better….maybe even stronger….” He wheezes but smiles more.

The healer carefully begins removing the bandages.

To Mikey’s horror, Aoi’s eye is missing.

[emilykat-artblog18]

The Other Port

(Chapter 5)

.:: Scraping It Off ::.

Ten cents slowly began to wake up, he began to contemplate the events that unfolded last night. It felt like such a weird dream and yet it felt so real, The Other Captain, Other O.J. and Top Hat, even Sunshine was there too. Was it even a dream?

Then Ten Cents began to realize something; It was morning, the barracks looked… normal. Gone was the lively, rich, bright, and colorful bedroom, now he was back to plain boring barracks he knew.

“Are we back in our world?...” Ten Cents whispers to himself not feeling sure if they’re really back.

Ten Cents gets off from his bunk bed and looks on the bunk above him to see if Sunshine was okay. He was relieved when he saw Sunshine still here and sleeping peacefully.

“Maybe this was a crazy dream after all,” Ten Cents thought to himself as he began to wake Sunshine up in a calm and gentle manner. “SUNSHINE! GET UP IT’S MORNING!!”

Sunshine jolted awake from the sudden loud voice from Ten Cents, “What?! What?! What’s going on?!” Sunshine shouted, looked around and noticed how everything was back to normal.

“Ten Cents, What was that for?!” Sunshine shouted,

“Hey, you know i’m just messing with ya” teased Ten Cents

“But not when I'm sleeping, man.” Sunshine remarked, sighing in frustration.

“Not while we’re sleeping too,” a voice suddenly spoke up accompanied by a head poking up from another bunk; It was Top Hat,

“We’re working in a difficult time, you two. We employees of Star Tug & Marine have a position to keep up, we need to get as much rest as we can so we have more energy to do work early in the morning.”

Before Ten Cents could reply, a pair of groans cut him off, “Come off it, Top Hat, at least they’re up early and bright, unlike you,” Big Mac scoffed, Warrior laughed at this.

Before Top Hat could retort, the PA speaker turned on, accompanied by small feedback from it.

“Good Morning Star Fleet, I see everyone is already up so we can skip the wake up call and get to the announcements. As of now we’re going to have to work even harder than before for this week following the accident that occurred yesterday. Big Mac and Warrior you’re going to be assisting Hercules with the docking and unloading of another tramper, Top Hat you're on garbage detail today after that you’re to transport the rail fairies across the port, and since O.J isn’t available, I’ll have to ask Captain Zero to lend one of his employees to do his duties in the meantime-”

“But Captain,” protested Top Hat, “can’t one of us do O.J’s jobs, we’re more than capable of handling his work as well as our own.”

“I would but I’m afraid O.J’s duties would be too much to handle on top of your already scheduled duties. And I can’t spare my youngest employees to do them because of what happened recently.”

“Can’t we just do O.J’s work as a punishment?” asked Sunshine.

I let out a sigh, “I would Sunshine, but I’m afraid that because of the companies you three kept waiting as well as making a fool out of the company in front of the tramper’s crew, no one at the moment is going to trust you with your duties.”

I couldn’t see the expressions of my young employees, but I could sense they felt worse after what I said.

“You three are just going to have to start from the bottom and work yourselves back to the top starting with scraping the barnacles off of pier 3, Scuttlebutt Pete will meet you there and supervise your work. That is all, best of luck to all of you.”

The P.A speaker let out a crack and a squeal as I turned it off. All of my employees set off to do their assigned jobs of the day, as they walked out the entrance Ten Cents and Sunshine couldn’t help but feel as though Top Hat was staring coldly at them.

Ten Cents and Sunshine were quiet to each other as they made their way to Pier 3. Some ways into their journey, Ten Cents decided to speak up, “I’m sorry for waking you up the way I did, Sunshine, but... do you remember what happened last night?”

Sunshine paused for a moment then asked “You mean with the Other Captain, the Other Top Hat, and the Other O.J, even the food he gave us?"

“Yeah all of that.” Ten Cents replied.

“How do you know all of that? I thought it was just a dream I had,” Sunshine asked perplexed.

“I was there with you and you were there with me. It was weird, the whole thing had to have been some dream of sorts right?” Ten Cents ventured.

“I suppose, but how do you know we’re not having a dream right now?” Sunshine asked.

“Only one way to find out,” Started Ten Cents before grabbing Sunshine’s left arm.

“Oi! not too hard, you’ll pull my whole arm off!” Sunshine yelped.

“It’s not there anymore…” Ten Cents remarked as he stared at Sunshine’s healed hand.

Sunshine retracted his arm back and slapped Ten Cents across his face with his other.

“Ow geez!” Ten Cents recoiled, “What was that for?”

“I just had to be sure you felt pain as well, just to be sure that we both aren’t dreaming.” Sunshine explained before looking back at his hand.

Ten Cents thought for a moment, “Maybe some rope burns can go away quickly,” he suggested.

“But how would that explain how we had the same dream last night?” Sunshine raised an eyebrow.

Their pondering was cut short when they heard someone running up to them, it was Tillie.

“Hello Ten Cents, Hey Sunshine! I see you two out pretty early this morning. Did Captain Starr already give out the announcement for the day?” Tillie asked.

“Yeah he did, but don’t worry you didn’t miss anything. We’re still scraping barnacles today.” Ten Cents reassures Tillie

“Oh right… Well I guess it’s lucky I have my own scrapper and gloves just in case, my sister got them for me after I told her about yesterday’s accident.” Tillie recounted

“How did she take the news?” Sunshine asked

“Well… she took it in stride, a bit better than I imagined but she understood the situation. Anyways we better get going to the Pier.” Tillie said, trying to liven up the mood.

“Yeah you’re right, we can’t keep Scuttlebutt Pete waiting for us any longer.” Ten Cents sighed.

Ten Cents led the way to Pier 3, Tillie walked in the middle humming a tune, and Sunshine followed behind looking at his now healed hand again thinking that maybe The Other Port was real, all while a black cat was following them from afar. The three found Scuttlebutt Pete waiting for them at the entrance of Pier 3.

“You three made it here in good time.” Greeted Scuttlebutt Pete.

“Thanks Scuttlebutt, we’re all here and eager to work.” Tillie exclaimed.

“Good, well here you go,” Scuttlebutt Pete started handing the scrapers, gloves, and buckets to the three, but Tillie declined her pair.

“I brought my own scraper and gloves, Scuttlebutt.” Tillie explained.

Scuttlebutt Pete was a little taken aback but smiled, “Didn’t think any of you would be eager to get to work on your punishment. At least that makes one of you.”

“Why’s that?” Tillie puzzled.

“You’ll find out why, but before we start, what end of the pier do you three want to start from?” Scuttlebutt queried

“The ne-” Ten Cents began

“The far end of the Pier!” Tillie cutted in

“The far end it shall be then,” Scuttlebutt Pete smiled.

Ten Cents and Sunshine winged at this. As they followed Scuttlebutt Pete to the far end of the Pier the boardwalk creaked and groaned as they walked along it. Tillie also noticed that the pilings were rotting and covered in colonies of barnacles. When they arrived at the far end of Pier 3, they found a strange contraption waiting for them.

“This is what you three will be standing in as you scrape the barnacles off the pilings. It’s a ‘floating platform’, once you finish scraping off the pilings I’ll come back and lift you three back up onto the boardwalk and move it to another spot.”

“Say uh Scuttlebutt, wouldn’t this be a lot easier if we were standing in a boat?” Sunshine queried.

Scuttlebutt Pete interjected, “A boat isn’t stable as the platform, if you stepped too close to the side, it would tip over and you three would end up in the ocean. Trust me, this is a safer alternative”

Sunshine still felt unsure about this. Ten Cents went in first before he helped Tillie and Sunshine get onto the platform and slowly, with the help of the pulleys holding platform, lowered the three down to one of the pilings and they got to work at once.

—

Meanwhile, Top Hat was refueling his railway tug at the coal yard when he heard a familiar whistle, it was one of the harbor tugs from Zero Marine hauling behind it a couple Star Line fuel barges, on board was Zorran. Top Hat ran over to his tug’s wheelhouse and radioed over to the passing tug,

“The refinery is in the other direction Zorran, why are you coming this way? If you’re here to gloat, I don’t want to hear it.” Top Hat huffed.

What Top Hat received as a reply however he couldn’t believe came from Zorran,

“I just wanted to come by and say that I’m sorry for what happened to OJ,” Zorran lamented, “the recklessness of your younger crewmates is unforgivable.”

Top Hat didn’t know what to say,

“What are you trying to accomplish here, Zorran? I don’t understand” Top Hat puzzled.

“I’m not trying to accomplish anything but the work your captain assigned to me. I’ve always had a deep respect for OJ. This may not mean a lot coming from me, with us working for rival companies, but I hope he recovers” Zorran consoled.

Zorran tipped his fedora to Top Hat who watched as the Zero Marine harbor tug turned around and headed across the bay to the refinery. Top Hat then walked to the stern of his tug and stared at the docked paddle steamer at the Star Pier, his eyes welling up with tears.

—

By mid-afternoon, Ten Cents, Tillie and Sunshine felt tired. Scraping off the barnacles was hard work especially to Ten Cents and Sunshine, their leather gloves were worn and the scrapers were rusty. True to his word, Scuttlebutt Pete finally decided it was time to give the three a break.

“Well lads, you’ve earned your hour long break, make use of your free time wisely because you all got a lot of scraping to get back to,” advised Scuttlebutt Pete.

“Finally, I was getting tired of scraping for this long,” exclaimed Sunshine wearily.

“Yeah, at least for now we can catch our breaths, my arms are killing me” Ten Cents sighed as he put his scrapper in his pocket.

“Well what can we do during our free time?” Tillie asked.

All three thought about it for a moment as Scuttlebutt Pete pulled the suspended platform up carefully to the pier’s surface. Once they got off the platform, Ten Cents had decided, “well we can just hang out here for the whole break and maybe have something to drink.”

“Say, Scuttlebutt Pete, are there any refreshments nearby?” Tillie queried.

“Fraid not. Sorry lads, I can go and bring some, especially to cool off from the heat of the day,” Scuttlebutt Pete apologized.

“Oh thank you Scuttlebutt Pete.” Sunshine sighed in relief

“But you three have to stay put here and try not to get into any trouble while I'm out, do you all understand?” Scuttlebutt Pete remarked.

“Yes Scuttlebutt Pete.” all three affirmed in unison.

“Good, I’ll be back as soon as possible,” and with that, Scuttlebutt left the three young harbor employees at the pier with each other’s company.

“I guess while we wait… what’s been going on with you two?” Tillie inquired.

“Well…” Ten Cents began,

“Last night something weird happened to both of us.”

Tillie perked up at the sound of this.

“Oh? What is it? Was it something interesting?” Tillie quizzed.

“Do you remember that small door we found in the employee lounge?” Ten Cents hesitated,

“Uh… yes? There was just a wall of bricks behind it, what about it?” puzzled Tillie.

“Well last night, me and Sunshine chased a mouse to the employee lounge where the small door is and-” Ten Cents was suddenly interrupted by a sudden yet faint sound coming towards them.

“Meow,” it was a cat; its fur was colored black and it looked tatty and frail, rather strangely it was missing an eye. Tillie and Sunshine turned their attention towards it.

“Oh look, a little cat!” Tillie said adoringly at the black cat.

Sunshine took one look at the cat and instantly recognized it from yesterday. “Hey I remember you,”

The cat walked slowly up to Sunshine. Sunshine was nervous until the cat started to rub itself against Sunshine’s leg affectionately, purring all the while.

“Aww it likes you, Sunshine!” Tillie exclaimed, getting closer to pet the cat.

Sunshine was hesitant about being near the black cat since it was the main catalyst of yesterday’s incident, but despite the look of the tattered one eyed cat he couldn’t resist its seemingly friendly nature as he got down to being eye to eye with the cat.

“Huh, you don’t seem bad, are you lost?” Sunshine asked the cat as he pet it.

“He must be a stray considering how thin it looks.” Tillie sighed at the feline.

“Yeah… Poor thing.” Sunshine added.

Ten Cents however wasn’t thrilled to see the black cat. He marched over to the cat

“Oi! Get lost!” Ten Cents hollored.

The black cat, frightened by Ten Cents’ sudden approach, scampered away to the entrance of the boardwalk. Sunshine and Tillie were surprised and a little offended.

“Why’d you go and scare it off, Ten Cents?” Sunshine puzzled,

“Have you forgotten it is the exact reason why we’ve gotten into this mess?” Ten Cents chastised,

“No, I haven't forgotten Ten Cents, but I don't think it warranted you scaring it off.” faltered Sunshine,

“It’s only a harmless animal, Ten Cents,” Tillie soothed, “It probably didn’t mean to cause what it did,”

Ten Cents took a deep breath, he knew Tillie was right. His thoughts were then suddenly interrupted by the sound of two pairs of boots making their way over to them.

“Well well well, looks like you three are in a spot of bother,”

It was Zip and Zug.

“Don’t you two have anything else better to do? We’re trying to enjoy our break” Sunshine hissed,

“Hey calm down Sunshine we’re only here cuz we heard what happened, and we thought we’d check up on our fellow deckhands,” Zip insisted.

“Yes,” added Zug, “after all if we had put OJ in a hospital room, we’d feel very upset ourselves”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ten Cents scowled.

“Oh nothing, it's just if we had hindered the old man we’d feel very remorseful.”

“Are you saying I don’t feel remorseful?”

“Well by the look on your face I’d say not,”

This infuriated Ten Cents, clutching his scraper in his pocket, his thoughts swirling through his head. How dare Zug accuse him of being remorseless about O.J.’s injuries.

Tillie soon saw this in Ten Cents' face, she could see how this was getting under his skin, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Ten Cents… please calm down. He’s just trying to get to you…” Tillie soothed.

“Tillie’s right Ten Cents, he’s just trying to mess with ya.” Sunshine added.

Zip and Zug turned to leave

“How pathetic,” Zug smirked, “Ten Cents can’t even stand up for himself, those smaller than him always get in his way,”

“What a disgrace to The Star Fleet” snickered Zip.

It was then Ten Cents snapped, he broke free from Tillie and Sunshine, drew his scraper from his pocket and charged at the two zeroes.

“Ten Cents, no!” “Stop!” cried Sunshine and Tillie as they chased him.

Ten Cents tackled Zug suddenly and began slashing Zug’s face with his scraper.

“DISGRACE TO MY COMPANY?! PATHETIC?!” Ten Cents shouted.

Zug squealed in agony as Zip tried pulling Ten Cents off Zug but Ten Cents shoved him off into one of the wooden railings of the pier. Tillie and Sunshine then ran up and yanked Ten Cents off of Zug, his face red with fury and tears welling in his eyes.

“I’M NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO OJ!” Ten Cents seethed.

“That’s enough!” boomed another voice, it was Scuttlebutt Pete who was holding a crate of bottles of soda.

Zip pulled Zug back onto his feet, Zug limped to the entrance of the pier,

“You’re in for it now,” he scowled at Ten Cents.

Zip turned to the three stars, “I’m sorry about this,” he apologized before following his colleague.

“Scuttlebutt I can explain, I-”

Scuttlebutt Pete held up his hand in front of Ten Cents,

“Save your explanation, you’re going to have to give it to Captain Starr. However, either way you’re going to be in a heap of trouble with him.” Scuttlebutt Pete said solemnly.

Ten Cents let out a sigh, somehow he knew deep down, Scuttlebutt Pete was right.

(To be Continued)

{End of chapter 5}

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