#drinking from copper bottle

[copperproduct]

Why Copper Bottles Make the Perfect Gift for Health-Conscious Individuals 

When it comes to thoughtful gifting, few items combine utility, elegance, and wellness as seamlessly as a copper bottle. With growing awareness around sustainable living and holistic health, copper bottles have become an increasingly popular choice for health-conscious individuals. Here, we’ll explore why gifting a copper bottle could be the perfect choice for anyone prioritizing their health and well-being.

1. Health Benefits of Drinking Water from Copper Bottles

Copper bottles offer a unique way of naturally infusing water with beneficial copper ions. Storing water in a copper bottle overnight or for several hours allows a small quantity of copper to dissolve into the water, a process known as “oligodynamic effect.” This effect has been appreciated in Ayurvedic and holistic practices for centuries and provides several health benefits, including:

Boosting Immunity: Copper is known to ahave antibacterial, antiviral, and anti-inflammatory properties, which can help strengthen the immune system.

Supporting Digestive Health: Drinking copper-enriched water can help improve digestion by killing harmful bacteria in the digestive tract.

Improving Joint Health: Copper’s anti-inflammatory properties can be particularly beneficial for those with arthritis or joint pain.

Promoting Skin Health: Copper’s antioxidant properties help combat free radicals, which can reduce signs of ageing and promote clearer, more radiant skin.

These health benefits copper bottles a unique gift choice for someone who values natural wellness.

2. Eco-Friendly and Sustainable Choice

Unlike plastic bottles, copper bottles are eco-friendly, reusable, and have a significantly longer lifespan. By gifting a pure copper bottle, you are encouraging a move away from disposable plastics, supporting a more sustainable and environmentally friendly lifestyle. Health-conscious individuals are often environmentally conscious too, and this gift aligns with their values by reducing waste and promoting sustainable practices.

3. Natural Water Purifier

Copper has been used as a water purifier for centuries due to its antibacterial properties. It has the ability to eliminate harmful bacteria such as E. coli and S. aureus, making it a natural purifier. For those who are particular about drinking clean, chemical-free water, a copper bottle is an ideal gift. Unlike plastic or metal bottles that may alter the taste of water or leach harmful chemicals, copper only enhances the taste, providing a refreshing experience with every sip.

4. Aesthetic and Elegant Design

Copper bottles come in a variety of designs, from sleek modern finishes to traditional hammered patterns. They are visually striking and add a touch of elegance to any kitchen or dining setup. For those who enjoy high-quality, artisan-crafted items, a copper bottle is not only functional but also beautifully designed. This makes it an appealing gift for anyone who appreciates aesthetic appeal and unique design.

5. Easy to Maintain

Another reason copper bottles make a fantastic gift is that they are relatively easy to care for. With simple maintenance routines, such as cleaning with lemon juice or vinegar, the bottle stays looking like new. This is especially suitable for busy individuals who want something both health-conscious and low-maintenance.

6. Promotes a Hydration Habit

Gifting a copper bottle also helps cultivate a healthy hydration habit. Health-conscious individuals often pay close attention to their hydration, as it is essential for overall well-being. A dedicated bottle that not only stores water but also improves its quality can serve as a gentle reminder to stay hydrated throughout the day.

7. Symbol of Health and Wellness

Copper bottles have been used in traditional Indian and Ayurvedic practices for centuries as a symbol of health and holistic wellness. For those who appreciate gifts with meaning, a copper bottle represents more than just a water container; it is a connection to ancient health practices and a reminder to embrace natural living.

Conclusion

For anyone who prioritizes health, wellness, and sustainability, a copper bottle is more than just a practical item—it’s a meaningful, eco-friendly, and aesthetically pleasing gift that aligns with their lifestyle values. The health benefits, coupled with the natural appeal of copper and its environmental impact, make it a thoughtful present that will be appreciated for years to come. Whether for a birthday, holiday, or just as a token of appreciation, a copper bottle is a gift that truly keeps on giving.

[muffinpink02]

Sweaty Sessions

We all saw the gym pic Alexia put in her insta post, so of course I had to do a story of her in the gym.

@copper-16 I hope you enjoy the hip thrusts! 🤤 @codiemarin thank you for jumping in and giving me a detailed picture to write 🥵 💦 and @lucyandalexiafan thank you for always helping me with everything I write! ❤️ Sorry if it feels a little rushed.

Warning - smut 18 plus, strap, restraints, fingering,

Barcelona’s sun was extra hot today, you could feel the sweat dripping down your back as you rounded the corner to your house. You let out a puff of air as you dropped your keys in the bowl next to the front door. You caught a quick glimpse of yourself in the mirror after your run, your face was sweaty, your cheeks were red and your baby hair was starting to curl. The built-in AC was a welcome on your damp skin.

“Ale, I’m home.” You called out, but got no response. 

You walked into the back of the house, knowing your girlfriend would be in her favourite room. 

You took your headphones out as you approached the door to your shared home gym. You could hear the familiar sounds of her heavy panting before you had even turnt the corner. You couldn't ignore the way it made your pussy flutter.

You spotted your girlfriend in the middle of her daily work out. You had seen the sight before, more times then you could count, but that didn't mean it ever got old, the view of Alexia working out never got old. In all honesty the mouth watering sight alone could get you wet if you watched her long enough, especially when the only items she wore were a sports bra and red gym shorts.

You slowly sneaked into the kitted out gym room, the heat in the room hit you straight away, it felt like a sauna. It was the only room where the AC wasn’t working, the repair guy was coming next week to fix it. 

The blonde was in the middle of her hip thrusts, she hadn't noticed you come in, she had her headphones on, and her eyes closed as she concentrated on the heavy weight bearing on her hips, her deep breathing went in time with her motion. Your eyes greedily roamed her sweaty body, as her abs flexed with her movements.

You shook your head at the girl, only Alexia would work in a hot box for a room, the girl never missed her workouts for anything.

The music in her ears suddenly stopped. Her hazel eyes opened in confusion, a cute frown knitted between her eyebrows until she saw you. She gave you a quick smile, clearly still in the zone of her workout. 

You eyed the plates on the metal bar, the weight combined was heavier than you, a stark reminder of the kind of power the girl possessed. Though you were reminded most nights when she had her way with you. Just the other night the blonde had you pinned to the wall, her strong arms held you up as she fucked you so effortlessly with her strap.

You smiled back at her, your mind was already filled with filthy thoughts, but you couldn't help it, not when she moved her hips the way she did. Her hips thrusted hard, as she pushed the heavy bar in the air, you felt your pussy squeeze as you watched her muscles flex again and again, her sweaty skin looked incredibly edible.

You flinched as she dropped the weight, the heavy clanking of the metal brought you back from your dirty day dream.

“Hola, baby. How was your run?” She breathed.

“It was good, thank you. How's your training going? Are you finished?” You asked with hope in your voice but you already knew the answer.

“No, I’m half way.” She chuckled.

You pouted as you stood over her. You rolled the bar down her legs, she eyed you as she took a drink from her bottle, the blonde could already read your mind. You lowered yourself on top of her hips, in a squat-like position. 

“I bet you can’t do a hit with me on top.”

She wiped her wet lips as she smiled at your attempt to goad her.

“At least try and give me a challenge when trying to distract me, amor. Come, let me finish. I’ll be done soon.” 

She patted your leg to move, You pouted again, giving her your best puppy eyes, she playfully rolled her own, smiling at your sulky face.

“Three thrust, then I train, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

Her warm hands grabbed your bare sides as she easily raised you off the floor with her movements, you felt your cunt flutter as her hard abs pressed into your core, just slightly giving you a little bit of friction, But she didn't stick to her own words as she thrusted again, and again, her hands squeezed your skin, holding you in place. 

You could tell she was counting, she had clearly made a bet in her own head to get to a certain number, the competitiveness never stopped with this girl, even if it was with herself. You couldn’t hold back the giggles as she smiled at you. You held on to her shoulders as she pushed into you, easily lifting you up and down, her fingers flexed around your skin, making your stomach flutter.

A small gasp escaped your lips at a particularly hard thrust from the girl below. You bit your lip as your clit pressed just perfectly against her firm body, your hips naturally moved against her, wanting more friction.

She felt you move, she heard the gasp, a knowing smirk crept on her perfect face. You could feel yourself getting wet, the movement was sexual, there was no two ways about it. You had been in this very position only this morning, when Alexia decided she wanted you to ride her fingers. 

But once again your filthy thoughts were interrupted.

“20. Done. Now let me train.”

“Make it 30.” 

She chuckled. “No amor, let me finish, then you can have me.”

You tried to do your best pout again even adding a small roll of your hips, hoping the move would persuade her.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she felt you, the fingers on your sides tightly squeezing again. You took that opportunity to lean into her hot body, your lips traced her sweaty neck, you could taste the salt from her sweat on your lips. You dragged your tongue just below her ear, smiling when she made a small gasp of her own. You captured her ear gently between your teeth, giving her another sinful roll of your hips.

“Please baby. I want you.” You purred.

Her hips jolted up, you couldn't help but feel slightly proud of yourself as her normally strong resolve started to break. But just as you thought you had won you were being lifted into the air. Your face was met with Alexias back as she easily flung you over her shoulder, like some kind of cave woman.

“Ale!”

Moments later you were set back on your feet, standing next to the pull up station. The next couple of seconds were a blur. Her movements were quick, one minute you were dry humping your girlfriend, the next your arms were being pulled behind your back and were being tied up by the rubber bands that were attached to the bars above.

You felt the rubber around your wrist, you tried to pull at it but it was no use. You shouldn't have been too surprised that the girl was able to tie you up so effortlessly, she loved having you tied up in your sexual activities, she could make restraints out of almost anything, but you had never thought your resistance bands would be used on you. 

She smirked as she pulled the bands, making sure you couldn't escape. A harsh tug brought you closer to her face. Her lips ghosted your own.

“As you can’t be good and keep your hands to yourself, you can wait.” She smirked as she pressed her lips onto yours. 

Your mouth gaped open in disbelief, she gave your arse cheek a hard slap before she walked back to the equipment. 

“No, Ale please! I’ll be good.” You cried out.

But it was no use, her face was already back in focus mode. You groaned as you watched Alexia completely ignore your presence and settle back into her hip thrust position, your complaints falling on deaf ears. 

So you stood there. Staring at your girlfriend as she thrusted the heavy bar in the air. You tugged at the band once again, trying to free yourself but it was hopeless. You would just have to wait and watch, but at least the view was a good one.

Alexia was in the zone, she concentrated on her work out, finally finishing her remaining reps. As she stood you noticed her arms looked extra hard, you weren't sure if she was tensing or the girl had just gained more mass. But you were going to be a brat about it.

“Are you really going to leave me like this? Make me watch your work out? As if I'm impressed?”

She laughed out loud, wiping her sweaty forehead, but she didn’t respond. She picked up some more plates from the rack. She held the weight near her core, and pushed it on the bar in the most sexual manner, her eyes watching you as she did. 

You rolled your eyes and looked away, but only for a second, you weren't about to let your pride get in the way of watching your girlfriend be a cocky dick, it was frankly the hottest thing on earth, but you weren't going to tell her that and let her ego grow even more.

Once she was finished with her peacocking, she moved to lay on the bench, lifting the bar with an eye watering amount of weights attached, but of course she only made it look easy. 

You felt no better than a man as you watched the blonde working out, I mean, she was your girlfriend, you were allowed to watch, you were being made to watch, but you wanted to touch her, especially when she started to make those stupidly sexy grunting noises. 

The grunts she let out was the same grunts you heard in your ear many a night, the same delicious groans that dripped from her mouth when she held you down and fucked you until she came on the base of her strap, grunting while she was deep inside you.

You caught your lip between your teeth, the heat between your legs was rising, your mind was clouded with images of Alexia, thinking about all the ways she would fuck you, use you, make you scream untill your voice was hoarse. The sound of a loud groan made your eyes flutter and your knees weak. 

Alexia finished her reps with the chest press and moved over to the weights on the stand, not once did she look at you. She took out a 20kg kettlebell and began her kettlebell swings. It was no secret that the girl was fit, she did two workouts a day, everyday, plus training, plus running and everything else in between, but she still impressed you every time you watched her, the girl was a beast. 

The blonde had almost forgotten you were there. She was mid lift when she caught you watching her in the floor length mirror. A coy smirk creeped on her lips at the angry yet horny look that sat on your face. She loved the fact that you were watching her, even if you had no choice in the matter. Though she knew you were enjoying the view, she just wanted to have a little fun with it.

She panted hard as she got to the last set, her cheeks hollowed out and her sweaty chest rose in time of her breathing, her goddess-like body was something of dreams.

You could really feel the heat between your legs now, a dull ache throbbing your core, you had never been so turned on and frustrated at the same time. Your thighs began to clench as you watched your very fit but very annoying girlfriend work out in front of you. you couldn't ignore the ache in your cunt anymore

“You’re loving this aren't you?” You raised your eyebrow at the blonde.

She chuckled as she returned the weight on the rack. She took another sip from her bottle before facing you.

“Sí. I am. You should have been patient, baby.” 

You rolled your eyes. The girl could be such a fucking tease.

She walked towards you with a cocky smirk on her face. 

“Ah don't be like that, amor. I know you enjoyed the view.” 

“Would be better if I was allowed…”

Your sentence died in your throat. The blonde turned her back to you, you thought she was done with the conversation but you watched as she slowly started to stretch. Right in front of you. She bent straight over, touching her toes with ease. Her arse strained against the tiny shorts, giving you a perfect view of one of your favourite body parts. She was clearly trying to kill you. 

“Alexiaaaa. Please. This isn't fair.” You cried out.

She laughed loudly as she straightened herself up. Your eyes roamed her wet, muscular body, she was covered in a sheen of sweat, even her top lip was wet. 

You didn't know why but it was something that turned you on to no end. Seeing Alexia like this, all worked up, hot and sweaty made you clit throb. Maybe because it was a similar sight to when she fucked you.

“You can wait a little more.” She pulled the rubber band once more, making you jolt.

Before you could reply she was walking out of the gym.

“Ale! Where are you going? You can't just leave me!”

She ignored your calls once again. You huffed in annoyance, pulling at the arm band one more, but the tight rubber only pulled on your skin. The room was unbearably hot, your patience was wearing thin, especially as it was at least 5 minutes before she came back. 

“Ale, what the fuck you c-can’t …” Your words stuttered on the tip of your tongue.

Alexia stood at the gym door wearing nothing but her favourite strap. The big strap.

“What was that sweetheart?”

You gaped at her, your mouth was suddenly dry. The sheer cockyness that dripped from the gril was spinning your head. The look she gave you was predatory, she stalked slowly over to you, you suddenly felt like a lamb who was about to be devoured by the lion

“Hmm? You seemed so impatient. I think you need something…. Big. Don’t you think?” 

“N-no. I jus- ahhh.”

Your head was suddenly yanked back, Alexia had a vise-like grip of your hair, making you cry out.

“Get on your knees.” 

You knelt to your knees, while Alexia kept her grip on you.

“Open your mouth.”

And like the good girl you were, you opened your mouth. She slid her dick in gently, but it didn’t stop you from gagging as it got halfway. You didn’t normally use this strap for oral, it was too big, but clearly Alexia wanted to prove a point with your lack of patience.

“Go slow.” 

You did go slow, but the tears sprung to your eyes just as quickly. She slowly pressed her hips to your face, the pressure on your throat was a lot, but it only built the pressure between your legs. 

“Keep going, you can take it.”

Your eyes closed as the tears ran down your cheeks. Her hand in your hair guiding you until your nose pressed against her firm stomach.

“That's it, your mouth is better when it's used for this, no?” She smiled down at you.

You opened your eyes, looking at the goddess above you. She wiped your tears with her free hand, it was a soft getsure considering her bravado was out in full swing. She cupped your chin as she pulled back, then slowly back in. The pace was slow but the spit in your mouth gathered fast, as the thick strap filled your throat. 

You stayed on your knees for a couple more minutes as Alexia fucked your throat with the biggest strap you owned. You kept your throat as relaxed as you could, as she watched you take her, her own cunt throbbing.

“Get up.” Alexia snapped. She gently pulled the strap out of your mouth.

You didn't have a chance to move before she easily picked you up to your feet. Her sheer strength showing itself again. 

She roughly turned you around, pulling your back against her chest. You let out a gasp as her teeth sunk into your shoulder.

“You’ve become very impatient, baby. Have you lost all your manners?” 

Her mouth started to suck where she bit you, her strap pressing into you as you let out a groan. She had a tight hold of your wrist behind your back, you couldn’t move with the grip she had on you. 

Another yelp escaped your mouth as her hand pulled at your hair. 

“Hmm?” 

“No. I-I just want you.”  

You felt her full lips smile against your skin as she gave you a gentle kiss. 

“But you were acting like a brat, I do not reward brats.”

“I’m sorryyyy.”

Another bite, another mark. 

“Let’s see what a spoilt little brat looks like while she gets fucked.” 

Before you could ask what she meant you were being pushed as close as she could get you to the floor length mirror. You were now only an arm length away from your reflection. You suddenly realised what she meant as you watched a sadistic smile creep on her face behind you. 

Her hands started pulling at your own shorts, roughly yanking them down to your ankles, bringing your underwear with it. Leaving your top half only in your sports bra. 

“Where’s all that talk now, baby?”

You jumped when you felt her fingers slide against your wet lips. 

She scoffed when she felt how wet you were. “You clearly enjoyed watching me. So messy, amor.” She purred in your ear. “You enjoy watching me don’t you?”

You nodded, your eyes closed as you saw yourself in the mirror, not able to escape the way you melted into her hot body. 

“Open your eyes.” 

You did what she said, you weren't about to be a brat with that tone. You saw yourself half naked in the mirror. Alexia was holding your wrist behind your back, as if you would try to escape. Her hazel eyes were on yours, watching you like you were the most beautiful creature in the world.

Two long fingers slid between your lips and circled your throbbing clit. You let out a quiet gasp, your eyes closed as she touched you with light but perfect touches. But your hair was being pulled once more.

“Close your eyes again and I’ll stop.” She whispered harshly in your ear.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered as her fingers gathered your wetness.

“You will be.” Her teeth sunk into your neck as those long fingers easily entered your cunt.

You let out a loud gasp, Alexia had thick fingers, the strength of them alone was sometimes harder to take than a strap. 

“So tight.” She hissed, her breath tickling your hot neck. 

But before you could enjoy her fingers for much longer she removed them, her hand was on your neck, pushing you forward and her fingers sunk into your core from the back. Your face was inches from the mirror, your reflection clear as day.

“Fuck.” 

The new angle was tighter, but felt so much better. Her fingers in your cunt pushed in and out slowly, knowing exactly how to pull the cute noises she loved so much. Her talented fingers stroked your walls with perfect precision, you could feel yourself becoming wetter, you could even hear yourself getting wetter against her movements. 

But as soon as she got into a rhythm her fingers were gone, again. You were about to complain and ask why she had stopped, but you were silenced when you felt the head of her strap pushing against your lips. 

“Ale, please.”

“Do you think you have any say right now?” She chuckled deeply behind you. 

That same tone came out to play, it was the tone that you should know better than to open your mouth with. Your skin was hot, but the shivers that creeped on your skin would argue that fact, her stern voice had visibly affected you, and Alexia didn't miss it. Her free hand pushed on your shoulder, bending you right over, until your back was flat. Her fingers traced down your back, catching the dampness of your skin.

“Keep it straight.” 

That same tone came out to play, it was the tone that you should know better than to open your mouth with. If it wasn’t for the position you were in you might have been bold and shot back a sarcastic jab of your own. And maybe it was the frustration of having been tied up for over 20 minutes or the thick heat from the room that made your brain short circuit and fry, because you in fact did reply with a sarcastic jab.

“I've had to wait this long, now I have to bend over? I hope it's worth it.” You whispered, loud enough for her to hear.

You saw Alexia's face harden in the mirror, the grip she had on your wrist tightened as the head of her strap began to push into your core. You gritted your teeth as the plastic began to stretch you out, a loud groan escaped your throat, feeling the strap sliding inside of you. Even though she had her fingers in you just moments before the tight stretch was still there.  

You felt every inch of the strap, no matter how slow she went, the pressure of it made you hold your breath. She was slow as she pressed in, but even with gentle movements the girth took your breath away with the sheer size of it. You felt full.

Finally, you felt the sticky skin of her thighs pressing against yours, as she bottomed out in you, but before you could allow your body to get used to the fullness of her strap, she began to ease out of you. Normally the Spaniad would allow you to get used to the feeling of her inside, she would let you take her inch by inch and get used to the thickness. But you had quite frankly pissed her off with your little comment. You whimpered as her hips began dragging the strap against your tight walls, pulling herself completely out. The tip of her dick now kissed at your lips. 

It was when her hand gripped tightly on your shoulder you knew your cocky attitude was about to be fucked right out of you.

You were expecting it but you also wasn't. With one quick thrust of her hips she was back inside you. The next sound that escaped your mouth was indescribable, it was loud, it was dirty, it was completely pornagraphic, and it was music to Alexia's ears. Her pace was fast as soon as she started. Your mouth gaped open as she rocked her hips into you, causing your whole body to move from each strong thrust. Your legs were holding you up but it was the grip that she had on your shoulder that stopped you from falling over. 

Each quick thrust pushed a loud whimper from you, her pace was vicious. Your head fell forward, not able to keep it up from her brutal pace. 

“Uh ah. Head up, I want you to see how brats get fucked.”

Alexia’s hand gripped onto the ends of your hair, jerking your head up, causing you to let out a long pathetic whine. You felt your core tighten as you were met with the most animalistic scene in front of you. It was a mass of sweaty bodies, Alexia's toned figure rutted hard against you, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against the other bounced off the walls as her thighs slapped against yours. 

Your sweaty wrist rubbed against the rubber bound behind your back while she had you bent over, very much enjoying the view of her strap sliding in and out of your cunt. The smile on Alexia's face was dirty, it made your core tighten around her strap, you were at Alexia’s complete mercy and fuck, did it feel good.

The hot air in the room suddenly felt thicker as the oxygen from your lungs were forced out of you. The strength in her thrusts were almost painful, but Alexia knew you could take it, she knew your body and mind, she knew you would stop her if you had to, but there was no thought in your mind of uttering anything of the sort. 

The moisture from your breath started to steam up the reflective glass in front of you, as you let out small whimpers. You knew it was self indulgent but you didn’t hate catching glances of yourself being fucked, the sight before you was sinful, especially when you had someone like Alexia to watch.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You cried out.

You could feel your orgasm building, your legs and stomach muscles started to ache from the obscene position you were in, you weren't sure how long you would last like this, but you had a feeling Alexia wouldn’t care. You knew you would have pissed her off with your comment, and that’s exactly what you wanted, a pissed off Alexia.

Alexia’s mouth hung open as she felt her clit rubbing perfectly against the base of her strap, she started to pick up her pace chasing her own orgasm. The change of pace sent a wave of pleasure through your body, your cunt throbbed from the relentless thrusts of the girl behind you. 

“Yes, yes, don’t stop.” You breathed out.

Alexia bit her lip as she felt her pleasure building, the sounds of your moaning made her head dizzy with power. She picked up to a piston whip speed. Your mouth fell open as your body was forced to take Alexia’s new pace, you weren't even able to make any sounds from the sheer force of her hips. You felt your climax prickerling your body, the hot sweat that sat on your skin suddenly felt cold as the starts of your orgasm creeped through. 

The grip on your shoulder tightened, Alexia let out a deep throaty moan, you knew she was close, you watched as the muscles in her arms flexed, straining against her sweat covered skin. Your eyes followed her naked body, her muscles flexing as she drove into you, the wet slaps of sweaty skin colliding.

Your legs started to give in as your orgasm began to wash over you, your muscles were already jelly from your run, you felt your knees buckle as your pleasure took over. 

“Ale!” You cried out.

She felt your body giving up. She pulled you straight up, your back hitting her chest. You let out a high moan as her lips crashed into your sweat covered neck, kissing and sucking on your skin.

“I've got you.”

Her hips kept up the bruising pace, she was still chasing her own orgasm, it almost became too much, the pleasure was about to become painful until she groaned in your ear. That very familiar groan that made your head dizzy. Her hands wrapped around your neck, bringing your lips together, it was messy and hungry, your wet lips smacking against the other as her hips started to rut into you.

“Fuck.” She gasped.

Her normally stern face became a blissed out state as her orgasm hit her. Your eyes rolled into your head as small but heavy grunts escaped her mouth, making your clit throb. Her lips pressed into your neck as she slowly grinded into you, her hot body pressed up against yours taking what she needed. 

The hot room was just small sounds of your panting. She gently pulled out of you, her lips kissed your shoulder sweetly, causing you to shiver.

“You okay?” 

You smiled at her soft voice, a complete 360 of your session before.

“I’m so good. But I need a shower. A cold one.” You chuckled.

“Sí. Shower together?” She nuzzled into your neck. She was always so needy after an orgasm, it was the cutest thing to see.

“Together.” You pressed your lips to hers.

She began to to remove the harness from her hips.

"Don't forget me." You turned so she could until you.

"Hmm, I think I prefer you this way. Can we keep you like this until I'm done with you." She bit she shell of your ear, making you groan.

"Are you not done with me?" You moaned with pleasure as her nails scratched up your body.

"Not yet, I think we should test your endurance a little more."

[kingofthe-egirls]

SITTING PRETTY: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: alcohol, kitsune, east blue crew, yes i was imagining the opla cast but so were you, kissing, sitting in someone’s lap)

(a/n: this was so fun. smut maybe coming soon? we’ll see)

Songs: “Hotel” by Claire Rosinkranz

words: 1.2k

Luffy is staring at you.

He’s sitting across the campfire from you, sipping a glass of milk through a straw. You have your own moscow mule in hand, the copper mug sweating with cold condensation.

The air smells like smoke.

“So!” Luffy speaks, twirling his straw around in his drink. He slurps it loudly before continuing, “Let’s play a game!”

He smiles around at the rest of the crew, who are all in their own various states of intoxication. It’s been a long night, after several days at sea with no islands in sight. Everyone is a little bored, a little stressed, and more than a little in need of blowing off some steam. Nami shrugs.

“Sure, captain. What’s up?”

Luffy leans forward, wicked smirk painting his charming features. You stare down into your melted ice and muddled mint leaves.

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

Zoro sighs, but leans forward too. Sanji and Usopp also perk up. The Merry creaks in the waves as she sails. The ocean laps at her sides, soothing and peaceful in the summer night air. The campfire sparks up with a flare.

Luffy slurps his milk.

“What are the stakes?” Nami asks, adjusting in her seat, her boots slung over one another as she leans back. Usopp is fiddling with his slingshot.

Zoro shrugs, “Drink if you won’t take a dare, drink twice if you won’t take a truth.”

“So, we’re trying to outmatch each other? Get stuff we won’t wanna do?”

“Sorta,” Zoro says, “S’alright with everyone?”

“Sounds fun,” you admit, downing your glass before handing it off to Sanji. He’s a sucker for your sparkly eyes and fluffy tails. Your ears flick back and forth, excited. Nervous.

Sanji hurries back with a refill.

He straightens his suit jacket before sitting back down. The indigo night washes over him with a flattering, velvet softness. You wonder what shade of blue his eyes are, up close.

Luffy clears his throat.

“Sooo, who wants to go first?” His shining eyes scan the crew, and you flick up a tail (or two). He smiles, and takes a sip of his kid’s drink.

You sigh. “Truth,” you say, staring at Nami. You figure she’s gonna strike the worst, so might as well get it over with first. She stares at you, flicking her eyes up and down your scrappy frame. She arches an auburn brow.

“So, Kitty,” she sips her cider, and Sanji shifts in his seat. “Have you ever had sex before?”

She’s smiling, devilish, as you snort through your drink. She laughs as you cough, orange hair swaying in the soft breeze. Everyone else stutters and laughs, and Zoro mutters something about “starting off strong.” You swallow, sucking your teeth as you swirl melted ice around your drink.

“Yes.”

Everyone sighs out in relief, tension removed for a second of release.

Your eyes flick up to hers.

“Your turn.”

She stares back at you: a challenge.

“Dare.”

You shrug, mouth turned down, “I dare you to say when the last time you had sex was.” You stare at her glare, as she clocks you basically just gave her a truth anyway. She sniffs.

“Last week.”

“Liar!” You say, and she giggles. You shove the bottle of tequila closer to her, and she swallows what is certainly more than just one shot.

“Your turn,” she says to Zoro, who glances at Luffy for his prompt.

Luffy stares at the floor, now-empty glass held loosely in slender fingers. “What…is your favorite color?”

“I didn’t say truth, captain,” Zoro snorts, “Truth or dare, Luffy.”

“Dare?”

Sanji sighs, and Usopp says “we might as well go with it,” so Zoro sighs and starts to think of something to dare his already-reckless captain with. He settles on something silly, and tame.

“I dare you to slingshot back and forth across the ship five times.”

Happy to be moving, your hyperactive friend shoots up and starts gum-gum rocketing across the ship with no small amount of shouting. You swirl the mint leaves in your drink. “Your turn,” you murmur to Usopp, who gives Sanji a glance.

“Truth or dare?” The chef asks, his own glass of wine clutched in his delicate fist. It’s as dark as the sea.

“Truth.”

“What do Kaya’s lips taste like?”

The group ooo’s in scandalous delight, all eyes on the sniper as he stares down into his drink. “Pass,” he says, and takes a huge slurp. It dribbles down his chin. “Who’s turn is next?”

“Sanji,” you say, turning to him with a smile, “Truth or dare, handsome?”

He blushes at your pet name, and someone coughs. The blond boy licks his lips. His eyes meet yours, reflecting the fire’s red heat.

“Dare.”

“Kiss my cheek,” you preen, tails flicking around you. You bare the side of your face to him, sitting pretty by the campfire. Your scrappy jeans have stitched-on patches, and your crop top hangs loose around your frame. A single pendant hangs around your neck, and your hair is twisted into messy braids. You knock your steel-toed boots together.

Sanji hums, peaceful, as he delicately scoots toward you. He’s already sitting next to you, tall legs and broad shoulders bumping into yours as he settles closer in. His hand is slightly cool as it graces the side of your neck. “Be still, pretty,” he whispers, just for you, as he presses a slow smooch against your cheek. He bites it, playfully, and you swat him away with a fearsome blush.

Usopp giggles, and Nami snorts into her cider again. Zoro and Luffy are both silent. You swallow, and cast about the crew for someone else’s turn. “Is it me again?” You ask, and Zoro nods.

“Truth or dare?” He says, sake almost drained from his bottle. The air stills, sudden breeze gone quiet as you sit together. You curl two tails around yourself, petting the soft, arctic fur in your lap. It scratches against the striped patch on the side of your left hip.

“Truth.”

“Nope,” Zoro says, swigging his sake, “Truth is boring. You’re doing a dare. Sit in the lap of the person you’d most like to have sex with.”

Everyone gasps, except for you.

Your eyes burn with smoke, staring down the swordsman across the crackling flames. Sparks shoot up between you, orange and hazy in the moonlight. Something thumps against the ship; a fish or a shark that swims away silently.

You stand.

Sanji shifts, still close to you from his kiss. He scratches the fabric of his slacks above his left knee. His shoes are shiny and black beneath the stars. You step over them, carefully.

And you make your way across the circle, slowly as a shark circling prey.

“Sorry,” you whisper, standing in front of the captain who saved you, “Is this seat taken?”

He stares at you.

His breath comes ragged and hazy, as he sets his glass down to make room. His hands are sweaty, so he wipes them off on his shorts as you stand beside his hip. He leans back, slightly, to let you sit side-saddle across his legs. He shifts on the deck so he’s cross-legged, and you take your seat with a searing blush. Your ass fits neatly into the space between his crisscrossed legs, his heat spilling into your body as he wraps his arms around your waist.

He nuzzles into your cheek, his soft hair tickling your jaw. “Sleeping in my hammock tonight,” he whispers, his lips in your hair, “Captain’s orders.”

****

[polarisjisung]

03:21 AM — zhong chenle × fem! reader

wc: 0.6k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, reader wears makeup, one handed driving

notes: dug this out from my unfinished/unedited works as an apology for my inconsistent lotc posting + I think chenle is just such an acts of service kinda bf

There's a soft rnb tune playing in the background, one chenle hums along to with one hand on the steering wheel.

Since he's driving, he can't quite turn his head to look at you, but the fact that you're not rambling nearly as much as you were five minutes ago— something about how rainbows should have the colour pink in them, and a pot of gold at the end, forces chenle to sneak a glance at you

"Not sleepy huh?" he laughs to himself, considering the absolute fight you'd put up with him swearing you wouldn't fall asleep, precisely 10 minutes ago.

"Cute," he whispers, holding a hand out to shield you from the bright red of the traffic light in front of you when you stir in your sleep

The reflection of the gloss shining on your lips forces him to sigh in realisation— you hated sleeping with makeup on

And chenle doesn't remember when, but at some point in the last few years, his glovebox had become home to a small basket of micellar water, cleansing balm, and some cotton pads

They'd replaced the jumbo pack of mints he liked to keep on hand, and even taken up some of the space designated to his car manual, which now found its place somewhere on the back leather seats, flying back and forth if he ever needed to turn sharply or emergency stop.

For all the times he had complained about things not being in their designated space,  somehow chenle didn't mind all too much about this, not when you'd thank him for being an absolute lifesaver each time you flung open his glove box after a long night; something you can't  do now, considering the way you'd fallen asleep on the passenger seat beside him

In the past, he'd have tried to wake you up, by either calling your name or tapping your arm gently until you woke up. he doesn't know what urges him not to follow through with the same routine you've established today, maybe it's the way your soft snores fill the car— I don't snore chenle— your words linger in his mind and a smile casts itself across his face.

Or maybe, chenle just wants to take a moment to have you all to himself.

As he reaches over to grab the cotton pads, he wonders how the copper shade of shimmer pressed against your eyelid lasted throughout the entire night or how that coral shade of matte lip butter hasn't budged, a pretty pinkish hue still painting your slightly parted lips.

Chenle had seen your hurriedly pack on makeup enough times to know that the redness to your cheeks didn't come from the blush you'd put on earlier— that was a matching coral shade to your lips

As he presses the cotton pad against the spout of the bottle, he chuckles "how much did she drink"

Chenle can only pray you don't wake up as he pats the soaked cotton pads against your skin, starting with your eyes, the same way he remembered you doing it

For a moment he thinks he could live like this forever, even if it meant taking 10 minutes to remove all the makeup from just one eye, he wouldn't mind as long as you were by his side— his pretty pretty girl.

It hits him, burns through him like wildfire. The warmth of the moment suddenly feels all-encompassing, and it takes everything within him not to gasp at the thought, scared of waking you. A truth that shines brighter than any eyeshadow or lip gloss ever could, he loved you. Chenle, in that moment, decides that he'd love you now and in every lifetime to come.

[frostedclock-writes]

Alastor x Reader

----

Making it up (Part 1)

SFW

At first he does small things to try and appease you. You find little gifts in front of your room door. Small trinkets at first. Brooches, a container of cookies that were obviously made by Niffty, lady fingers fresh from Rosie's, songs being played on the radio in the lobby that you had a fondness for.

But you remained upset, not letting the small gestures make up for him leaving you in the dark for so long. No you wouldnt let his smile, his silly puns and his gifts worm his way back into your good graces.

You left the room when it was just you and him, you would blatantly ignore him when he would try to pull you into his conversations at times, you would use any excuse not to be near him without being truly rude -just riding the line.

Then several weeks pass before he is able to corner you like a trapped rabbit. He looms over you and looks down at you with glowing red eyes that are only enhanced by the monocle he sports.

" You will come by the my room tonight." It wasn't a question and Alastor's tone held no room for arguments. And he was gone, leaving you with the knowledge that it would be nearly impossible to skip out or avoid him anymore.

You dress nice for the evening, simple but nice. You wait outside Alastor's room door for a good thirty minutes, mainly arguing with yourself about even giving the man another chance. When you knock the door opened on its own like it had only been waiting for your touch.

A table set in the Bayou tells you what exactly the Radio Demon had up his sleeve. The dishes on the table were mouthwatering, and the whisky bottle sat between two glasses. Alastor had his overcoat off and just his usual dress casuals, but it was different when he had his coat off.

" Mon Cher, " Alastor pulled out your seat for you. " I made your favorites. "

" I know what your doing and it won't work." You tell him and you just get a 'hmm' from the elusive demon as he pushes you closer to the table.

The food was of course delicious, and had you nearly drooling when he brought out the lemon bars for dessert.

He spoke mostly, telling you about small things he had done about the hotel that day. Casual. It was nearly irritating to you.

" Are you ever going to tell me where you were?" The words come from your lips without much thought and it stopped Alastor mid-drink.

It was silent for a moment then you sigh and you were about to rise from your seat when his hand touches yours. You pause. Alastor usually didn't appreciate physical contact, it was rare and far between.

" I would tell you, but I dare not risk your safety for just a bit of knowledge. Just know that I am back now and I have no intention on leaving anytime soon. "

You were still upset, and it would take a long time to forget about the seven years thinking he was dead or might as well have been. But you always were a sucker for that soft smile he would have only in small moments. Perhaps it was a true one. You knew it gave your stomach the flips and your fingers feel like they were vibrating.

" Alastor... "

His fingers would brush your hair out of your face.

" Mon Cher"

His lips always like a mix of copper and coffee. It was bitter taste but you never minded when it came from him.

[shewrites444]

earned it [thomas shelby x mafia/dominant reader smut]

word count - 3k

[ summary - the reader, the current head of the sicilian mob, meets with thomas shelby to discuss an issue that intervenes with both of their organizations. despite their mutual disliking for one another, thomas takes an interest to the business woman before him, and doesn’t seem to realize how powerful she may be. ]

[ warnings - mentions of violence, strong cursing, dirty talk, dominant female, oral (f & m), praise kink, unprotected sex ]

-

“and if we get ‘rid’ of him and his members, how are we going to go about that?” thomas shelby asked me from across the obnoxiously long dining table, lighting a cigarette and sinking into his chair.

i shrug nonchalantly, resting my arms against the table as i chew the steak his supposed aunt polly cooked for us. we’d be discussing this matter for so long my food was starting to get cold.

“we can handle that, all i ask is for you and your family to do the talking. get them out of birmingham and into italy. i know it’s a far stretch, but we can make it work. when someone is offered a lot of money, they’ll travel. the last thing their organization wants is no protection. i think they’d trust the mob’s word over a group of drunken, horse-betting brothers.”

thomas scoffed, moderately offended but also carrying a tone of impressment, taking a sip of his whiskey and gesturing the glass towards me. “you italians have a mouth on you, eh? you crawl around europe like the coppers, thinking you own the cities, only you’re not afraid to take out your guns, hm, mrs. [y/n].”

“i’m not married.” i mutter, once again taking the steak knife in my hand as i begin to cut the tender meat.

he quirked his brow, setting his glass down. “my mistake. i assumed that a woman who ran one of the most dangerous gangs in italy was wedded. i should’ve looked at your ring finger before i commented, miss [y/n].”

“we’re not here to discuss my marriage status, mr. shelby. this group of communists pose a real threat to both of our families. i can get back in my carriage right now and send my men in here to shoot you in the fucking head for all i care, if you don’t cooperate, or we can get back to information that actually matters, and your life goes on.” i look him in the eyes, a blank expression on my face.

he stood up, walking over to the bar cart and pouring himself more whiskey, taking another glass and filling it with a new bottle of red wine after popping the cork. he set it beside my plate, pulling out the chair next to me and sitting down.

“you can get pissed off all you want, dear, but i’m the one with a gun in my pocket. i could kill you, and your men, in a matter of seconds, so don’t think your words even draw a nick of blood on me.” he threatened, sipping his drink, enough to nearly empty the glass. “we can agree to disagree all night, or you can change your temper and we can figure out a neutral solution for the both of us.”

i chew my steak, watching him speak with a smirk on my redly tainted lips. i take the glass of wine and drink it slowly. “you are quite charming, mr. shelby. it almost offends me that you think i walked into your home unarmed, too.” i take my napkin and dab it on my lips before standing up, dusting off my black dress. “do as i say, and get them to italy. we can discuss the specifics after you speak to their leader. walk me to my carriage, won’t you?”

thomas stands up, pushing both of our chairs in before walking me to the back doorway, his whiskey glass still in hand, only a few ice cubes left inside and not even a shot’s worth of alcohol. i glance down at the purse in my hand, looking through to find my lipstick, confused if i had dropped it when i stood up from the table. i sigh, looking up to the peaky blinder who stood before me as he opened the door for me.

“give me one minute, i think i dropped my lipstick by my chair.” i set my purse down on the table aside their coat rack and walk back to the dining room, hearing his footsteps trail behind as he followed.

i lean down, seeing the lipstick on the floor and pick it up, turning around to bump into thomas, our faces not even two inches apart as he lightly pushed me against the table.

i roll my eyes, both hands planting against his chest and pushing him off. “i don’t think me saying i was unmarried was a suggestion, mr. shelby. not every woman becomes a whore when you have them over for dinner.”

“do you ever freely sleep around, miss [y/n]?” thomas asks, looking down to meet my eyes, then averting to my lips. “surely, a woman like you, can get whoever she wants. you run apart of the bloody world, for what it’s worth. do you ever fuck anyone on your level? someone as powerful as you are?”

“that’s none of your concern.” i say, glancing down at the light erection that was intruding his black slacks. “although, i definitely don’t fuck men that rudely come onto me when i make it clear i came over for strictly business.”

he grinned, one of his hands gently sliding onto my back, the other setting the glass on the table, one ice cube sliding onto his fingertips. he pressed it against my collarbone, sliding it down my skin softly.

“oh, but you definitely do. i think this says otherwise, don’t you think?” thomas tilts his head teasingly, gesturing to my hardening nipples as they protruded my dress.

i blush, shaking my head in disbelief. “you have a cold substance near my chest, that’s a natural reaction.”

“it’s not even near them, dear. i’m still pressing on your shoulder. it’s not a bad thing to admit you like this, miss [y/n].” he slides the ice cube further down my chest, his pinkie pushing my dress back, the v-neck fabric tucking itself underneath my right breast through his manipulation. he slid the substance over my nipple, causing me to sigh heavily. he couldn’t help but grin at my reaction.

thomas leaned down, dropping the ice cube back into the glass and licking my erect nipple, sucking lightly on the bud before pushing me against the table and sitting me down. i moan softly, looking up at the ceiling, my body now in a heat at his teasing touch.

“i think you choose not to fuck. from what it seems like, it may be a distraction for you. you’re a busy woman. perhaps there is no time for any sort of play.” thomas says, reaching over to expose my other breast. “you really don’t let anyone in, even physically. you and i, miss [y/n], are probably more alike than you realize.”

“don’t even try convincing me of that. i know you fuck, mr. shelby.”

“oh, really? you know that, how? because of how wet i already have you?” he asks, reaching his hand down and into my knee-length dress, pressing his fingers against my warm panties.

i hold my mouth shut, breathing heavily through my nose as he pushes the fabric to the side, lightly tracing his fingers against my wet folds.

“a woman like you wouldn’t like to be fucked like a whore, though. you expect much more than that. you’d like to be praised, as if you were a crown jewel in terms of your status. you’re someone who is clearly unfazed by most men, i can see that. you don’t give a fuck about them unless they worship you.”

“do you think you could possibly do that, mr. shelby? worship a woman?”

“not just any woman, no.” he begins, reaching his arm across my waist, snaking it around me to pull me up and into his chest, where he held me up and guided me to the bedroom next to the dining room. “it takes someone who knows who they are and what they can do to make me feel like they even deserve that type of treatment.”

he helped pull my dress off, leaving me in only my panties as he set me on the bed. i chose to oblige, partially due to the pleasure he was sinking me into, but also because i found it interesting he thought he would even have full control over the situation. thomas was right about me choosing to not fuck, but that didn't mean i fell at the feet of a man who knew what he was doing. thomas shelby was a powerful man, sure, but he could never climb the ladder high enough to reach my level.

“but you, you know what you can do. you do what has to be done, miss [y/n]. you threatened to put a gun to my head, what kind of woman does that? a fucking powerful one.” thomas nearly moans at his own words, leaning down to kiss me before he began to undress.

i return the kiss, my legs still shut, as thomas began to unbutton his shirt, glancing down at my waiting body. he undressed himself fully, standing naked before me as he climbed into the bed and leaned down on his knees, sliding off my underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he hovered above me, planting a passionate kiss against my lips, leaving red residue from my lipstick on his own lips while he slid his tongue into my mouth. i feel his fingers slide inside of me, my legs spreading in reaction as he began to finger me. his lips trailed from my neck to my breasts, sucking my nipples back and forth as he pumped his fingers in and out of my pussy.

i close my eyes, my mouth hung open as i moan in pleasure from his touch. i could feel his eyes on me, watching nothing but my expression. the mental part of me hated giving into thomas shelby’s advances, but the physical side of me could care less. he knew what he was doing, it seemed like, but frankly, so did i.

“oh, you’re so fucking wet, love. you’re practically dripping onto my fingers, onto my bed..” thomas cooes, pulling himself out of me and into his mouth, licking my juices. “and you taste just as good as i imagined. how did i get so lucky to touch you?”

i lightly sit up, leaning over to pull him back into a kiss as i climb off the bed, thomas now sitting at the edge. i get on my knees and take his cock into my hand, spitting on his tip and beginning to lick his cock, up and down, pressing light kisses against his skin as he watched, his expression showing nothing but lust, as he grinned from cheek to cheek at my actions.

“fuck,” he mutters, resting his hands on the bed. “you look beautiful when you play with my cock, love.” he moans as i slide him into my mouth and down my throat, still looking up to meet his eyes. he reaches over to hold my chin in one hand, gently guiding my head up and down. “that’s it, please keep taking my cock. you’re so pretty when you do so, love. i can’t wait to fuck you, you’ve got me nearly finishing at the thought of it.”

i pump him inside of my throat, feeling his orgasm nearly reach the surface as he groans at the build up of it all. i pull away, taking his length in one hand as he cums onto my face, his seed coating all over my mouth and cheeks.

“oh, fuck, you look so fucking good, [y/n]. your mouth felt so fucking good.” thomas praises, watching as i lean back, tracing my finger across my cheeks, licking his cum off and into my mouth. he stares in awe, reaching his hands over to help me stand up and get back onto the bed. he presses a hard kiss against my lips, laying back down as i lay on top of him.

“i don’t think you understand this, thomas.” i smirk, cupping his face with both of my hands. “you don’t just get to fuck me, you know that, right? you have to earn it. i’m the motherfucking leader of a mob, after all. i don’t fuck just anyone, not even thomas shelby, no matter how good you may be at fucking.”

he tilted his head, grabbing me by the hips and pulling me back down. “is that so? your cunt is practically begging for me to fuck it. we don’t have to play this game, love. please, let me touch you further.”

i roll over and out of his grip, laying down next to him and spreading my legs, gesturing for him to get in front of me. “then fuck me with your tongue, and we’ll see what i think of anything further than that.”

he chuckles, seemingly surprised by how bossy i could be, but leaned down anyway, adjusting himself to wrap his arms around my thighs, his face stuffed between them as his tongue attached to my clit, flicking the bud of sensitive flesh. i moan softly, watching thomas lick between my folds and back up to my clit, back and forth, which only drew a pit in my stomach, as my orgasm slowly began to build. i was more surprised by his efforts more than his experience. of course thomas shelby knew how to fully pleasure a woman when she demanded it.

“fuck, thomas..” i moan softly, reaching down to hold his black hair with one hand. “just like that, baby, and you’ll be fucking me so soon. god, that feels good.”

he quickens his pace a bit, my back gently arching up in reaction to his action, my free hand gripping the white bedsheets as he helped me very quickly reach my orgasm, my fluids releasing onto the sheets and his lips. i dripped down his chin but he didn’t seem to care, taking me by the hips and moving one leg on top of his shoulder, sliding his hard length inside of me with one slow stroke, both of us moaning at the sudden stimulation.

“oh, fucking hell, [y/n], my god, dear, you’re so fucking wet, you feel so good, fuck,” thomas groans, leaning down to kiss me, his free hand taking my breast into his his palm and squeezing harshly, earning a moan from me into his mouth as our tongues fight for dominance.

i pull away from the kiss, looking down to watch him pump his thick, wet cock into my pussy. my tits bounce at his thrusts, my core feeling every single touch. thomas held my ankle to keep my leg up, his other hand pulling away from my breast and down to my hips, holding the side of my waist to further his steady grip.

“you take my cock so well, [y/n].” thomas compliments, glancing down to meet my eyes as i look away from our bodies. “i could watch you forever, fuck. the way you look right now is absolutely stunning, no one can ever fucking compare to your cunt.”

i lean up slightly, resting on my elbows, grinning at thomas as he fucks me. “you really think so, thomas? then why don’t you fuck me harder? make me cum again, baby, i want to so badly. make me cum with you.”

“if you want me to fuck you harder, [y/n], you’re going to have to turn around for me.” thomas suggests, lightly pulling himself out of me and also wiping the sweat from his forehead, assisting me as i turn around, all fours against the bed as i arch my ass up, feeling tommy’s hands play with it by squeezing the flesh and slapping it lightly.

“you’re perfect from behind too, fuck. is there anything about you i can dislike? you italians may have bloody mouth, but you take me so well in yours, love.” he says, pushing himself back inside of me.

he holds me by the hips, starting to fuck me, but much harder than before. our skin slaps together as he pushes himself in much deeper, so much so that i was gasping at his touch, grabbing the sheets and holding them as hard as i could, despite the sweat that was collecting on my palms.

“f-fucking hell, tommy..” i moan into the sheets, my head resting against the pillow. “you fuck me so good, baby, keep going like that, fuck! fucking fill me up, tommy, fuck!”

he leans down to grab my neck, pounding inside of my walls before our moans begin to sync, our orgasms releasing a matter of seconds after as we finish together, his warm seed filling my insides and my own cum dripping from between us, tricking down my now shaking legs.

thomas pulls out of me, turning me over to lay beside him. he wraps one arm around me, but glances down to meet my eyes, and kisses me tiredly.

“next time, you’re going to be the one begging me to fuck you.” he says in a more demanding tone, a small smirk on his lips. “i don’t like to ask nicely.”

i sigh, rolling over onto my stomach so i could face him completely. “then you’re fucking the wrong woman, thomas.”

he shook his head, cupping my cheek and kissing me once more. “oh, believe me, i think i’m with the exact woman i need to be fucking.” he sits up, rolling out of the bed and to the dresser, grabbing a pair of underwear.

“let’s discuss this communist issue one more time, work out the details.” he says, slipping his boxers on. “and if we come to an agreement tonight, i’ll ask nicely again in the morning, unless you need to get back to your people?"

i stand up, picking up my underwear and sliding them on, as thomas hands me a larger white shirt to put on. “i think i’d rather you ask again tonight, mr. shelby. my people can wait overnight if it's for a good cause.” i tease, opening the bedroom door before walking back out to the dining room table, grabbing the half-empty glass of wine and taking it down in one sip.

thomas stands behind me, taking the empty glass and setting it back on the table, pressing himself up against me, placing his palm on my back to push me down on the furniture. "let's push our meeting back a few more minutes then. here's me asking, miss [y/n]."

he begins to kiss my neck and i reach between my legs, pushing my panties to the side as i hear his boxers hit the floor. this was going to be an unexpectedly long night.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"Be right back," you announced to Rosita and Carol, getting up and rushing to the front door. You couldn't help the wide smile that formed when you realized it was Daryl standing there waiting. "Hi," you greeted him warmly. "What's up?" The heat and humidity of summer had finally broken and given way to a gloriously beautiful autumn day. His wavy brown hair was lightly tousled from the wind.

He seemed nervous, shifting his weight back and forth, turning something copper colored and fuzzy over and over in his hands. "Uhh—just wanted to drop this off for ya..." He thrust the orange something into your hands and your fingers sunk into velvety soft fox fur. A pelt. "I trapped it last year and made it into scarf-kinda thing 'n—the weather's turned now and all. Thought ya might need it." He stood there looking as if he was somehow imposing on you by standing on your front stoop. "Yer always cold, ya know," he drawled, trailing off at the end.

"Thanks," was all you managed and it was woefully inadequate. You were a little surprised by the whole occurrence.

"No problem," he said, ducking his head and turning to rush down your front steps.

"Hey—Daryl!" you called after him. "Rosita and Carol are here. We were just having some drinks... Carol stole some wine from the pantry. If you wanted to come in?"

He looked like he was considering saying yes for a brief moment, chewing on his bottom lip, but he eventually ducked his head. "Nah... ya'll have a good time. I dun wanna get in the way of a girls' night."

He'd already turned to leave again when you said his name once more. "Daryl!" you called after him again. "You're never in the way," you asserted, cocking an eyebrow up at him.

He nodded, one corner of his mouth twitching up. "Thanks. But I'll just see ya around, alrigh'? Dun drink too much," he cautioned you.

You watched him rushing away up the sidewalk and disappeared back inside, turning the fox fur over and over in your hands the same way he had been.

"What's that?" Carol asked as you stepped back into the kitchen.

It took you a moment to even register that she'd said something to you. "Huh? Oh. It's a fox fur scarf. Daryl just dropped it off," you said. "I'm not sure why—but he said the weather's turned and—" Carol and Rosita exchanged a look and you saw it. "What? What was that look?" you asked urgently.

Rosita let out a dry laugh as if the meaning was the most obvious thing in the world. "Hey, stupid. He likes you," she said pointedly.

You stared at her. "He just knows I'm—I get cold easily..." But even you sounded unconvinced.

Carol rolled her eyes and reached for the bottle of wine again. "God, all this denial is making me sick," she joked, shooting you a look. "Daryl Dixon gifting you something he made with his own hands is the equivalent of a male peacock spreading its tail feathers. This is your signal. Earth to Y/N! Do something!"

You felt your cheeks flush. "What am I supposed to do?" you asked rhetorically.

Rosita shoved the unopened bottle of wine toward you on the table, her eyebrows lifting. "Take this over to his room in the basement with two glasses and climb in his bed," she laughed. "That should be obvious enough even for him."

"Stop..." you muttered, still flushing furiously.

Carol finished pouring more wine into her own glass. "Just do something! The man is doing his best and Lord knows he needs some help," she smiled.

Prompt: "Hey, stupid. He likes you." A/N: Fuck, this is cute. Not me wanting to write this as a whole ass fic....

[monsterbachelors]

The Three Don'ts of Sabertooth Brewing

[contains semi-public sex + fem!reader]

SUMMARY: You visit Yanu at work on a slow night. One thing leads to another and just when things get exciting, something both unpleasant and unexpected forces you to take a rain check on back-alley romps.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 2k

A smile brightens your face when you see the Sabertooth Brewing sign from across the street. The venue doesn’t look like an appropriate place for a young lady without nefarious motives but at the same time, the entirety of the Copper Valley district doesn’t appear so. Nonetheless, you couldn’t think of a safer place to be. Whatever turf wars the former copper miners lead, they all agreed to omit Yanu and his business. It reached the point where some locals called the bar “the embassy” as it’s the only neutral ground in the neighbourhood.

The rough-looking miners curtly nod at you as you walk past them. A cloud of smoke and soot surrounds the two men. They always stand near the entrance of the locale but never go inside. Smoking one cigarette after another, their job must be to ensure that Yanu stays largely unbothered by the conflicts of Copper Valley. So far, they’ve been excellent at doing their duties.

You giggle quietly as you read the sign hanging on the front door:

Don’t: - fight - spill drinks - ask Q’rill to make a mojito

A bell chimes when you push the door open. Low, yellow lights make the interior look cosy. Conversations held by the patrons sitting in booths and around small tables are drowned out by a trio playing a familiar swing tune. The smell of cigarette smoke fills your lungs and sticks to your clothes. Two waiters weave between tables and clients, faux joy plastered to their faces. One of them notices you - she gives you a quick wave and nods towards the long bar counter.

Although he is surrounded by bottles filled with colourful drinks, it’s impossible to overlook Yanu. Maybe it’s a general rule or perhaps it’s just your fatal affliction. He’s wearing a shirt, a vest and a pair of tailored pants - exactly what one would expect a bartender to wear. Seemingly lost in thought, he’s just wiping some glasses but still, there is something unspeakably captivating about him. An aura that paints him as extraordinary and not just the way he is.

Yanu must notice you approaching out of the corner of his eye. When his gaze meets yours, his expression immediately changes. The deep, pink scar across his blind right eye gives the rakshasa a certain edge but even that isn’t enough to hide the pure adoration painted all over his face. His blue iris stares at you lovingly until a shadow of mischief dances across Yanu’s features.

“My, my, I don’t recall having an appointment with a princess,” he speaks with pretend surprise.

“Princesses don’t make appointments,” you answer casually. Sitting on the high bar stool, you’re still significantly shorter than the rakshasa behind the counter. “They just show up when they want to.”

He chuckles in a low voice. “Gods bless them for that.”

Yanu leans on his forearms on the counter and hangs his head to let you kiss his cheek. Round, furry ears adorned with silver jewellery flutter as they brush against your hair. It tickles when his whiskers touch your face. 

Feeling his breath against your skin, you don’t have to speak loudly. “I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“You,” he points an accusatory finger at you, “interrupt my every coherent thought but I’ve learnt to enjoy that.”

Suddenly, your face gets hot. “I’m being serious, Yanu,” you say through flustered giggles. Even after all this time, it’s beyond easy for him to make you giddy.

“Likewise.” He winks at you before standing up straight. “So how can I spoil a princess’s palate?”

“Hm… I feel like elderberry.”

“Drunk all the time, feeling fine on elderberry wine*,” he sings while looking around for ingredients. The idea for a cocktail comes to him in an instant as befits a true connoisseur.

Yanu appears to be in a trance as he pours and mixes lemonade, vodka, St-Germain and some thyme. Every action is quick and decisive but never careless. Similarly, you are in a sort of trance, too - watching his white shirt and elegant black vest strain around the muscles of his arms. One day the seams of the garments might just let go but say, would it really be so bad?

The rakshasa pours elderflower syrup into the shaker. With a swift flick of his wrist, the shaker with your cocktail-to-be flips in the air. The metal cup makes a full circle only to be caught again by his hand, its content poured into a square drinking glass.

He looks at you in anticipation. Satisfaction is written all over his face. “Pretty nice, right?”

But you’re in a bantering mood tonight. Not letting him see how in awe you truly are, you only raise your eyebrows. “You have huge arms. It would be more impressive if you dropped that.”

Yanu sighs dramatically. He shakes his head and crosses his arms across his chest. If it wasn’t for the glimmer of amusement in his good eye, you’d think he’s genuinely upset. “And here I thought that a lowlife like me could impress a princess.”

“Well…” you ponder for a moment, “there are a few things you could do with your hands that would be impressive.”

Something changes about his demeanour. The amusement stayed but now it is joined by some darkness that leaves an aftertaste of chocolates with brandy - warming and rejuvenatingly bittersweet.

“Really?” he asks in a low voice. His blue eye is watching you intensely, almost looking through you. “Pray tell, what do you have in mind?”

Perhaps there’s some perversion to it but you enjoy leaving his question unanswered for a while. Slowly, you sip on the drink, silently enjoying the perfectly balanced flavours. Not too sweet, not too sour. A true testimony of how well Yanu knows you. That passionate gaze of his never once leaves you, catching even the smallest of movements. A predator or a lover? - how similar these two can be.

“A princess shouldn’t be saying such things out loud,” you finally say.

Yanu leans on his arms against the bar counter. With each exhale, his warm breath gently brushes against your face. There’s some intensity hidden under his casual demeanour as though if you were to play your cards right, he might just cause scandalous immodesty in full view of the clients.

“Will she share them away from prying ears?” More than a question, it’s a suggestion. One that you have neither the will nor the want to reject.

Feigning innocence, you shrug your shoulders. “Perhaps.”

The rakshasa only chuckles. He stands up straight and calls out to someone:

“Hey, Q’rill! Watch the bar for me for a bit, eh?”

The drow, equally well-dressed as Yanu, doesn’t even look your way. Still cutting a lemon into pieces, he answers in a heavy accent, “Got you, boss.”

Not waiting for a sign or a word of encouragement, you get off the stool and walk towards the closer end of the counter. Ever the gentleman, Yanu lifts the wooden part, letting you go behind the bar. But that’s not where the two of you are headed - you follow him through the back of the brewery, only to leave through the staff door.

The alley is dark and narrow. Something rattles in the skip filled with trash, probably a rat or two. In the distance, far away from where you’re standing, cars drive by every now and again. Muffled swing music played by the trio inside the bar sounds like an ambience of a faraway world.

Yanu pushes you against the wall. He’s towering over you - if he so wished, he could effortlessly throw you over his shoulder and carry off.  The bricks are cold against your back but soon you find them refreshing when compared to the warmth beaming from the rakshasa. His rough tongue slowly licks the side of your neck. It’s strange, tickling and absolutely delightful. 

One of his hands lifts your leg, resting your knee against his hips. Lustful greediness has him grabbing and groping whatever part of your thigh and ass.

Just when a pleased sigh leaves your lips, Yanu stops licking your neck and nuzzles it instead.

“So how can I impress my princess?” he purrs into your ear. 

He’s not waiting for an answer - not really. Not when you feel his clothed erection grinding against your groin. You can almost feel your arousal dripping down your legs.

Yanu’s other hand slides into your underwear. His fingers, thick and furry, sensually rub your clit in circles. Breath hitches in your throat. “Would this impress her?” he asks.

“Maybe,” you manage to say between whimpers.

The rakshasa only hums in response. It’s hard to say whether your answer satisfies him.

A loud moan escapes your lips as Yanu easily slips his fingers inside your pussy. The stretch is already more than enough for you. Slow strokes have him reaching deliciously deep inside you.

“You look so pretty like this, princess.”

Looking for support, your hands grab his shoulders. It feels as though your abdomen is suddenly set on fire, your coherent thoughts swimming away and turning into static, if not disappearing completely. There is only Yanu, his quiet groans against your neck and his thick fingers hitting that perfect spot.

“Faster, please,” you squeal.

With utmost pleasure, he obliges immediately. It feels so good you could scream but not a sound leaves your agape mouth. If you weren’t so lost in your pleasure, maybe you’d notice your legs quivering. Your grip on his shoulders only tightens, earning a chuckle from him.

“My princess is going to come?” Yanu coos.

No answer comes from you, only another pathetic moan. Desperate to orgasm, you begin rubbing your clit. It’s “allowed” in these extraordinary circumstances. No doubt Yanu’s “I live to please you” attitude will come back behind closed doors and between the white sheets of your bed.

Your vagina is clenching around his relentlessly thrusting fingers, your whole body begins shaking. A cry gets stuck in your throat. The wave of pleasure, the climax he so eagerly gives you, washes over you more like a tsunami than a wave. It drowns out your thoughts, your breathing, your strength. Fortunately, Yanu has a tight grip around your leg, keeping you standing straight. He’s still sliding in and out of you, letting you ride out your orgasm.

Finally, he slips his fingers out of you. You’re about to say something, thank him or praise him, when a loud crash resounds from inside the bar. Someone’s yelling but the voice is too muffled for either of you to understand what’s the matter.

Yanu and you exchange a look of both confusion and worry. Then, as though lovers know something akin to telepathy, the two of you chuckle.

“Mojito,” you say simultaneously.

When your laughter, contrary to the row next door, dies down, you let out a sigh. “Guess we’ll have to postpone our little escapade.” 

Yanu brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. He’s a cheeky man, staring right into your eyes while doing something so indecent. “I’m fine with that,” comes the answer.

But you can play that game, too.

Low groan rumbles inside his chest when your hand teasingly rubs his prominent bulge. He clenches his fists, doing his utmost best to keep himself collected. You could so easily make him fail at that…

“Are you, though?” you ask with faux innocence.

Although you’ve just had a great orgasm, you can feel your pussy throbbing again. As your mind wanders for a second or two, pondering possibilities, your mouth starts watering.

Yanu firmly grabs the wrist of your hand caressing his crotch. Keeping you in place, he grinds against your palm. Through clenched teeth, he growls into your ear.

“I’m a big boy,” the rakshasa purrs. “I can wait a few hours.”

“I know you’re big, boy,” you retort in an equally sultry voice. “I’ll see you home.”

In a loving gesture, he nuzzles against your neck one last time. “Don’t stray.”

After that, he watches you walk away. Only when you disappear behind the corner does he go back inside the bar. As much as he likes Q’rill, he’d much rather go back home with you.

_____

*Lyrics from "Elderberry wine" by Elton John. A bit of an anachronism, yes, but a damn good song.

If you see any books, plays, movies, paintings or songs mentioned, it's most probably something very close to my heart :)

I'm also a complete greenhorn in writing smut, so bear with me as I learn on the go.

[nico-di-genova]

Strollonso College AU Snippet

A/N: please see the vision 🙏 (this may be nothing, idk, it plays a tiny role into the larger plot, but barely)

This was also written on my notes app in a flurry at 1 a.m., please excuse any typos.

“This ‘college experience�� enough for you?” Lance asks, wincing when Fernando presses the cheap bar napkin to his nose harder, trying to staunch the still steady flow of blood. Lance can taste bitter copper coating his tongue when he gathers it and spits onto the gravel.

They’re standing in the washed orange glow of a street lamp, Lance leaning against the drivers side door of Fernando’s Aston Martin that looks out of place amidst the cracked pavement of the parking lot. Fernando looks out of place, half unbuttoned shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows doing little to distract from the slacks and dress shoes he’s still wearing. In the crowd of undergrads wearing jeans and t-shirts, sneakers splattered with liquor, he’d stood out - even more so when he was stood next to Lance with his backwards cap and fraternity shirt clearly marking his age.

Fernando doesn’t answer him, instead just grabs Lance’s chin with calloused fingers and pulls his head down.

“Don’t tilt your head back,” he demands, pinching the bridge of Lance’s nose with the same force he’d pulled Lance out of the bar with.

Lance hadn’t meant to throw the first punch. But he feels he can hardly be blamed. Sure, Brenton had been drunk, it still didn’t excuse the way he’d jabbed at Lance and joked about his sex life.

“That the old man you fucking?” He’d asked, pointing back at Fernando with a grin, like he and Lance were friends. In truth, Brenton was his least favorite fraternity brother, a feeling that had only grown as Brenton kept pushing.

“He’s a fucking asshole anyway,” Lance grumbles, like that somehow excuses the black eye Brenton will most likely be sporting at the next chapter meeting. He can taste bits of bloody napkin on his tongue when he speaks, the poor quality of the thing causing it to shred under the amount of blood Fernando is forcing it to soak up.

“This will be reported, no? You will get in trouble for this?”

He might, but he doubts Brenton wants to pursue it. To explain his black eye he would also have to explain why he was drinking underage, so voraciously that his breath had smelled of nothing but vodka and vomit when he threw an arm around Lance at the bar and leaned fully on him for support. Both of them would be suspended then, or fined, which wouldn’t do for Brenton who was running for a leadership role. More likely, Brenton would wake up tomorrow with a sore face and no recollection of what had happened in the first place.

He shrugs, “Maybe.”

“It was not worth it.”

“Neither was coming here, I told you we should have just stayed home.”

Lance likes partying, is normally the first to suggest going to the club with Pato and Esteban. He likes partying with Fernando even more, when they go to some upscale place in the city and Fernando buys bottles and a private lounge. He likes it when it means grinding on Fernando in the privacy of their own secluded space, borderline fucking in the shadows. The rundown college bar is a far cry from that, and Fernando’s Aston looking comedically out of place amidst the sea of Jeeps and Camaros should have been the first indication.

“You should be here, Lance. Not hiding at my place.”

His place. Right.

He pulls back, as far back as he can with his back pressed to the car and Fernando keeping him against it, enough that Fernando’s grip on his chin slips.

“I wasn’t hiding. I like your place, I like being there.”

“Lance-.”

“If you’re sick of having me there you can just say that Nando. We don’t have to play this game of you caring about my college experience.”

Fernando grabs him again, presses a fresh napkin to his nose, rolls his eyes.

“You are still looking for a fight.”

Lance starts to argue, before he realizes his fists are clenched at his side, his jaw tense like he’s bracing for another punch. But Fernando would never stoop that low, no matter how much Lance pressed. Instead, he soothes the tension from Lance’s jaw with the pad of his thumb, and stares at him with a look that demands he take a breath.

Lance does, in through his mouth, out through his mouth, tasting beer and regret.

“I hate this place,” he grumbles. Despite the fact that it’s the hot spot for college aged kids looking to unwind. Kids he should have related too, but instead had found very quickly weren’t like him at all. Pato liked it here, being social and charismatic, the bar had quickly made a space for him. Lance on the other hand was too tall, stood out too much, was too queer for a space that prided itself on a true southern welcome. They’d accepted him enough when he wore Greek letters and flirted with girls from his major, but drew the line at Fernando taking up a barstool. Lance had felt that, seen it from the moment they’d entered, been on edge in a way that made him impulsive.

Fernando nods, “So we don’t come here next time. You choose the next one.”

“Somewhere with better liquor,” he jokes, grimacing when he shifts to stand taller and his shoes, sneakers Fernando had bought him only a few weeks ago, stick slightly to the pavement. “Where it doesn’t all end up on the floor.”

They stay there until Fernando staunches the blood. Lance spits one last glob of it out, watches it land next to an empty beer can and then kicks the can across the pavement for good measure. It skitters to a stop against the wheel of a suped up Honda, dented and scratched from other student’s poor parking.

Climbing back into Fernando’s Aston fills him with satisfaction.

—————————

“This better?” Fernando asks later, when he’s got Lance naked and spread across his mattress. Silk sheets cool against Lance’s warmed skin.

He wants to nod, say something to agree, but the wine that Fernando is pouring into the hollow of his throat prevents him from doing so. It’s red, threatens to stain the sheets if it spills.

Fernando, straddling his hips, leans down just enough to suck the wine from his skin, licks at Lance’s throat until it’s gone. He keeps one finger hooked around Lance’s chain, keeping the Star of David pendant out of the way. The wine is expensive, pulled from Fernando’s own collection, opened solely because Lance had asked upon their arrival home.

It’s better than whatever bottom shelf liquor Rusty’s would have been able to scrub up, better than the jungle juice he’s used to chugging from trash cans at frat parties. Lance jots this moment down as another reason his college experience can go fuck itself.

And then he opens his mouth to let Fernando fountain some of the wine into it. Straight from the bottle, some of it escaping, trailing down his chin and then dripping onto the pillow case Fernando has so carefully propped him against.

Fernando hardly bats an eye at the stain, just licks the sticky trail from Lance’s neck up to the corner of his mouth.

“Much better,” Lance breathes, closing his eyes, letting Fernando kiss him and tasting the lingering wine on his tongue.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 21 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - this picks up moments before the end of the last chapter. This one is a trip, please tread lightly, it got away from me.

Summary - Luke races to save Spencer from drowning. Whilst you await Spencer’s fate, you and Luke grow tenuously closer.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - CPR, paramedics, hospitals, suicide attempt, swearing, brief panic attack, slight cheating, making out, some kind of messy coma fever dream, heavy mentions of past rape, sexual assault in the form of a dream, handjob, hint at oral (m receiving).

WC - 6.5k

Chapter 21 - Night Riders Lament

The moment Luke slowed the Escalade to a stop on the gravel driveway, you were flinging yourself out of the vehicle. Luke barely shut off the engine before he did the same. 

He followed in your footsteps, running behind you up the hill towards a large Victorian style home. There were various lights coming from multiple windows in the house. 

The front door was gratefully unlocked as you didn’t have your keys on you. Luke followed you inside where you stopped in the entrance way, honing your ears on any little sound that might indicate Spencer’s location. 

“He could be at the stable, he often drinks down there.” You whispered.

Luke tried to not to think of the implications of Spencer drinking again after all these years of sobriety. He’d failed to find out much more information about his ex’s condition on the drive. 

You’d told him he was off his meds and dissociating into personalities you believed to be people from his past. If he was drinking too it really wasn’t much of a surprise this had happened. 

He heard footsteps on the floor above but not loud enough to come from a human. A moment later a red and grey floppy eared dog who he assumed to still be quite young, appeared at the top of the narrow staircase. 

His icy blue eyes landed on you before bouncing down the stairs towards you. He threw himself at you, nuzzling against you and whining slightly.

“It’s okay, Copper, what is it?” You pet his head. “Where’s Spencer?” 

The dog - Copper - moved away from you and back towards the stairs. You and Luke exchanged a look, wondering if you were supposed to follow. 

Before you could take a step, Luke put his arm in front of you, drawing his firearm with his other hand. 

“Let me go first.” He croaked, stepping forward. “We have no idea what we’re walking into.” 

You swallowed at the inference of his words and the fact he thought he might need his weapon. You nodded stiffly and let Luke take a few more steps as Copper started up the stairs. 

Luke followed and you tentatively crept behind them. Your heart was beating so rampantly against your chest, terrified over what you might find upstairs. Knowing Spencer it could literally be anything, you were scared to see the extent of his full psychosis. 

He could have really hurt himself, he’d been alone for the best part of twenty four hours and you had no idea what he could have done in that time. But you were about to find out. 

Luke continued following Copper into the master bedroom. It was pretty much how you left it aside for the near empty whiskey bottle on the bedside table and Spencer’s clothes strewn about the floor.

The folding wooden doors to the ensuite were closed but Copper came to stand in front of them, staring impatiently at them and whimpering. Luke looked back at you over his shoulder, his hand gripped around the gun noticeably shaking. 

“I think you should wait out here.” He told you sternly but you stubbornly shook your head.

“No way, I’m coming in with you. I can handle it.” You spat.

Luke’s jaw tightened and he swallowed thickly but this wasn’t the time to stand around arguing. He sucked in a trembling breath before turning back to the door. 

“Spencer?” He braced his free hand against the wood. “Spencer, can you hear me? Are you in there?”

There was no response. 

“Spencer, I’m going to open this door if you don’t respond.” He tried again, but still there was no response.

Luke drew a really large breath into his lungs through his nose before he shoved the folding doors, watching them concertina in the middle and pushed through the opening created on the right hand side. 

You were hot on his heels as he breached the room, his hand faltering around the weapon and it suddenly fell to the ground in a loud crash. You gasped loudly at the sight of Spencer in the tub, completely submerged in the water. You froze completely, unable to breathe let alone move.

Thankfully Luke was able to remain level headed and sprung to action after the initial shock. He ran further into the room, quickly reaching both hands into the scalding tub water and hooking them under Spencer’s armpits, dragging the led weight of his unconscious body up and out of the water. 

Spencer’s head lolled to his chest, eyes closed and if Luke wasn’t mistaken, unbreathing. He fought to pull the man fully out of the tub, water splashing everywhere while you and Copper stood stock still and watched in horror. 

Luke manoeuvred him to the floor, trying to ignore the sight of his ex’s naked body before him. He laid him gently on his back on the linoleum, kneeling over him and placing his cheek near Spencer’s face. As suspected, he wasn’t breathing. 

Moving his hand rapidly to Spencer’s neck and pressing two fingers against his pulse point he felt a very faint, very thready pulse.

“He’s not breathing but he’s alive.” Luke straddled Spencer’s hips, glancing up at you. “Call 911 now!” 

You blinked at him but remained unmoved while Luke began CPR in the absence of respiratory activity. He placed the heel of palm on the centre of Spencer’s chest, ignoring how prominent his bones were and how much weight he’d lost, then pressed his other palm to the back of his first hand and started compressions.

He counted off the compressions needing a steady rate of thrusts to kick start Spencer’s heart. After the first thirty he moved his hands from his chest to tilt his head back gently and pinched his nose. He lowered his head, disregarding the utter craziness of this situation, as he sealed his lips over Spencer’s to administer mouth to mouth.

He gave two rescue breaths before sitting back and continuing with the chest compressions. As he did so, he looked at you, seeing you still hadn’t moved. The colour had drained your face and your whole body was quaking.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

“Y/N, this is not the time to freeze.” Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. “Call 911 now! He will die if you just stand there.” Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. “I mean it, Y/N, call the damn paramedics!”

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

Finally you snapped out of your terror and reached into your pocket for your phone. Luke continued to count in his head while he listened to you on the phone. When he reached thirty he resorted back to mouth to mouth, then returned to chest compressions.

“Come on, man, come on.” He muttered, sweat gathering at his brow. “Come on Spence, please. Take a breath, just take a damn breath!” 

Tilting his head back again and breathing twice into Spencer’s mouth just as you hung up the phone, Spencer suddenly spluttered, his whole body jerking beneath Luke.  

You both froze as Spencer’s eyes fluttered, opening momentarily and staring right at Luke before he parted his lips and water spurted from his mouth. 

Luke quickly moved off of him, helping him into the recovery position while Spencer continued to spit up water and a little bile. Luke rubbed his back while you continued to stare at the coughing, shaking man. 

“Spence, it's okay. Get it out.” Luke cooed.

But no sooner had expelled himself, his eyes closed again and his whole body stilled. But he did continue to breathe, albeit extremely shallowly. Luke motioned for you to toss him a towel which you did and Luke used it to cover Spencer’s lower half. Water dribbled from his open mouth onto the floor, his breathing ragged and infrequent. 

Luke stayed crouched by his side, stroking his back for another few minutes, paying close attention to his breathing before suddenly it stopped again. Luke cursed in his mother tongue, pushing Spencer onto his back again and resuming his earlier attempts at CPR. 

You didn’t know how long you stood there watching in fear as Luke gave him chest compressions and mouth to mouth, before the sound of footsteps on the staircase alerted you to the arrival of EMT’s. 

They practically pushed you and Copper aside, one of them dropping to the floor next to Luke, a canister of oxygen wheeled behind him. He placed a hand on Luke’s shoulder as he robotically continued pumping Spencer’s chest with his hands, seemingly not noticing the arrival. 

“Sir,” the second EMT took hold of Luke’s shoulder. “Sir, it's okay, you can stop now.” 

The EMT had to physically drag Luke off of Spencer, while the other used a stethoscope to listen to his breathing. After a few moments he pulled away and looked up at the second paramedic. 

“Very little respiratory activity. He’ll need intubation.” For now he placed a mask over Spencer’s lips which were starting to turn blue. “Can you clear the room please? We’ll be taking him to Canyon Vista Medical, but for now we need space, we need to replenish his O2 and stabilise him.” 

A trembling Luke found your side and without thinking, wrapped his arms around you. You let him lead you from the room and towards the bed where the two of you sat down, Copper joining you soon after. 

Tears silently rolled down your cheeks as the EMT’s worked on getting him on a stretcher, keeping his oxygen mask in place. Once they started leading his unconscious form out of the room, Luke sprung back up to his feet. 

The two of you followed close behind while he was rapidly manoeuvred into the back of the ambulance, the speed in which everything was happening only furthered to prove his dire state. The EMT’s didn’t say another word to either of you and were soon peeling away, red and blue’s flashing and siren blaring. 

Without your knowledge you were back in Luke’s Escalade while he slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped after the ambulance as fast he could, the utter terror running through his veins. 

But he had to stay focused for now, at least until he made it to the hospital. There would be time to dwell on all of this later. For now he had to believe Spencer Reid could survive this. 

***

Spencer was taken straight to the ICU where he was hooked up to a ventilator via an endotracheal tube in his mouth. You and Luke had been informed that he’d gone into cardiac arrest in the ambulance but they had managed to revive him. 

He was taken for chest x-rays to assess the level of acute respiratory distress. He was being closely monitored for potential multiple organ failure, pneumonia and central nervous system infections. 

He was still unconscious and as such it was impossible to know the extent of brain injury due to lack of oxygen. They couldn’t fairly assess if he was suffering from hypoxic or anoxic brain injury until he was awake and could be given a series of tests to determine if he’d permanently damaged his brain. 

He was receptive to early testing, the doctor had shone a torch in his eyes and noted his pupils restricted to the intrusion. Ice cold water was applied to his ears which caused his eyes to move rapidly beneath his lids. The doctor was hopeful that these were good signs of brain activity but he certainly wasn’t out of the woods.

The fluid had been drained from his lungs but it didn’t mean he couldn’t still contract pneumonia. Prolonged use of the ventilator also came with its own risks of lung injury. The fact that he drowned in hot water removed the risk of hypothermia but it did mean his body’s need for oxygen was increased and that the oxygen deprivation could have been rapidly lethal and lead to permanent brain damage. 

He was being tested around the clock, closely monitored as he was at risk of innumerable issues and complications. His blood had been drawn on intake and the doctor informed you and Luke that his blood alcohol level had been four times the legal limit and they assumed it had led to him falling unconscious in the tub and submerging himself. 

You and Luke didn’t say as much but you both knew this hadn’t been some dumb accident. This was without a doubt in both of your minds, an attempt to end his life. 

The two of you exchanged barely two words for hours while you sat in the waiting room. Luke brought you a tepid, bitter coffee from the vending machine while you nursed it on autopilot while he excused himself to make some phone calls.

Firstly he called Grant and filled him in on everything, managing to stem his tears and remain stoic while he explained to his boyfriend how he found his ex close to death and was now waiting to see if he’d regain consciousness. 

It was when he called Emily that Luke finally succumbed to the terror and the heartache he’d bottled up since finding Spencer in the tub and thinking he was dead. 

He’d sobbed down the phone while he recited all the gory details to his boss, barely able to hold himself upright and having to use a nearby wall to brace himself against. 

Emily didn’t get every word he said due to the rampant crying and the fact that Luke seemed to flick back and forth between English and Spanish while he spoke.

“Jesus Em it was bad, it was so bad. I thought he estaba muerto. I thought I would never vería sus ojos otra vez. He wasn’t breathing, he barely had a pulse. Que pasa si lo pierdo? He was just like that, so sin vida. Ay dios mio, I would have…he could have fallecido. I thought he…oh god Em, I thought he was gone. I thought he was gonna die en frente de mí! I don’t know how I even held it together when all I wanted to do was quebrarme. And he still might no regresar. I still may never see his eyes again, hear su voz. Ay dios mio, AY DIOS MIO. Podría haber muerto, que hubiera hecho? Fuck, fuck Em, I’m atacado…having a ataque de pánico.”

“Okay, okay Alvez I need you to breathe. Just stop and take a breath in, count to five and release it again. Can you do that for me?” Her voice carried down the phone. 

“Si. Yes.” Luke closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wall and doing as Emily said. 

At her guidance he repeated this over and over until she deemed Luke to be calm enough, his breathing slowly returning to something close to normal.

“Okay, are you good?”

“Yes.” Luke swallowed, turning and leaning back against the wall.

“Start again from the beginning. But I’m going to need you to stick to one language. English or Spanish is fine but I’m not as adept at switching between the two as you are, so please, pick one.” 

Luke pinched the bridge of his nose, he honestly hadn’t even realised he’d been speaking Spanish. He took a deep breath and wiped his tears before telling Emily everything in English only. 

By the time he returned to you in the waiting room he’d cried all of his tears and washed his face to try and hide that fact. 

Your face was obscured by your hood the way it had been since you arrived at the hospital, not able to take any chances on someone recognising you. Luke slid into the chair at your side. 

“Do I need to go? I assume your team is coming?” You sighed. 

“They’re on a case, they got called out right after I headed down to New Mexico, so no they aren’t. Also I don’t really think Spencer would want them to witness him in this state, whether he was conscious of them being here or not.” Luke ran his hand over his rough facial hair. 

“I should never have left him. This is my fault.” You cried. 

Luke placed his strong hand on your shoulder, forcing you to look at him through watery eyes hidden away behind your oversized hood. 

“None of this is your fault.” He shook his head. “No one could have prevented this, Y/N. Unfortunately Spencer is severely mentally ill. A combination of coming off his meds and heavy drinking only exacerbated the situation. This was sadly an inevitable outcome.” 

“What happens if he doesn’t wake up Luke? What happens if Spencer dies?” Your eyes were begging him for answers he just didn’t have and you knew it too. 

“Honestly?” He squeezed your shoulder. “I have no idea. I really wish I had some words to make this better, but I don’t. We just have to wait and see and go from there.” 

You nodded knowing he was right but hating it all the same. 

***

The momentary bliss of those first few seconds of consciousness swaddled you like a warm blanket and allowed you a reprieve from the previous day's events. The strong, firm body you found yourself cradled against breathed almost in symmetry with you. 

Broad arms encircled you, your head nuzzled against a hard chest and being lulled by the rhythmic beating of a heart. Legs were entwined together keeping you close. And for those joyous few seconds you forgot all about Spencer in the hospital and it didn’t even cross your mind that the body you were wrapped up in wasn’t his.

So when you shifted your head upwards and captured the sleepy lips of your bed companion in a kiss, it didn’t occur to you that it was incredibly wrong. Apparently it didn’t occur to him either as he returned the kiss with vigour, tongue working its way into your mouth whilst pulling you on top of him. 

He was already hard beneath you as you rolled your hips against his whilst hungrily exploring each other's mouth with fervour. It didn’t register to you that his lips were unfamiliar, that the body you were grinding against was much more muscular than you were used to. 

But then your brain started to kick into gear, pulling itself from its sleep-addled state and you remembered Spencer in the tub, Luke giving him CPR, the EMT’s, the hospital.

Oh my fucking god!

You suddenly broke the kiss, sitting back and staring down at a sleepy Luke Alvez under you. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking up at you as his own brain ebbed into consciousness. 

“Y/N?” He yelped slightly as you rolled off of him quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I…I, uh, I think I thought you were Spencer.” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Mierda,” he spat, pulling the sheet over his body mostly to cover the fact he was fully erect as if you hadn’t felt it. “I didn’t realise what I was doing. Jeez, I haven't kissed a woman in a really long time.” 

“We should, uh, pretend that never happened and get back to the hospital.” You were rolling out of bed, self conscious at the fact you only wore an oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties. 

Glancing back at Luke he only seemed to be wearing boxers and the clothes on the floor only further proved that. You didn’t remember leaving the hospital and getting back to the ranch. You didn’t know why you and Luke were in bed together, wearing next to nothing.

“You were exhausted.” Luke spoke, seemingly reading your mind. “I helped you up to bed and you asked me to stay with you. Honestly I didn’t mind the company. I, uh, did have more clothes on when I fell asleep but I do run hot so I guess I took them off in the night.” 

“We didn’t…?” You turned back to him, eyebrow cocked. 

“No!” Luke frowned with a huff. “No offence but you’re not exactly my type.”

“Right, my lack of a penis.” You nodded with a slight quip of your lip. 

“Exactly.” Luke couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not as equal opportunist as Spencer, if you know what I mean.” 

“You’re gay, I get it. I’m not offended.” You shook your head in amusement. “I’m gonna shower and hope to wash this fucking bizarre morning off of me.” 

“Good idea.” Luke nodded stiffly. 

Without another word you padded past him towards the bathroom and closed the folding doors behind you. You froze once inside, staring at the still full tub. You could still see him there, submerged under the water, not breathing. You could see his lifeless form as Luke laid him down on the floor and tried to breathe life back into him. 

The lips that had to administer mouth to mouth to Spencer were the same as the ones you’d fervently attacked. You’d kissed Luke while Spencer was fighting for his life. Tears crept to your eyes and you were momentarily paralysed by the weight of it all. But you couldn’t crumble, Spencer needed you. 

You bypassed the claw foot tub, unable to bring yourself to drain the water and simply stepped inside the shower and closed your eyes in the hopes of dispelling the images that ran amok in your mind.

***

The doctors started to try and wean Spencer off of the ventilator to try and assess if he was able to breath on his own. He’d had no further fluid build up in his lungs and they were hopeful that he would be able to breath without the use of the tube and the machine.

He was having tests done multiple times a day to measure his oxygen and carbon dioxide levels, his blood pressure, heart rate and temperature were all regularly checked. He had numerous blood tests to monitor his kidney function as well as other body functions. 

Luke had spent several hours in Spencer’s room, talking to the unconscious man but you couldn’t bring yourself to see him like this. 

By the end of the day the doctor had successfully removed him from the ventilator and Spencer was breathing unaided. They had started by explaining all the steps to you and Luke although most of it was lost on you. 

The pressure of the ventilator was gradually reduced whilst nurses moved Spencer into a half sitting position. His airway was suctioned before the ventilator was disconnected and replaced by a simple oxygen mask to aid his breathing but not control it. 

The doctor monitored his breathing for any anxiety or laboured breaths. As soon as he was happy that Spencer was able to breath without the machine, extubation was carried out, the endotracheal tube removed from his throat and the mask placed over his mouth and nose. 

He would need continuous monitoring to ensure he carried on breathing on his own but the doctor said it wasn’t unheard of for patients to return to a ventilator if needed. They also started to wean him off the medication keeping him sedated but you and Luke were both warned that it could still take some time for him to awaken.

You were both made aware that when he did wake up he would likely be restless and confused and if he was to get agitated he may need resedating but they hoped it wouldn’t come to that. None one mentioned the fact it was still a possibility he might not wake up at all. 

You stayed all day before returning to the ranch in the late evening. Luke ordered take out as all the two of you had eaten was snacks from the hospital vending machine. You both only picked at the Thai food, neither feeling particularly hungry.

After dinner Luke called Grant and then Emily to fill them in on Spencer’s progress before the two of you called it a night, sleeping in separate rooms this time to avoid another potentially awkward morning.

***

Spencer Reid didn’t believe in heaven and hell and perhaps that was why he’d found himself in some kind of limbo. 

Am I dead? Must be dead. What else could this be?

You really went and done it this time, Reid. You wanted to kill yourself and it looks like you succeeded. 

Well, this ought to be interesting. 

Everything seemed just mildly out of focus, hazy around the edges. It was a little like being tipsy, not quite able to get his vision to cooperate yet his mind was sharp unlike when he drank. 

Out of nowhere an incredibly bright light flashed before his left eye. He squinted before it appeared again in his right but then disappeared entirely. 

He walked with seemingly no purpose, through one blurry room to the next without knowing where he was going or why. His feet moved of their own volition, like they had their own destination in mind. 

Is this all there is out there? Am I simply going to wander the abyss for all eternity now? At least I’m alone, at least they aren’t here. 

A shiver passed up his spine and he looked around quickly, trying to work out where the sudden iciness that encompassed him came from. Moments later he felt it again, confined to his head…his ears? 

No bother, it soon passed and he continued on his way. 

Must have worked. The lack of oxygen must have killed enough of my brain cells that they’re all finally gone. I might be able to have some peace. 

But as he had this thought, a voice filtered into his ears distant and hard to understand but he certainly recognised it and not as one of the ghosts who had lived inside of his head. 

“Amor mio. Siento tanto esto que te pasó, pero necesito que abras tus ojos ya? Hazlo por mí. Por favor, te suplico, abre tus ojos.”

Luke? Luke, is that you? Luke I don’t understand, I can’t… Never had a problem understanding Spanish before, why can’t I understand him?

Luke, say it in English, what are you trying to say? Must have destroyed the part of my brain where my ability to retain language was stored. Amor mio…my love? Urgh, what are you trying to tell me?

Think, Spencer, think. Something about being sorry? Siento tanto esto que te pasó…I’m sorry for what happened to you? What happened to me? I don’t get it. 

Ojos…eyes? You want me to open my eyes? My eyes are open…I don’t understand, Luke? Pero necesito que abras tus ojos ya…But I need you to open your eyes? This doesn’t make any sense…

Hazlo por mí. Por favor, te suplico, abre tus ojos…Do it do me. Please I beg you, open your eyes? Am I losing my mind or has my Spanish gotten that rusty? I must be mistranslating, that doesn’t make any sense. 

His feet continued their aimless wandering, Luke’s voice fading out of his ears. He pushed his way through a door at the end of a long corridor and stepped inside to be greeted by a table full of people bathed in a soft glow, while they enjoyed dinner together.

Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, Tara Lewis, Penelope Garcia, David Rossi and Matt Simmons sat around the table, laughing and clinking wine glasses together, not noticing their company. 

A smile blossomed on Spencer’s lips as he took in his old team, minus Luke. He walked towards the six of them, excited to join them in their dinner. 

Gosh, I’ve missed them, never realised how much until right now. It's so good to see them all again, can’t wait to…

As he neared the table the six figures he’d known and missed started to shift and morph before his very eyes. Soon enough he wasn’t looking at the six members of the BAU, instead he was looking upon the six demons who lived inside his head. 

There they were, sharing a meal together while Spencer stood in horror as the monsters of his past broke bread together and sipped wine like they were old friends catching up after a long time apart.

Tobias Hankel sipped from his wine glass. Cat Adams and Diane Turner laughed together side by side. William Reid picked up a bread roll and tore it into pieces before he started eating it. Benjamin Merva cut into a rare steak with an overly sharp knife.

And at the head of the table, clinking his own knife against his glass and capturing the attention of the others, was the source of Spencer’s biggest trauma. The broad, tattooed latino got to his feet, his prison scrubs rolled up to his elbows and all eyes were now on him. 

He smiled at his rapt audience, the same sick smile he used to give Spencer when he was forcing him to his knees and opening his mouth for the assault. Large hands clapped together, the very ones which had held Spencer in place while he was coerced into taking the other mens cocks in his mouth. 

“I’m so glad we could all be here today,” he spoke in that menacing tone Spencer knew too well. “To celebrate the man of the hour, the reason we were all brought together.” 

Suddenly all eyes turned to Spencer who was standing dumbly off to the side, on the outside looking in. He swallowed thickly at the six sets of eyes who seemed to be hungrily glaring at him. 

“Without you, querido, none of us would be here.” 

Please don’t call me that, please god don’t call me that, Spencer spoke but no words seemed to come out of his mouth. Yet, everyone seemed to hear him.

“What’s the matter, querido, I thought you liked it?” The man pouted at him.

I don’t, I don’t! Not when you say it! 

“He prefers it when you call him, cariño.” 

Another voice entered the arena, one in which Spencer didn’t mind the term of endearment from. He spun around to see Luke on the edge of the room, hands in his pockets and chewing awkwardly on his lip.

Luke, Luke you came! Luke, please make them go away. 

Again he didn’t make a sound yet Luke seemed to hear him loud and clear.

“You know I’d do anything for you cariño, but you never let me help you. I tried, I tried so hard. But you didn’t want my help.”

I want it now, please? Please! Make them go away.

He felt a strong set of arms around him from behind, he knew exactly who they belonged to. He struggled against them but he was too weak, his back being pinned against a firm chest while tattooed arms encompassed his waist, holding him steady.

“He looks a little like me, no?” The man breathed in his ear. “Is that why you wouldn’t let him touch you after what I did? Did he remind you of me?”

Y-yes, Spencer sniffled. It’s true Luke, I’m sorry. You reminded me of him, you reminded me of my rapist. 

“Ay cariño,” Luke huffed, still on the other side of the room and not stepping in to help him fight off his attacker. “Estabas tan vulnerable, que nunca pudiste aprender a cómo cuidarte. No es raro que él se haya aprovechado de ti.”

What does that mean? I don’t understand, I can’t seem to remember any Spanish, Luke you have to help me!

The arms tightened around him, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He desperately tried to catch it but the pressure around him inhibited him from getting a solid breath into his suddenly aching lungs. 

“He said you are so fragile, that you never did learn to take care of yourself. He said it’s no wonder I took advantage of you.”

No, no that’s not true. Luke, tell him, you didn’t say that! Tell him! 

Despite the fact Spencer was still not making any noise aside from trying to catch his breath, Luke shrugged. Spencer looked over at the table where the other five ghosts sat, none of them paying any attention to the three of them. They were focused back on their meals, clearly unperturbed by what was going on. 

The arms started to loosen their hold and Spencer gasped furiously for a breath to refill his near empty lungs. His breathing was thick and fast, rampant and erratic.

“It's to be expected when patients first come off the ventilator. He might struggle to breath on his own for a few minutes but the mask will help ensure he has enough oxygen and I can assure you Mister Alvez we’re monitoring him extremely closely.” 

Spencer frowned at the new voice entering his ears, looking around but not seeing any other faces. The man behind him had his hands on Spencer’s hips and no matter what he did, Spencer couldn’t get his breathing to return to normal.

Luke, what is happening? Why can’t I breathe properly? What is he saying about ventilators and oxygen? What have I missed? 

The hands gripped his hips tightly through his slacks and Spencer tried to ignore them in lieu of breathing. He was huffing and puffing but he couldn’t control it. 

What is happening to me? 

No one responded. 

Something was suddenly on his throat or more accurately, being removed from his throat. He felt it scratch and tickle as he clawed its way out of his mouth. He coughed violently out of nowhere, shuddering at the sensation and dribbling down his chin a little. 

He swallowed thickly, feeling empty in such a new and strange way but he didn’t understand what it was. What was that feeling? 

The sounds of laughter from the dinner table distracted him momentarily while one hand snuck around the front of his body. Spencer’s back stiffened as the thick fingers toyed at the waistband of his slacks.

Please, please don’t do this, he begged, still fighting for breath. “Please, I don’t want it. I don’t want it!” 

The hand was sliding inside his pants and Spencer whimpered, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked at Luke, begging for help.

“Is he crying?” Luke’s voice came again but this time his lips didn’t move.

“It’s perfectly normal in comatose patients, Mister Alvez.” The other voice spoke again. 

Comatose? What is going on? Someone tell me what’s…oh shit! A hand wrapped around his shaft. Don’t do that, don't touch me!

“Don’t fight it cariño, just pretend it's me.” The Luke that was in front of him was speaking now and not the phantom, distant Luke voice.

Please, please I don’t want this! I just want to…oh…

Spencer threw his head back, eyes closing as a wave of pleasure erupted in his chest. He was still struggling to catch his breath but right then he didn’t care. The large, calloused hand in his pants felt divine even if he hated to admit it. 

He locked eyes with Luke while the man continued to stroke him, his knees buckling, but the man behind him held him upright.

“Feels good, huh?” Luke smirked at him

Y-yes, fucking goddamnit yes it does.

“I like him like this; so subservient.” The man whispered against Spencer’s ear, breath hot on his skin. 

Fuck…fuck…feels so good. Why does it have to feel so good? 

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!” 

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

Two other bodies appeared beside Luke now, the other two men responsible for his prison assaults. Spencer squirmed and whined at their words, fighting against the hands once more.

I’m not enjoying it. Stop it, please. I don’t want it. 

“Spencer, baby, if you weren’t enjoying it, why is your cock so hard?” Luke offered him a sad smile. 

It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop! 

The tears were hot as they scored down his face. He desperately fought against the hands that wouldn’t let up, touching him in places he didn’t want to be touched. He still couldn’t breath, everything was growing hazier. 

He vaguely registered the sounds of chairs scraping across the floor and moments later the five other ghosts came into view. 

William and Merva helped to remove Spencer’s shirt while he whined and tried to push them away to no avail. Cat dropped to her knees in front of him, wasting no time in taking him in her mouth while the man’s hand remained around the base of his shaft. 

Tobias and Diane started pawing at his now bare chest, Diane sucking marks on his neck while he felt a needle at the crook of his arm.

No, please, please you have to stop. STOP! I don’t want any of this, Luke, make them stop! 

Spencer screamed and screamed until his lungs were raw and throbbing, but no one seemed to hear his pleas. He fought against the bodies now swarmed around him, thrashing and writhing but it didn’t do any good. No one was listening, no one heard his cries. 

Stop, stop, stop! You have to stop, I can’t do this. Can’t do this. Death was supposed to be a reprieve, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! You weren’t supposed to follow me to the other side. Luke, Luke! Please! Please you have to do something, Luke! Luke, Luke, Luke…

With a start, Spencer’s eyes shot open while he gasped for a breath to fill his battered lungs. Suddenly everything stilled. There were no hands upon him, no voices, no torrent of unwanted emotions. 

In the whiteness of the room he registered a faint beeping sound but he didn’t acknowledge it. Across the vividly lit space, he locked eyes with those dark brown orbs he’d loved for so many years and saw all the sorrow they held as they stared back at him.

He felt something over his face, obscuring his mouth and nose, something in the crook of his arm, something else jammed in a place much lower down his body that it most certainly shouldn’t be. A frantic beeping grew louder as he slowly ebbed out of that hazy unconscious. His heart? His heart was beating furiously. 

But through it all, he only had attention on that one man whom he was sure was not a ghost this time. As a small yet melancholy smile played on his lips, Spencer knew that Luke Alvez was just as much here as he himself was.

Wherever the hell here was. 

Heaven? Hell? Limbo again? Some kind of other in between where up is down and left is right? Got to be, can’t be real. If I was alive there is no way Luke Alvez would be here in front of me and…

Luke started towards him, eyes misted with tears. He moved closer to Spencer and without thinking he grabbed the younger man’s hand in his, needing to feel him, needing to ground himself. 

He blinked back tears whilst an extremely confused, extremely oxygen deprived Spencer continued to stare blankly at him. Luke lifted his hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across his knuckles. 

“Oh cariño, am I glad to see you.” 

@katrina0-0 @kalulakunundrum @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb @chineray1234

[copperproduct]

Why Should I Consider Switching to a Copper Water Bottle? 

In a world increasingly prioritizing health and environmental consciousness, the choices we make in our everyday lives play a crucial role. One such choice gaining prominence is the switch to a copper water bottle. In this comprehensive guide, we will delve into the myriad reasons why you should consider making this transition. From the historical legacy of copper to its health benefits, sustainability aspects, and practical considerations, we will explore every facet of the copper water bottle phenomenon.

Historical Legacy of Copper in Water Storage:

Copper has been a trusted material for storing water for centuries, with its roots deeply embedded in various cultures across the globe. This section will take a historical journey, shedding light on how ancient practices of using copper vessels have paved the way for the modern resurgence of copper bottles.

Health Benefits of Copper Water Bottles:

Copper water bottles have gained popularity not only for their aesthetic appeal but also for the numerous health benefits they offer. The interaction between copper and water has been studied for centuries, and emerging research sheds light on the positive impact it can have on our well-being. Here are some key health benefits associated with using copper water bottles:

Antibacterial Properties:

Copper possesses natural antibacterial and antimicrobial properties. Studies have shown that copper can eliminate a wide range of harmful bacteria and viruses. This includes bacteria like E. coli and Salmonella, making it an excellent choice for maintaining water hygiene.

Improved Digestive Health:

Copper is known to stimulate the gastrointestinal tract, aiding in the detoxification process. It helps the body break down and eliminate waste more effectively, contributing to improved digestion. This can be particularly beneficial for individuals struggling with digestive issues.

Anti-Inflammatory Effects:

Chronic inflammation is linked to various health issues, including arthritis and cardiovascular diseases. Copper, when consumed in trace amounts, may exhibit anti-inflammatory effects. It can potentially help reduce inflammation in the body and alleviate symptoms associated with inflammatory conditions.

Boosts the Immune System:

Copper is an essential trace mineral that plays a crucial role in the functioning of the immune system. It helps in the production of immune cells and supports the body’s defense mechanisms. Regular intake of copper-infused water can contribute to a robust immune system.

Joint Health and Arthritis Relief:

Copper is involved in the formation of collagen, a key component of bones and connective tissues. This makes it beneficial for joint health and may provide relief for individuals suffering from arthritis. Copper’s anti-inflammatory properties also play a role in managing joint pain and stiffness.

Stimulates Brain Function:

Copper is known to play a role in the synthesis of neurotransmitters, which are essential for proper brain function. Adequate copper levels may contribute to improved cognitive function, memory retention, and overall brain health.

Aids in Melanin Production:

Copper is a vital component in the production of melanin, the pigment responsible for the color of our skin, hair, and eyes. While excessive copper intake can lead to discoloration, an adequate amount is crucial for maintaining healthy skin and hair.

Supports Thyroid Function:

Copper is involved in the regulation of thyroid hormones, which are crucial for maintaining a healthy metabolism. Proper thyroid function is essential for overall well-being, and copper contributes to this by supporting the thyroid gland.

Environmental Impact and Sustainability:

As sustainability becomes a key consideration, the environmental impact of our choices takes center stage. This part of the article will highlight:

Recyclability: Copper’s recyclable nature, emphasizes its eco-friendly credentials.

Copper Water Bottle Wholesale: Encouraging bulk purchases to amplify the sustainable impact.

Addressing Concerns and Misconceptions:

For a complete understanding, potential concerns must be addressed. This section will tackle common misconceptions such as copper leaching and offer maintenance tips to ensure optimal performance.

Choosing the Right Copper Water Bottle

Copper water bottles have gained popularity for their potential health benefits and aesthetic appeal. However, not all copper water bottles are created equal. To ensure you make an informed choice, consider the following factors when selecting the right copper water bottle for your needs:

Material and Purity:

Opt for bottles made from pure copper. Look for those labeled as 100% pure copper to ensure you’re getting the maximum health benefits. Be cautious of bottles with coatings or linings, as they may interfere with the interaction between copper and water.

Design and Craftsmanship:

Assess the craftsmanship and design of the bottle. A well-crafted copper water bottle should have a seamless construction without any joints or welds. Check for a smooth finish and a sturdy base to ensure durability.

Size and Capacity:

Consider your daily water intake when selecting the size of the bottle. Copper water bottles come in various capacities, so choose one that suits your lifestyle. Smaller bottles are convenient for on-the-go use, while larger ones are ideal for home or office use.

Lid and Seal:

Examine the bottle’s lid and seal. A tight-fitting lid with a secure seal prevents leaks and ensures that the water remains uncontaminated. Look for bottles with screw-on lids or caps that are easy to open and close.

Weight and Portability:

Copper is heavier than some other materials, so consider the weight of the bottle, especially if you plan to carry it with you throughout the day. Look for a balance between sturdiness and portability based on your preferences.

Maintenance and Cleaning:

Copper can tarnish over time, creating a natural patina. If you prefer the shiny look, choose a bottle with a lacquer coating to slow down the tarnishing process. Consider how easy the bottle is to clean, as regular maintenance is essential to prevent bacterial growth.

Authenticity and Certification:

Purchase copper water bottles from reputable sources. Authenticity is crucial, and some manufacturers may provide certification to confirm the purity of the copper used. Research the brand and read customer reviews to ensure you’re buying from a reliable source.

Purpose and Intended Use:

Determine the primary purpose of your pure copper water bottle. If you’re looking for a stylish accessory, focus on the design and aesthetics. For those prioritizing health benefits, emphasize purity and functionality.

Conclusion:

As we conclude, the guide will summarize the holistic benefits of switching to a copper water bottle. Encouraging readers to explore and buy copper water bottle, the article will reiterate the availability of wholesale options, making it easier for individuals to embark on a wellness and sustainability journey.

Make a conscious choice today by embracing the allure of copper and contributing to a healthier, more sustainable tomorrow with a pure copper bottle.

[thecoiledserpent]

↻ REMEDIAL MEASURES FOR THE PLANETS : THE SUN

basics of vedic astrology. ask box. masterlist.

a malefic sun will bring problems from the government and money loss due to tax issues. a weak sun will reduce your impact on the world and increase your struggles in life; if other satvik planets (moon, mars, jupiter) are not very strong either, then the influence of tamas guna takes over the person. it makes them lazy, sullen, reduces commitment and increases cowardice. an unfavourable sun further leads to affliction to the eyes, leading to loss of vision in the worst case.

general remedies

waking up early and engaging in surya namskaar, to be practised before sunrise, depending on regional timings. for those invested in yoga, this is especially encouraged. you can search it up anywhere, and you'll get the 12 postures with the 12 mantras to be recited with each of them.

otherwise, greet the view of the sun in the morning with devotion (without having eaten anything, preferably before brushing) and bowing to him.

respecting, and looking after the father. it is strictly unadvisable to hurt him in any manner, except if he happens to be abusive, in which case i advise distance from him. for those who are close to / at good terms with their father, speak to him in your free time and cherish your bond with him.

avoid unnecessary arguments with authority figures.

including jaggery, ginger, cinnamon in the food if sun is benefic but weak. donating red coloured pulses to the needy on sunday if sun is a malefic.

wearing copper bracelet if sun is a weak benefic.

drinking water from a copper bottle / in a copper glass.

fasting on sundays. water, fruits, fruit juices, dry fruits, milk and milk products which do not contain salt are allowed to be consumed.

carrying out responsibilities properly, without complaints.

keeping a picture of seven horses running together with an orange background at the east wall / at the table / in home / work place.

for hindus / people believing in idolatry / people with any form of devotion to the planets as gods:

TO BE DONE DAILY:

one thing i wish to emphasize here is that vedic practices like the two following are to be done in places free from the influence of alcohol / drugs / meat / rahu dominant places. after having consumed any of these, stay away from the places where the god is kept / offered remedies to, to respect their sanctity.

employ your imagination to visualize the sun god in an anthropomorphic form (as a human). this is done to create a deeper emotional relationship with the sun which is not possible with an inanimate object.

the sun is visualized with two arms, his skin the colour of red coral, holding two lotuses in his hands, with golden armlets, bracelets, necklaces and shining gold earrings. he sits atop an open lotus, and has the radiance of a thousand stars. his chariot is driven by seven horses as he moves through the sky.

do this as you stand facing the rising sun, before 7 in the morning with an empty stomach and having taken a bath. you must have a small, round copper vessel (a lota) filled with fresh water. as you imagine the sun god, bow to him softly and raise your hands filled with the vessel and start pouring it in his direction, as though offering it to him and chant the following mantra:

ॐ  हराम  हरिम ह्रौं सह सूर्याय नमः 'Om Hraam Hreem Hraum Sah Suryay Namah'   ‘I salute the Great Sun God for his Divine grace.’

if this is too tough, you may go for a simpler one:

'Om Suryaya Namaha'

no special accents or anything, every letter to be pronounced properly as i have written in the english translation.

keep a bucket below where the water will be collected, or any other vessel and cast it aside. this water is not to be used for watering plants, washing etc. personally, i switch between three buckets. when one is full, i cast it aside and it just vaporizes by at least half within two weeks time by which i have to switch buckets.

this can be done from the balcony, through window etc. if a safe and clean waterbody is available nearby whose water you deem pure enough to be offered to a god, then take water from that body, offer it to the lord and pour it such that it falls back into the said body. bow to the sun, and return to your schedule.

TO BE DONE ON SUNDAYS / AUSPICIOUS OCCASIONS: (depending upon level of commitment, and financial influence)

if you wish to pray to the sun god and engage in mantra chanting, then you may establish a copper statue of the god, no bigger than your finger (or the thumb if you are a busy person and may have to skip this duty at times. large statues when unkempt curse the native for dishonour of the god.)

following is a good reference statue, but it is nearly the size of your hand and will require appropriate keeping.

discipline for taking care of statues of gods. not looking after the statue of gods is extremely inauspicious. if you do not have the discipline or time to dedicate some time in the morning / early evening to worship, then don't keep the statue in your home.

i will make a post about this if anyone needs additional or personal tips regarding idol worship, or how you can adjust it better with western culture. do lmk via asks.

remedies that can be done occasionally / weekly :

offer the sun god the flowers associated with him (lotus, nag champa, hibiscus, palash), red coloured garments (it can be any new textile, even unsewn cloth can be offered), wheat grains (100 g) and copper metal if within means. all of these items are to be distributed amongst brahmins (temple priests) to appease the god.

havan can be done on sundays.

rice cooked with jaggery can be fed to brahmins (temple priests); you can ask the local temple priests about it, or if any isckon centre is present, then the authorities present there will be able to guide you well about how you can do so. if temples are present locally, then you can simply donate the items / food in a tupperware to the temple priest. the raw materials can also both be offered (raw rice grains and jaggery.

a cow with calf be given in charity. (don't go around thinking this has to be done weekly 😭 do it once, or maybe once every four-five years if you have that devotion and money)

feeding birds on your own with wheat grains is another excellent remedy. offering water to them in shallow vessels to prevent smaller animals from drowning in it is great, too. if sparrows are there, then it is an even better omen. you can simply offer money to institutions who take care of birds, as well.

a general advise which is applicable to everyone, regardless of the sun's strength in the birth chart is to keep a hanging sun ornament at the entrance of the house / office / studio etc. it is highly auspicious and prevents the entry of bad energies into the house. if placed inside the house, it should be hung on the east wall.

ॐ नमो भगवते वासुदेवाय नमः

[yuechicake]

a wound like yours doesn't know how to close.

summary: li always shows up at mhin's door unwanted and unexpectedly, bringing nothing but problems.

notes: 1k words, oc/canon, depictions of injuries and taking care of said injuries

It’s the smell that alerts Mhin to Li’s unexpected presence in their home as they push open their uncooperating door: rusty copper and old coins, sharp and nauseating on their tongue.

It’s the blood that lets them know their guess is correct, slick and shining like an oil spill in the moonlight, matted into the carpet and splashed across their scant wooden furniture. 

They take a step into the foyer, pinching their nose. “Li,” they say flatly. “I told you to stop coming here.”

She lopes out of the darkness, eyes floating like pale, yellowed lanterns in the darkness. Already, they can see the source of the blood: lacerations on her arms, torn flesh leaking scarlet, soaking into her ragged clothing. More wounds on her legs and possibly under her clothing, but Mhin can’t bring themself to look closer.

“Welcome home,” she says easily. A hot flare of annoyance lances through them at her tone. At her intrusion or her audacity, they can’t be sure.

“Sit down,” they snap. “You’re getting blood everywhere.”

She acquiesces, settling on a wooden seat with a soft sigh. Mhin is already striding towards the kitchen, snatching whatever medical supplies they can think of. Medicine: it’s everywhere in their house, bandages slumbering next to books, jars of herbal ointments resting below spices. Alcohol, perched in the cabinets, doubling as disinfectant and intoxicant depending on circumstance.

They fist the handle of a bottle of rice wine, pungent as an infection as they bring their haul to Li. “Drink this,” they instruct. “It’ll dull the pain.”

“I don’t need it.”

They purse their lips. From anyone else, they would take it as a sign of useless bravado. But from Li, they know it’s nothing more than bald, honest truth, her words as clean and white as bones. She has a remarkable pain tolerance. They know this, because they’ve stitched her flesh and set bones together while she was completely sober, hardly making any sound as they put her body back together.

But it’s not that she can’t feel pain. She’s still human, after all, and her pain threshold might be above average, but it’s still well within the range of a human’s. It’s just that she’s good at tolerating the things she feels, even when her body is falling to pieces.

It pisses them off.

“Drink it anyways,” they say curtly, bringing the bottle to her lips.

She parts her lips, and drinks their offering, the wine sloshing as she swallows.

“It’s not going to do much,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. And she’s reasonable, for once. For someone like her, it might not do much more than dull the barest hint of her pain.

“It’s proper procedure,” they say, reaching for a cup of warm water and old, clean rags.

It’s not as if Mhin wants to do this. 

It’s not as if they’re particularly attached to her in any way, not when she gets blood all over their floors and lounges carelessly in their home like she has every right to be there. But she comes, and they admonish, and she smiles, and still they bring out their city of bandages and disinfectants and ointments. 

Li is a law of nature, and so Mhin is helpless: it’s like how the tides are pulled by the moon, and the sun rises in the east each day, and the planet revolves ever so slowly on its axis. It’s simple cause and effect, unchangeable scientific relationships that govern their world. 

If Li is a wound, then they, by all means, have to be a remedy.

So they clean her injuries. They assess the damage. They wrap bandages and sew flesh and dab ointments to prevent infection. They heal, and it’s strange to put their hands towards a task other than ruining others. 

To remember that, a long time ago, this is all they believed their hands to be capable of. Li offers them plenty of opportunities to remember.

They’ve come to know her body so well. The familiar melody of her heartbeat, the rigid lines of her bones, the smooth shift of her muscles. Every wound, every scar, every inch of blood pumping through her skein of veins, every layer of nerve and sinew, every slick, shining organ. 

To know someone’s body like this means Mhin could break it apart as easily as sew it back together. 

They press two fingers against the crescent scar curving around her neck, touch alighting on her pulse point. Strong, steady, alive. She feels so infallible at this moment. 

“Any more wounds?” they say, as if they haven’t meticulously checked every inch of her themself. 

“Nope,” she chirps. 

“Good. If you’re done, then you can leave.” 

Her arms drape loosely around their waist. “I don’t want to, though.” 

“Stop bothering me.” 

Her head falls against their abdomen. Even through their shirt, they can feel the heat of her body, a miniature summer sun. 

They bring one hand up and ghost it over the end of her curls of hair. Not enough for her to feel it, but enough that they can feel the barest silk in their hands. 

“At least clean up your own mess,” they say. 

“Okay!”  

“Not right now,” they grumble as she begins to stand. “You’re going to rip open your wounds again, and ruin all my work. So just… sit there.” 

She nods, settles back into her seat like a dog turning over and over before it can rest. 

Mhin wants to tell her never to come here again. To run to Kuras instead. To stop throwing her brute strength at things without a care.

But she won’t listen to them, the damnable fool. And if she won’t, then they should be forgiven for continuing to do what they want, too. 

[unholyhelbig]

How about a bartender!Kate in which Kate is a new employee of the bar that reader frequents on bad days and Kate is one of the first people not to sympathize with her and just full of banter. I just think a cocky bartender Kate would be … neat

[This is 18+, if you are a minor DO NOT INTERACT]

Title: Two Fingers of Whiskey

Ship: Female!Reader x Bartender!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Top!Kate, Bottom!reader, Dom!Kate, Sub!reader, light dom/sub, finger sucking, Fingering (r receiving), Hate fuck (?) yeah, this is a hate fuck.

[A/n: Go easy on me, I haven't written smut since my Pitch Perfect days & I've been under quarantine for the last five days, I've got brain rot & did not proofread.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Kate began to expect your visits. Her eyes would drift to the novelty Miller High Life clock that was hanging on the wall. Six pm. Twice a week you’d wander into the bar and let out the haze of smoke and Dior Fahrenheit. Your eyes would search for hers with the same amount of ferocity, and Kate would try to swallow back the pride that was resulted by your hatred.

It started out as hatred, anyway.

Kate Bishop had made it a point to listen to people and their problems. Being a bartender at a seedy basement establishment was more than mixing drinks and cracking open frothy beers. She’d been told her first week that she was a half-bit therapist, and had laughed it off until she was listening to stories of corporate drabble, sudden deaths, and quiet loveless frustrations.

It had been two years since she started the nightshift at Copper’s, and she could spot the sadness from miles away. She could spot that frustration too. Kate became admittedly bored with the way her life had fallen into routine, so when a certain energy presented itself, she pushed.

Kate loved to push with you.

You’d looked tentative when you’d first entered Copper’s, your gaze moving across the dark green paint, the booths that were sticky. Your nice shoes had crunched over broken peanut shells and a certain film covered the walls, the stained-glass lamps over each table. Your hand tightened on your bag, and that gave Kate a sick sort of satisfaction. You took note of her nametag, not customed, a small label being printed and taped over an existing name.  

She admired the way you carried yourself with such assuredness after allowing for one moment of doubt. Instead of turning around and going back out onto the busy city streets, you took the two steps down and carefully sat yourself at the far end of the bar.

“We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

“Boston Lager?”

You’d lifted a perfect eyebrow and Kate nodded stuffing the rag she’d been using into her back pocket before reaching into the cooler and pulling out the dark amber bottle. She used the edge of the counter to pop the cap off, not caring where it landed. Foam dripped across her fingertips, and she forbade a coaster when she set it down in front of you.

Two sips before you spoke. The first was tentative, and the second was assured. Kate watched carefully as your throat worked at the drink. She frowned in the dark light, trying to rush away any inappropriate thoughts of her lips against an expanse of skin.

“I’m not pretentious.” You said, setting the bottle down.

Kate hummed. It was a non-committal noise. She picked up one of the glasses, still warm from going through the dishwasher, and went on wiping the detergent spots from the clear surface. Though, she saw you frown out of the corner of her eye and bit back her reaction.

“Seriously. You offered me wine.”

“You don’t like wine?”

“No. I like wine; I just don’t like when strangers presume that I like wine.”

Kate couldn’t help but smile at this. She replaced a glass and grabbed another one. The frustration on your face was admirable, and you seemed to balk at Kate’s direct attention. You fidgeted and began to peel the edges of the dark blue label on your drink, only where the condensation had allowed easy removal.

“We have house white, darling.”

“White Horse, then. Straight.”

Kate scoffed and set her second glass down. If she had been worried, truly worried, that you were going to do something stupid she would give you a few more watered down beers and send you on your way. But she liked the way you wanted to spite her. It made her fingers twitch. She pulled the bottle from the second shelf and counted two fingers of whiskey.

You took it back in one gulp, breathing through your nose before taking a tiny sip of your beer to quell the burn. Kate was infatuated with the way you sat straighter, the way you flashed her a small cocky smile. I can take the hard stuff.

“Rough day, then?” Kate sighed and filled your glass again, calling your bluff.

She leaned against the counter and watched you watching her. It gave her a sick pleasure, nudging you like this. She wouldn’t’ go far, really, she just needed to have some break in her normal routine, and you seemed like you needed a few things to forget yourself.

“The roughest.” You leveled her with an apprehensive stare. “You care?”

“Not particularly. But I’ll listen.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m an ear.” Kate made a sweeping motion with her hand “be my guest, sweetheart. You can vent to anyone in here.”

It was just the two of them. Sure, in about an hour, her usual crowd would rear its head. There were only three others that frequented, and they lingered by the one pool table and ordered two pitchers of the cheapest beer. They left Kate alone and she left them alone.

You contemplated her offer for a brief moment, letting out a labored breath as if Kate was burdening you instead of offering relief. “I have a shitty client. Very demanding.”

“What do you do?” Kate tried.

“I’m an archivist for the city of New York. Cold Cases mainly. There are hundreds of thousands of physical case boxes that reside in basements and closets just waiting to be digitally entered.” You threw back your drink and tapped the side of the glass. Kate took the hint and poured until the buttery liquid coated the bottom.

Kate had to admit; that was quite the job. It sounded like a lot of sadness, however, that wasn’t what you carried on your shoulders tonight. Annoyance was the overarching emotion that was expressed on your delicate features.

So, the bartender did what she did best, she didn’t’ ask about what was in the boxes. She wasn’t privy to know. She wanted to know what about the boxes bothered you to the point of drinking close to a handle of liquor in a seedy bar.

You answered before she could ask “corporate bullshit. They want us to enter all of these cases for the pure purpose of shelving them electronically. I mean, we don’t even have a cold case unit anymore. But some of these… you can tell the leg work wasn’t done. The boyfriend did it. The jealous co-worker, it’s all written so plainly that I stupid archivist that should be working at a museum can see it!”

“Wow.” Kate said.

“Wow?”

She hummed again, this time after you swallowed your drink, she took the glass and threw it into the plastic tub. It made an empty hollow sound. Kate grinned at you in this infuriating type of way that made you want to kiss her or slap her. Either way, you shifted uncomfortably.

“What do you want me to say, sweetheart? That’s a shit situation, yeah. But there are shittier ones.”

“You are such an ass.” You repeated your earlier sentiment. She smiled brighter.

“That’ll be $15.00 even.”

Despite her difficulty, you dug through your bag until you threw a twenty on the counter and mumbled that she keep the change. Kate watched as you left that day and the smile never left her face. She liked you, she thought. And more than anything, she knew that you would be back. There was something about Kate’s lack of caring that got to people. There was no sympathy, only agreement.

 Two days later you were back inside the grimy interior of Copper’s. It took Kate a second to recognize you. Instead of nicely pressed clothing, you were in a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that had the band ‘Rush’ scrawled across your chest. Kate didn’t’ let her stare linger. You sat in the same stool, and Kate felt your eyes rake her up and down.

“Have you lodged a formal complaint against me?” Kate asked.

“No.”

“Good. Then what can I get for you, darling?”

You ordered the same Boston Loger as before and Kate complied, not even offering the cheap box-wine they served in a chilled glass just to make it taste a little more worth-it. Strands of hair fell into your eyes and Kate clenched the dishtowel in her hands a little harder to keep herself from reaching forward and brushing them from your stare.

Kate couldn’t hold her tongue, and that annoyed her. The first time she saw you, it was so easy to grate on your nerves. This time, you looked slightly broken, and even Kate had her limits when it came to bothering the patrons.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

“Do you care what’s wrong?”

“If I’m honest, not in the slightest. But you seem bothered, and I’m the only one around the listen.”

“How long?”

Kate raised both of her eyebrows and lilted her head to the side like a confused animal. She had both of her palms pushed up against the bar, a tank-top with the logo of the establishment stretched across her chest. Your mouth was dry, but you didn’t take a sip of your drink. Kate watched as your fingers delicately circled the opening of the amber bottle. You blinked at her, eyelids heavy.

“Excuse me?”

“How long are you going to be alone here?”

She blinked to make sure she heard you right. She had someone coming in to relive her in about an hour but was more than happy to sit here and talk with you until that time. It seemed like you had other ideas, and part of her was curious about that. It shot straight to her core and warmed her cheeks.

“You’re not going to murder me, are you?” Kate teased.

“And add to all those boxes I have to archive? Please.”

Kate cleared her throat and started to work at the back of the apron at her waist. It seemed frantic and you finally lifted your drink, downing it in a few gulps. You needed to let off some steam, it seemed, and Kate was more than happy to provide. After-all, she was a bartender and her job was to listen- to provide. Kate rationalized all of this before she had her apron off.

“Would you look at the time?” you stood, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a ten. “I’m running late. Keep the change, darling.”

Kate paced back and forth along the length of the bar, muttering things to herself. She deserved that, really- she did, but it had been three whole days and she was still sufficiently pissed off that you had thrown her attitude right back at her. That wasn’t allowed.

No one had ever done that to her before and you’d made her stomach roll with attraction and even anticipation with just a few simple words and insinuations. Sure, you tipped well, and you drank and then left, but she didn’t actually want to admit that she was having fun talking to you.

And more than anything, she didn’t want to admit that she was flicking her eyes to the clock on the wall, getting only a slight bit of relief when it passed your usual time. Today, however, you did show up.

Kate could feel the tension in her jaw as she watched you walk through the doors. The scent had become familiar to you, something she could tell by the way you breathed in deeply, grounding yourself.

You wore tighter clothes, and Kate struggled not to rake her eyes up and down your figure, the way the fabric hugged every inch of you. The sweatpants and t-shirt were gone, instead you had on a dress with a long slit running up the side, exposing tanned skin.  She focused on the way you walked, the way you leaned forward on the bar, pressing your cleavage forward.

“This isn’t going to work twice.” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest.

She was admittedly sore over your teasing, despite how well-earned it was. And that tight dress did look stunning on you. Even the low smoggy haze of Coppers she shivered at the thought of tearing it off of you, of moving the zipper down the small of your back and kissing up your spine.

You cleared your throat. “I actually came here to apologize.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yes,” You said through gritted teeth as if it physically pained you to say the words. “You were right… the first time we met. My problems seem big, but compared to other things, they’re not detrimental. Even though I was mad, teasing you like that was below me.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure much is below you.”

Kate raked her eyes up and down your body. Your cheeks heated and you let out a groan. Because damn-it, she was so infuriating, and though you’d come back to the bar a second time to drive her crazy, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“I have the keys to the boss’s office.” Kate offered deviously “No windows and a desk.”

Kate watched you swallow hard, contemplating her offer. She twirled the keys around her ring finger expertly and when you finally nodded she felt herself lean against the counter, close enough to where her lips brushed yours, the warmth was all encompassing, electrifying.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. What exactly do you want?”

With hesitation you forced the words through your lips. This was wildly out of character for you, usually prim and proper and not demanding things from a strange bartender with ghostly blue eyes and expert fingers. “I want you to take me into that office and fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Kate smiled, closing the gap between the both of you with a breathless kiss, her tongue invading your mouth. You moaned into the simple gesture before she pulled away. “All you had to do was ask.”

With a chivalrous gesture, Kate took your hand and guided you easily down a large step behind the bar. You’d never seen this side of things, and though you hadn’t expected anything breathtaking, it gave you a better view of the empty establishment.

You didn’t have much time to contemplate as you were guided through a narrow hallway that had an employee schedule posted on the wall, and a few boxes of unopened liquor. There was a citrus scent that invaded your senses and soon you were out of the cold and in a small office that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in months.

The hum of the cooling units was drowned out and a warmth caused bumps to rise against your skin. Kate had you pushed against the door in a matter of seconds, her mouth back on yours, a knee between your legs, shoving them open. Desperately, you tried to grind down, alleviating some of the heat in your core.

Kate’s hand came up to grip your chin, disconnecting her lips from yours “We’re impatient, aren’t we?”

You could only whimper in response, the corner of Kate’s mouth lilted up into a semi smile, too much like a smirk for your liking. The expression did things to you. Here was this cocky bartender that was too content for her own good- yet, in this moment, you would let her have you in any way she wanted.

“I’ll fuck you senseless on the desk, but only if you can be patient. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

“I… yes.”

“What was that? I thought we talked about you using your words, sweetheart.”

“Can you please fuck me on the desk? I’ll be a good girl.”

That seemed to be enough. Kate slid her hands around to the back of your thighs and lifted you with an unnatural bout of strength, a noise of surprise escaping your lips. You had seen her arms a few days earlier when she was in that tank-top, but she had settled you on the desk effortlessly, standing between your legs.

Kate’s mouth nipped at your jawline, sucking perfect bruised circles against your skin that she soon soothed with her tongue. You didn’t mind her marking you, though you mentally made a note to pick up some concealer on the way home. She made quick work with the zipper at your spine, pulling it down to the warm air. She slid your sleeves down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to her prying eyes.

She took a moment to admire you, giving your hip a small squeeze. You took the hint and lifted off the desk just enough for her to pull the rest of the fabric away. It dropped to the floor. Kate smiled at you, drinking you in. “Wow”

“Wow?”

Kate hummed and returned to working at your chest. This time she went lower, nipping at the sensitive skin around your nipple. You dug your fingers into the fabric of her shirt, letting out a groan of pleasure. Her fingers were testing at the waistline of your underwear, not quite dipping past the elastic.

Kate’s tongue was so warm, so encompassing. You arched your back, not denying her access to any part of you. Her expert hands finally pushed past the barrier of fabric, running up your entrance.

“Oh, shit, darling. You’re so worked up.”  Her words vibrated against you, and you struggled not to buck forward, to press into her lingering touch. Kate seemed to sense your frustration. “uh-uh, we’re being patient, remember? If you want release, you’ll have to beg for it.”

Beg? You weren’t the begging type. Unfortunately, you weren’t in the position to do anything but what she demanded. The thought of Kate inside of you, even in the smallest capacity, was driving you insane.

“Kate,” You hummed her name.

A sound got stuck in her throat at the sound of her name pushing through your kiss-bruised lips. She edged the end of the noise, almost phrasing it like a question. She didn’t want to give herself away, how much seeing you like this got her wet.

“Please, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Before you could get out another word, she pushed a single, teasing finger inside. You fell forward, pressing your nose against the small of her neck with an exasperated breath. Kate painstakingly added another finger, pumping in and out of you with a method to her madness. You bit into her shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to muffle your noises of satisfaction as she swiped her thumb against your clit.

Kate’s other hand returned to your breast, squeezing and toying. It sent pleasure straight to your core, and Kate could feel you begin to tighten around her. She slowed her movements. “Beg,” She commanded.

“I’m going to cum,” you whispered into her shoulder, grasping fruitlessly at the fabric of her shirt, trying to pull her as close to you as possible.

“Are you?” She asked, slowing her pace.

“I… Kate please let me cum, I can’t hold on much longer I-“ another moan escaped you, and it took you a few breathes to compose yourself to some sort of semblance. “please”.

“That’s a good girl,” Kate praised, returning the circular motions to your clit. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all you needed to hear to unwind for her. You clenched around her fingers, chills running from your core to every inch of your exposed body. A guttural noise of pleasure was silenced by Kate’s lips against yours, her throat silencing you as much as she could. Satisfaction rushed through you, aftershocks of her movements twitching through you. Kate withdrew herself from you, a self-assured smile on her lips as she moved them up to her lips and sucked them clean, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I need a drink,” You breathed out, words trembling. Your forehead pressed against hers, still panting, still recovering from her expert touch.

Kate scoffed, shaking her head “We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

[bellewintersroe]

Max Verstappen X HornerDaughter!

Part 7, here’s the LINK for part 6.

Max throws a luxurious 26th birthday on a yacht in Monaco. Despite it being a fairly civilised meet up the drinks flow a little too easily when the majority of guests have retired for the night. Leni finds herself being one of the party goers drinking with Max until the late hours of the morning. Things only get a little too out of hand from there.

warnings: no spoilers but obviously alcohol consumption, swearing, Max and Leni are giving each other the eyes 👀 mentions of specific antics I will not go into detail about. Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @callsignwidow @fangirl125reader @norassimpingzone @roseseraj @eugene-emt-roe @copper-boom @its-elias-world @cassiopeiia24 @larastark3107

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday!” I cheered, the birthday boy holding a hand out for me as I climbed on the boat, handing Max the biggest bottle of alcohol and a card over.

“Leni!” He exclaimed catching a sight of the present. “You didn’t have to!”

“No it’s fine, you should celebrate with it.” I wobbled slightly before setting my feet down on the ground below. “Thank you.” He smiled, rubbing my arm slightly. “It’s okay.” My voice cracked slightly as I had to force myself to tare my eyes to the other guests on the boat. Amongst them were Max’s mum and sister, whom I’d got along with so well over the years. I was relieved to see them here, alongside a couple more familiar faces I’d met over the years. ”Leni, it’s been too long!” Victoria stood up, welcoming me in a tight hug, one which was followed from his mum. “I know it’s been ages. When did I last see you both, last year?!” “In Abu Dhabi!” Vic immediately began snorting out laughter as I attempted to muffle mine, the memory of how plastered we both were after Max had been crowned champion was hilarious. We did things that were super messy and ever since it had been our inside joke. “Oh..” I cleared my throat. “Was it really that long ago?”

“Yes. I’m surprised you’re not still hungover.” Her voice wobbled from laughter. “What, I don’t get it?” Max approached, touching my back gently before sitting down besides where I stood.

“You wouldn’t.” His sister responded. “I probably am.” I answered her question with a giggle before we returned to our seats. I purposefully sat a little away from Max, especially seeing as his family was here. I didn’t want them to think anything was going on between us, not that it was- but I did want something to happen. Well, partly, the other side of me was playing devils advocate and told myself it was too early after his previous breakup. Even I was in a full fledged relationship only 5 months ago, hell I didn't think I’d thought about my ex once in the past two months, but I had to rationale the time frame before letting myself fully grow feelings for Max.

My mind was a goldmine for overthinking. It was hard not to, even when he was next to me, the warmth of his skin would brush against mine and I’d move away, but only after I’d experienced the way my cheeks warmed, or how my heart would skip a little, stomach would churn, or I’d experience the overwhelming sensation to move closer to him. Fuck! “Are you still with your boyfriend then, Leni?” Sophie asked me as I smiled gently, shaking my head. “No, we broke up a couple months ago now.”

“Oh.” She nodded as I awkwardly smiled, gripping my glass of champagne.

“He wasn’t a really nice boy though, was he? You could do better.” When she did that, I noticed how she eyed Max up slightly who sat besides me, innocently swigging his beer.

“Probably… has my dad been telling everybody about this or?”

“Actually Max told us.” She nodded as I almost choked on my drink. Max looked towards her as if to say ‘shut the hell up’ before I began laughing.

“You’re just as bad as my dad.” This time, I placed a hand on his arm. “They gossip all the time!” Victoria added on as my hand slipped off, shaking my head. “And they say girls are bad…” “Well are you going on dates, Leni?” Sophie asked again. Max let out a groan, “mum, we don’t have to talk about this now.”

“No it’s fine.” I reassured Max. “I’m not, nobody’s asked me.”

“Max ask her on a date.” Sophie immediately spoke, speaking deadpan serious. Victoria and I began laughing at the bluntness behind her words, but when I glanced over to Max I knew I’d needed to save him from such an awkward situation.

“No, no, I’ve seen a couple guys, but I wasn’t really interested.” “Well, I’m sure you’ll find somebody very soon…”

As the night continued we’d sailed further out, lingering not too far from the harbour when we’d dropped a few people off to go to bed. It was 2:30AM and despite the fact we weren’t allowed to play music, the 7 of us that were left were playing all kinds of stupid games.

“I’ve got a game! I’ve got a game!” Maria, who was a girlfriend of one of Max’s friends announced excitedly. “It’s like would you rather, but it’s not would you rather, because we don’t play kids games anymore.”

“Okay..” Ben, her boyfriend waited patiently. “So you have to say like ‘Ben would you rather drink this drink or that one’, and whatever you pick you have to do.”

“Alright, alright.” Max agreed, clearly pretty drunk if he was agreeing to play. “Would you rather, Ben, jump in the water or drink three of them.” Max pushed forwards 3 cans of beer.

“Well, seeing as we’re not allowed in the sea…” he reached out for the alcohol, making a start with his chugging skills. I cringed, praying I wouldn’t get such a difficult question. Who would’ve thought the game would turn so silly so quickly, when people began kissing each other, I’d already polished off way too many drinks.

“Leni!” Somebody called out. “Strip off your dress or take your underwear off.”

“Oh my god.” I laughed, knowing some of the other girls had already done the same. “Neither!” My response was met with protests. “You just want everybody to go commando!” I pulled on the strings of my underwear, not believing I was doing this at all. People wolf whistled and I rolled my eyes, sticking my finger up at Henry who had sent the request out of several other girls. From besides me Max was snickering like a child.

The game was still going heavy with four of us left, Ben and Maria, and Max and I. I found myself with a blanket Max and I shared wrapped over both our shoulders, huddled closer together.

“Leni sit on Max’s lap or give him a lap dance.”

“I don’t know how to give a lap dance!” I exclaimed in my defence, feeling Max’s arm shift down onto my lower back as I shuffled onto his lap, sitting across him with a casual arm over his shoulders comfortably. The alcohol was making me fidgety, I’d craved nothing more than this, I didn’t care about any prior doubts I had. When Max’s other hand rested on my lap, beer in hand, I gulped nervously.

“Max, now kiss Leni or throw her in the sea.” Despite my lack of sobriety I knew I was blushing a vibrant pink colour, giggling towards the Dutch man. “You can throw me in the sea, Max.” I teased. Max was smiling, borderline grinning in amusement. He took my cheek with the hand that still held it beer and we shared a peck on the lips, one that ended so fast I barely even felt anything.

“Oh, do a real one!” Maria groaned, swaying. “Like this-” Ben pulled her in closer, arm wrapping around the back of her neck as they shared the most sloppiest kiss I’d ever seen. Max and I both grimaced, blinking away. They weren’t stopping. “Ew.” Max muttered as I laughed.

“Go around the other side of the boat if you’re gonna do that!” The driver exclaimed as they actually stood up, ‘sneaking’ away on Max’s half-joke.

“Oh my god.” I exhaled in amusement, glancing back to Max. My legs were fidgeting slightly, and being alone in a position like this was making feel all hot and bothered.

“Jesus.” Max muttered as I glanced back down to him, amusement spread across both our faces. Max’s eyes fell to lips and I felt a burst of energy, excitement, an overwhelming desire to lean in. It must have been a mutual feeling, because his hand reached up to touch my face again, bringing me in for a kiss which happened so quickly my drunken mind couldn’t comprehend it.

The kiss was warm, his lips were plump and smiling against my own. We laughed as we kissed one another, butterflies filling my stomach as I placed another hand on his chest. At first it seemed playful, borderline not even real. We were giggling into the kiss like we knew we shouldn’t have been doing it. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but I wasn’t complaining. Max was a good kisser, even if we were both shit-faced. His lips moved against mine, beer discarded to one side as he deepened the kiss, pulling me in closer to his lap with a hand on my waist.

We were giggling, like children, and when a funny noise emerged from the two stumbling around on the other side of the ship I turned away and let out a louder laugh. Max exclaimed one of his own too, hugging me closer with a hand on the side of my hip. I felt his chin rest on the bare skin of my shoulder, eyeing my body up from where I sat.

“They’re so drunk.” I managed to squeak out, like the two of us weren’t absolutely rat-arsed. “I know.” He snickered, I turned back down to him and we shared a few more kisses. “What’re we doing, Max?”

“I dunno.” He laughed, kissing me again. I hummed out a giggle, deepening the kiss. I could feel his hands beginning to press on me, finger tips digging in as he pulled me even closer. Our tongues moved against one another’s, and we were fully making out. In fact, when I’d shuffled even further onto Max’s lap, I could feel something pressing against my thigh. He was fucking hard, oh my god. The thought felt alien to me, the fact I was sitting on my good friends lap, making out and he had a whole fucking boner. It turned me on to say the least.

It wasn’t until the boat docked up at the harbour that we broke apart, his hand digging deeper into the flesh of my thigh, as though he was desperate for more. My core was throbbing for him, I hated to sound so crude, but I was so desperate for him it was pathetic. Maybe it was a good thing that we were both a little too drunk, Max attempted to swig the last of his drink, but in return he heaved all over the path on the way to get a ride home.

“Oh, no, Max!” I scurried away in a fake disgust. Truth be told I went home and threw up more than I’d liked to have admitted that night (or morning) and passed out on the bathroom floor. Only future Leni would have to worry about the events of the night which just unfolded…

[shoshiwrites]

Can I request Jo and Bucky + 39. a lit candle and a snowstorm, please? 💕

Please forgive me for really only using this prompt as a jumping-off point for fall vibes instead of winter. I was also going to keep this short and OOPS. Biggest hugs to @floydmtalbert for helping me brainstorm this and for answering all my questions, Harvest Festival-related and otherwise ♡ Bucky Egan x War correspondent OC.

sky full of song

She wished Kay were here, to take photographs of everything.

Kay had left Jo with a Kodak Brownie that she insisted she could spare — Jo hadn’t summoned the nerve yet to test it out, fearing she’d break it. The same skittishness she reserved for plants and watering cans and, she hoped, not a lot else. Kay had narrowed her eyes with only a little judgement. “I’d hand over the Rolleiflex too if I had another one to spare,” she said, while Jo made a noise of dismissal. “You’re very much to be trusted, Jo, I hope you know that by now.”

The Kodak, a couple of rolls of film to get her started. That didn’t count the fresh bars of soap packed at the top of Jo’s suitcase, the gin and fernet under the sink, or the tiny bottle of perfume she’d slipped into the pocket of Jo’s coat in the front closet. Jo didn’t remember the label — French, of course, and floral, like the beautiful dresses and suits packed away in Kay’s trunk from home. 

She’d dabbed a tiny bit on tonight, her wrists and behind her ears. She didn’t often wear a scent, or if she did it was something someone might call cheap. Orange blossom, usually, which she loved. But today she’d been out in the fields, observing the Land Army girls and the farmers around the village and the base. Talking about the harvest and about the relatives fighting, as carefully as they could. It loomed above them, behind them, below, the Norwich Blitz of the year before, the war still ahead, the news out of Italy they’d all been following on the radio. 

She was still dressed for the day outside, amongst the dry grass and the cow patties, having been too caught up in edits and wiring to change out of her trousers and light peasant blouse. She’d adjusted the blouse in the mirror in her room, tucked it in more carefully, and tried to do something with her hair — it still wisped out around her ears, the back of her neck. And, of course, she’d changed her shoes. 

It had even been sunny, and what you might call warm — it accounted for the tiniest hint of copper in her brown hair, and something almost like a tan, or as much as you could get in late September. She feels warm here, inside the village hall, the day’s sun and the stuffiness of the building, despite the beautiful decorations, the food and drink, the music. 

Kay would appreciate the decorations, too — flowers Jo carefully notes for no other reason than to let her friend know — heleniums and coneflowers, deep chocolate-brown dahlias and frilly white yarrow and coppertips, delicate cosmos and chrysanthemums besides. Kay could write a book, she thinks, of flower samples and photos and vignettes. Jo’s article doesn’t need such specificity — it’s about the American fliers joining the harvest festival, the cases of Coca-Cola brought over from the base to join the ale and cider and lemonade, the folk dances, the corn dollies pinned to olive drab by the children of Thorpe Abbotts. They’ve been shepherded home, the children, and now left are the grownups, the fliers, some of the village teenagers not far in age if not the same.

She’s not sure if she craves a ginger beer or something stronger. She knows she needs a cigarette. Cold air, too, maybe even more than the smoke.

There’s still plenty of people — part of why it’s so warm inside, too, she notes – and she slips out to the front steps with hand already in her pocket for her lighter. The stars look even brighter tonight, in the crisp fall air. She lights up carefully, shielding her hand. Her arms are covered in goosebumps, but she doesn’t care. It’s hardly the first time, here or back home. This time, at least, nobody’s locking her out. She sits, takes a drag. Tries not to think about how crowded it felt in there, how for a moment she felt as though she were suffocating.

“Oh good-” she hears behind her. “You’re still here.” She turns to see him behind her, above her, pressed uniform and the stray curl on his forehead. “Thought we spotted you leaving.” In the moonlight, his cheeks still look pink. “You heading out?” 

She hadn’t decided until this moment. “I think so,” she says. 

“Hot enough for you in there?” 

“A bit.”

He takes a second, adjusts to the outside. The chill in the air. Watches her, sitting on the step in her blouse and her bare arms and the hair she’s unpinned now that she’s alone. “Can I walk you home?”

She’d refuse the offer, except the house she’s staying in is at least a ten minute walk, on the edge of the village. A little more, even, ambling along in the dark. She’d refuse the offer, except she doesn’t want to. He holds out a hand to take her cigarette, the other to help her to her feet. 

“You can have it,” she says, before she can stop herself, but he’s handed it back to her already as he starts to unbutton his jacket. She watches the cherry glow, imprinted on the darkness, before she remembers to cup it with her hand. 

“Oh no- I’m alright-”

“Wasn’t a question,” he says, and drapes it over her shoulders before she can protest further. “What would Kay say if I let you catch something?”

She almost snorts. It smells like him, of course, settles the unease in her body before she can worry that someone else will leave the party and see the two of them standing there. It’s also entirely too big. Comical, even. It’s practically a coat on her.

“Pneumonia’s no joke, Josephine.”

“Oh, I know.”

Before she knows it, they’re on their way back to the house, gravel crunching quietly under their feet. It’s enough to walk beside him, here, take the moment to breathe.

The house is quiet too, blackout curtains drawn. Muriel’s gone upstairs for the evening, and it’s with a gentle yank of his hand that Jo leads them around to the back gate, the one that’s never locked. It creaks open, the sound magnified in the dark.

They don’t bother with chairs, or more accurately she doesn’t want to make the noise, open the shed door and drag them out onto the flagstone. They sit, on the ground, in the garden. It smells like earth and cold and she can partly make him out in the starlight, the slope of his noise and his ears and his mouth, eyelashes, the insignias on his shirt collar. He doesn’t let her take off his jacket, even like this.

“Yankees won the pennant,” he says. “On Saturday.”

“I saw. Heard,” she corrects. Her knuckles brush against his on the stone. “I’m glad.” She almost laughs — Lena would be shocked to hear her say so. “Don’t tell my friends I said that.”

She hears him huff a little laugh. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

She looks over at the dark outline of the house, her eyes drawn to what looks like the tiniest glimmer of light upstairs. A candle, she realizes, in Muriel’s window. Jo hopes she hasn’t left it burning while she’s asleep. 

“Can I get you a drink?” she asks. “Kay left a couple of things in the kitchen, some of the hard-to-find stuff. I’m sure we could rustle up some glasses-” She stops, stills, when she notices he’s reached into his pocket for his flask. His pocket, of the jacket she’s wearing, the one that’s trailing on the ground. “Sorry,” she says. 

“What’re you apologizing for?”

For rambling, she wants to say. For not knowing. For taking your jacket. For sending you up there day after day with nothing but a lousy stack of clippings to show for it. She doesn’t believe that, not really, except for when she does.

“Nothing, I guess,” she says.

“Good.”

She goes and gets herself a drink as quietly as she can, carefully making her way back to the spot in the middle of the garden. 

“Are you cold?” 

He shakes his head, tips back the flask. “Used to it.”

She sips at the gin, the sharp, piney flavor of juniper floods her mouth, makes her pull her lips over her teeth. Not enough tonic water, but she’s not about to head back in again in the dark. 

“It’ll be snowing already in Wisconsin,”  he says. She squints at him in the dark, at the warmth she feels beside her. “Or almost,” he corrects. 

“It’s only September.”

“We got snow in late September last year,” he says. “Up north.”

“Not in Manitowoc.” She tries not to stumble over the name, but it halts in her mouth.

He makes a noise that’s almost like a laugh, almost like surprise. “Not in Manitowoc,” he repeats. He hands her his flask; she can feel his arm bump her own. “C’mon, have some of the strong stuff.”

“Gin isn’t the strong stuff?” She takes the flask anyway, tips it back against her lips. She hasn’t had any in a while, certainly not like this. It’s hot in her throat, smoky and burning. The barest hint of honey. Despite herself, she coughs. 

She doesn’t hand it back to him yet, only proffers her own drink. “Only fair,” she says. She can’t see his face too well in the dark, but hears him take a sip. 

“Kay could make a killing here in England,” he says. “The booze.”

“She could.”

Upstairs, Jo notices the candle’s gone out. The warmth of the whiskey and the gin blooms in her chest. 

“When you do think they get snow in England?” he asks. 

There’d been a dusting on the ground in London when she and William had arrived in February. But not much. “I don’t know,” she says plainly. “Why?”

“Figured you’d know these things,” he says, and she can hear a smile shade his voice. “Being a reporter and all.”

She does laugh at that.

“There was a little, when I got here. A dusting. Like icing sugar.” It sounds silly as she says it. Like it hadn’t been pissing rain and cold and she’d had to bundle up in bed like she’d had to when she was a girl, curled up and waiting for William to come up from the hotel bar and whatever story he’d claimed to be chasing. She could think these things now, call it for what it was. That the “stories” usually had blonde hair and long legs, or red hair and short legs, or were anyone but Jo.

“Sounds picturesque.” He sounds like he’s sounding out the word.

“Almost.”

“Merry old England not living up to expectations?”

She takes a deep breath. “No- I just-”

“Just what?”

She can call it for what it was now, but she can’t think about what couldn’t have been. John instead of William, there beside her. During the air raids, the ones she’d almost always had to soldier on through without him. “I don’t know,” she says again. Maybe she should thank god it’s dark outside, so that he can’t see her face.

He takes another drink from the flask, but this time it’s slower. She can’t help it, the way she places her glass down and pulls her knees up, not quite to her chest. She can’t tell if she’s cold or not, between the jacket and the whiskey and the fact that he’s here, quiet and not, breathing, sitting on the ground here beside her. That there had been no questions about it. That she’d sat, and he’d sat. That he’s closer to her now than he was when they started. 

His hand, next to hers, and pressing against it now, and hooking his fingers around hers in silence. She thinks of the names she knows that he doesn’t, she ones she carries in her pockets, the names he stores away in his jacket lining, the barracks, buried out in the field. The runway. The air.

Maybe it’s alright, in this moment, to let them all leave her mind. To hold his hand.

Out beyond the garden wall, something rustles in the trees. A small animal, probably. A pair of birds. They both sit up just a little at the interruption. 

“I don’t know what time it is,” he says. “Must be late.” She motions for his wrist, and he holds steady as she shields her lighter with her hand, reads the face illuminated against his skin. 

“11:17.”

“A good year,” he says. She huffs a laugh. “I don’t know.”

“Me neither.”

It’s getting colder out, as the hour darkens. All that wind coming down off the North Sea. The thought of him walking back all by himself kicks at her heart. 

She wishes they could just go inside together. Go up to bed. She can’t say it out loud, she knows. A secret she can’t let him keep. Not now. Maybe he already knows.

“I can’t keep you out so late,” she says. 

“Protecting my honor, Josephine?” She can hear the laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes.

She stands with his help, her hands clasped around his. They walk to the gate, like holding a breath before they fumble a kiss goodnight in the dark. Slow, and unseeing, only feeling him, his lips on hers. His hand finds the small of her back, slides down to her hip. She leans into him, tasting the whiskey, the smell of him, his jacket still around her. His breath on her cheek. One hand on his chest, and then the other. She reaches, touches his jaw with the backs of her fingers. He hums against her, low and wanting. 

“I’ll go,” he says, like he’s convincing himself too.

“I’ll be back at the base in the morning,” she says, shrugging out of his jacket. Immediately, she’s cold. “You’re not flying tomorrow.”

He takes it, but he doesn’t put it back on. If he’s surprised that she knows that, she can’t see it. “Right.”

The moon is higher now, the stars scattered above. He kisses her again, the gentlest tug at her bottom lip, the brush of his mustache against her. He’s everything, here, where she can barely see him. She can’t help herself from the exhale, the kind that sounds like she’s trying to hold it all in.

“You smell nice,” he says. His voice is the quietest she’s heard. Like a little boy. He touches his forehead against hers, just for a moment. Her hand cups his cheek, thumb tracing. And then he’s gone. 

She turns back to the house, looming in the dark. The wind whistles in the trees, the only light the moon reflected in the closed windows. She wraps her arms around herself, and heads inside.