#half the fun of this site is that no one knows my name or face and im not changing that

[fnaf-fanatical]

(I tried uploading the audio file but tumblr doesn't like me for some reason :[ )

Anyways:

School Project

I’ve been writing for a while, which actually started through here because tumblr posts with incorrect quotes led me to reading stories, which in turn made me start writing them. I was 11 or 12 at the time, fresh into my first real fandom, and very into wattpad stories, which as anyone on this site will know are unhinged, unedited, and due to the fact that most people writing there are very young like I was, are more than often lower quality than other writing sites (which is not to hate on wattpad writers - i’ve actually even read some really good and profound stories on there, both fanfic and otherwise, but that’s not the vast majority of the site, at least from what I’ve seen).

Honestly I first started writing because not only did it let me make the things I want to see - and was the start of my maladaptive daydreams though I didn’t know anything about that yet - but because it was also an outlet. Life was shitty, and it showed me that other people struggled, that my favorite characters could suffer from anxiety and depression and just shitty mental health, and that meant that I could project onto them. I wasn’t the one who wanted to kill myself dramatically or mutilate my body to get people to finally recognize I was in pain, the character was. I was too scared to ever harm myself physically, at least with a blade or the way I’d seen depicted in stories, but when I wrote, it didn’t matter how realistic it was or how gorey or graphic, because it was all fictional, and the rules were fake anyways.

And over time, obviously, my writing got better and I learned to Care About Myself more, until I didn’t really need to do that anymore. Except... I still liked making stories. I’d always been a storyteller, and writing gave me a medium to do so that would actually get me listened to, my stories could be long and rambling and people wouldn’t be annoyed or stop listening because it was a text, so they could stop reading if they wanted or not look at it or come back to it when they had more energy, and I wouldn’t directly face that, probably wouldn’t even know it was happening.

And, well, one of the things with time blindness is that you can be sitting there, know the time is 2:30 and you’ve got to eat something before you go to bed hours later, and yet you’ll blink and suddenly it’s 10:45 and you haven’t eaten anything, used the bathroom, or even really moved in 8 hours and where did the time go what happened. I started setting an alarm to remind myself to eat dinner, but that didn’t change the fact that I could get so “in-the-zone” that literal hours would blink by like seconds, because while my perception of time has always been wack, focusing - likely hyperfocus cause of the undiagnosed adhd - knows no rules or bounds and disregards the passage of time like a used bandaid that will inevitably show up again later where you least want it yet will go unnoticed and un-thought of until then.

Genuinely, I think I’ve grown a lot as a writer and I enjoy most of my own works, both because they’re what I want to see and because I can appreciate the skill that goes into it - which doesn’t mean I don’t still have a lot to learn, just that I’ve learned to stop shitting on my own abilities because it’s not perfect.

I’d always noticed when I was reading - usually proper books, when I was younger at least - different mistakes or ways things could’ve been articulated better, and when I didn’t know what a word or concept was I’d do everything I could to find out. So it’s no surprise that those skills transferred over to when I became a writer and took every source I could to try and improve my writing, some more valid than others.

Just... yeah. Writing helped me a lot, and I like where I’m at now.

[rae-writes]

dirty secret(s)

Levi x cam!reader

wc : 0.7k

warnings : nsfw

synopsis : Levi had a dirty secret. You had an even dirtier one.

a/n : honestly don't know how this thought popped into my head but my gods am I fucking glad it did-

While Levi usually thought of himself as scum of the Devildom at most normal hours of the day, he thought he was even scummier when he locked himself in his room, headphones pressed snugly against his ears, with his sweatpants kicked off to the floor. 

The slick sounds filling his ears were absolutely vile— in the best kind of way. Plastered over his main monitor, lighting up his flushed and sweaty face, was the sight of someone bouncing on a pretty dragon dildo; it’d become his guilty pleasure to get on the site and watch them get off- someone he found by complete accident as he was scrolling online. 

The only thing he knew about them was they never showed their face, they always had a blank black sheet as a background, and they never talked. 

But it didn’t really matter when he was fisting his cock at the pace they were riding their toy, biting down on his tongue harshly to hide his moans when they came, forcing him to paint his abdomen white as he came right after. 

No, it didn’t really matter— especially when it was just Levi’s dirty secret. 

Until it wasn’t. 

You weren’t supposed to swing by his room that day, but you had some time and thought it would be best spent with Levi- only he wasn’t in his room. 

The only active sound that had been in his room was the whirring of his desktop. You only meant to shut it off- you weren’t supposed to see the way the screen lit back up with the sight of someone bent over, faux cum spilling out of their hole. 

You weren’t supposed to find out his dirty secret— but you did. And it became your dirtier secret.

Because the person on the video was you. 

It started off as a joke- just a little bet you lost with Asmo. When your first video got so much attention, you curiously did another, just to see what would happen; the money sent in as tips and donations made you make another video, and then another, and another. 

After a while, you spiffed up your page and made it all pretty and official— it became fun. Alluring. 

And then you found out Levi was watching and it changed everything. Suddenly, there was a particular heat constantly pooling in your stomach that wouldn't go away and your videos became centered around what you thought Levi would like. 

He was none the wiser. 

He didn’t suspect a single thing, not even when his favorite (and only) porn creator began making videos in anime cosplay of his favorite characters or began using tentacle related toys instead or made videos of them trying to not cum while they played his favorite video games. 

It all flew right over Levi’s head— right up until their latest video, posted only a few seconds ago. 

For the first time ever, they weren’t using a black backdrop. It was eye-catching— dark, but with bright leds. The shimmer of what seemed to be water washed over their bare lower half as high-pitched moans left them, hand desperately shoving a new toy in and out of their hole; it was another ‘tentacle’ but it was plain, dark colored, with scales carved in to create ridges for extra friction. 

The more he hyper fixated on them, the more things he started to notice: their toy kind of looked like his tail, the lighting looked exactly like his room’s, and the hoodie they wore…

With a choked moan, Levi’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull as he finally realizes he’s watching you— you in his room with his hoodie on, getting off on a toy that was meant to replicate his tail. 

And as the increase of your moans flowed through his headphones, getting louder and whinier until you were cumming with a choked cry of what could’ve been his name had you been just a little bit louder, Levi was practically sprinting through the halls of the house before slamming open the door to his room. 

And there you were, phone tossed aside on his bed as you laid back on his pillows with your legs spread and shiny with your cum, toy tossed aside to the ground. 

“Was waiting for you to figure it out...wanna feel the real thing, Levi…come play with me?”

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Fight Club [Frank's Version]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x (AFAB)Reader x Frank Castle

Summary: If this seems familiar, that's cause it is. When @hellskitchenswhore sent this prompt I gave two options: Either Matt fucks you before your next session so he's dripping out of you while you're training with Frank so you "remember who you belong to" ORRRRRR he busts up your session and you end up having a three way with him and Frank in the gym. She chose the former but the later has honestly been bouncing around my brain since then and I finally wrote it. The fic is the same until Matt follows reader to the gym, then the fun begins...

Warnings: 18+/SMUT. No use of Y/N. Female/AFAB reader (use of terms like girlfriend and female anatomy.) Established relationship. Brief mention of an active shooter at an office, Frank and Matt using pet names like sweetheart, mentions and accusations of cheating but no actual cheating, Unprotected sex, Fingering and hand job, Oral (M & F receiving,) THREE WAY! A TRIP TO PARIS!, P in V, Creampie, etc.

WC: 7,200

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“That’s it sweetheart, last round I promise.” Frank encourages you as you take swings at the bag in front of you. 

You’ve been at this for at least an hour and your arms feel like jello. You can’t remember the last time you were breathing this hard that wasn’t from Matt bending you in half. Jumping directly into the Hudson would have kept you drier than the amount of sweat currently pouring down your face and exhausted body.

“Atta girl, atta girl!” Frank praises as you take your last few swings, arms too weak to make any real movement of the bag

“Alright, you’re getting the hang of it now. Few more sessions and you’ll be out there with Red every night.”

“Pfft I don’t know about that, Frank. I’m just trying to make sure I can protect myself is all.”

“So remind me again why you didn’t ask him to teach you this?”

It started last week. One of your favorite coworkers was going through a bitter divorce and her estranged husband decided to confront her at the office and pulled a gun. You heard two shots ring out from your desk and feared the worst - all the active shooter situations you'd seen on TV were happening live in your life. Fortunately, as you fled for safety, Jerry from accounting was able to disarm and tackle the guy before he could hurt anyone thanks to his black belt in Jiujitsu.

Even though the incident ended okay, it had spooked you enough to get yourself some defense classes, for all those times when your vigilante boyfriend was too far uptown to protect you at a moment’s notice and Jerry wasn’t around to save the day.

Matt was always overprotective of you and you hated to think how he’d react to the incident, so you hadn’t told him. When the story hit the news, you lied (via text so he couldn’t detect it) and said it happened on a different floor and you didn’t even notice. 

You also didn’t tell him about your decision to learn self-defense. Matt was more than qualified to teach you, but for some reason, you just didn’t feel comfortable asking for his help with this. Maybe it was his propensity to throw himself into helping those he cared about, you especially, that gave you hesitation to give him another thing to prioritize over himself. Maybe it was just how good he was at fighting that made you not want to “be a beginner” in front of him (not that Matt would ever judge you about anything.)

In fairness to you, you hadn’t intended to learn it from his frenemy and former client, but you’d showed up at the boxing gym near your work and the gruff men inside intimidated you so much, you bolted out the door before signing up for a class, tears welling in your eyes when you quite literally bumped into Frank on the street.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, nodding towards the door of the boxing gym

“I thought… Look I want to learn how to fight. Or at least how to defend myself. This place is close to work but um… might not be the right fit for me.”

“Why don’t you just ask Red?”

“It’s a long story,” you replied with a sigh “but I really don’t want to ask him. Or for him to even know about it. So can you please not mention you saw me here or we had this conversation?”

“Okay, can I ask why not?”

“You can but I’m not gonna answer.” 

Frank chuckled and shook his head

“Well if you want to learn to fight, this isn’t the best place. I know Vinny the owner and he’s a shit teacher. But if you want to learn for real, I’m happy to teach you.”

“What? Wait really? Wait, Frank you know how to fight?”

“Sweetheart, I was a Marine for over 15 years, ‘course I know how to fight.”

“And you’d do that for me?”

“Course. You’re Red's girl. What times’ he leave for his little night job?”

“9:00”

“Great, meet me here at 9:30. Tonight.”

And that was how you ended up here, collapsing on the gym mat beneath you with a groan.

“Not bad for your first time. We just gotta get you in the habit of resetting your hands after every hit, and you’ll be golden” Frank praises again

“Oh yeah, I forgot, always protect the face so I don’t end up lookin like you.” you jest

“Ouch” he feigns hurt with a smirk on his face “Red teach you to swing low like that?”

“Nah Castle, that’s all me. It’s part of why he loves me. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. See you then.”

By the time Matt returns home, you’re showered and in bed, sore muscles pulsing every time you twist and turn in your sleep. Between the smell of sweaty clothes in the hamper and the scent of your freshly washed skin rubbing against silk sheets, plus the heat radiating off your sore muscles as he crawls into bed silently beside you, Matt figures it out pretty quickly.

‘She started going back to the gym. Hmm. Have to ask her about that in the morning.’ he thinks as he drifts off beside you.

You awake in the morning to gentle hands rubbing at your back. 

“Mmm morning Matty” you mumble, still pulling yourself out of sleep

“Morning sweetheart.”

“What are you doing?” you ask as he works a little lower down your spine

“Giving you a massage. I can tell you’re sore. When did you start going back to the gym?”

“Just yesterday. And you’re right I’m super sore. Thank you, this is a nice way to start my day.”

“Of course sweetheart. What gym did you go to? Did you have fun?” he inquires

His innocent prodding has you waking fully quickly, trying to cover your tracks without outright lying and getting caught.

“Oh this gym near work. Couple people in the office recommended it. And yeah I had fun.” 

All truths.

“That’s nice. Mmmm do you want to start the coffee or shower first?” he asks, seemingly letting the subject go

Perfect.

As you rush around to get ready for work, Matt grabs the laundry hamper from the bathroom, walking it over to the washing machine. Your dirty workout clothes from the night before sit on top, now less potent that they have completely dried. But he can’t help but feel like something smells off.

Sure it smells like you - natural scent mixed with your fading sweat, but there’s something else. Something familiar. A very subtle hint of spiciness mixed with… is that gunpowder? 

‘Weird’ Matt thinks to himself, but brushes it off a moment later, the smell not strong enough to really garner more than a passing thought.

But three times he does the laundry in a row, he smells it. It’s so subtle, he might not even give it another thought, but it’s just so damn familiar. 

It takes another week for him to ask you about it.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been going to the gym a lot lately,” he mentions over dinner 

“Mmmhmm. Yeah, can you feel my muscles growing? I’m feeling stronger.” you reply

“Yeah. What exactly are you doing at the gym? It’s really working.”

“Oh a little cardio, a little strength, you know…” you skirt around, being intentionally vague

“That’s good. Is it like a class or?”

“Um sort of. Just this guy at the gym, he’s been helping me. You know, walking me through the exercises.” 

Also technically the truth.

“That’s good. Well, I’m glad you found something you like.”

‘Okay, so that guy must smell like this. She’s close enough to him in a warm sweaty gym, so there’s a little bit on her clothes. Makes sense.’ Matt thinks to himself. But he still can’t shake the feeling that that smell is so familiar.

Two weeks later, Matt is out on patrol when he hears a familiar heartbeat on the fire escape a few floors down from where he’s perched.

Frank.

“You just gonna sit there all night, listinin’ Red?” Frank asks

“Very funny Frank.” Matt says, hopping down to Frank’s level

“Haven’t seen you in a while” Matt comments

“Been busy. Madani’s been usin’ me more.”

“Oh don’t tell me you’re going legit Frank.”

“Not a shot in hell, Red. But gotta pay the bills somehow.”

And then a strong breeze blows. Frank’s signature blend of sweat, aftershave, and metallic mixed with gunpowder from all the weapons he handles overwhelms Matt’s nose. Matt cocks his head in confusion. It’s so damn familiar. But of course it is, it’s Frank. How many times has Matt been on a rooftop with him like this, bs-ing the night away while monitoring the city?

After catching up for a bit, they go their separate ways, the rest of Matt’s evening turning uneventful.

He returns home to you shortly after 3 am, your soft breathing as you sleep calms him as he strips off his suit. 

You hadn’t met with Frank tonight. He said something about following a lead and you were perfectly fine with that, you needed an off day. 

Matt curls up in bed beside you, resting his head on your back and falling asleep quickly.

The next night, Frank is really putting you through your paces and you swear you’re ready to collapse when he finally calls it for the night. 

Per usual, Frank offers to walk you home when you’re done and for the first time since you started coming here, you accept the offer since you stayed a bit later than usual tonight. At least until you can make it to Hell’s Kitchen and within range of Matt. 

You and Frank make small talk as you go and eventually, the chill of the autumn air has you shivering in your still-damp-from-sweat workout clothes. 

“Here sweetheart,” Frank says with a lopsided smirk, slinging his worn jacket over your shoulders. 

“Thank you Castle. Always a gentleman.”

“Course, ‘specially for Red’s girl.”

You make it to 35th and 10th, close enough to home and hand his jacket back to him, parting ways with a nod and a polite “goodnight.”

The later hour coupled with the particularly intense session has you collapsing into bed without even removing your shoes, let alone your gym clothes.

When Matt returns a few hours later, the smell hits him like a truck. 

‘I swear to god Frank, if you’re bleeding on my couch again…’ Matt thinks to himself. 

But when he enters the apartment the only heartbeat he can hear is yours. He inches slowly toward the bedroom and rolls the door open gently. He reaches down to feel the soft lycra of your leggings on your body, careful not to stir you from your slumber. The smell of your sweat clinging to your clothes fills his senses, way more potent than normal plus that other scent you’re bringing home from the gym. Matt pauses to wonder why he thought Frank was here but then it hits him. 

Oh my god. The mystery smell from the gym you’ve been bringing home is Frank. 

But how could you smell like… 

And then the gears in his head start turning. And he feels like a goddamn idiot. 

You had been going to the gym. But not to work out. You were cheating. With Frank of all people. And you’d made the critical error of not showering when you got home. 

Matt begins to pace the apartment, rubbing at his chin as his thoughts move a million miles a minute about what to do. 

Did he confront you? Did he confront Frank?! What should he even say?

The sun rises and he’s still pacing and contemplating when his alarm rings out. He shuts it off before it can wake you too. He needs more time to think about his next move. He gets ready for work quietly and slips out the door before you awake. 

You find it odd you haven’t heard from Matt all day. When you woke up you saw his Devil suit in a heap in the living room and there was no damage to it or blood on it. So you knew he had come home and was relatively okay. But it was so odd for him to leave without a goodbye kiss or go this long in the day without so much as a text. But he had been busy with a heavy caseload lately. You finally break shortly after lunch and text him first. 

“Hey Matty. Know you’re busy but I miss you and I love you. Dinner tonight?”

“Can’t. Working late. Don’t wait up.” He responds

That was… oddly curt. But again you figure he’s stressed and busy. 

Matt on the other hand has been wracked with stress all day. It only took an hour of his constant pacing and fidgeting for Foggy to break and finally ask.

“Matt. What’s up?”

“I think… I think I’m being cheated on.” Matt confesses. He leaves the Frank part out of the equation, wanting Foggy to be as objective as possible about his response. 

“What could possibly make you think that?”

“She’s been going to the gym like every night for a month now right when I leave for patrol and she came home last night smelling like… another man. And she’s been smelling like it a little the whole month but last night it was all over her”

“So did you ask her?”

“Well no but…” 

“Matt you are literally a human lie detector and yet here you are jumping to conclusions instead of doing the rational thing and just asking her.”

And maybe Matt would have taken Foggy’s advice if he thought you were just cheating with your gym trainer. But this was Frank. And that made it all the more complicated. 

Matt decides finally what he’s going to do. He’s going to follow you tonight, catch you in the act and confront both of you together.  

Matt still hasn’t come home when you depart for your nightly workout session, but little do you know he’s there. Pacing on the roof, waiting for you to leave. As soon as he hears the lobby door shut behind you, he springs in to action, taking the stairs two at a time into the apartment and changing out of his lawyer suit and into his devil suit as quickly as possible, making sure not to lose your heartbeat now a block and a half away. He makes up for the lost distance quickly and is practically on top of you by the time you enter the gym. 

“Hey Frank!” you call out as you enter

“Hey. I’ll be over in a second.” he replies from the locker rooms

Matt crouches down by the side of the building, just close enough to the windows to hear everything going on inside. 

You’re almost done wrapping your hands when Frank emerges from the locker room. 

“Alright let’s start with our usual, then you can have a go at me again.”

“I don’t know Frank. You really wore me out last night. I woke up still in my clothes and shoes.”

Matt knew it. He fucking knew it. 

“Tough shit sweetheart,” Frank responds with a chuckle. “And what did your boyfriend think about that huh? He got any idea what we’re doing here yet?”

“Honestly I don’t know. I didn’t see or hear from him at all today. Which is weird even for him. And no I don’t think he’s figured it out yet.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him eventually”

“No, I don’t”

“So what you’re just gonna keep sneakin’ around, becoming a prize fighter without him gettin’ suspicious? Shit even a regular guy would raise some alarm bells by now, but especially Red and all his … shit”

“Frank, I am not here trying to become a prize fighter. I’m just trying to get strong enough to defend myself if he’s not around to do it. That’s all”

Matt’s heart drops. 

How could he possibly think you were cheating? And with Frank of all people. He felt like an idiot. Like a total asshole. Sure you had lied, well, technically withheld the truth and he’s sure you’ll explain why. And he’s hurt if you wanted to learn to fight that you didn’t come to him.  But this was not nearly as egregious a stain on your relationship as he thought it was. 

“I don’t know. Think you should tell him. Show him your moves. Shit, you’ve gotten a couple good hits on me these last few days. I'm sure you could give Red a run for his money.” 

“I am not fighting Matt, Francis.” You say with an eye roll

In that moment, Matt decided this had gone far enough. He needed to come clean. He slipped quietly through the door into the studio. 

“Oh I think she absolutely could, Frank. Especially if you’ve been teaching her”

Your spine goes icy cold at the sound of the voice behind you. Both you and Frank jump with a gasp and whip your heads to look at the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, standing in front of you. 

“Matt… I” 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” Matt says, hands up in surrender before reaching up to remove his mask

“Shit Red, you been here this whole time?” Frank asks nonchalantly 

Matt nods, shame painted on his face.

“Matt, I can explain…”

“No. I need to explain.” Matt holds a hand up, interrupting your thought  “I followed you here because I thought you were cheating. With Frank. And I know now that’s not what’s happening. And I’m sorry for not just asking you.” 

Frank scoffs and holds back a low chuckle while your face softens in empathy.

“Oh Matt. I’m so sorry that I did anything to make you think that. That’s not at all what’s happening here.”

“Really Red, you think I’m that kind of guy?”

“No... I don’t know.”

“Nah, wouldn’t lay a finger on your girl. Unless it was okay with you.”

Matt shakes his head.

“Now that I’m here though, I wouldn’t say no to a little demonstration of what you’ve been teaching her.”

Frank immediately looks to you, reading the signs on your face to make sure it’s okay. You nod. Now that Matt knows, its time to show him.

“Kay sweetheart, just a few rounds on the bag. Like we been practicing.” Frank reassures

You step up to the bag and look to Frank once more. A soft smile spreads across his face and he nods in encouragement. 

You take a few swings. Jab, Cross, Left hook. Like Frank normally has you do. Not even thirty seconds in, Matt speaks up.

“Woah woah woah. Frank, you’ve been letting her hit like this and not correcting her form?”

“Yes. Wait, what the hell is wrong with her form?”

“She’s too far away from the bag.” Matt places his hands on your shoulders, maneuvering you with slight adjustments and positions his feet right beside yours, pressing his body tight against your back. “I can hear your shoulder joint rubbing every time you jab, which means you’re over-extending that left arm. Makes you put way too much energy into each hit, you’re gonna wear yourself out way faster. Here. Step closer.”

You take a few more swings. Matt’s breath is against your ear and you can’t help but feel a chill run down your spine straight to your core. God, his body is warm usually, but being flush behind you as you move and hit, he practically feels like white-hot iron against you. Your heart is thumping out of your chest, and it’s not just from the few swings you’ve taken. You know Matt can hear it and is going to play you like a fiddle. His own wicked form of punishment for not telling him about your training.

“Go ahead, gimme a few more, I want to feel how your body moves. See just what else Frank has been teaching you wrong.”

Frank throws his arms up in offense as you try a few more punches.

“See? More power, less effort.”

You grin, happy to finally be sharing something Matt is clearly so knowledgeable and passionate about with him. Craning your neck, you mesh your lips with his in excitement and only pull away when Frank loudly clears his throat and you remember that he is still there watching the two of you.

“Eh, so you gave her a minor tweak. Still say how I had her doing it was perfectly fine.”

Matt finally steps away from you, turning to face Frank.

“Sure Castle, but I think the real testament to your teaching skills is how she does with an actual partner.”

Matt turns his attention back to you. His hands drop from your shoulders, running down your back lightly and coming to rest on your hips. He plants a soft kiss right under your ear. His stubble is coarse against your skin, sending goosebumps across your flesh, your toes curling into the squishy mat beneath you.

“You throw any actual punches at him yet?” he asks

“A few. Landed some of them too.”

“Let her show you Murdock, maybe she can knock that cocky attitude out of you like I never could.”

Matt chuckles and shakes his head. He steps away from you, holding out a hand and leading you to the center of the room, the area in the gym dedicated to partner sparring.

You stand a few feet apart from your boyfriend, nervous to demonstrate on him. You’re not arrogant enough to think just a few weeks of training with Frank puts you anywhere near Matt’s skill level. But you also know that Matt loves you and will probably take it easy on you just to be supportive and also not hurt you, so you may just be able to get a few swings in. You don’t need the guilt of piling onto his already long list of previous injuries and scars.

Frank approaches behind you, placing a hand on your arm in reassurance as he leans close to your ear.

“Remember that knee to crotch move I showed you last week? The one I said to only use if some creep comes at you head on and you need to take him out quick?” 

You nod, already shifting your feet towards the set up position for that move, trying to activate the muscle memory to bring it back into your brain.

“Well” Frank continued, “might not be a bad time to try it.”

You chuckle at his suggestion.

“Frank, you know Matt can hear all of this right?” 

You glance over at your boyfriend, amused smirk painted across his lips as he stretches his perfectly toned bicep across his chest, warming up for your little face off. He’s discarded his tight black shirt in a pile beside him. A cheap bid to distract you from the task at hand with his incredible body that he knows you can’t resist.

“Yeah, just figure if he wants to be a jealous fucker why not rile him up some more? Plus it’s the least he deserves for thinking the worst from you and I, of all people.”

You try not to laugh at the statement. Frank’s askew moral compass being perfectly fine with the regular amount of murder he commits, but thinking being a taken woman’s side piece crosses a line.

He squeezes the hand still resting on your bicep in reassurance before stepping away with a wink, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, radiating from the point where the warmth of his touch still lingers. Frank always keeps it incredibly professional around you and you know he is pushing against the line of flirting just to get into Matt’s head.

“Ready sweetheart?” Matt asks as you step towards him, gloved fists by your face prepared to fight

“Yeah” you reply and Matt also assumes his stance, nodding in your direction as a go ahead

“Ding ding, round one!” Frank remarks

You go for the right hook first, but Matt easily blocks the hit. You throw a few more punches, all of which Matt dodges and blocks without looking like he’s putting any effort into it. He’s cocky and sly in the way that he moves, refusing to even take one swing at you but making you work stupidly hard just to get nowhere.

Fine. New strategy, you decide.

Swinging a roundhouse knee in the air, you connect directly with his ribs. The oof sounds he lets out gives you a rush of adrenaline knowing you legitimately got a hit on him. It’s incredibly short lived as he’s quick to recover. Rushing towards you, he tackles you to the mat, knocking the wind out of your lungs as your ribs connect with the floor. He’s pinned you to the point where you can barely squirm, knee pressed firmly between your legs while his arms cage you in place.

“Nice try baby, but not good enough.” he whispers in your ear, shifting his leg to provide just a little friction against your core

“Woah, take it easy on her. She’s still a beginner. She’s here to learn, not have you be an asshole to her about something you thought she did.” Frank interjects, pulling Matt off of you

“Just cause you take it easy on her Frank, doesn’t mean I have to. She wants to learn, then let her learn with a real opponent, not just you going easy on her cause she makes your dick too hard to think straight.��

“Woah!” you interject, ripping the boxing gloves off your hands while still flat on your back

“Jesus, Red” Frank exclaims as he offers out a hand to get you back on your feet

“Oh come on Frank, you’ve been hard since she walked in here. Just because you’re not banging my girlfriend doesn’t mean you haven’t thought about it. I can hear it rub against your pants every time you move. You’re a weirdo, but not nearly weird enough to show up to a gym in jeans unless you had a reason.”

“Look, I’d never…” Frank stumbles over his words, redness creeping up his neck as it tenses with every clench of his jaw

Your pulse is thumping loudly in your ears at Matt’s observation, skin flushed with heat in both embarrassment for Frank who is still stammering beside you and also a little flattered that you so effortlessly turn him on so much.

“Never? Even with my permission?” Matt inquires

Frank’s pupils grow wide at Matt’s suggestion

“Woah, hold up Matt. Permission?” you loudly exclaim, offended at Matt’s implication “Like you own me?! I’m my own person, what about my damn permission?!”

Matt scoffs at your statement and steps toward you, spinning you around so your back is once more pressed against him and you are now facing Frank, who is hesitant to look up. His gaze transfixed on the floor as he tries to find the words to refute Matt’s claims. You didn’t think sheepish was a word one could ever use to describe Frank Castle, nor did you think he’d ever back down from a fight with Matt, even a verbal one.

“Okay sweetheart, let’s talk about you then.” Matt speaks lowly, damp bare skin of his rising and falling chest pressing into your back as he speaks, his own hardness obvious as he pulls your body flush against his

“While I appreciate that you haven’t crossed any lines since you started training, that doesn't mean you’re not enjoying these nightly sessions with Frank. Your heartbeat has risen every time he's been within a foot of you or complimented your progress tonight.” 

His voice rumbles against the skin of your neck, right hand snaking around to your front, tickling at the top of your leggings. For some reason, you don’t stop him, feeling a little shy but letting him tease you in front of Frank.

“And you want to talk about how wet you were when I first got here?” he continues “I could practically smell you from blocks away. Frank get you that excited, hmm?”  

Frank's head snaps up at the statement and he locks eyes with you just as Matt pushes his hand all the way down, collecting the slick he was just describing on his fingers.

“Matt, I…” you attempted to protest, still watching as the lust grows in Frank’s stare while Matt runs his fingers through your folds.

There was no hiding how your body reacted to both men. The evidence drips onto Matt’s fingers as he toys with you.

“No, it’s okay sweetheart.” he reassures, placing a few kisses on your neck “I get it. Frank and I have always said we're two sides to the same coin. It makes sense we’d both find the same woman attractive. And that she’d want us both.”

Matt once again turns his attention to Frank, not relenting in his teasing of you as he slips a finger into your opening, causing a moan to escape from your lips.

“Go ahead, Frank” Matt says with a nod against your shoulder, “if it's okay with her, it's okay with me.”

Frank finally wills himself to step forward. Never wavering in how deeply his gaze is locked on you, he hovers his hands over your waist while Matt continues to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you, waiting for your go ahead. You nod, granting him the permission to finally act on the feelings you’ve both been resisting. 

Frank’s trembling hand finally cradles your jaw as he leans into you and softly connects his lips with yours, taking the pace slowly to give you both the space to gauge how you’re feeling.

Matt, on the other hand, is happy to move things along as he pushes another finger inside you. Immediately working his calloused digits against that spongy spot inside you that drives you wild every time. You're not sure what causes you to groan into Frank's mouth, the way Matt touches you so expertly or the tingly sensation spreading through your body as Frank’s tongue and hands begin to explore.

Matt only removes his fingers from your core momentarily to aid Frank in ridding you of your clothes, eager to assist as it now gives him so much more easy access to your sopping cunt.

Warm, wet kisses are placed all over your heated flesh from both men as Frank’s calloused fingers dance all over you, eventually resting just above Matt’s hand to work your clit while Matt picks up his pace.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a strong current against a rocky shore, hands gripping onto Frank’s forearms to hold your self steady as you ride the waves of pleasure to the end. He watches with an almost sort of reverence as you come down, indulging in every beautiful hint of pleasure painted across your face and body.

Your cunt squeezes Matt’s fingers one last time before he removes them, allowing you to fully fall into Frank’s strong form while Matt tastes the nectar of his labor. The groan that escapes his lips is sinful as he indulges in the familiar taste of you. Meanwhile Frank is stepping away from you, shirt joining Matt’s across the gym and jeans following not long after.

You were used to staring at Matt’s scarred and muscular form, but Frank’s sculpted, but slightly beefier body is also decorated with the ghosts of his past. You can’t help but salivate at how well his toned muscles look as he frees his cock and removes the last of his clothing.

He pumps himself a few times while Matt kisses you deeply, guiding you downward.

The squishy gym floor beneath you cushions your knees as you crawl on all fours towards Matt, who is shimmying out of his cargo pants and laying down before you. 

Frank follows closely as you makeout with Matt, continuing to touch himself at the sight of your bare body splayed out on the mat. He lunges forward to place a few kisses down your spine as you’re bending forward, ass in the air and inches away from taking Matt into your mouth.

As you begin to suck Matt’s length, his low moans echo out through the musty gym, lips parted in pleasure.

Once Frank is satisfied with how much you’ve got Matt worked up, he slides back up behind you, lining himself up with your entrance. You moan into Matt’s cock as Frank pushes into you.

Alternating between your mouth and your hand, you work Matt up until his eyes are pressed shut, overwhelmed by all the sensory input of Frank fucking you. Matt seizes the opportunity to sit up a little and kiss you deeply, just as Frank begins to increase the harshness of his thrusts. You can’t help but cry out in little mewls and whimpers, as Matt moves kisses down your neck and jaw and guides your lips over his cock once more. 

Your legs feel as though they may give out from under you at any moment based on how violently they’re trembling.  With Frank only increasing his rhythm and Matt now thrusting up to meet your face and running his nails along your back has you careening closer and closer to your edge once more.

Unable to hold back, you cum with a cry, Matt and Frank both lunging to put their lips all over your skin as you do, sandwiching you in a throng of sweaty flesh and ecstasy. 

Pulled fully on your knees now, Matt reaches down to where Frank was just fucking you, running his fingers through your folds again and sending your already overstimulated nerves into over drive.

The room around you now feels stifling, the heat of three bodies in such a state of activity not able to compete with the squeaky and outdated hvac system buzzing above you head. Frank and Matt are both damp, hair sticking to their flushed foreheads as their mouths hang agape in an attempt to slow their panting. Matt’s hazel eyes dart back and forth, reading the signs that both you and Frank are ready for more; the steadying of your heartbeats, the evening of your breaths, and the minuscule sounds of both your muscles relaxing as the seconds tick on. Even though you’ve leveled out a little bit, you’re still dizzy with pleasure and your heart rate surges right back up as Matt moves to position you on your back.

“Atta girl.” Frank encourages as the sticky flesh of your back meets the soft, rubbery floor. He’s laying down beside you, hands roaming over your breasts and taking a nipple into his mouth just as Matt pushes himself forward, beginning to work his tongue all over your pussy. 

The crescendo of pleasure begins to grow deep within you again, Matt knowing just how to expertly play you like a conductor leading a symphony as he kisses and sucks on your clit. He inserts a finger just as Frank grabs your jaw, shoving his tongue into your mouth. 

Frank’s kisses move down your jaw and towards your ear, whispering sweet praises while Matt continues to eat you.

“Shit sweetheart, look so pretty when you cum. Knew you would. Let me see it again, come on, all over Red’s face. Atta girl.”

While Matt is always phenomenal in bed, never have you heard him talk as filthy as Frank. Usually his moans and grunts turned you on plenty, but Frank’s words are a welcome, new sensation that has another orgasm crashing through you before you even realize its happening.

You practically shove Matt off you as you know he’d be content to just keep going until you were over stimulated to the point of tears. He chuckles and wipes away the slick you left on his mouth and chin.

“Sweetie, you want to help Frank finish while I remind you who you belong to? Hm?” Matt asks as he crawls to hover over you, lining up just the tip of his cock with your slit and causing your cunt to clench around nothing

“Yes, Matt.” you respond, propping yourself up on your elbows so Frank can have his turn fucking your mouth

Frank’s scoff is cut off with a groan of pleasure as you wrap your mouth around him and suck his length towards the back of your throat.

“What Castle?” Matt asks, still teasing your hole while he listens to you blow Frank “You think just because I’m sharing doesn’t mean she’s only mine?”

“Ah shit– I know Red. I know.” Frank replies, chin tilted down to watch the way you look up at him as you swallow him down

“Good.” Matt responds, before harshly thrusting all the way into you. 

The vibrations of your moans from how intensely you’re getting fucked, plus the sight of you taking Matt’s dick while sucking him off causes a build up in Frank much quicker than he’d like. Part of his ego doesn’t want to finish before Matt, so he guides you by the jaw off of him and resumes laying on the floor, supporting your head with his chest and guiding your hand to his hardness so he can watch the show and also help you cum a final time while staving off his own orgasm a little while longer.

“That’s it sweetheart” he coos in your ear, hand steady around your throat while you stare up into his eyes and work him over with your hand. Your skin feels on fire as they toy with you, every brush of them against you like electricity firing through your nerves.

You can tell Matt is close by the way his face is scrunched up, focusing on only the feeling of your body beneath his and trying to tune out the rest of the world around. You can only assume Frank is as well, based on how much tighter his grip has gotten around your neck as you continue to jack him off and by how his sweet praises are now replaced with grunts occasionally punctuated by a singular swear word.

Frank reaches his calloused fingers down to goad you along, rubbing your clit in smooth circles, a stark contrast to the harshness of Matt’s now faltering pace. 

The slapping of skin over and over combined with the lust-filled groans and moans all of you are making has your head spinning and your final orgasm blooms like a rose in late July, soft and warm and delicate in a way that only these two working in tandem can give you.

Frank watches as you fall apart a final time, not stopping his assault on your sensitive bud until he’s satisfied with how hard you've orgasmed.

You’re totally spent and laying back against Frank. Too distracted by how delicious every drag of Matt’s cock feels against your satisfied walls, you let him use you while you revel in the dissipating fizz of your body being so thoroughly fulfilled. Barely able to even reach up and stroke the taught muscle of Matt’s chest, you do though as a small act of gratitude for sharing you tonight and allowing you to experience such pleasure. Frank takes over for your weak and trembling hands, touching himself while kissing whatever area of your skin he can reach to bring you back down. 

Matt’s senses are overwhelmed. The smell of pure sex invades his nostrils and he can still feel the aftershocks of your orgasm in the light pulses of your velvety walls every time he drives into you. Frank’s musky scent blends so beautifully with your natural, floral smell and hearing your satisfied sighs being breathed into Frank's soft kisses is the most beautiful music he’s ever heard. Your hands trace down from his chest and rest on the back of his thighs, encouraging him to find his nirvana as his thrusts become erratic.

“Matty.” you let out in a breathy lament and it finally tips him off the cliff, spilling inside you with a low moan that will echo in your ears for days to come.

Frank, unable to hold himself back any longer and cheekily pleased that he held off longer than Matt, even if it was only for a moment, spills across his stomach and chest as you kiss him through his orgasm while still stroking Matt’s skin to bring him down.

The three of you collapse side by side under the humming fluorescent lights of the gym, labored breathing finally slowing as you all come back to reality.

“Tell you what Red, that was a hell of a warm up for your girl. Ain’t that right sweetheart?” Frank finally speaks up, gravely voice cutting through the silence.

“You’ve got to be kidding Frank, I am not training tonight after all that!” you argue back

Frank turns towards you and presses a kiss to your temple before standing up and finding his clothes. 

“Matt, c’mon back me up here.” you turn to your boyfriend and watch as his signature cheeky grin spreads wide across his face.

“You know my dad and I had this mantra, this thing we’d say before every fight he had ‘It ain't how you hit the mat. It's how you get up.’ 

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It means, you better get back up and do what Frank tells you.”

[thelastofhyde]

you cut your hair, and take some space. (1)

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 3 ! (part 2)

warnings. no use of y/n! all spanish text is followed by immediate translation (please note that i am fluent in castilian spanish, therefore some words/phrases may differ from that of other hispanic countries), age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, nondescript depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 15k

hyde’s input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peña. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 40k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in three parts. the fic will be posted in full on ao3 once all three parts are available on tumblr!

“i told you, corazón mia (my heart),” he can't meet your eyes. “made it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.” “i know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “but if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?”

I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.

The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.

Where there are usually your eyes, there’s a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you don’t care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.

It’s something new to fidget with.

On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.

You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, you’ll regret it.

If you do, you’ll blame him.

Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.

You’d dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, you’d giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girls’ night.

They’d ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.

Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.

You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.

You were careful all night to never speak of him.

One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who you’d gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.

And then it happened.

You didn’t say his name, no.

Not aloud.

You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink you’d watched him nurse time after time. It wasn’t him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.

But it was enough to make you want to leave.

Giving up your space, you’d made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesn’t have white wine?

They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.

The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your father’s stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.

“Hey kiddo!” Your dad’s a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing you’d been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. “You here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ain’t that right, boys?”

It was only then that you’d realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a week’s work.

There were usually three of them.

"We’re just waiting on Peña." Oh god, it made you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.

“And raising bets on his tardiness,” one of your father’s friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. “I’m saying he’s chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boy’s been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."

It’s a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.

“My guess is he’s pulled some muscle in his back and can’t get himself out of bed,” a nudge from your father’s elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. “Whatcha think, kiddo?”

You didn’t have an answer.

You didn’t get to give an answer.

“You need to quit speaking ‘bout me like you’re not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),” it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.

Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkept facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.

Javier Peña was none of that.

The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.

The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.

His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.

It was like, nothing.

And, yes, that’s what you’d asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?

But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?

“Hey officers, sorry to interrupt but,” a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your father’s smile. “She’s ours for the night. We’re going clubbing!”

That was never part of the plan.

Neither was skipping dinner, though.

You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.

His hair, freshly cut.

“‘S getting too long,” a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. “Lo sé (I know).”

A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, “no. It’s nice, I like it.”

That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped upon your sternum. He’s sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks, like he even needs to. “You like it, corazón (sweetheart)?” You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. “Guess I better keep it this way, then.”

Now he’s gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.

In a way, it feels like he’s cut you off with them.

We don’t speak cause it’s too tricky But if I’m tricky, why’d you kiss me?

The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.

He sits on the groom’s side, you sit on the bride’s.

It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldn’t he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousin’s brother-in-law’s wedding?

The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.

Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.

He’s already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. He’s still staring at you when they’ve passed.

The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night you’re booked in for.

An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you don’t get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.

You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.

You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. You’re back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

If it weren’t for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, you’d gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, you’ll be damned if you don’t get to sleep in it.

So you stumble to the elevator.

Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it might’ve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, that’ll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purse’s zipper, trying your best to pry it open.

You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.

You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.

“Déjame. (Let me.)”

Scuffed shoes come into view as you’re halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.

He catches you.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve never left his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room.” You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.

He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.

Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. There’s a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.

He’s still warm. He’s still steady. but his cologne’s different and it makes your eyes sting.

You’d warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.

“You look like you had fun,” he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.

“I did,” you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if he’d stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you can’t say that, because he doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad.”

It turns out your floor is the ninth. He’s careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.

It’s easier to let him open the door, he tells you.

It’s easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.

Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.

You’ve never shared a space like this with him, one that’s hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature that’s long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.

Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.

A thud against the nightstand.

You roll onto your side and find he’s still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.

The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.

Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.

“Get in bed, please,” you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. “Javi.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like he’s going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.

He looks like he wants to.

His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.

Against your forehead, lips that linger.

Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.

On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source

Vermont, ‘98.

That’s where it all began.

Your dad, turning fifty.

Javi just hit forty.

It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the station’s rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.

Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?

Wrong.

The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.

Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.

A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.

Peaceful and quaint, until it wasn’t.

The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lion’s roar in the dark of the Saharan night.

The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.

You put your head down, breathed more subtly.

The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.

The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.

They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.

One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.

You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.

Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.

“Woo! Look at you,” just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. “Ain’t seen an ass like that since we left the city!”

Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.

“Why don’cha come join me and my buddies over there?” He nodded back at them, like they weren’t the obnoxious centres of everyone’s attention.

You were not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.

So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, “thanks, but I’ve got an early flight. Have a nice night-” He told you his name, like you cared. “Yeah, thanks, bye.”

And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.

Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.

You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.

“Oh don’t be a buzzkill!” He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. “It’s early, stay. Have a drink.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“To have fun?! C’mon, it’s too cold to be out here by yourself.”

“I have an early flight.”

“It’s just one drink, sweetheart. I ain’t asking you to sign your life away.”

A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.

“Hey!” He called after you. Your steps sped up. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

It didn’t even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!”

The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.

Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.

He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.

You wouldn’t give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.

It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.

He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets you’d never walked.

You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.

You don’t remember which direction you turned.

“Quit running, you bitch!”

He was still following, how was he still following?

Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.

He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.

You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.

Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.

“...Gotta let me know, nena,” the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. “Fucking Christ, look at the state of you.”

You’d not known much about Javier Peña at the start of the trip.

Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that he’d enjoyed the pumpkin pie she’d brought to the station’s Thanksgiving feast.

There’d been one time you’d caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. You’d left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.

You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.

He didn’t like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?

“You’re bleeding,” he announced it, fresh news for you.

A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.

His thumb swiped over your palm.

Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.

He held you in place.

Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.

He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. You’d not really been looking, in the first place.

The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.

You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didn’t let him stray too far.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, furrowing his brow. “I’m just cold.”

He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.

He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.

“Leave it, he’s not-” The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. “It’s not worth it.”

You said it not for the agent’s sake, but the boy’s.

The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.

It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.

He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.

“C’mon, the lodge is this way,” he pointed in some direction.

You didn’t bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.

“Put this on.” It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

Somewhere along the path, you realised you’d lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.

Officer Peña offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodge’s bar with the rest of the men.

You shook your head, told him your dad couldn’t see you in that state.

He took you back to his own cabin instead.

Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.

Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.

If you don’t love me, Why’d you act it?

Late june brings nothing but gloom.

You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes it’s way through the cafe.

Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease you’re becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.

Tonight, you’re appeasing them.

Some line dance event, downtown in a bar that’s only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. It’s missing a horn and no one seems to know why.

Truth be told, you don’t want to go.

You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.

Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.

In the mirror, it’s still lopsided.

The clock sits at eight forty-seven.

They’re 2 minutes late.

You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in it’s contents, searching for your keys.

You pull on something and- it’s a pack a gum.

Dive back in, search again.

An empty tube of lipbalm.

Third time’s a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.

A broken earring.

A familiar car honk’s outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.

Bile burns the back of your throat.

He opens on the fifth knock.

Any other night, he practically rips the door off it’s hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.

Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You don’t think too much into it.

He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, it’s hard to read his eyes.

The air’s uncomfortably quiet.

You think’s it’s all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.

“My earring snapped today,” there’s a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-”

“The hearts dangling from them.” He finishes, on your behalf, and it’s the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.

The silence returns.

You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place you’ve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.

He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.

You notice his bedroom door is shut.

It’s never been shut before.

“Is- Am I-” You don’t have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. “Do you have someone over?”

He blinks, slowly.

It’s hard to tell if it’s from guilt.

“Because if you do, that’s fine!” It’s not. “I understand,” You don’t.

He doesn’t answer.

You keep talking.

“Totally chill, I’ll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Won’t risk interrupting again-”

“This needs to stop.”

You don’t have to question it.

You do, anyway.

“What?”

“Us. This-” He’s pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. It’s like he’s rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. “Thing we’re doing. It’s done.”

“I don’t underst-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

He’s stern.

Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.

“I,” you’re beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. “Uh, I had a bad day.”

“Okay,” he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. “What’s that got anything to do with me?”

Everything, you want to tell him.

For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.

“I just thought-”

“You thought, what?” His face twists up, just like your insides. He’s angry and you’re the one to blame. “This isn’t a- I’m not your boyfriend.”

I know, you mouth.

Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.

When he calls to make sure you got home safe.

When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out ‘where’d you go?’ whispered into your neck.

When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.

Javier Peña is not your boyfriend.

So why does he act like it?

“Look, kid, you’re young, and I know-”

Kid.

That makes you angry.

He wasn’t calling you kid when he bent you over your parents’ bathroom counter.

“Don’t call me kid.”

“And I know,” he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. “This can be a lot at your age. Don’t blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think you’re feeling for me, it’s not-”

“Is this about the p-” The word won’t come out of you, so your change the verbiage. “The hospital? Because I told you, Javi. We’ve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-”

“No, this is about me needing to do the right-”

At this point, you’re just interrupting one another.

Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.

He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. You’d imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.

Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.

Silence.

You take the lead.

“So, what? That’s it just... over?”

“I told you, corazón mía (my heart),” he can’t meet your eyes. “Made it clear from the start I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “But if it wasn’t serious, why’d you treat me like it was?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. There’s a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.

Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.

The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.

“I got caught up,” his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he won’t let you be that. “In the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.”

He breathes out your name, the most painful melody you’ve ever heard.

“This has to end,” you’re unsure if it’s only you he’s attempting to convince. “Before someone gets hurt.”

Too late, you want to say.

You’re already being torn apart by his hands, and he’s standing ten feet away.

“Corazón, I’m so sor-”

The car honks, again.

You breathe in, and find it’s hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.

Another honk.

You never make it to the line dance.

You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandler’s bickering.

Love’s a verb And not a bandage

In retrospect, it’s hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.

A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.

Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you don’t recall the exact date.

All you remember is a pounding at your front door.

1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.

You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-

Pause.

This could be anyone, anything.

You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.

He’s on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, you’re too distracted to notice.

You let him invade your senses.

Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-

You pull back. He follows.

It’s flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.

Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.

“My dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, Peña?” It’s meant to be a joke.

There’s nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.

He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.

Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise he’s inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.

This time, you do trip over them.

It’s okay though, Javi’s there to catch you.

He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.

The gold of his skin shines brighter.

The red on his skin appears darker.

“What happened to you?” You don’t need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.

“S’not important,” it’s spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll tell you later.”

Later with Javi never seems to come.

‘If you’re not busy, I’ll make you dinner later.’

‘Keep it up and I’ll be fucking that attitude out of you later.’

‘I’ll get these back to you later.’

He’d never made you that dinner.

He’d dragged you into the station’s bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.

You’d never gotten those panties back.

You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if you’re “gonna put on a show for me, corazón?”

The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.

You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.

Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.

He’s insisting he’s okay, yet he’s hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.

“I,” he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.“It’s stupid.”

“Javi,” you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. “The less you tell me, the more I’ll worry.”

It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.

“I was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably don’t care about that,” he has no idea you’ll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. “Heard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-”

He hisses.

You’re pressing too hard on his fragile lip.

There’s no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.

A splotch of red stains your skin.

“Corazón,” he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. “You’re exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), I’m fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.”

It’s a tempting offer, and one you’ve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.

A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.

There’s bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.

“But, what?” You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.

Javi sighs, gives in.

He always gives in, to you, eventually.

“I just- I don’t know, it’s crazy, but I kept thinking of you,” his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. “In that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He doesn’t need to.

“So what did you do?” It’s best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.

“I followed them outside,” he admits with a tinge of shame. “Tried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,” you’ve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. “I thought I’d maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and they’d got a cab back to her place. Or his.”

He’s rambling.

Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.

You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.

“It was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,” his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. He’s burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. “Rustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-”

He chokes.

On his words, on his breath, on his failure.

You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.

Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.

“Didn’t think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.” He’s still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you can’t switch off. “I must’ve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-”

“Did you arrest him?” You cut him off.

He nods.

“Did you help her?”

Another nod.

“Did you get her someplace safe?”

This time, a reply.

“An officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.”

“Then Javi,” you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when he’s not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer Peña. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. “You did enough.”

A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.

“I didn’t,” frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.

“What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know... I could’ve-” He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. “I should’ve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldn’t have let...” A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. “Shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

You whine out his name.

The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.

The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.

He’s searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.

Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.

“Not everything about that night was so bad,” you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. “If I hadn’t gone out, then maybe we wouldn’t be...”

The words catch in your throat.

Partially because you don’t know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.

But mostly because he kisses you.

Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.

He’s a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.

Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.

The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance that’s unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.

He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.

When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.

The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.

He’s slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.

When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his forehead’s pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.

“There’s not a universe where this doesn’t happen, corazón,” you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. “Want you too damn much to miss out on you.”

Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.

When did Javier Peña stop wanting you?

And I’m spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is I’m good at pretending (oh and you)

By July, things change.

The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.

The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.

Boredom leads to hobbies.

At first, you try pottery.

Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.

Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.

You hate it, running.

You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.

But when you’re gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you don’t think about it.

The heartache.

The headache.

The agent.

You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your body’s shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.

Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of it’s usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.

The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.

But you’re not thinking about it, or it’s previous owner.

Not right now.

Now, you’re balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.

The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, you’ve discovered.

No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.

You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.

Today, however, it’s more challenging.

The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your father’s the one to blame.

You have to come, kiddo.

The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.

Because it wouldn’t be the same without you there.

You’d wanted a better explanation than that.

Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.

You had no plans.

Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!

You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your father’s light didn’t deserve to be dampened by your shadow.

C’mon, kiddo! I’ve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!

You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.

The whole station’s gonna be there, you have to come!

He said it, like that would persuade you.

Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.

The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.

Just last night Javi was asking how you’re doing!

You’d hung up.

Immediately.

Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.

Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.

All this heartache and pain, it’s not good for the soul.

Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isn’t your dad’s closest confidant.

It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. There’s a sting of tears in your eyes.

Until you come to a screeching halt.

Double over.

Place your hands on your knees.

Dry heave.

You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.

Nor to the dog that’s chasing it’s ball back forth between it’s owner’s throws.

You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.

You’ll have to see him.

Spend time near him.

Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.

It’s unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.

For not quitting the force.

For being your dad’s friend.

For not wanting you the same you wanted him.

Want him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots you’d tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.

You’re usually more careful.

You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.

You pick your pace back up.

Manage only a handful-or-two steps.

Your feet fly out in front of you.

Land ass-first on the gravel below.

Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab it’s ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.

You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.

You’re met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.

Big mistake.

The hand tugs you.

You glance up.

And meet the eyes of Javier Peña.

“Easy, tiger,” he coughs up a laugh, like you don’t wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. “You trying to break my ribs?”

It’s no less than you deserves, you think.

And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.

You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you can’t smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.

He asks you how you’ve been, and tries his best to smile.

It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.

You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.

You come up empty handed.

Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.

Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?

There’s a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.

Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.

Wedding attire, a post-party glow.

It’s toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you can’t quite form of him tucking you into bed.

Had he smiled, then?

Had he even been there?

Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-

His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.

His eyes don’t greet your own. Instead, they’re focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.

“Hmm,” he’s so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.

He’s still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your father’s, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.

Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.

He’d slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.

“You suit the ring,” his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. “I prefer it to that stud.”

“I- What?” Confussion.

You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.

He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.

Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.

It’s hard to breath, but you do it anyway.

Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.

His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing it’s ball and failing to catch it.

You wonder if it’s a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.

And then you wonder if you’re the dog or the ball.

Or both.

“You never answered me,” his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. “I want to hear how you’ve be-”

“Peña, if you don’t report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, I’m putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.”

A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.

Your father’s voice.

It’s enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.

He’s not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.

He’s Peña, your dad’s best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.

His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.

Maybe it’s sadness you see.

There’s definitely remorse.

Guilt, too.

“We... Your dad caught the guy that’s been breaking into college girls’ apartments.” He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. You’ve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. “Do that and I’ll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commit an indecency within your parent’s bathroom.

But none of that matter, anymore.

You’re already walking away.

Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.

He calls out your name, loudly.

Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.

People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.

You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.

He reaches out for your hand.

And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.

“I’ll, um,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. “I’ll see you at the barbecue, right?”

He knows the answer.

You still give him it, “yes.”

Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think I’m alright

You’re laughing but it’s mostly fake.

A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that you’re still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.

She’s a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.

Today, she’s paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.

You’ve known her since you were a kid, even if you can’t remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dad’s height.

You’d got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.

That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.

It’s not her fault. You know.

She’s not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.

Your dad is.

And right now he’s stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier Peña’s shoulder clapped under the other.

Even from here, you can hear him bragging.

So then Peña’s on his ass.

Chases this guy, whilst he’s driving down the street!

Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.

All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your father’s praising.

He’s exaggerating.

The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!

He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.

Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.

He’s happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.

Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.

If you step inside the frame, it cracks.

Shatters.

And maybe he knows that.

Knew it all along.

Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.

And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.

The feeling lasts all but four seconds.

“Kiddo!”

Your father’s voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.

It takes a moment, but you wave.

“Come over ‘ere!”

Not the response you were hoping for.

Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.

Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.

“You having a good time?” Your dad’s got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you can’t bring yourself to ruin with the truth.

“I’m having a great time,” you barely manage out before he’s squeezing you into his side.

The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.

He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.

“I can’t believe it,” he laments, speaking to no one in particular.

In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

It’s hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.

Perhaps you’re going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.

It’s not a sight you want to see.

It fills you with dread.

Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.

“My little girl’s spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-”

“London.”

Javi’s voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.

All eyes snap to him.

Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely he’s staring back you.

Your mother’s, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husband’s.

Your father, confused and perplexed, “I- Yeah...” He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been, you know?” Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. It’s a nervous habit, of Javi’s. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. “To London.”

That peaks your interest.

Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a few times, actually. I’ve got some friends out there.”

With Javi, friends could mean anything.

A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.

For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.

So it’s best you don’t inquire on it.

“Where do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?”

“Mr... Bond?”

The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.

You can practically hear it, in his voice.

“You know, like James Bond.” That’s the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. “‘Cause you were an agent and you like London, and he’s an agent in Lon-”

He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.

The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.

And, though it goes unaddressed, because it’s been too long since he’d last done it.

Even if he’d done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard, corazón,” somehow, the words don’t bruise your ego.

Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.

His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.

“I’d need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.”

“Maybe I need a tour guide,” a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. It’s lulling you to sleep, at last. “Y’know, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.”

“I could,” he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and it’s hard to tell where he stops and you start. “I could check my calendar. See how many holiday days I’ve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.”

It’s too late though.

You’re already snoring against his skin.

“How does he know?” Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. “I mean, seriously, are you blind!?”

For a minute, it feels like she knows.

She knows why Javi knows.

You should be panicking.

Both of you should.

Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.

But you aren’t. Neither of you are.

You’re just staring at each other, as if you’re working to commit each other’s face to memory.

“He knows because you won’t shut up about it!”

Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.

Your mom rolls her eyes.

Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.

“Ok but,” your father’s back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least that’s the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. “I bet I’ve not told you what she’s decided to do on her travels!”

“You have,” your mother’s tone is pointed.

Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.

There’s a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.

You try ignore the fact he’d promised you he was working on quitting.

“Shh,” your father waves a hand in your mother’s face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.

Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.

Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.

Open, celebrated, acknowledged.

Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.

Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your father’s arm.

As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.

“She’s gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,” your father reveals. You’re frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. “What was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when you’re decorating the tree with your kids, you’ll think of the places you’ve been and tell them all about it?”

Your heart drops.

Javi’s seems to do the same.

For a moment, you worry he’s stopped breathing.

Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your father’s stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.

“Uh, yeah,” the ground can’t swallow you sooner. You’re already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dad’ll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him you’ve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. “Something like that.”

But I’m actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy

There are moments in one’s life where they must question their own sanity.

You’ve lived plenty of such moments.

But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.

And all because you heard his voice.

“This is what you’re craving?” Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. It’s hard to see what exactly he’s holding, though.

He’s facing a woman.

She’s pretty.

With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.

And a well-rounded belly.

“No, Javi, this,” she doesn’t say his name the same way you do- did. There’s a jovial tone, but there’s no awe, no seduction. Maybe that’s just what your bias hears. “Is what the baby is craving.”

You’ve never seen her before.

Not on the mantel of photos that line Javier’s television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.

She’s a total stranger, to you.

But that doesn’t mean she’s a stranger to him.

A very pregnant, non-stranger.

“We gotta get this kid some better taste.”

His hand rests on her bump.

She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.

The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.

The blood drains from your face. There’s a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

You won’t let it fester.

Take deep breaths, pretend there’s no shake in your exhales.

It’s not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.

Was she the reason things between you and him ended?

Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?

Was he with her, all along, while he was with...

Surely, he couldn’t have.

But, then, why couldn’t he have?

You were never exclusive.

You were never anything.

“Did-” Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. “Did it just kick?”

Your heart’s palpitating.

Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.

Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.

Because, how could he do this to you?

Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?

Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?

Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-

“He’s a real kicker, ain’t he?”

At first, you think it’s spoken to you.

But, no, it’s too distant. Too far.

A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.

He’s handsome, in the typical sense.

Blonde haired, a nice smile.

There’s a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.

“He?” It’s Javi who echoes.

“Don’t get him started,” the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.

The man nods, pride on his face, “I’m telling ya, Peña, it’s gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, ‘else I’m gonna be overrun by little girls.”

The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later he’s following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girl’s side and “little girls who I love very much.” Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. “I still want a son, though.”

“Olivia,” the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. It’s hard to tell if there’s a drool mark on the man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?”

The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.

The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.

Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.

And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.

Friends his own age.

Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.

Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girl’s eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffe’s tail.

“Glad you liked it, Olive,” curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. “I had to go all the way to Africa to find him.”

The little girl perks right up at that.

Eyes widened, head off her father’s shoulder.

“Really?!” She’s amazed, and how could she not be? Javier Peña is beaming at her, ear to ear.

“Mhmm,” he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll go back next year and get you a zebra.”

“Quit lying to my kid, Peña.”

Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girl’s smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath “Your dad’s a right grump, Olive.”

You begin to wonder how long Javi’s known this couple, how he knows this couple.

“Just wait till you’ve got your own kid and I’m feeding it lies.” The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javi’s forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. “Speaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?”

In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.

Your breathing stops.

Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, “not any time soon.”

“Really? What about that girl you’ve been seeing, the-”

“That- We- It didn’t work out, we wanted,” you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. “Different things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-”

“Sorry, can I just,” your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. “Grab one of those?”

You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.

They walk away and you’re left alone, again.

Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-

He’s no longer standing on the other side.

You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.

Try as you might, you can’t shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.

I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton

You wake up early.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re seizing the day.

Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.

The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.

The truth lies in that you can not sleep.

Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.

Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.

A quarter past six.

Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.

Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.

It’s picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt more gloom.

In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, you’re startled.

Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.

Your ringtone is the culprit.

Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.

Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.

You question if it’s one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find you’re not there, and press the green button.

“Corazón.”

It’s funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.

Anger that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier Peña’s voice in nearly two months.

Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.

“I- Shit, I can’t tell if I’ve even dialled the right number...” He’s muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. “... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-”

“I’m here,” it’s only a whisper.

It’s enough to shut him up.

Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.

“You’re in London,” he states.

“I am,” you affirm.

He hums, sips something.

Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.

“How have-” His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe it’s the poor connection. “Was your flight okay?”

“Yeah,” you spare him the details.

The truth.

The boredom, the turbulence. The fact you’re dreading the flight home.

“I’m glad,” he sighs the words out, worry going with them. “Know you’re not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.”

“I wasn’t alone,” it’s defensive, and ironic.

You sure felt alone.

“That’s right, corazón, you weren’t,” something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. “You’re never alone.”

“Are you...” The street’s a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and you’re still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. “Drunk?”

“No, I’m javi.” If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. “Had a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, that’s all.”

For a moment, it feels like you shouldn’t be here, in London.

You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.

Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.

You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.

“Why’d you call me, Javi?” It’s a desperate plea.

For answers, for clarity, for closure

“I wanted to hear your voice,” that’s too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. “Wanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.”

“It’s your fault,” that’s as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.

Even then, it kills you to do so.

“’S half my fault. Joder (fuck),” you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much he’s drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. “Wanted to give you my answer, too.”

Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.

You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.

“What answer?”

“Where you should visit, Mrs. Bond,” he says it, like it doesn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.

He’d woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.

“There’s this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, don’t you, corazón?” You nod, and it’s almost like he feels it. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But it’s some of the best gin I’ve ever had, in the greatest company.”

You try to picture him, sat amongst friends you’ve never met. Friends who don’t know your dad.

You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.

The image doesn’t quite form.

“Want you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier Peña sent you, and that you’ve not to pay.”

It’s like he’s given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace he’s sought out refuge in his lowest moments.

Refuge he’s willing to share with you.

That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.

You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.

“Promise me you’ll go, corazón.”

Your reply is instant, “I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” it’s solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didn’t work last time. “Enjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.”

“Javi, I-” the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. “Miss you.”

I’m gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner

“How you feeling, kiddo?”

You startle awake at your father’s voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.

“Not good,” he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. “Got it.”

Stepping off the plane, you’d managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.

All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.

Just till you’re back on your feet, she’d said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.

She’s not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.

Neither of them have, really.

“Actually,” your tone is matter-of-factly. “I almost smelt something earlier.”

“That’s great, kid!” And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. “Now we just gotta figure out if it’s your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.”

Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.

“Hey, I’m just saying! You’ve got the flu, you ain’t dying! Could be a little courteous to those who’ve gotta be around you and take a shower.”

“You’re literally in my room!”

“Which is literally in my house!”

Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.

Likely, she’s telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.

Making eye contact, you both can’t help the roll of laughter that comes out.

He steps a little closer, and that’s when you spot it.

Tupperware, clasped in his hand.

The contents are hard to decipher.

Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.

“Your mom said ya wouldn’t be up for eating much but, if you’re hungry,” he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket you’ve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. “One of the guys down at the station made you some stew.”

Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.

The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.

In fact, you can’t think of anything better.

“It’s a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.”

He’s popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes. 

Immediately, you spot chicken.

Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.

You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.

Your father continues, practically talking to himself.

“What’d he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?”

“Cazuela de ave.”

A change into warmer, drier clothes.

Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.

Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where he’d spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.

It would’ve only taken him seventeen minutes if he’d dropped you at your apartment.

And that fact is partly what warms your insides.

You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.

Objectively, you think, he’s gorgeous.

Yet the word somehow doesn’t seem like it’s enough to summarise him, when he’s making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.

He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of it’s contents over it’s edge.

And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.

The scent alone is enough to have you salivating. 

Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.

“It smells delicious,” you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.

And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.

Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.

A real date.

Only, this isn’t even a fake date.

You guys don’t do that.

“It’s- It was my mom’s recipe.”

Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.

He’s never mentioned his mother.

Or much about his family, really.

There’s the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dad’s ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.

But you’re no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.

A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javier’s existence.

Across the table, he’s relaxed. At ease.

Open.

His eyes, his mind, his heart.

And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.

“Was she a good cook?”

Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.

“No,” and he laughs at his own admission.

Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.

A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.

It’s disturbingly beautiful.

You wonder if there’s a life where it could be like this, always.

Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.

“No, she, uh,” he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. “She was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.”

You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing. 

It’s hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.

In spite of his reputation, and the career he’s undertaken, Javier Peña is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.

A modern-day hero, a knight who’s exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.

“Tell me more about her,” the words are out before you can reel them back in.

Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.

“She not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.” It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. “She was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time she’d be out on the field, driving the tractor.”

There’s something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.

Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.

“She was brave, too. I’d like to think I’m just like her in that respect. She didn’t let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,” he’s getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didn’t even know how to swim!”

You don’t know what to say.

You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.

Your stomach rumbles, but it doesn’t ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.

“Listen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,” still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. You’re still trying to process the possessive adjective he’d used to address you. My. His. “Eat up.”

Both of you settle back in your seats.

You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-

“Asi no, corazón (not like that, sweetheart),” he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. “You drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.”

Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.

When your lips part and rest against the bowl’s edge, he tilts it and you feel it’s warmth invade your mouth.

And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.

You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.

“Javi, this is...” You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and you’ll get your taste of the stew’s fillings. “Amazing. Your mum would be proud.”

Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.

“She would have liked you.”

You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.

They’re as open as before.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.”

“Kiddo?”

You’re ripped out your own head by your father’s voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.

“Hmm?” 

“You okay there? I was talkin’ to you but you seemed lost in thought.” There’s a little excitement in you father’s voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.

“I’m- Yeah, just tired, s’all.”

“Ok, let me know when you’ve finished your food,” he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. “Need to get the tupperware clean ‘fore I give it back to Javi.”

Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.

[winternet-s]

CAMPING IS FOR FALLING IN LOVE, ( r.miyagi )

، ✶ 🍚 ¿ ¡ ✷ we could stay out late until the sun sets past eight 𖤛 ⋆ 🧻 𖥉

summary : After Shohoku’s big win, you invite the team to your family’s camping site for a night under the stars. It’s supposed to be all fun and games—until Ryota Miyagi sees his chance to finally confess his feelings for you. With the fire crackling and the team teasing, he’s ready to open up… if his nerves (and Sakuragi's ego) don’t get in the way first.

notes : i loved writing that as u can tell sakuragi is my favorite 😔 plus be patient for misunderstood i'm trying to make the chapter long and bro it is hard !

warnings : slow burn - christian values and i think that's it

cw: 9,6k

━━━ 𝓘t was when the final whistle blows that the crowd exploded in noises. And it was at that exact moment that you felt yourself breathing, not even noticing that you were holding it. Every Shohoku player present on the court was drowned by their own sweat, still trying to catch their breath before finally erupting in cheers that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. Their voices rise in unison—triumphant shouts, laughter, and cries of victory filling the air. High-fives, fist pumps, and backslaps are exchanged, the adrenaline still coursing through their veins.

The public join in, their cheers merging with the players’, a deafening roar that surges like a wave through the stands. Banners are waved, chants grow louder, and the entire gym is alive with the electric buzz of success. It’s a moment of pure euphoria—one born of hard work, determination, and the thrill of knowing they’ve earned their victory.

"They truly did an amazing job," you couldn't stop the smile that was spreading on your face , your eyes still absorbed by the team's excitement. "And Sakuragi seems to improve day by day! Every game, he’s improving—faster, sharper. It’s like he’s finding his rhythm, piece by piece" Your eyes lingered on the red-head proclaiming himself as a genius.

Kakuta shot you a grin, waving his hand dismissively. “You’re being way too nice, [Name],” he chuckled, leaning back with a teasing gleam in his eye. “He was just lucky!” His voice was light, playful, but you could tell he wasn’t totally serious—just ribbing Sakuragi the way he always did.

You awkwardly laughed while remembering a few scenes where Sakuragi was — embarrassing because of his ego — clearing your throat you continued, "Don't erase the fact that he's improving quite fast, you did a good job bringing him in the club Haruko!"

The brunette standing beside you flushed at the compliment, waving her hands in front of her modestly. “Oh, no, no!” Haruko shook her head, smiling shyly. "I didn’t really do much… he’s the one putting in all the effort." She glanced over at Sakuragi, her admiration for his determination clear, though she was far too humble to take credit for it.

At that very moment, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sakuragi’s ears comically stretch and perk up like radar dishes, locking onto the sound of praise. His whole posture straightened up, and a huge, triumphant grin spread across his face.

“Nya-hahaha! Did you hear that, Ryo-chin?” Hanamichi’s booming voice cut through the conversation, puffing out his chest dramatically. “I’m improving fast! I’ve always been a genius, but even [name] can’t deny it anymore!”

Ryota groaned, glaring at him, while Sakuragi swaggered over to his teammates, throwing an arm over Ryota’s shoulders with exaggerated confidence. “You better catch up, little man, or I’ll be the star of this team in no time! You’re lucky to witness my greatness.”

The rest of the team exchanged amused glances, all too used to Sakuragi’s over-the-top ego boosts. Ryota shot you a look, half exasperated, half playful. "See what you started?" he said with a smirk, shaking his head.

You could only laugh at the scene, the red head antics were impossible to not laugh at and Ryota’s exasperated groans were impossible not to find amusing. Completely caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice the way Ryota’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as he admired the way your laugh lit up your face. But underneath that fondness, a small twinge of jealousy tugged at his chest. He couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the affection you seemed to have for Sakuragi, even if he knew it was just playful.

"How about me, [Name]?" Ryota asked, his brown eyes sparkling with a playful glint, but beneath the surface, there was a light note of hope. Not that you caught it.

"You make the point guard position look so effortless," you replied, smiling brightly. "You’re so fast and agile. Plus, you do look really cool while playing, Ryo-chin!"

At your words, Ryota's face broke into a wide, giddy grin. His whole demeanor shifted, as if he couldn’t contain his excitement. "Cool? Did you hear that?" He mimicked Hanamichi's earlier boasting, lightly bouncing on his feet. "She thinks I’m cool! Oh, man! I'm on fire today!"

His exaggerated, playful reaction earned a sweat drop from his teammates, masking the way his heart actually leapt at your words. He ran a hand through his hair in mock arrogance, hiding any trace of the hope that had been there a moment ago. "Looks like I’m winning on and off the court!"

Excitement filled your body from head to toe, a positive energy coursing through you. You let your feet carry towards the players, , the source of that joy. The noise of the gym swirled around you laughter, shouts, the slap of high-fives, but your focus was ahead, where the team stood, basking in the aftermath of their triumph.

Haruko by your side reflected your enthusiasm, taking your arm in hers, a soft smile on her face as the two of you closed the distance.

Once close enough you called for them, “Hey, guys!” The players paused, turning their attention to you. “I wanted to invite all of you to my family’s camping site this weekend! It’ll be a great way to celebrate the win and bond a little more.” You announced.

A collective murmur of curiosity rippled through the team, and you could see the surprise on their faces. Hanamichi’s eyes widened in excitement. “A genius like me deserves a break after this exceptional performance!” Hanamichi puffed out his chest, grinning widely as if the entire match had hinged on his skills alone.

Clearing your throat you deviated your gaze on the others.

"My family owns a camping site, and with the summer holidays coming up, I thought it would be, um, a good idea, you know? Like, we could all go and, uh, hang out, maybe? I mean, it’s a really nice spot—there’s a lake and everything! We could have bonfires, or maybe… I don’t know, roast marshmallows? Or, uh, play some games? If everyone’s free, of course! I just thought it’d be fun, especially after all the hard work you guys have put in… but if it’s too much, that’s okay, too! And with Anzai's agreement too-"

Suddenly, you caught yourself rambling, the words spilling out in a rush as you felt heat creeping up your cheeks. You stopped short, laughter bubbling in your throat. “Wow, I’m really going off there, huh?”

Ayako who once was speechless found herself amused by your antics and approached you. “You’re fine! It sounds like a great idea!” She nudged you gently, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Haruko chimed in with a warm smile, “Honestly, you just made it sound even more fun! Who wouldn’t want to roast marshmallows and hang out by a lake?”

You let out a relieved laugh, grateful for their encouragement. The tension eased, and you felt a little more confident about your invitation.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Ryota who was drinking water, a teasing grin on his face. “Oh, come on! Who wouldn’t want to spend a weekend with all of you?” he chimed in, his tone playful. “It’ll be a whole new adventure for the rest of the team!”

He paused, glancing at Hanamichi, who was enthusiastically pumping his fists in the air. “Except for Hanamichi, of course. He’ll be the one leading us into trouble, trying to wrestle bears or something.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image. Just then, Mitsui walked over, Rukawa following closely behind, catching the tail end of the conversation. “Yeah, Ryota’s right,” Mitsui chimed in with a grin. “I can already see it: Hanamichi trying to show off, and we end up in the middle of the forest because he thought he could talk to a raccoon.”

Rukawa only nodded to the shooting guard's statement. Hanamichi pouted dramatically, crossing his arms. “You guys are just jealous of my camping skills! You’ll see, I’ll be the best camper ever!”

The room filled with laughter, the sound ringing off the walls and creating a warm, cheerful atmosphere. Your heart swelled as you looked around at your friends, their faces illuminated with excitement and joy. It was moments like these that made everything feel right.

“Oh thank you Lord! it’s settled then! A camping trip it is!” you declared, your voice ringing with determination. A broad smile spread across your face as you beamed at everyone, your spirit infectious. “And I’ll invite Anzai-sensei too! He can help keep things under control with Hanamichi around.”

The thought made everyone chuckle again, and you felt a flutter of anticipation. You continued, “And we can’t forget to invite Sakuragi’s gang! They’ll bring their own brand of chaos, but it’ll be fun!”

As you spoke, a wave of excitement swept through the group, eyes lighting up with eagerness at the prospect of the adventure. The anticipation in the air was electric, each person feeling the thrill of what was to come. You imagined the nights filled with stories around a campfire, the laughter echoing through the trees, and the bond of friendship growing stronger.

The team cheered at the idea, their voices melding together in a joyful chorus that filled the space around you. As you took in the happy faces, your heart swelled with warmth. This was the start of something special, a weekend filled with adventure, friendship, and unforgettable memories. You couldn’t wait for the camping trip to arrive, knowing it would bring you all even closer together.

-

After that day you sure couldn't handle your excitement the d-day was approaching and you wanted to make sure, everything was perfect and that everyone would feel comfortable. Armed with a notebook and a pen you dove into a planning determined to make it unforgettable, but also eager to make a balanced schedule mixing fun and relaxation.

You spent hours crafting the perfect itinerary. There would be nature hikes in the morning, where the team could explore the surrounding woods and enjoy the fresh air. You made sure to highlight the best trails and included some scenic spots for group photos. For the afternoons, you planned various activities—friendly competitions, like a three-on-three basketball game, followed by a team-building challenge that would push everyone to work together.

"Okay perfect! Now the meals .."

But you didn’t stop there. You knew that a camping trip wouldn’t be complete without some delicious meals. You mapped out the menu with care, balancing easy-to-cook meals with everyone’s preferences. For the first night, you decided on a classic campfire dinner: hot dogs and veggie skewers, followed by s'mores for dessert. The next day, you planned a hearty breakfast of pancakes and fruit, ensuring everyone had enough energy for the day ahead.

Staring at your planning you couldn't deny the proud feeling that you had at the moment, you were excited not only for the trip but also to spend time with your friends out of a formal place, away from the pressures of basketball practice and school.

The day you finally shared your meticulously organized plan with the team, their faces lit up with enthusiasm. “Wow, [Name], you really went all out!” Haruko exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “This sounds amazing!”

Kogure, always the supportive friend, nodded vigorously. “Seriously! You’ve thought of everything. It’ll be a great way to bond as a team!”

Even Akagi, the usually stoic captain, couldn’t hide a smile. “This will help us build camaraderie off the court. Good job, [Name].” His praise made your heart swell with pride.

Ryota chimed in, “You’ve really put in the effort, and I appreciate that. This is going to be epic!”

But then, your excitement was interrupted by a wave of worry. “Like this, though—no surprises if someone doesn’t feel comfortable with some activities or…” You paused, suddenly flustered. “Wait, is any of you allergic to something or—” Your rambling turned into a cascade of concerns. “I didn’t ask about food allergies! What if someone can’t eat the hot dogs? Or if we go swimming and someone has a phobia of lakes? Oh no, what if Hanamichi tries to wrestle a bear and gets hurt?”

The words tumbled out before you could stop yourself, and you could feel heat creeping up your cheeks. You stopped short, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. “Wow, I’m really going off again ..?”

At the mention of bears, Hanamichi’s eyes lit up dramatically. “Wrestle a bear?! Pfft! I could take on ten bears at once!” He puffed out his chest, striking a heroic pose as he flexed his arms. “I’ll show them who’s the real king of the jungle!”

Everyone else stared at him, trying to suppress laughter. Ryota couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Right, because bears are totally scared of an overgrown monkey like you. Plus bears don’t live in the jungle idiot!"

Hanamichi waved his hand dismissively, undeterred.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his antics, the tension easing away as you watched the absurdity unfold. Ryota chuckled softly beside you, his expression a mix of amusement and fondness.

“Hey, don’t worry, [Name]. I’m sure everyone will be fine. Just ask them, and we’ll figure it out together,” he reassured you, his warm demeanor making you feel a little better. You remained oblivious to the way his eyes softened as he watched you.

“It’ll be an adventure, and we’ll all look out for each other, right?” you said, still giggling over Hanamichi’s theatrics.

As the laughter died down, Ayako’s gaze shifted between you and Ryota. A knowing smile crept onto her lips as she watched the way Ryota’s expression softened when he looked at you. There was a spark of something special in his eyes, a warmth that hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. She nudged Kogure, who was busy trying to stifle a laugh at Hanamichi’s antics.

“Do you see that? He’s totally into her,” Ayako murmured, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

Kogure chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, it’s been pretty obvious for a while now. But I think [Name]’s completely oblivious.”

Hanamichi, still hamming up his imaginary bear-wrestling scene, overheard just enough of their conversation to catch on. His ears perked up, and with a dramatic pivot, he pointed at Ryota and shouted, “Wait, what? Ryota likes [Name]?!”

The sudden outburst drew the entire group’s attention, including yours, though you didn’t quite catch what he said. Ryota’s face flushed bright red, and he turned on his heel to face Hanamichi, already regretting everything about this moment.

“Sakuragi! Shut up!” Ryota hissed, glaring at him. “You’re way too loud!”

But Hanamichi was already rolling with it, puffing out his chest as if he were some great mastermind. “I got it! I’ll help you win her over! Leave it to me—the great Hanamichi Sakuragi! This will be the greatest play of my life!” His eyes gleamed with determination as if he were planning some sort of heroic moment.

Kogure and Ayako exchanged amused glances, knowing where this was headed.

“Oh no, no, no,” Ryota groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t need your help, Sakuragi. Really, I’ve got this.”

But Hanamichi wasn’t backing down. He threw a confident arm around Ryota’s shoulder, giving him a hearty shake. “Trust me, Ryota! I’ll come up with the perfect plan! Like, you could rescue [Name] from something dangerous! Maybe a bear!”

Ayako burst out laughing at that, and Kogure covered his mouth to hide his grin. The others were already chuckling, but Hanamichi’s next comment sent everyone over the edge.

“Yeah! Ryota will save [Name] from a bear! And then, when she’s all impressed, he’ll confess his feelings!” Hanamichi was so caught up in his fantasy that he missed Ryota’s growing look of horror.

But then, Hanamichi’s face twisted as he suddenly processed his own words. “Wait... hold on!” he exclaimed, looking deeply offended as if a great injustice had been done. “Why is Ryota the one wrestling the bear?! Everyone knows I’m the strongest one here! If anyone’s gonna fight a bear, it’s gonna be me!”

He stood tall, puffing his chest out even more, as if the idea that someone else might handle the dangerous task was an insult to his abilities.

Mitsui snorted from the side, shaking his head. “Hanamichi, you do know no one’s actually fighting a bear, right?”

“Yeah,” Rukawa added coolly, barely looking up from where he was sitting. “You’d lose.”

“WHAT?!” Hanamichi whipped around to face him, fists clenched, his face turning red with fury. “I’d never lose to a bear! I’d have it pinned in seconds! Don’t you dare underestimate the great Hanamichi Sakuragi!”

The rest of the team erupted in laughter, completely caught up in Hanamichi’s wild overreaction. Even you couldn’t help but laugh, though you still weren’t sure why everyone was talking about wrestling bears all of a sudden.

Meanwhile, Ryota stood there, his face buried in his hands as he tried to recover from the whole embarrassing scene. “This is a disaster…” he muttered.

Ayako, ever the observant one, saw the way Ryota’s flustered demeanor shifted slightly whenever you laughed, his eyes lighting up at the sound. She nudged Hanamichi playfully. “Maybe you should save the bear wrestling for the professionals, Sakuragi. It sounds like Ryota has his own plan.”

Hanamichi huffed, crossing his arms in a pout. “Yeah, well, whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when Ryota messes it up!”

Ryota glared at him, then shot a quick, almost shy glance in your direction. “I won’t mess it up, you idiot…”

Completely oblivious to the undercurrent of teasing and tension, you let out another laugh. “Well, let’s just hope no one has to wrestle any bears during the camping trip, right?”

Hanamichi puffed up again. “Don’t worry! If there’s a bear, I’ll take it down in one punch!”

"Stop with that bear thing!"

The excited buzz from the team planning session lingered in the air as you gathered your things, still feeling the high energy of the conversation. Once the final details were ironed out, you couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride for putting it all together. But as you packed away your notes, you noticed Hanamichi hovering near the door, his arms crossed in a self-assured stance.

“I’ll walk you home, [Name],” he announced, a grin on his face as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Since when did I need you to walk me home, genius?” you teased, your tone light.

He puffed out his chest, clearly enjoying his role as the self-proclaimed protector. “Since always!"

You rolled your eyes with a smile, falling into step beside him as the two of you exited the gym. The cool evening breeze brushed against your skin, and the distant hum of the town’s nightlife filled the space between your playful banter.

As you walked, you found your mind wandering back to the camping trip, thoughts of the logistics and details creeping back in. “I just hope everything goes smoothly,” you muttered aloud, almost to yourself. “What if someone doesn’t like the activities, or—oh, no, I didn’t ask about food allergies! What if someone’s allergic to the marshmallows or the hot dogs?”

Hanamichi gave you a sidelong glance, noticing the shift in your tone from excitement to concern. He shook his head in mock frustration. “You’re overthinking it again. It’s just camping, not a battle plan. Besides, if anything goes wrong, I’ll take care of it. I am a genius, after all.”

You let out a laugh, his confidence impossible to ignore. “Yeah, because when it comes to problem-solving, I’m sure ‘Hanamichi Sakuragi: the genuis’ is exactly the kind of help we’ll need.”

Without missing a beat, Hanamichi puffed up his chest, striking a mock-heroic pose. “Of course! Nya-hahahaha!” His voice boomed with exaggerated bravado, making you giggle.

“Sure you will,” you replied with a playful eye roll, though your smile never left your face.

Despite his usual loud and overconfident manner, there was a sense of comfort that came with having Hanamichi around. He had been by your side for years, your childhood friend who always made sure to walk you home—even if he made a show of it. And while he talked big, you knew he meant it when he said he’d always look out for you.

As the two of you walked in companionable silence, the streetlights casting soft glows along the sidewalk, Hanamichi suddenly spoke up again, his tone less playful this time. “You’re always putting everyone else first, you know. Like with this camping trip—you’re making sure everything’s perfect for us. But don’t forget to take care of yourself too.”

You blinked, taken aback by his unexpected sincerity. “Since when did you get all wise on me?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood, but his words had hit home.

Hanamichi shrugged, glancing away as if embarrassed by the sentiment. “I’m always wise,” he said, though the usual bravado was missing from his voice. “Just… don’t overwork yourself, alright? We’ll all have a good time no matter what.”

The warmth in your chest grew, touched by his words. “Thanks, Hanamichi. I guess I needed to hear that.”

“Of course! I’m a genius at everything, including pep talks,” he declared, back to his usual over-the-top self. “Just leave it to me. And no more worrying about it, got it?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, grateful for the way he always seemed to know when you needed a little reassurance, even if he disguised it with humor. “Got it,” you replied softly.

As you reached your doorstep, Hanamichi stopped and gave you a small, sincere smile. “Alright, see you tomorrow! And remember—if a bear shows up, just call me. I’ll handle it.”

“Goodnight, bear wrestler,” you joked, waving him off.

With a final thumbs-up, Hanamichi turned and walked off into the night, leaving you with a lighter heart and the comforting knowledge that you weren’t alone in organizing this trip. Even if he was always a little dramatic, Hanamichi’s loyalty and friendship had always been unwavering.

-

The late afternoon sun bathed the street market in a warm, golden glow as the three of you continued your search for the last few items on your list. You were absorbed in picking out sunscreen and other camping essentials, humming quietly to yourself as you compared brands. Hanamichi and Ryota, on the other hand, had found themselves falling behind, distracted by the various street vendors and the usual chaos around them.

Hanamichi, ever the loud one, was grabbing random things from stalls and examining them with exaggerated curiosity. “What do you think of this hat?” he asked, plopping a wide-brimmed sunhat on Ryota’s head. “Too much?”

Ryota rolled his eyes, pulling the hat off. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s the look I’m going for.”

You glanced back, smiling at their antics. “Guys, focus! We still need to find a few more things for the trip.”

But even as you busied yourself with the task, Ryota’s mind was somewhere else. He kept glancing over at stalls, his eyes catching on various trinkets and gifts, trying to think of the perfect thing to get you. Something that showed how much he cared, something that was personal.

As they walked on, Hanamichi noticed Ryota’s distracted expression and smirked. “Oi, Ryo-chin, what’s with the face? You look like you’re trying to solve a mystery or something.”

Ryota blinked, snapping back to reality. “What? Oh, nothing, just… thinking.”

Hanamichi raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a knowing smile. “You’re thinking about getting something for [Name], aren’t you?”

Ryota rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. Just something small, you know? Something that’d mean something to her.”

Hanamichi’s smirk softened into a more serious expression as they walked. For all his bravado and loud personality, when it came to you, Hanamichi knew a lot more than he let on. After all, you were his childhood friend—someone he had known for years, someone he cared about deeply, even if he didn’t always show it.

“I get it,” Hanamichi said, glancing over at you as you sifted through a stall. “She’s always been the type to put everyone else first, y’know? When we were kids, she’d give up her snacks if someone didn’t have any, or spend hours helping with homework even when she had her own to do. She’s always thinking about others, making sure they’re okay.”

Ryota listened intently, surprised at how sincere Hanamichi sounded. “Yeah… I’ve noticed that about her.”

“And,” Hanamichi continued, his voice dropping slightly, “her faith’s a big part of that. She doesn’t talk about it all the time, but it’s there. It’s why she’s always looking out for people, why she worries about things like whether everyone’s comfortable, if we’re all taken care of. It’s just how she is.”

Ryota blinked, taking that in. “Her faith, huh?”

Hanamichi nodded. “She’s a Christian. It’s not something she pushes on people, but it’s important to her. When things got tough, like when her mom was sick a while back, her faith was what got her through it. I mean, she didn’t say it outright, but you could tell. She’d go to church, pray… It helps her stay grounded, I think.”

Ryota’s gaze flickered toward you as you chatted with a vendor, unaware of the conversation happening behind you. “I didn’t realize it was that big a part of her life.”

“Well, now you do,” Hanamichi said, his tone more serious than usual. “So, if you’re thinking of getting her something, maybe keep that in mind.”

Just then, Ryota’s eyes landed on a small stall displaying Christian jewelry—a collection of crosses, pendants, and simple charms. Something clicked in his mind as he spotted a delicate silver cross, its design simple but elegant. It was perfect.

Before Ryota could respond, though, they were interrupted by the sudden arrival of Sakuragi’s gang. Yohei, Ookusu, and Noma approached with their usual casual swagger, carrying bags of their own. Yohei raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, Hanamichi! Ryota! Looks like you’re stocking up for the trip, too.”

Ryota smiled and nodded. “Yeah, just getting some last-minute stuff.”

Yohei glanced between the two of them, then at you, still distracted with your shopping. He leaned in closer to Hanamichi, smirking. “So, what’s this about Ryota trying to impress [Name]?”

Hanamichi, of course, couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease. “Ryo-chin here is trying to find the perfect gift, something that’ll sweep [Name] off her feet. But he’s a little nervous.”

Ryota’s face flushed as he elbowed Hanamichi. “Shut up! I’m just… trying to get her something thoughtful.”

Yohei chuckled. “Sounds like someone’s got it bad.”

“Don’t worry,” Hanamichi added, “I’m sure she’ll love whatever you get her. Just don’t overthink it.”

As the group laughed and joked around, Ryota slipped away for a moment, returning to the jewelry stall. He bought the silver cross and the small leather-bound notebook, feeling a sense of satisfaction as he tucked them into his bag. They were simple gifts, but they carried meaning—something personal, something that connected to her faith, her love for others, and the way she always put everyone before herself.

When he returned to the group, you were finally finished with your shopping. You smiled at everyone, your arms full of bags. “Thanks for waiting, guys. I think we’ve got everything we need now.”

Hanamichi grinned. “You bet! And I made sure Ryo-chin didn’t buy anything too ridiculous.”

You laughed, not noticing the way Ryota’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer. His heart raced, but he managed to keep his cool. He’d give you the gifts later, when the moment was right. For now, he joined in the banter, keeping things light and easy, but knowing deep down that the trip would be the perfect chance to show you how much he cared.

-

The day had finally arrived. Similar to the nergy that you were giving, the sun was bright and warm, casting golden hues over the camping site. As you stood in the middle of the grassy clearing, taking in the calm before the chaos. The supplies neatly organized, and everything you had spent the past few days preparing was in place—food, sunscreen, even a first-aid kit, just in case.

You took a deep breath, feeling the slight tinge of excitement and nervousness dancing in your chest. Everything was ready—the only thing missing now was the team, Sakuragi’s gang, and your friends.

And there you could hear the faint sound of voices and laughs echoing. Moments later, the familiar figures of your friends emerged from the trees, with Haruko and Hanamichi in the lead both were conversing - he looks giddy, you thought with a small smile.

Until his eyes fell on you, "Hey, [Name]!” Hanamichi’s voice boomed across the field as he waved, already hyped up. “The genius has arrived! I hope you’re ready for the best camping trip of your life!”

You couldn’t help but smile at his energy, waving back. Behind him, Yohei and the rest of his gang followed, along with Ryota, Ayako, and the rest of the Shohoku team. Everyone seemed in high spirits, their excitement contagious.

“Hello everyone!” you called out, stepping forward to greet them. “I’m so glad you all made it! You’ll see camping isn’t as boring as people make it look! My family’s camping site is the best! We have everything—a beautiful lake, hiking trails, and my dad always has the best stories to tell around the campfire!”

You felt your excitement bubbling over as you continued, “I mean, we have great food! My dad makes the best hot dogs and s'mores, and the scenery is amazing! It’s the perfect place to unwind and just enjoy nature. You’ll see—there’s no way this is going to be boring! I mean, who wouldn’t want to spend a weekend camping with the best team ever? It’s going to be epic!”

As you rambled on, you noticed the team exchanging amused glances, a few sweat drops forming as they struggled to keep straight faces. Ayako stepped forward, her smile wide and playful. “Okay, okay, we get it! Your dad is amazing, and the food will be great. Just promise us you won’t keep talking about it all weekend, alright?”

You cleared your throat before apologizing.

Hanamichi crossed his arms, feigning annoyance. “Honestly, you sound like you’re trying to sell us on this camping trip! I get it; your dad’s great, but don’t make us feel bad about our own camping skills!”

Ryota, who had been leaning against a tree, watched you with a soft smile that spoke volumes. “I could listen to you ramble about your family’s camping site all day, [Name].” His voice was sincere, his brown eyes sparkling as they met yours. “It’s really great to see how passionate you are about this.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Thanks, Ryota! I just want everyone to enjoy themselves.”

He nodded earnestly, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “It really shows how much you care about everyone having a good time.”

You tilted your head, puzzled. “Uh, thanks? But, I mean, isn’t that what friends do?”

“Of course!” he replied, but his tone was slightly more eager, causing Hanamichi to smirk and glance at him knowingly.

“Looks like someone’s a bit lovestruck,” Hanamichi teased, crossing his arms with a grin.

You were oblivious to the undercurrent of teasing. “So, are we going to set up the tents or what?” you asked, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

“Right!” Ayako chimed in, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get started! The sooner we set up, the sooner we can enjoy the rest of the day!”

As the team began to move towards the area designated for the tents, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that Ryota was acting a bit different, but you shrugged it off and focused on the excitement of the camping trip ahead.

-

As the sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the campsite, you could feel the excitement bubbling in the air. "Alright, everyone! For our first activity, we’re going to set up the tents!” you announced, your voice ringing out above the chatter of your friends. The team gathered around, their faces lighting up with anticipation. “But here’s the twist! We’re going to see who can set theirs up the fastest! The winners get first dibs on the food tonight!”

The response was immediate—a chorus of enthusiastic cheers erupted from the team, filling the clearing with a sense of camaraderie and competition. Hanamichi, ever the dramatist, puffed out his chest, eyes gleaming with determination. “I’ll show you all how it’s done! No one can beat the great Sakuragi!” He struck a pose, hands on his hips, and a wide grin plastered across his face. Laughter followed, light and infectious, as the rest of the team playfully rolled their eyes.

“Just try not to trip over the tent poles this time, okay?” you teased, recalling past camping mishaps where Hanamichi’s enthusiasm had led to comical disasters. He huffed in response, his pride wounded but only momentarily.

Your father stepped forward, arms crossed with a knowing smile, clearly enjoying the banter. “So, who’s going to lead this expedition into the wilderness?” he asked, his tone teasing as he directed his gaze at Hanamichi, who stood with exaggerated confidence.

“Me!” Hanamichi shouted, puffing out his chest further as he embraced the moment. “I’m a camping genius!”

Your father raised an eyebrow, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “A genius, huh? Last I checked, you almost set our tent on fire during that camping trip when you were younger. What was it you said? ‘I can make fire like a pro’?” His laughter was contagious, and soon the entire team joined in, memories of Hanamichi’s previous escapades bringing about a flood of fond chuckles.

Hanamichi’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red, indignation clear in his voice. “Hey! That was one time! And I still managed to help with the marshmallows!” He crossed his arms, trying to appear tough despite the laughter directed at him.

As the team began sorting out their tent supplies, you noticed Ryota standing a little off to the side, brow furrowed in concentration as he prepared his gear. He looked so determined, and you found it kind of cute. Before you could dwell on it, your father leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, it’s nice to see everyone so excited, especially Ryota. He seems to be quite taken with you,” he said, glancing knowingly in Ryota’s direction.

You blinked in surprise, turning to follow your father’s gaze. Ryota was deep in conversation with Mitsui, laughter ringing out as they joked about the competition ahead. You shrugged off your father’s comment, genuinely oblivious to any underlying feelings. “What do you mean? We’re just friends!” you replied, waving your hand dismissively.

Your father chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the moment. “Sure, if you say so,” he replied, but the glint in his eye indicated that he wasn’t convinced. “Just keep an eye on him. You never know when a boy might start taking a special interest in his childhood friend.”

You shook your head, still not quite understanding. “We’re all just here to have fun camping together!” With that, you clapped your hands together, rallying the group’s focus. “Okay, everyone! Let’s get those tents set up!”

With a rallying cry, the teams scattered, each group diving into their supplies with enthusiasm. You joined your friends, the sound of laughter and chatter swirling around you like a warm blanket. Hanamichi immediately grabbed a pile of tent poles, launching himself into the project with reckless abandon, while Ryota moved methodically, glancing around to ensure everything was going smoothly.

Your father watched the scene unfold with amusement, a smile spreading across his face. “Looks like some are better at basketball than camping,” he joked, shaking his head. You could feel a wave of warmth at his support and encouragement, even amidst the light-hearted teasing.

As you positioned your tent, your eyes drifted toward Ryota. He was deep in conversation with Mitsui, animatedly discussing strategies for setting up their tent. You felt a flutter of admiration at the way he commanded the attention of his teammates, but it was a simple appreciation. The thought that he might have deeper feelings for you didn’t cross your mind.

“Alright, everyone! Time to see who can get their tent up the fastest! And remember, there are prizes at stake!” your father called out, igniting a spark of competitiveness among the group. Cheers erupted from the team, ready to tackle the challenge.

With your team in high spirits, you felt a sense of pride swell within you—not just for the tents that would stand tall by the end of the day, but for the bonds being strengthened in this beautiful outdoor setting. The laughter, the camaraderie, and the warmth of shared moments filled you with happiness.

As the tents began to take shape, you couldn’t help but smile at the chaotic yet joyful scene before you. This camping trip was going to be unforgettable, and you were determined to make the most of every moment.

The sun was shining brightly overhead, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor as you stood at the center of the campsite, ready to kick off the next activity. The group had just finished setting up their tents, and the excitement in the air was palpable. You gathered everyone around, heart racing a little as you prepared to explain the rules of the scavenger hunt organized by your father.

“Okay, everyone!” you called out, waving your hands to get everyone’s attention. “We’re about to start the scavenger hunt! My dad is leading this one, and he has set up a great list of items for you to find. This will be a fun way to explore the area and work together!”

As you looked around, you spotted Kogure, Haruko, Ryota, and Yohei in your group. Their eager expressions reassured you that the day was shaping up to be a blast. “The rules are simple. Each group will have to find a series of items from the list my dad created. The first group to find everything wins!”

Just then, your father appeared, holding a clipboard and sporting a grin that radiated excitement. “Remember, teamwork is key! Make sure to stay together and watch out for one another. There’s a little prize for the winning group, so I expect you all to give it your best!”

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at your dad’s enthusiasm. He glanced at you and winked, and you felt warmth spreading through your chest. But then he added, teasingly, “And no slacking off, Ryota! I know how you like to zone out when [Name] is around!”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his comment, glancing quickly at Ryota, who looked a bit sheepish but was clearly amused. He caught your eye, and you both exchanged a brief, nervous smile. For a moment, the atmosphere felt charged, but you shook your head to clear your thoughts, determined to stay focused.

“Alright, let’s get started!” you said, trying to bring the energy back up. “Kogure, Haruko, you two can help keep us organized! Ready, set, go!”

With a whoop, the group burst into motion. As you led the way, you began to feel a mix of excitement and nerves. Your father’s teasing comment lingered in your mind, making you acutely aware of Ryota walking beside you. You tried to shake off the feeling, focusing instead on the scavenger hunt.

“Okay, our first items are a red leaf and a smooth stone,” you announced, glancing at your list. “Let’s head toward that cluster of trees over there!”

As you navigated through the underbrush, you could feel Ryota’s presence next to you, and it both comforted and flustered you. He seemed to be scanning the ground intently, clearly focused on finding the items. You couldn’t help but admire his determination, which only heightened the butterflies in your stomach.

“Look! There’s a red leaf!” you exclaimed, pointing toward a particularly vibrant one hanging from a low branch.

“Nice spot!” Ryota replied, smiling as you both rushed over. Just as you reached for the leaf, your fingers brushed against his, sending an unexpected jolt through you. You quickly withdrew your hand, your heart racing for reasons you couldn’t quite understand.

You focused on the scavenger hunt to distract yourself, but it wasn’t easy. As you gathered the leaf, your father’s earlier comment echoed in your mind. Ryota was genuinely trying to help, but you found yourself feeling increasingly awkward around him.

As the group continued to search for items, you caught Haruko and Kogure gathering a few items in the distance. You felt proud of your team, but your mind kept drifting back to Ryota, who was trying to help you with the scavenger hunt. He noticed your distracted behavior and gently nudged your arm.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you replied too quickly, forcing a bright smile. You could feel your cheeks warming, but you tried to brush it off. “Just thinking about what we need to find next.”

Ryota looked at you with a knowing expression. “You sure? You seem a little… lost in thought.”

“Oh! Um, well, it’s just that we need to find a smooth stone now, and—” Your voice trailed off as you searched for something to say to divert the conversation from your swirling thoughts.

Before you could say more, Kogure’s voice broke through the moment. “Hey! Look what we found!” He waved a bright green feather, and Haruko held up an oddly shaped rock, both of them beaming with pride.

“That’s awesome!” you cheered, momentarily forgetting your awkwardness. “We’re still on the lookout for our red leaf and smooth stone!”

“Don’t worry; we’ll catch up!” Haruko said, playfully nudging Kogure, who was puffing up with pride.

As the scavenger hunt continued, you found the smooth stone and rushed back to join your teammates. The chatter and laughter around you felt comforting, but every now and then, you caught Ryota stealing glances your way. It made you self-conscious and yet inexplicably thrilled.

Finally, when the time was called, everyone regrouped, and your father tallied up the findings. “Looks like Team [Name] is the winner!” he announced with a grin, holding up a small prize bag filled with goodies.

You cheered with your group, feeling a swell of pride. But your thoughts drifted as you looked at Ryota, who was beaming at your success. The moment felt meaningful, and you couldn’t help but wonder what his smile meant.

“Alright, let’s celebrate with some lunch!” your father said, clapping his hands together. “You’ve all earned a good meal!”

With everyone buzzing with excitement, you took a moment to reflect on the scavenger hunt. You felt grateful for the friendships you had nurtured over the years and the memories you were creating, even as the stirring feelings for Ryota lingered in the back of your mind.

-

Lunch felt like the perfect reward after the excitement of the scavenger hunt, and as everyone gathered around, the spread was unmistakably traditional. Haruko and Yohei unpacked a variety of beautifully arranged dishes: onigiri stuffed with different fillings, tamago-yaki (sweet rolled omelet), grilled fish, and fresh vegetables. There were even a few containers of miso soup kept warm in thermos flasks. The familiar aroma of soy sauce, sesame, and seaweed filled the air, blending seamlessly with the natural scent of the forest.

Everyone sat down on picnic mats, chatting about the hunt and comparing the items they'd found. The conversation was light and cheerful, but you couldn’t help but glance over at Ryota every now and then, feeling a new tension you hadn’t noticed before.

After everyone had their fill of food, your father announced, “Alright, who’s ready for some fun by the lake? We’ve got kayaks, and those of you who just want to swim or relax by the water can do that too. It’s a bit of a hike, but nothing too tough after that meal!”

The group’s excitement reignited at the mention of the lake, and you all packed up quickly. The walk to the lake was filled with more laughter and friendly chatter, the path lined with mossy stones and towering trees. Ryota stuck close to you, but this time, you found yourself less anxious about it. His presence had become both familiar and comforting, and the awkwardness from earlier seemed to fade into something more intriguing.

When you arrived at the lake, the sight took your breath away. The water was a calm, deep blue, reflecting the sky and surrounded by thick trees. A few kayaks rested on the shore, while a wooden dock jutted out into the lake, perfect for those who wanted to dive in for a swim. The air here was cooler, the breeze carrying a refreshing hint of water.

Some of your friends immediately headed toward the kayaks. Haruko and Kogure paired up, already debating who would paddle faster, while Yohei stripped off his shirt and dove into the water with a triumphant splash. The scene was peaceful but lively, and you found yourself drawn to the calmness of the lake.

Ryota wandered over to the edge of the dock, motioning for you to join him. "Want to sit for a bit before jumping in?"

You nodded, walking over and sitting beside him, your legs dangling over the edge, just above the water. The two of you watched your friends in comfortable silence for a while—Haruko and Kogure laughing as they struggled to synchronize their paddling, Yohei floating lazily on his back, and your father enjoying the sight of everyone having a good time from the shore.

Eventually, Ryota broke the silence. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” he said, leaning back on his hands as he glanced your way. “Your dad mentioned your faith a couple of times. You’re a Christian, right?”

His question caught you off guard, but you nodded, curious about where this was going. “Yeah, I am. I’ve been a Christian for as long as I can remember. Why do you ask?”

Ryota hesitated for a moment, seeming to choose his words carefully. “I’ve always been kind of interested in that. It’s different from how I grew up, you know? And I guess… I’m curious about how it works. Especially when it comes to things like relationships.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a mixture of surprise and nervousness. “Relationships?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsure of how to phrase his thoughts. “Yeah. I mean, I know in some faiths, there’s a certain way people are supposed to approach relationships, right? Like, with certain values or… expectations? I don’t know, I’m probably not explaining it well.”

You smiled, touched by his interest. “No, you’re making sense. In Christianity, there are definitely values that guide relationships. Things like love, respect, and faithfulness are really important. And, well, being honest about your intentions with someone. I think the idea is that relationships are meant to reflect how God loves us—selflessly and with a purpose.”

Ryota nodded slowly, his gaze drifting out over the water. “That sounds… really different from what I’m used to hearing. My parents never really talked about relationships in that way. They were always more focused on other things, like school or work. But I think there’s something nice about the idea of being with someone for a reason, like it’s not just random.”

Your heartbeat a little faster as you considered his words. Was he just curious, or was there something more behind his questions? You could still hear your father’s teasing voice from earlier in the day, and now, it seemed to echo more loudly in your mind.

“I think it makes relationships deeper,” you said softly. “When you believe there’s a purpose behind them, it changes how you see the person you’re with. It’s not just about how you feel in the moment; it’s about something lasting.”

Ryota glanced at you, and for a moment, you felt as though he was seeing you differently. The look in his eyes was more thoughtful, like he was really taking in what you were saying. He gave you a small, almost shy smile. “That’s… pretty cool. I didn’t know you thought about things like that.”

Your heart fluttered at the sincerity in his voice. “I think about it a lot,” you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady. “Especially when it comes to people who are important to me.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of the water lapping against the dock and the distant laughter of your friends filling the silence. You felt that same charged atmosphere from earlier, but this time, it felt less awkward and more like… potential. Something was shifting between the two of you, and you weren’t sure if you should be excited or scared.

Ryota leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter now. “So, do you think... that’s something you’d want? A relationship like that?”

Your heart skipped a beat. Was he asking about your general beliefs, or was this more personal? You weren’t sure, but as you met his gaze, you realized something had changed. Maybe your father had been right, and maybe, just maybe, Ryota was seeing you in a new light.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, feeling your pulse quicken. “I think I would.”

Just then, Hanamichi called out, breaking the moment. “Hey, you two! Are you coming in, or are you just going to sit there all day?”

Ryota chuckled, shaking his head, and you both stood up. “Let’s join them,” he suggested, his expression brightening. As you walked together to the water, you felt a new sense of connection between you, something that promised to grow deeper with time.

Once you reached the shoreline, you all split into teams for some fun activities in the water. Hanamichi and Mitsui set up a light-hearted relay race involving swimming and kayaking, while the rest of the group gathered in the shallow end to play games. As you teamed up with Ryota, you felt a giddy rush of anticipation and nerves mingling together.

Ryota grinned, and you noticed how he looked at you with a newfound spark. “Ready to get wet?” he challenged playfully, splashing water in your direction.

With laughter spilling out, you splashed him back, the both of you fully immersing yourselves in the cheerful chaos. As the laughter and shouts surrounded you, you felt lighter and freer than ever, and the connection with Ryota grew stronger.

-

As the sun began its slow descent, casting a golden glow over the lake, the group gathered on the shore, preparing for their final activity of the day. Your father had planned a simple, laid-back session—painting on small wooden plaques, each person getting the chance to reflect on the day and create something meaningful to take home. The atmosphere was calm, the earlier excitement of the scavenger hunt and lake fading into a quiet sense of contentment.

The group settled on blankets near the water, the wooden plaques and paintbrushes laid out in front of you. Haruko was already chatting with Kogure about what she wanted to paint, while Yohei, never one to miss a chance to make a joke, was talking about painting a self-portrait “so everyone can remember his greatness.” Laughter rippled through the group, but as you glanced over at Ryota, you noticed he was quieter than usual, focused on something in his hands.

After a while, everyone got lost in their own creations, and the conversations became softer, more reflective. You dipped your brush into the paint, unsure of what to create but enjoying the calmness of the moment. The day had been perfect in its own way, but there was still something lingering in the back of your mind—Ryota’s earlier questions about relationships and Christianity. The memory of his thoughtful expression stayed with you, making your heart race whenever you looked in his direction.

As you worked on your painting, Ryota stood up and wandered over to you. “Hey,” he said quietly, his voice a little nervous but gentle. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Surprised, but curious, you nodded and stood up, leaving your half-finished plaque behind. He led you a little farther down the shore, away from the rest of the group, to a quiet spot near a cluster of trees. The soft breeze from the lake carried the faint sounds of your friends’ chatter, but in this moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Ryota took a deep breath, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he seemed to gather his thoughts. After a long pause, he pulled something from his pocket—a small cross necklace, simple but beautiful, glinting in the fading sunlight. He held it out to you, his hand steady even though you could tell he was nervous.

“I wanted to give this to you,” he said, his voice soft. “I know how much your faith means to you, and… I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said earlier. About how relationships are supposed to be about love, respect, and purpose. I don’t know if I fully understand everything yet, but I’ve been learning more—about you, your beliefs, and what really matters to you.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he continued, the weight of his words sinking in. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small notebook, its cover worn but neatly kept, and handed it to you. “I’ve been writing in this for a while now, just thoughts and questions about everything—about life, and faith, and you. I want to understand, and I want to do things the right way. So… I guess what I’m trying to say is…”

Ryota paused, his gaze steady but full of emotion. “I like you, [Name]. A lot. And I want to be with you, but I also want to respect what’s important to you—your faith, your values. I don’t want to rush into anything if it’s not the right way to do it. I’d rather get to know you better, in a way that honors what you believe.”

For a moment, you couldn’t find the words. The sincerity in his voice, the way he had thought about this so deeply, touched you more than you could have imagined. Your father’s earlier teasing seemed to have been more than just playful—Ryota had clearly been thinking about you in a different way for some time, and now he was standing here, offering you something real and honest.

Your heart raced, but you felt a deep sense of peace. “Ryota,” you began, your voice soft but steady. “I really appreciate this. It means a lot that you took the time to understand what’s important to me. I like you too, but I think… I’d like to take things slow. To get to know you more, the way my faith teaches me to. It’s not about rushing into a relationship—it’s about building something with intention, with respect.”

Ryota nodded, a warm, relieved smile spreading across his face. “I’m okay with that,” he said, his voice soft but certain. “I want to do this the right way, with you.”

In that moment, everything felt right. You reached out to take the cross necklace from him, your fingers brushing against his hand as you did. The simple gesture felt meaningful, like a quiet promise between the two of you. Ryota gently helped clasp it around your neck, and as his hands lingered near your shoulders, he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The gesture was sweet, respectful, and full of unspoken emotion. It wasn’t rushed or filled with the urgency of new relationships—it was thoughtful, careful, the beginning of something deeper.

As you stood there by the lake, the warmth of the necklace resting against your chest, you felt a deep sense of gratitude. Not just for Ryota’s confession, but for his willingness to respect your values, to take the time to do things the right way. And for the first time, you felt that the possibility of something meaningful with him wasn’t just a distant hope—it was something real, something you could both build together.

You glanced up at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Thank you,” you whispered, the words carrying more meaning than you could express.

Ryota smiled back, and in the quiet moment that followed, everything felt perfect. The future was uncertain, but for now, you both knew that you were beginning something special—something worth waiting for.

As you shared that look of understanding, the gentle waves lapping at the shore felt like the perfect soundtrack to your budding relationship. Hanamichi and Ayako exchanged glances, clearly thrilled by what they’d witnessed. With soft whispers and playful nudges, they continued to cheer each other on, completely happy for their friends navigating the thrilling waters of newfound affection.

winnie's talk: so if it seems rushed it is bc tumblr did not saved at some point and i got fed up - anyways please reablog, comment & like !

[cleolinda]

Creepypasta: Ted the Caver (2001)

There was a season of Are You Scared? that presented some actual famous creepypasta (pasta? pastas?), and I was so giddy about it. I love creepypasta and Weird Internet Fiction, and I recognized all the famous ones right off the bat; the moment there was a season preview and a cave was mentioned, I KNEW. So the episode with "Ted the Caver" instantly became one of my favorites ("GET IN THE FUCKING CAVE, TEDDY!!"). But it also kills me that the show presents the final installment as if it's the whole story: just one spooked, caveless guy wandering around meebling about his spelunking obsession. Buddy, there is SO MUCH caving in the full version, you don't even know. There is NONE MORE CAVING:

[Note: The original Angelfire site still works, but while I was researching this, I started running into malware. As such, I'm going to also link you to an unofficial mirror of the site at a creepypasta wiki.]

But I get it: there's no way to read the entire story aloud for a half-hour show. It was originally published as an unassuming hobbyist blog in 2001, and "Ted the Caver" is partly so effective because it is genuinely just an amateur caving blog for about 10,000 words. My understanding is that the author really is a caving enthusiast—I mean, he'd have to be, because the story is filled with actual photos of him and a friend chipping their way through a hole the size of a baseball into a cave they dub "Floyd's Tomb." So this was a real expedition... that the author wrote a delightful little spoop around.

Honestly, the real horror for me isn't even the Descent-style Something that seems to be living down there; it's the genuine terror of these fools squeezing themselves through eight-inch openings into the bowels of the earth, God bless. You can tell the mundane aspects are absolutely true to life, because the squeezing and the scraping and the panic—I'll just stop there, in case anyone has any phobias, claustro or otherwise. If I didn't before, I do now.

But it also has to be noted, "real horror" is what "Ted the Caver" is all about: the horror of a story backed up by reams of accurate detail and told through a really, really basic-ass Angelfire website. (I say this lovingly, as someone who had a shitty Geocities site herself.) It truly looks like it's just someone's blog—because that's mostly what it really is. Who wrote it? Well, an actual guy named Ted:

Well, I guess it’s time I add my two cents to the topic. My name is Ted and I am the author of the story you have been discussing. I am the original author. I created the story on my own and copied no one

...he wrote, in response to a plagiarism accusation (turns out the other guy copied him, and closely at that).

Between December 30, 1999 and February 24, 2000 Brad and I worked on a passage in Freeway cave. We made numerous trips, and spent many hours of hard work, before we were finally able to get through the opening and into the new section of cave. During the course of our adventure I kept a caving journal and documented our activities surrounding our attempts to be the first people to enter the new passage. Since we were giving friends and family members updates as we worked, I thought it would be a good idea to put my entire journal on a web page, along with our pictures, then we could simply refer people to the site. The thought then occurred to me: It sure would be fun to embellish the story a little!

Ted hasn't given his full name, but he is an actual Ted, it seems. And honestly, as much as I would like him to be credited as openly as Eric Heisserer is for "The Dionaea House," it really works in the story's favor that it's so difficult to figure out who wrote it. Not to spoil you, but the story told by the blog, much to Shane and Ryan's frustration in the video above, ends in a single puff of irony:

See all of you soon, with a lot of answers! Love, Ted

Magnificent. Because, let's face it: if a cave monster really did eat trap and eat your friend, isn't this what it would look like? No silly explanation for how a video camera somehow made it back to his friends and family from, like, the center of the fucking earth through a hole the size of a cantaloupe. No, your man there is just gone. And he's given enough detail in previous entries for you to imagine that what he finally came face to face with down there is Not Good. That's enough.

[skxllz]

(shhhhh I'm testing out a new fandom. this is just experimental. PS- let me know what I can do to better improve my writing for him.)

john shelby x fem! american! reader: to touch you, is to feel gold amongst my finger tips

+

“ shh- keep yer’ fuckin’ mouth shut, would’ya? ”

you giggled in a hushed manner while stumbling down the cobblestone path to the shelby manner. it was late- around one in the morning when you two set out of the car and down the road to the house, freshly smelling of alcohol and john's cigars from celebrating all night. it was your birthday, just having turned twenty three. given it was six months down the line that you and the shelby man had been eloped in an arrangement of sorts... john figured it'd be a good idea to wed you into his ideal web of fun. drinking, dancing the night away, possibly snorting some forbidden snow and better yet- causing a wee bit of trouble.

see, you were only eight months into pearling around birmingham. when you first arrived, you were seen as nothing more than an innocent, bobolyne (1) of a gal. wearing long, flowy skirts and cute tops sewn with what seemed to be faux pearls and jewels; smiling so kindly to whoever passed by you; having the jolliest of pep in your step over the smallest things. It was sickening to a lot of the folks, given their little quarry of a town was so used to being dreary and filled with... well, people who weren't like you.

that seemed to be a temporary stain on your name for a month – before polly gray, the shelby brothers’ aunt, caught site of you at the cheltenham races speaking brashly to an older man who just wouldn't keep his mits off of you. you backhanded him and kneed him in a very particular area, earning not only interest from the woman, but the utmost respect for not letting yourself to be whored out.

she unintentionally met your father, who spoke rather highly of you. the two mingled, she found out you were in need of a suitor, and the rest is history up until this point.

because of being wedged into the shelby family and in the protection of them, the town's people no longer looked at you funny. If they did, john would have his way them – as would his brother, arthur, since he took a liking to you.

“ m’not doing anything! ” you lightly hissed, trying to keep yourself upright in the green wedges you wore. there was barely any height given to you, yet the heal was just not agreeing with your drunken state, leaving you to almost fall more than once.

john made a face of agitation, clicking his tongue. “ y/n; you're ready to fall on your bloody face, for fuck's sake. ” he yet again tried to take ahold of your wobbly body, going in for your arm which had stretched out so you could balance yourself, but you once again shooed him away. even though it's been a short amount of time, john's come to realize you were not like any woman he's met; you were a stubborn broad. he admired that, though. surprisingly..

“ you know what? ” john muttered to himself, before he spat the toothpick he had between his lips to the ground- only to bend at the knees to scoop you into his arms. the sudden weight of his bicep under the backs of your knees ripped a gasp from you, making you react on instinct to wrap your arms around his neck.

“ john! ” you looked at him with half lidded, sleepy eyes and whined. “ put me down! I can walk on my own. ”

he paid no attention to you, choosing to look ahead with his lips drawn together in a flat line. he scoffed once he heard what you said, trying not to roll his eyes. “ right- ‘cause you could certainly make it up the walk way without runnin’ into the wall and bustin’ yer’ arse. I believe you, sweetheart. ”

you were too out of it to notice his attitude, but you did pick up on the slight sarcasm. “ shut up... ” you huffed, glaring at him; arm lifting to lazily smack him. he immediately looked down at you after that. “ you're just mea- ”

“ say I'm mean, love, and I'll show ya’ how actually mean a shelby can be. ” john interrupted before you could even finish your thought. “ if anythin’, I believe I've treated you quite fairly. had it been anyone else, you'd be kickin’ an’ screamin’ right now. ”

turning his attention forwards again, he took your silence as a good thing - for now, anyway. “ now – be a good girl and hush yer’ mouth, yeah? don't need t’be wakin’ the whole house with yer’ loud gob. ”

It wasn't until john heard a rather small sniffle, barely audible, moments later did he stop in his tracks. he looked down, only to see you looking away from him with teary eyes and a quivering lip. you were not an emotional person, but getting drunk always toyed with your brain to where you'd get easily offended. so in a way, you were an emotional drunk. It could be quite annoying on your end, because even though you got upset over little things, you didnt want to - which only made you more upset. and being more upset, made you even more upset. the cycle just kept going which would eventually lead you to balling your eyes out.

fortunately for john, he wasn't oblivious to this act within a drunken state. when ada was younger and first started her fair share of booze, she'd get emotional as well, leaving her brothers to coddle her in someway because any chap that even tried to sweep her away, arthur and thomas would see to it.

with a sigh, john pondered in his head on how to approach this situation with ease without accidentally hurting you more. he could have quite the temper at times - as well as say things a bit harsher than meaning to, and it could break the dam that was barely holding your tears upright. that is something he didn't need nor want to happen. everyone in the house would awake from the fuss, and he'd be left to feeling like an asshole for making his future bride, cry.

“ sweetheart... ” carefully, he set you down - but immediately you stumbled from not being fast enough to catch the door. due to this, john quickly fastened an arm around her waist as he stood - thankfully, it cracked a small smile from him. “ careful. don't need you breakin’ somethin’. ”

you had looked at him, chin downcasted just a bit, making your eyes seem larger and doe-eyed. lip stuck in a jutted pout with the tiniest line of mascara running down your cheek, you appeared to look like a little kid planning on getting payback; just, with the way you looked, so devilish yet cute.

it pulled on John's heart strings.

“ don't look at me like that... ” he mumbled, lifting his free hand to caress your cheek into a gentle cradle of his palm. “ ya’ know I fuckin’ hate it when you give me those eyes. I can't resist ‘em. ”

(I'm stopping here. this was only an experimental piece. I did plan on finishing it, but for now I'd just like opinions on this.)

[l3viat8an]

For Asmo eh? Then may I please ask for a scenario? Mc surprises Asmo for a spa date but it ends in sex please

@crazyyanderefangirlfan

Nsfw content MDNI

Giggling like a fool writing this one~! it might not be perfect but I had fun with it! Thanks for requesting Yan <3 CW: possible typos I’m sorry and dyslexic Fem!Reader, lots of kisses! + an attempt at plot for a change- Pet names and fairly soft sex honestly.

Asmo’s always treating you to the newest spa treatments or taking you to the hottest places in the Devildom! So what better way to celebrate his birthday? and get some alone time!- then to take him out to a little family owned spa you’d found a few days earlier while scrolling through the Devildom equivalent of google.

You’d made reservations to have the whole spa to yourselves and everything!

The morning of his birthday you surprised Asmo with the reservation and after getting a few kisses as thanks ofc~ the two of you drive to the little spa.

Almost immediately making your way to the little on site hot spring~

Asmo’s holding your hand and laughing the whole time, “Sweetie~! This is amazing, come on let’s get in already!” Asmo starts half tugging at your shirt to help you strip and you laugh. “I can undress myself Asmo, how about you get the robes? They should still be in the house.” Asmo nods, giving you one last kiss on the cheek and running back inside.

You sigh happily and look around the little walled yard, stepping back inside for a moment to take off your clothes, you start blushing. Even though you know. Nobody else is here it’s still a bit embarrassing to just strip on the back porch. But you hurry up, setting your clothes in a neat little pile off to the side and then half running to get into the warm water. Just as the water hits your chest, you can hear Asmo’s footsteps then giggling, “Oh, my~ what a view~” he teases as you turn to face him sinking into the water a little more, “Just hurry up and get in.” You half pout, looking up at Asmo (who already changed into his robe inside) “I’m coming~ I know, you just can’t wait to see more of me~” Asmo keeps teasing you as he slides his robe off. Setting in with yours on a nearby rock and walking into the water. Immediately walking over to you and pulling you in for a kiss. “Hehe~ I really can’t thank you enough sweetheart! This is an amazing birthday present.” you laugh and kiss him again “It’s not much. But I’m glad you like it.” Asmo gasps “Not much? Sweetie, I don’t know many people who would rent out a spa for me.” “Any of your fans would.” You counter and Asmo rolls his eyes “But I wouldn’t have fun with them! It’s only special because I’m with you~” Asmo kisses you again, nipping at you bottom lip, before sliding his tongue into your mouth. Leaving absolutely no room for argument.

——————————————————————————

Stepping out of the warm water about an hour later, you use the towel provided and dry off a little bit before slipping into your own fluffy robe.

Asmo gets out behind you, you turn to watch, enjoying the way water runs down his shoulders over his chest and lower~ “You’re staring sweetheart~ although I can hardly blame you!” Asmo giggles walking over to you and dying his hair a bit before slipping on his own robe “So? What’s next?” He smiles at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Next, is a massage! Done by yours truly~” you grin. Grabbing Asmo’s hand, taking him back inside to one of the little side rooms that’s set up like a massage studio.

Entering the room you look around a bit, before tuning back to Asmo and making a ‘ta-da’ motion.

Asmo looks around and his eyes land on the massaging table, he grabs your hand again and walks over, gently setting you one the edge, “Lay down, sweetie~”

His voice is so soft, so sweet, and your already relaxed body melts at the sound of it. But wait! You’re supposed to be treating him and you say so, “But Asmo-“ “No buts! You’ve already spoiled me today! and I promise this is what, I want~ now, lay down.”

You huff out one more protest and Asmo leans forward and kisses you to stop it “Just lay down~” you do as you’re told, slipping out of your fluffy bathrobe and fully laying down on on your front.

You’re completely naked for a minute at most another moment before he drapes a towel across your backside. You wonder why he covers you, considering he’s still as nude as the day he was born. Not that you mind. You just don’t see the point as you turn your head to watch Asmo.

You watch as he pours some rose scented oil into his hands and warms it between his palms, slowly as if he’s putting on a show (ofc he is~) coating his fingers with it. You sigh in anticipation, resting your cheek on your folded arms.

Asmo’s hands are so soft as they begin to work at the knots in your back, feather light touches mixed with hard rubbing to keep you relaxed, his hands feel so warm against your skin as, they work your skin with skill and care.

A sound like a moan, or a whine, slips past your lips as hands roam higher and his thumbs rub firm circles into your shoulders, practically evaporating any tension present in your muscles.

Asmo only just started, and your body already feels like jelly.

“Lucifer’s been working you too hard! If only he could feel these knots he’d be ashamed.” Asmo says working another knot out of your shoulder before, his hands move down your back. “No…..well maybe a bit….” you trail off, before sighing contentedly as Asmo’s hands move lower.

Asmo almost laughs at the way your our argument died in your throat and places a few light kisses down the middle of your spine. “Seriously, your muscles are too tight!” Asmo tries arguing again, and you cut in, “I thought you loved that about me~” you tease and Asmo gasps dramatically “Hey! You know I do~! And that’s not what I meant.”

It’s your turn to gasp as his thumb presses a particularly tender spot and a wanton moan slips past your lips.

His hands smooth over the length of your back, from the nape of your neck, to the very all the way down to the top of the towel, carefully, sweetly, rubbing and caressing your skin ever inch of the way,

Suddenly Asmo stops for a second and squirt a little extra oil on your skin. You squeak out a small protest at the cold oil, and Asmo only lets out a small laugh before he’s back to touching you.

All the way up your spine and back down, a little lower this time, as his fingers slip underneath the towel, just barely running his finger tips over the curve of your ass.

Asmo does the same thing again. Up your back and then his hands slip underneath the towel moving a little further the second time.

You half wonder again why he covered you? The towel really is pointless after the bath.

With that thought in mind you reach one hand down and tug it off, a satisfied hum leaving you when the towel hits the floor, you can hear the amused giggle Asmo let’s out at, your action, and the little “What a tease~” he whispers before he takes it as an invitation to massage your hips, and then your ass, fondling and rubbing over the newly exposed skin.

You sigh and let out your own happy giggle as his hands, feeling another kind of pleasure start building up inside you as Asmo moves to work on your legs, tenderly squeezing at the soft skin. You gasp and sigh quietly as his thumbs dip between your legs, hands softly brushing the your inner thighs, not even an inch away from where you’re starting to need them. To need him.

You’re so relaxed and happy and aroused. Your thighs press together at the tingling sensation builds between them. Asmo’s thumbs travel dangerously close to your wet pussy again, though he pulls his hands away before he can touch you there.

A few more teasing kisses across your lower back before he pulls away, humming in thought, “Maybe we should move to a different bed~?” he suggests his voice still light and soft, “Asmo…need you now…please?”

Asmo giggles one last time and helps you move to sit up on the table, facing him, as he steps between your legs, his lips meeting yours for a few more quick kisses.

You can feel his hard on into presses into your stomach as you keep kissing him, finally tugging his robe off.

You feel a wave of satisfied pleasure when you see just how hard he is as his robe falls to the floor.

As his lips move to your neck in hot open mouthed kisses, his hand snaking lower again moving over your tummy, still traveling lower and you feel a little jolt of pleasure as his skilled fingers start playing with your clit.

Moans fall freely from your mouth, and Asmo loves it. Every sound you make is like a little reward for him~

The pleasure builds within you, but he’s not ready for you to cum yet.

Slowly easing up when you get too close, “Asmo…please?” You whine again and he only smiles at you “Soon, MC, soon. Just hang on to me~”

Asmo pulls away from your clit and hooks one hand under each of your thighs wrapping them around his as he stays standing beside the table, letting go of one of your legs Asmo moves to angle his cock so that his it’s head sits just inside your wet hole as you brace for the stretch.

Asmo might not be the biggest demon you’ve taken, but he’s still on the larger side and every time he fucks you, you feel so full~ and he takes Great pleasure in that~

He’s slow as he slides into you, letting your body adjust, and take in every inch.

“Oh~ MC~” he moans in your ear as he stops his thrust, finally “So good for me~ my perfect little present~” Asmo sighs against your lips as he starts moving his hips again

“Asmo~” you moan out as he begins to fuck you, “Yes~? I’m right here sweetheart~” Asmo can’t stop teasing you as he moves to kiss his way down you neck and across your chest.

Moaning his own appreciation for you~ and the pleasure you give him.

You shakenly nod as you whimper, “You’re doing so good~ always so good for me, taking everything I’ll give you right~?” “Mmmhhh!”

You can only nod and moan as you feel your high getting closer, Asmo can feel it too and he slides a hand back down in between the two of you and starts, playing with your poor clit again and that’s all it takes for your orgasm to come crashing over, your body shakes as Asmo keeps moving “Almost, ahh~ almost sweetie~ just hang on to me ‘kay?” as if you could do anything else as you grab onto his shoulders as he overstimulates you.

A few more thrusts and he’s cumming inside you. Asmo’s breaths become a high whine of pleasure as he does so and he kisses you eagerly.

A few minutes of heavy breathing and soft kisses, pass before Asmo asks with a smirk on his lip,

“Feeling loser now?” You playfully smack his chest as Asmo frowns “Ouch!” “Oh, you know I feel better! But what about you~” you move to kiss down his neck this time and he eagerly bares it for you, “Welllll, I wouldn’t mind going again~ it is my birthday after all~”

[ben243s-transformation-stories]

A harmless prank

Ah, you’ve got to love our educational system. School was canceled because of a teachers strike. They claimed they were striking for better pay, or training or some other such nonsense that was supposed to make out lives as students better. Of course, most of the time actually being in school and learning would have been better than sitting around at home goofing off. But it’s all for the kids. Yeah right.

So anyway, I had nothing better to do with my day than hang out with my friends and get into mischief. Everyone should know it’s never a good idea to leave teenagers unattended for long periods, but my parents didn’t have the luxury of taking off every time the teachers decided to go out on strike

I had just spent the morning with my friends, and was feeling kind of amped up and was in the mood to see what kinds of things I could get away with.

The area of town I lived in was fairly quiet and rural. There weren’t really any good places to go, or even a mall to hang out in, so I found myself lying on my bed tossing a ball in the air while i tried to come up with some kind of plan.

I was never one to get into too much trouble, and generally stuck to the rules. Today, though, something must have been in the air because I was especially restless and ready to see how far I could push my luck.

I couldn’t think of anything else to do, so I decided to have a little fun online and started searching for interesting websites. I scrolled for nearly half an hour before one finally caught my eye.

I’m not entirely sure what drew me to it, but I landed on my city’s government website. I had never really had cause to browse it before, and I was amazed by how many options it had, and the array of things that you could do totally online. Most would have taken the full day to do in person, but could be completed in minuets on the new site.

I couldn’t help but be amazed as I scrolled through the options. I stared to get a seed of an idea forming in my head. I should pick something and fill out the form and see what I could get to happen. At the very least I would waste some bureaucrats time, At best I could maybe cause some huge scene with the police or fire department. A grin spread across my face.

I browsed the site for a while longer, but nothing really met my requirements for my masterplan to cause havoc. Most of the options were fairly mundane and boring. Nothing worthy of my time. Except………

I clicked on the link for their new online pet registration page. Something felt right. This was the page I had been looking for. I decided to set my plan into action, Granted it wasn’t well thought out, but hey what do you expect from a bored 14 year old boy?

I brought up and read through the forms. Nothing too complicated just basic details. it looked straight forward enough. I started entering my real details in the fields, age, height, weight, etc. I even listing my parents as my owners, and uploaded my recent school photo. Under species I checked canine, and chose yellow lab for breed. I decided to list my name as the nickname my parents used for me “Sammy”.

I looked over the completed form and smiled. No way they would accept it, and at least it would waste some poor bureaucrats time reading and deleting it. Oh boy, I am such a reprobate now.

Satisfied that I had done something awesome, I clicked submit. A few seconds later I got an email confirmation that the form had been received. I waited a while to see if I would get some error notice, but nothing came. Oh well, maybe they have a lot of submissions to go through.

I gave up and decided to boot up my playstation and catch up on my games. Before I knew it it was time for dinner. After a good meal and little conversation with my parents I headed to my room to watch tv. Before I knew it, I was drifting off and decided to head to bed.

I forgot all about the form until about a week later. My mom had grabbed the mail and brought it into the dining room to read. I noticed the envelope for the one she was reading was from the city, but I didn’t think anything of it until she looked over at me.

“Samuel Benjamin Waldorf?!?!?! What have you done?” She asked me. You know you’re in trouble when they use your full name. I gave her a quizzical look, not exactly sure what she was talking about.

She turned to my father and started to read the letter out loud. “Thank you for submitting your registration for your dog “Sammy”. It has been approved and ….” She read on for some time and rattled of a bunch of legal jargon I had no hope of understanding. The bottom line was that I was now fully registered and classified as a dog in their system.

And to make matters worse,The letter said my “owners” had Just 72 hours to get me the required vaccines and license or there would be fines and penalties. My parents spent a number of those 72 hours yelling at me for being stupid, and how could I do something like that, all the typical parental things.

Once they had calmed down, they found a customer service number, and celled. The person they talked to tried to be patient and polite with them, but had to keep telling my parents that all registrations were final. Defeated my parents discussed what they should do next.

Since the deadline was looming, and there didn’t seem to be any way to resolve the issue quickly, they decided that I should comply with the mandate.

My mom called the vet, and explained what had happened. After a fairly awkward conversation, on both sides I’m sure, I had an appointment for an exam and shots in the morning. I always hated going to the real doctor, and this wasn’t anymore appealing to me. I tried to get some rest, but I kept tossing and turning.

I must have fallen asleep for at least a few hours, because my mom came into my room, shaking me to wake me up and make sure I was ready in time for the appointment. I was still half in a daze, but I managed to throw some clothes on and make it to the car.

My mom drove me to the vet hospital, which we hadn’t been to since our last cat passed away a few years ago. We went inside, and mom told me to grab a seat while she checked me it.

Mom talked to the receptionist, pointed at me a few times, and was given a clipboard with a stack of forms to fill out. She brought them over to where I was sitting, and sat in the chair next to me.

It seemed like it took her hours to fill out the forms. Every once in a while she would ask me for some detail or other she needed for the form. While she worked I idly look around the office. It hadn’t changed much from the last time we had been here.

When she was finally done, mom took the forms back to the desk and we were led back to an exam room. I was told to disrobe and sit on the examining table. I looked at my mother, and she gave me that look that every kid knows means “don’t you dare argue- just do it.” So i quickly stripped out of my clothes and sat on the table. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything as cold as that exam table in my life.

A few minuets later, the vet came in a greeted us. He looked at me as said “this must be Sammy.” The vet spent a few minuets looking over the forms and talking to my mother. it felt a little strange to have my medical history talked about like I wasn’t in the room, but I guess that was standard practice for a Vet. Most of their patients didn’t talk back.

It wasn’t long before he stared the exam. He poked me and prodded me all over. He examined my ears, eyes, and mouth. I tried to keep my privates covered and maintain some modesty, but it was no use. He drew several vials of blood for tests, and even used a rectal thermometer to get a temperature. I never felt so humiliated in all my life.

Remember when I said the table was the coldest thing I’d ever felt? Well it was nothing compared to the stethoscope. He most have kept that thing in a liquid nitrogen freezer. I drew in a sharp breath when he put it on my skin and could barely handle it while he listened to my breathing and heart beat. He even reached down and palpated my testicles.

When he was done, he told my mother everything looked good, and he would let her know when the blood work came back. He, jokingly i hoped, suggested neutering me.

He then proceeded to fill several large syringes full of various vaccines. When he was done, my mother, worrying about me as she always does, asked the vet to include a microchip. I never liked needles and almost fainted at the sight of them.

Luckily the Vet was skilled, and I barely noticed as he plunged each one into my skin and injected the liquid. The vet grabbed the microchip and inserted it under my skin between my shoulder blades.

The Vet filled in all the forms and gave them to his tech, who took them to be entered into the computer. He told my mom we could head up front in a few minuets and his receptionist would have the proof of vaccinations and microchip forms ready for us. She thanked him, and he left so I could get dressed.

When we got to the front, everything was ready for us. My mom paid the bill and received a stack of forms i would need for my license. They event threw in a puppy kit with some food, treats and other essentials for me.

Mom took me back to the car, and had me sit in the back. Something I hadn’t done since i was little. She said it was where dogs belonged.I was still sore and embarrassed by the whole thing, so I didn’t feel like arguing. I hopped into the back seat and just enjoyed the ride home.

Once we got home, I gave my parents the passwords and login I had used on the city website, and they sat down to submit the forms and paperwork to get my license. I will give the site this, it may have its flaws, but it sure made the process easy. It only took them about 15 minuets to get everything entered.

They were even able to print out a temporary confirmation until the official form and tags arrived.

I was now officially licensed and registered as my parents pet dog. I thought the worst of my problems were over. Even if we couldn’t get the registration reversed, what harm could it do? Just renew the license every few years, and i would be good right?

It turns out it could do a lot of harm. What had started out as a joke was having serious consequences. My dad had gotten a call from the school district while I was at the vet. They informed it that since I was no longer classified as a human, I was not eligible to be enrolled in school.

Apparently my registration had spread through the other databases connected to the city system. Now all of my official records, even my birth certificate listed me as a canine. Not only was I licensed and registered as a dog, I was legally classified as one as well.

We sat around the table and had lunch, then my parents sent me to my room while they had a little “talk”. We all know what that means. I was in some serious trouble. I sat in my room trying to overhear what they were saying, but it was no use.

They talked for quite a while before I heard one of them leave. I glanced out my window and saw Mom heading to her car. I wondered where she might be going. I didn’t want to make my Dad angry, so I sat on my bed and watched tv until he called me down.

“Sammy”, he said, “Seems like you have gotten yourself into quite a predicament. Since you seem to want to be a dog, and now thanks to your little prank, you are one legally, your mother and I have decided that your role in the family should shift to that of the family pet.”

I couldn’t believe what i was hearing. Did he actually expect me to live as a dog? Sure I was one. legally, for now anyway. We could have that fixed right? this seemed a little extreme.

I took a look at my father. Every kid knows when it’s not worth arguing because your just going to lose and make things so much worse for yourself. Begrudgingly I gave in and said “OK, if you think thats best.”

Dad looked pleased and said “Good boy. Now lets get you out of those silly clothes” I started removing my clothes slowly, but Dad came over and pulled them off a little roughly. Then my Mom stepped over carrying a few bags. I recognized them from our local pet store. She pulled out a collar and fastened it around my neck. She then attached an Id tag that read “Sammy” with our address and their names as my owners.

My mom produced a dog bed from the bags and placed it in a corner of the living room. She then pulled out a pair of metal dog bowls, showing me that she had engraved my name on them. She took those into the kitchen and told me I would be fed there as long as I was a dog.

She had also purchased a few other things every dog needs, Some toys, and a variety of flavors of food, along with a few other essentials. I could tell they were serious about this and I would be filing the role of family pet for the foreseeable future.

I spent the next few days getting used to walking on all fours, being naked, using the bathroom outside, and being taken for walks. They even used some youtube videos to help them teach me basic tricks.

I wasn’t allowed to see my friends, play video games, or watch tv. I spent a lot of my time outside exploring the back yard and the little wooded area behind it. I was never one to spend a lot of time outside before, but I was oddly fascinated by every little thing I found.

After about a week, I decided that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. My parents were spending more time with me, and I enjoyed the attention, and much to my surprise I enjoyed being petted. It was certainly better than going to school.

The more time I spent in the role, the more comfortable I became as a dog. I hardly noticed as my thoughts and behaviors started shifting and becoming more dog like. If my parents noticed, they didn’t say anything.

After about a month, I had fully integrated myself into the role of family pet. I was thinking and acting just like another dog most of the time. This role felt so natural to me now and i decided I wanted to remain my parents dog.

One evening I told my parents that they could stop trying to reverse the registration. Little did I know they had given up weeks ago, and had agreed that they were enjoying having me as a dog, and could see how happy it made me. It was settled. I was now permanently the family pet.

My parents packed up all my human belongings and put them into storage, and hey converted my old bedroom into an office. I was kind of sad about that, but I hadn’t been using it. I had been sleeping exclusively on the dog bed in the living room for weeks now.

Over the next few weeks, something amazing happened. I’m not sure how to explain it, but my body started to change. I began to notice my fingernails turning black and getting longer. My fingers started to shorten, and I developed pads on my hands and feet.

I showed my parents what was happening to me, but they didn’t seem concerned in the slightest. They said I was being silly and told me to go play.

The changes made it so much easier for me to walk around on all four. Soon instead of using my knees I was on my hands and feet. Each night I was eager to head to bed so I could see what changes would happen over night.

The next morning I noticed some new changes. I had started to grow in some yellow fuzz over my body, and my ears seemed to be getting longer. My privates changed shape and attached them selves to my stomach in some kind of sheath.

Over the next couple of days, my fur grew in fully to cover my body, and my ears were long enough to flop over, and had moved up a little on my head. Next I noticed a nub of a tail protruding from my spine. My nose also started turning black.

It wasn’t long before I had a full tail that I could swish around when I was happy. I also developed a full muzzle. I caught a glimpse of my self in the mirror, and marveled at how much I looked like a dog. Some of the proportions were wrong, but It was unmistakable. I was becoming the yellow lab I had registered myself as.

One night I tried to sleep but I couldn’t get comfortable. I kept tossing and turning all night, until finally I felt kind of a snap as my ribcage and other bones shifted and made their final changes.

When I awoke in the morning, I made my way to the mirror only to see a fully transformed yellow lab where a human boy had been not that long ago. I stared at my reflection just long enough to watch my eyes fade from blue to brown and the transformation ended.

I was now fully a dog. I was so happy that i raced to find my parents. It wasn’t hard, my new nose was flooding me with all kinds of information. When I walked into the kitchen, my parents stopped what they were doing and looked me up and down. They looked very happy, and said “Good boy, Sammy”

They seemed to think all this was normal, and that I had always been their dog. Hadn’t i though? I was having trouble remembering that i used to be anything other than their pet.

Oh well, it didn’t matter. I was a good boy. I could feel the memories and thoughts of my former life slowly fading away like melting icebergs, but I didn’t care. I knew I was their faithful dog and that was all that was important.

A little later, my former parents attached a leash to my collar and took me for a walk. I loved the explosion of input from my new senses and the feeling of the grass on my feet.

We spent the day playing fetch and going to the dog park. I was loving life. Of course it wasn’t all fun and games. I still had to go to school. Obedience school that is. I was top of the class and learned each new trick quickly.

The other downside is that my former parents decided to neuter me. Oh well. I wasn’t going to be out dating much anyway. And it was for my own good they told me. Sure I believe that one. It wasn’t so bad except for that cone I had to wear. I swear the other dogs were laughing at me.

I never did find out exactly why I transformed, or even why I registered in the first place. Maybe it was the universe trying to fix a mistake. Maybe it was a sinister AI the city has that can somehow manipulate people. Now I’m starting to sound like a conspiracy theory.

Ah well it really doesn’t matter, I am much happier this way than I ever was as a teenage boy, and my parents seem really happy to have me as their pet.

[ashweather]

Daily RPG Readings

Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, Part 5

If you want to read along with me, you can get the demo copy for free on A.N.I.M.'s official site or head over to their Patreon to get a copy of the latest playtest draft for $5. I'm reading the most recent playtest draft and there are significant differences from the demo copy, just as a heads up.

For part 5, I've stopped lying to myself that I'm ever going to be able to keep up a daily schedule. Today, we'll be going over Pages 94-104, finishing chapter 1. This is a short post, but next time I'll be covering the entirety of character creation, and that's definitely going to be a lot to cover.

Today is all about Traits! Traits, features, powers, perks, whatever you want to call them, they're little mechanical bells and whistles that make a character stand out and really pop off the page. In many TTRPGs they're the most fun part of making a character, and I would argue that holds true for Eureka as well. Investigators get three to six of them initially (but usually three). Traits are sometimes purely beneficial, but especially powerful Traits usually have an attached drawback. These are one of my favorite parts of game design, so let's get granular and cover some highlights!

Bumbling Detective lets characters take after Inspector Clouseau (the book might not be able to mention copyrighted characters, but I sure can!) and be a bumbling fool who completely botches the investigation but then saves the day in the nick of time! Mechanically, the character is more likely to fail Knowledge rolls but more quickly accrues valuable Eureka! Points.

Elementary! is a trait that emulates the famous "biography-at-a-glance" of Sherlock Holmes... or, at least, the character thinks they're that good. An investigator with this this trait can have the Narrator make a hidden Social Cues roll (essentially the skill for reading people), and learn two facts about a person - but the investigator has no idea which of these facts is correct or incorrect.

Final Girl gives a small bonus to Physical Skill rolls when facing off alone against supernatural threats, and also allows the character to spend Eureka! Points to hinder a supernatural threat's rolls rather than just boosting their own. Its a very fun survivor's trait, taking after the time-honored tradition of "final girls" in horror movies. Of course, the character taking the trait need not actually be a girl.

Just One More Thing... is similar to the Bumbling Detective Trait, but for Interpersonal Skills instead of Knowledge. If you somehow didn't pick up from the name, its the Columbo Trait. You know, Columbo? You agree. Reblog.

My Glasses! gives a flat +1 bonus to all investigation rolls, but gives a possibility of the character's glasses getting knocked off in any combat encounter. As long as their glasses are off, they become pretty useless but also blind to the stresses of the situation with a +2 to all Composure rolls. A must have for the Velma Dinkley fans out there.

Not Finished Yet is for a bloodied and beaten investigator dragging their body through the dirt to see a case through. The character has double HP, but if they have less than half of that at any point in the story, they succumb to their injuries and die as soon as the story ends. This one's a personal favorite, as I'm a sucker for stories about the irrepressible human spirit.

Unpredictable is a fun one - add a +1 to all non-investigation rolls. However, all rolls are made with a 1d12 instead of a 2d6, making both Full Successes and total Failures far more likely.

[neveah-llama]

To Become a Superhero You Must do One of Two Things: Get Robbed or Die :)

Hey, I'm the author of 'The Impossible Adventures of the Phantom and the Ninja'. I just thought I could start publishing some chapters of my work to other sites. Here's chapter one of my fanfic- I hope you like it!

Name: Randy Cunningham

Grade: 9th

Title: What I did during my summer break

My summer started out the same, me and my bff (best friend forever) Howard played the original Grave Puncher Trilogy. We played for five days straight (NEW RECORD!!!), beating all 182 levels before I had to be dragged to camp for the rest of the summer.

Yeah you heard that right, I go to summer camp. It’s the kind of camp you would see in those old slasher movies, it has busted old cabins, surrounded by a creepy forest, and filled with reject jocks and wannabe populars. It reeks like an 80’s B-rated horror movie and I wouldn’t even be surprised if some psycho serial killer is out loose in those woods. I’ve been going to this camp since I was six years-old, my mom claims it’s so I could, ‘get out of the house and breathe some fresh air for a change,’ personally I think it’s because she wants to make my summers as miserable as possible.

But other than the porta-potty swirlies, getting dumped into the lake in the middle of the night, and other horrors I face on a daily basis, it’s not all that bad. I have a friend there that makes camp a little more tolerable, his name is Danny Fenton. A few things to know about him is that he loves space and lives somewhere in Illinois, his mom used to attend this camp with my mom when they were kids, it’s part of the reason me and Danny know each other. And like every summer for the past eight years, Danny and I have been dodging campers and too-cheery counselors for eight and a half weeks straight until all the campers come together and have a huge campfire by the lake. It’s probably the only time Danny or I are not being chased.

Usually, after returning from camp I like to just hang out with Howard again, and play Grave Puncher until I’m dragged back to school. But something epic happened! See it started a couple days after I returned from camp, I just pre-ordered the new Grave Puncher video game that’s coming out in November, just left the Game Hole where I was hanging out with my biffer, and was busy talking to Danny…

“I’m sorry your parents are building a what?” Randy could hear Danny face-palming on the other side of the phone. Something heavy banged somewhere in the background making his friend on the phone let out a heavy sigh.

“I said my parents are building a ghost portal- a freaking ghost portal!”

“Dude, that’s so bruce.” Randy said, partly because it annoys Danny whenever Randy talks in Norisville lingo and secondly because he believes Mister and Missus Fenton are the cheese! They are full-time ghost hunters and are literally ripping a hole in the fabric of reality! He really hopes that Danny’s parents will let him come over next summer, maybe even give him a summer internship too.

“No Randy, this is not ‘bruce’, in fact it’s the opposite of 'bruce'. Do you know how long they have been building this? Since I got back from camp! And for the past week it has been non-stop drilling, I can’t even sleep at the house with all the noise coming from the basement!” Danny let out a huge breath, “It’s just going to give Dash and his friends another reason why they should keep shoving, ‘loser Fenton’ in stupid lockers once school starts again.”

Okay so Randy could see why Danny is being such a grump when it comes to this, he really does, after all, if Bash and his friends started poking fun at him having a mom that’s a ghost hunter he would be a little embarrassed about that as well. But that doesn’t mean he won’t stop thinking that his friend’s parents are the coolest.

“Okay first of all you are not a loser,” Randy argues as he unlocks the door to his house, taking off his shoes and heading towards the kitchen, man he’s hungry. “After all you’re not the one with a keytar, remember?” Just as he was about to open the fridge, he spots a sticky note with his mom’s handwriting, she’s going to be gone for the next couple of days. No surprises there really and that just means Randy will get to have the left-over pizza all for himself-cool.

Danny’s laugh snaps Randy out of his thoughts, it wasn’t a sarcastic or bitter snort that comes out of him so he’ll definitely call this a win, “Yeah I guess you’re in even worse shape than I am, I’m definitely praying for you buddy.”

Randy takes it back, he would rather deal with Danny being a grump than this, “Hey, you were supposed to say, ‘No, you aren’t a loser Randy, you’re too bruce to be one.’” He tried to mimic his friend’s voice but it only got a snort in return. He rolled his eyes, taking out a McEnergy (Now with 110% more caffeine!) before going up the stairs and towards his room.

“You know I can’t lie well.” Danny says, and Randy was about to open his mouth, only to stop once he opened the door.

Did a cowboy just jump out of his window?

Shit, was he being robbed?

“Randy, you there?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. But I think I’m going to have to call you right back.” He hung up on Danny before his friend could say anything else. He did a quick scan around the room, noting that anything that has some sort of value was still in its place, which confused him even more and put him on edge. Should-should he call the cops?

His eyes landed on something that wasn’t in his room before. Laying innocently on his table was an ornate wooden box, it was smooth and shiny, with intricate designs forming a circle with a golden insignia in the center that almost looks like a ‘G’ on the lid. It looked like it should belong in a museum, or in his grandma’s attic back in Japan.

Now Randy may not be the smartest person on the earth, but he has watched a lot of horror movies over the years, and when there’s a mysterious almost ancient box just sitting innocently in your room, it’s almost never a good thing. He should just dump it in the swamp, or sink it into the lake just right outside the city, it’s what a smart person would do.

...

But then again Randy was not the smartest person so he just had to open the box.

“The Ninjanomicon…” The words slipped out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying, which weirded him out a little but he quickly brushed that aside when he threw the weird book over his shoulder. He looked down at the box to see if there was anything else and there was. He felt his heart stop when he saw a familiar red and black mask with a note attached to it.

You are the Ninja, It read.

Wait, hold on.

Pause for a minute.

He’s the Ninja?!

“Oh. My. Sweet!” Randy didn’t hesitate to put the mask on his head, the mask glowed and strange symbols encircled him, turning into strands of red and black cloth and enveloping him in an awesome suit. Meanwhile his mind was cycling through hundreds of years of fighting knowledge within seconds, power was seeping into his body, he felt more energized, and felt like he could do things he couldn’t dream of!

He couldn't believe this.

He, Randy Cunningham, is the Ninja, the sworn protector of Norisvile!

Just wait until he tells his friends about this, Howard is going to flip out and he could rub it into Danny’s face that the Ninja really did exist! But just as he was about to get his phone to call Howard about it, he saw one more note at the bottom of the box.

You can’t tell anyone.

“Aw, now that’s wonk!"

And the sucky part is that I can’t tell anyone, not even my bff Howard. Not because he has a big mouth (which he does-sorry Howard). I mean I trust Howard that he won’t tell a soul about my secrets, but the box did say that, ‘I can’t tell anyone.’ Maybe I could just tell Danny? I mean he doesn’t even go here and I know without a doubt that he won’t tell a soul, especially not after the summer of 2010. I still get chills thinking about it.

“Alright, pencils down!”

And now I’m starting to think this wasn’t the best topic for my essay, nice job Cunningham, you’ve only been a ninja for a week and you’re already screwing it up.

Meanwhile in Amity Park:

Danny was tired, absolutely freaking tired.

Danny let out a yawn as the English teacher, a middle-aged guy named Mr. Lancer, continued to drone on about…something or other. The fourteen year-old can’t really seem to find the energy to care what his teacher was talking about. Too busy trying to stay awake in order to avoid getting in trouble on the first day of school.

Mr. Lancer was writing something on the board when Danny had to shake his head in order for his eyes to open. A few of his classmates looked at him weirdly before going back to doing anything that doesn’t include writing down what the teacher was putting up. Some were texting on their phones under their desks, or passing notes when Mr. Lancer’s back is turned, or in Dash’s case aiming spitballs at people’s heads.

Danny felt something slimy hit the back of his neck followed by a few snickers from the jocks behind him. Great, Danny has only attended high school for only two days and he already hates it here.

The bell rings and sighs of relief fill the room as students pack their bags and rush out the door, ignoring Mr. Lancer’s scolding about how he’s the one who dismisses students, not the bell. But it fell on deaf ears and soon the English teacher gave up muttering something about needing to eat lunch anyways.

“Yo Danny!” Danny turned his head to see his best friends, Sam and Tucker, walking towards him from their respective classes.

Danny let out a yawn, “Hey guys.”

“Jeez, you look like a wreck.” Sam gave him a look of concern as she walked past Danny to shove some books into your locker.

“Yeah, your parents still working on that portal?” A couple of students who overheard Tucker let out a couple snickers, making Danny sigh. Just like Danny predicted, the moment he stepped into school he instantly heard jokes left and right at his expense. Mostly about how his parents latest project will blow half the town to smithereens. It’s really not that unusual compared to the other comments he heard before, but just once Danny would like to have regular parents, who have regular jobs, so that way he could have a chance of a social life. Is that too much to ask?

“Yeah,” Danny let out another yawn as the trio made their way towards the cafeteria, “it’s gotten to a point where Jazz and I are sleeping up at the Opt-Center, which somehow is worse than dealing with all the construction down in the basement.” He rubs his back absentmindedly, still sore from sleeping on the floor for the past three nights.

“I still don’t get why you just didn’t ask to go stay over at Tucker’s.”

“Yeah man, is it because of the meat sweat? Cause Foleys don’t do meat sweat.” That earned a snort from Sam as they turned a corner,

“Oh yeah? What about that time-”

“We do not speak about that time!”

“Guys would you just cut it out!” Danny snaps. Both the goth and the tech geek stopped their argument to blink at Danny in surprise, even Danny was surprised at his own outburst. Guilt starting to swell at the bottom of his gut. “Sorry. Look, you guys can go ahead and grab some food, I’ll just be outside taking a nap.” Without another word Danny turned around and made his way to the field.

It took a while for Danny to find a secluded spot outside, especially one where it was far enough away from the football field so Dash wouldn’t see him, but once he did find a spot, it didn’t take long for Danny to close his eyes and get a quick nap in.

Only for it to be ruined by his phone ringing. A very familiar ringtone grating at his ears.

At first he ignored it, too busy enjoying the nice early-autumn breeze. Eventually it stopped and Danny was able to fully enjoy the peace and quiet, soon he felt himself getting more drowsy and was about to fall asleep when his phone rang once again. A part of him wanted to ignore his phone, turn it off so he could have some peace and quiet for the rest of lunch, but he decided against it. He knows that ringtone anywhere, the annoying peppy tune that made Danny’s ears bleed and glared at the phone in annoyance.

Stupid Randy and his stupid ringtone.

Danny picked up the call on its third ring. “What do you want?”

His friend snorted, though it did sound a little out of breath, “Rude.”

“You would be too if you had to sleep in the Opt-Center for the third night in a row.”

“Please, I won’t be able to sleep until I try every single invention your parents created. Your parents are ghost hunters dude- ghost hunters! That is like the brucest thing ever!” There was something weird going on with Randy’s voice, it sounded like it was muffled with something. But that’s not Danny’s concern at the moment, right now Danny wants this conversation to be done so he could at least sleep for the last twenty minutes of lunch.

“Yeah sure, I think you’re the only person in the world who thinks being real-life ghost hunters are ‘bruce’. Anyways, is there a reason why you’re calling me?” And disturbing me from my well deserved nap?

That made Randy pause for a moment, “Oh right, forgot for a moment.” Right after he said that, a huge BANG! Could be heard on the other side of the line followed by a huge roar that made Randy let out a shriek and Danny to pull his phone away to save his poor ear drums.

“Uh…everything okay over there?” Now, Danny knows Randy is a trouble magnet, he’s known the dude since he was like six, but this sounds a lot more dangerous than Bash and his friends chasing Randy down the hall. He might actually be concerned for the guy.

“Oh yeah, I’m doing awso- OOF!” He sounds like he just slammed into some lockers, it made Danny winced. Randy let out a groan, before pausing and muttering something about how he wasn’t getting pwned. Which made Danny even more confused.

“Right! Okay,” Randy grunts, “so I have this friend…named uh Reginald-yeah! And he may or may not have recently found out that he is the next protector for his city!” Something heavy pounding on the floor could be heard on the other line, luckily getting further away as Randy kept talking.

“Okay…”

“Yeah so Reginald Bagel- yup that’s his name- Reginald Bagel is the new hero for the city with little to no experience and now he’s fighting a monster and he doesn’t know how to beat it!” Somewhere in the distance something roared. Randy let out a nervous chuckle.

“Thoughts?” Danny had to process this for a minute, trying to figure out what the hell Randy was talking about. “I’m sorry what?”

A huge crash was heard on the other side and there was that roar again, louder this time.

“Just answer the question!”

“Okay, okay fine!” Danny thought for a moment, “Okay so is there a tutorial?”

“What?” Heavy pounding was heard on the other side of the phone, getting closer but Danny pressed on.

“You know a tutorial, how to hero 101, instructions, anything?”

"OH MY JUICE! I forgot the instructions! Thank you so much Danny, I owe you one, bye!” With a ‘click’ the call ended leaving Danny’s head swirling around with questions, that phone call made him antsy and on edge. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep, much less focus for the rest of the day when he’s too busy worrying about his friend. And of course this was a perfectly good time for a stream of cold milk to be dumped dumped right on top of his head, followed by snickers of the last person he wanted to see at the moment.

“Whoops, sorry Fen-turd, I guess I must have mistaken you for a trashcan.” That earned a couple more snorts from Dash’s friends.

“Eh, I’m pretty sure it’s a common mistake, especially with that kind of fashion sense!” Paulina butted in. The group of jocks and cheerleaders continued to laugh as they walked away. Leaving Danny soaking in a pile of milk.

“Great,” Danny mutters as he shook his head to get some of the excess milk off, “This day cannot get anymore worse, right?”

“AHHHHHH!”

So apparently Danny was wrong, it can get so much worse.

Let’s set the scene shall we?

At 3:30 pm Danny, Sam, and Tucker took the bus to Fenton Works, in order to study, do some homework, decide that’s dumb, and spend the rest of the evening playing video games.

At 3:48 pm, the trio of friends went inside. They said hi to Jazz, who was busy getting homework done, battled an army of possessed hot dogs in the fridge to get some snacks, and planned on heading up to Danny’s room to take advantage of the quiet for as long as possible.

At 4:00 pm, Jack Fenton barged into Danny’s room dragging all the kids down to the basement, where Mr. Fenton gave a speech about his hardships, setbacks, and his love for fudge, before unveiling the finished ghost portal.

At 4:15 pm, Jack would have continued speaking for the next hour, if Maddie Fenton didn’t interrupt her husband saying that the sooner he turns on the portal, the sooner they could all dig into Jack’s celebratory fudge.

It’s 4:16 pm, and everyone is waiting with bated breath as Maddie and Jack Fenton finish the last touches of the portal, before putting the plug in. For a second it seemed like everyone was holding their breath and Danny couldn't help but feel excited. His parents were about to tear a hole in the fabric of reality!

Except instead of a big flash, there was a small spark and then nothing.

Around 4:45 pm, after almost thirty minutes of trying to find the mistake, to correct any miscalculations, anything and everything to make the portal work, nothing had any effect. Finally, Maddie let out a sigh and said that they should stop and continue to work on it tomorrow. She said sorry to the kids and guided Jack upstairs telling him that they will just break out the failure Fudge instead.

It’s 4:46 pm, Jazz left soon after their parents did, leaving the trio of fourteen year-olds alone in the basement lab. While Tucker and Sam were taking a look at the lab, as this was probably their third time down there, Danny can’t seem to stop staring at the portal. His parents worked on this for almost two weeks, with years before that saving up money for the materials, and years spent on calculations dedicated to this stupid contraption. He’s angry that after all that work his parents put into it, it still didn’t work.

It’s 4:50 and after four minutes of looking, Sam had an amazing idea, a wonderful and awesome idea. And while Danny did have his doubts and was a little nervous, Danny could admit he was a little curious. So he donned a hazmat suit that his dad gave him for his fourteenth birthday, ripping off the embarrassing sticker of his dad off his chest before stepping into the skeleton of the ghost-portal. Or Fenton-Portal as his dad called it. He was about five steps in before everything went to shit.

At exactly 4:51 pm, Danny tripped on some wiring. Not wanting to land face first on metal flooring, he leaned his weight onto one side, not knowing that his hand touching the wall was actually pressing the on switch. Danny heard a little, ‘click,’ and before he could really process it, he was instantly shocked with painful volts of electricity. It was burning him alive, sizzling his insides, and making him numb to everything but pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

PAIN.

“AHHHHHHHHH!”

He closed his eyes in pain, it sent his breath away, made him feel his heart stopped beating, and then all he saw was white. His head was all spacey, and floaty, numbing the pain.

At 4:52 pm, the portal stopped buzzing and instead of an empty hole in the wall there was a swirl of neon green, a dull hum in the air, and a fourteen year-old kid stumbling out of the portal.

“DANNY!” Sam and Tucker both shouted, diving towards their friend to break his fall, Sam was on the ground with Tucker landing ungracefully on top of her. She let out a muffled "Oomf!" from the unexpected weight, she expects another weight on top of Tucker, only for it to never come. Instead, she felt something cold and weird flowing past her making her shiver. When she opened her eyes, she was met with a passed out, white-haried Danny. It surprised her so much she let out a scream and shoved Tucker out of the way.

“What the hell!” Tucker shouted, his arms flailing before landing on his butt. The two teens took a minute to catch their breath, the eerily green glow being the only source of light in the basement. Sam was the first to recover, slowly crawling back to Danny. She took note of his white hair, his inverted-colored hazmat suit, and sickly pale skin, definitely nothing like Danny from thirty minutes ago. But what scared her more was how his chest didn’t move, and that he was cold to the touch- to the point that she feels like she would get frostbite if she just let her hand stay on his shoulder. Fuck, did she just kill her best friend?

“Sam!” Tucker’s shout snapped her out of her thoughts, it made her aware of the unbearable pressure that was clogging up her throat. But she quickly ignored that to turn her attention to her other friend, who was pale from fright, with his eyes widening in horror. At first Sam was confused as to what Tucker might be seeing, until Tucker pointed a finger and Sam’s eyes followed where the finger was pointing at. Sam must have been too stuck in her head to notice neon green eyes staring straight into her soul.

“D-Danny.” Her voice came out as a whisper, she didn’t know what to do and she’s pretty sure she can’t just type: ‘I accidently killed my best friend, only he’s not dead, he has white hair and glowing green eyes. What do I do?’ on google and expect a solid and helpful answer.

“You alright man?” Tucker came in closer, still pale, and still hesitant, but still there. Danny however did not look like he was present at at. His eyes were roaming over everything, but it seemed like he was not processing what was happening. Sam was just about to tell Tucker to call for Mr. and Mrs. Fenton when she heard the familiar sounds of heavy boots storming down the stairs. It seems like that snapped Danny out of whatever he had going on, since his eyes started to widen, and he looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Kids, is everything okay down here!” Jack turned the corner, only to freeze his eyes widened as he took the scene in front of him. Maddie came down a second later, her mouth gaping, and shoulders slumping. Oh god, Sam was a dead, dead girl wasn’t she.

“Uh… Mr. and Mrs. Fenton-”

“It’s not what it looks like!” For a second Sam shot Tucker a glare before elbowing him in the sides, the geek let out a yelp before giving her his own glare.

“The ghost portal…” The Fentons slowly made their way towards the teens, Sam casted her eyes down waiting for the inevitable anger.

“The ghost portal works! Ha-ha, I did it!” If this was anger, Jack had a weird way of showing it, especially with his dance.

“Oh Jack, we must have forgotten to include any calculations on the chances of the portal having a delayed start!” Maddie exclaimed, slapping a head over her forehead as if that was a bigger deal than her youngest child’s changes.

“Delayed starts- hah! Who cares about that, Maddie, when we have a fully working ghost portal on our hands!” Jack’s laugh seemed to vibrate the very walls and floor of the lab. The big man took Maddie into his arms swinging her around as the couple continued to celebrate and laugh, Sam took a chance to look at Tucker only to find he was just as confused as she was. Finally when Jack set Maddie back down on the ground, the woman seemed to take notice of the frozen teens, even with her head covered it was obvious she was a little confused when she looked at the teens.

“Where’s Danny?” Huh? Sam quickly looked down to see she was carrying nothing, but that can’t be right. She can still feel Danny, his tense shoulders, his fidgeting, she could even feel and hear him sucking in breath! But she can’t see him. She turned to look at Danny’s parents, both growing more anxious the longer she didn't answer. And she really doesn’t want them to freak out, cause if they freak out Sam’s pretty sure she will freak out. Luckily Tucker was there,

“Wait, you mean you didn’t see him? He told us he was going out to Smarty-Mart to go get some snacks!” Oh seriously Tuck?! Why would they believe that? The closest Smarty-Mart is almost two miles away! The adults were quiet for a moment, just staring at the two visible, and one invisible, teens. Sam couldn’t help but fidget under their gaze. And just when Sam thought they were about to demand where Danny actually is, both parents smiled, and Sam let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“Well, alright then!” Jack said as he dragged Maddie up the stairs with him as they celebrated their working ghost-portal. When they couldn’t hear their voices anymore did Tucker and Sam allow themselves to turn back to where Danny was supposed to be. At first Sam saw nothing, just her hands holding nothing. Then she saw something starting to appear, it was like watching something with a bad TV reception, all staticky and at times hard to see, but then Sam saw neon green eyes, white hair, and a black and white hazmat suit. And just when Sam could see Danny clearly, a bright light circled around Danny making both Sam and Tucker shield their eyes and take a step back. When the light faded, Sam was met with a familiar blue-eyed, black haired teen with a white and black hazmat suit.

No one said anything, they were just three teens staring at each other in an almost catatonic state. A phone vibrated off to the side, it was Danny’s phone. Without thinking Tucker took Danny’s phone, unlocked it and stared at the screen.

“Uh, your dad wants you to pick up some more fudge while you’re at the store.” That seemed to snap Danny out of his trance.

“What the fuck just happened!”

It was exactly 5:12 pm when Danny calmed down enough to sneak out of the basement and head straight towards the direction where Smarty-Mart was. It took Danny an extra hour to get there and back due to his new…abilities, kicking in at the most inappropriate times. In his hands he held a bucket of his dad’s favorite fudge, and some other things to make it seem like he actually went to the store for him and his friends.

It was 11:15 pm and Sam and Tucker were still talking about the portal incident to make sense of it all, while Danny just stared at his untouched candy, waiting for everything to just make sense. And when he felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, Danny took a quick look to see that Randy had texted him. And while he knows it’s a bad idea to let his texts go unanswered, Danny just couldn’t. So he turned off his phone, tossed it to the other side of his bed, and continued to stare at his candy.

[clarepreed]

Mud

Short Story Summary and Content: 5,100 words. Northerner Nikki may not survive her first mudding date with her Southern boyfriend. Suffocation/drowning and on-site resuscitation. Features Zoll AutoPulse.

--

“So… we’re riding these things down a muddy trail and into a muddy field and spending the day getting covered in mud?” Nikki eyed the four-wheeler askance and tugged on her old, red-and-blue leggings.

“That’s about it.” Caleb grinned at her. “I swear it’s fun.”

“I guess I’m about to see for myself. Are we wearing helmets?”

“Nah, you don’t need one. Everything’s so muddy it’s like falling in melted ice cream. But I won’t tip us over.” He stepped close to her and snaked his arm around her waist, resting his palm against the bare skin between her leggings and sports bra. “Then we can shower off together later.”

“Well, that part I know I’ll like.” She pressed her curves against him and tipped her mouth up to be kissed.

He grinned, gripped her ass with both hands, and kissed her hard.

“Ugh! Get a room!” he heard his older sister, Em, say. “Gross.”

He broke the kiss, but he didn’t release Nikki, pivoting her around with him as he turned to look at Em and the disgusted expression on her face. “Just because you aren’t getting any—”

Em snorted and rolled her eyes. “Like you would know. I’m knee deep in—”

“NOPE!” Caleb released Nikki and clapped his hands to his ears. Em just grinned at him and sashayed over to her own four-wheeler, her thumbs hooked in the belt loops of her cargo shorts.

“You deserved that,” Nikki said when he dropped his hands. She offered him a wicked grin. “Over here playing with fire, of course you’re gonna get burned.”

He rolled his eyes at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

A half hour later, their group was headed down the trail. There were five total ATVs carrying eight people, all friends, family, and significant others. There’d been hard rain for two days prior on into the early morning, so the trail was a wide, rutty swath of red clay mud.

“Holy shit!” Nikki exclaimed, her arms tightening around his waist as the four-wheeler bounced and a muddy spray from a nearby vehicle doused them.

“That’s why I gave you those goggles!” Caleb shouted, laughing.

“I’m never getting this out of my hair!” she groaned, reaching up to pat her twists.

Eventually, the trail opened into a large, muddy field that Caleb’s uncle had given over to four-wheelers. During the wet times of the year, the field was nothing more than a vat of thick, orange soup.

He drove over to the edge of the field where the ground was firmer and there were downed trees to sit on, thinking Nikki might want a beer or at least a chance to rinse her mouth out. This was also the end of the field where his uncle’s gravel access drive terminated, giving them quick access to the house, should they need it.

The next hour flew by. Sometimes he rode with Nikki, sometimes he went solo. For being out of her element, he thought she was having a good time.

“I’m gonna take your girl out,” Em said, winking at him. Her short hair was spiked with mud, giving her a rakish look. When he didn’t react, she said: “For a ride…”

“Stop,” Nikki said, laughing as she put on the ATV goggles he’d loaned her. 

Em turned and patted the seat behind her, grinning when Nikki climbed on and slipped her arms around her waist. “Wish me luck!”

They took off, pulling in behind Caleb’s friend Mike as he rounded the curve of the field. He chuckled when he heard Nikki squeal, reaching into the cooler to get another beer.

Mike made a point of circling around the women and then cutting across their path, spraying them with a heavy wave of muddy water. Caleb shook his head, a little annoyed. Mike had a tendency to ride too close and go too hard, which is why the friend group often called him “Dumbass” instead of his name.

The far end of the field sloped up toward a ridge of pine trees. Em was more sensible than Mike, and she cut left pretty early before they gained much elevation. Mike, on the other hand, came around them on the right, engine roaring as he overtook them and surged up the hill.

He lost control halfway up, the weight of the ATV tipping back and carrying him and the four-wheeler downhill. He bailed, just before his vehicle crashed into Em’s. The four-wheelers collided and rolled together, dumping the women into the mud. 

Caleb sat his beer down, already losing track of who was where. “Hey! Fuckhead! Em? Nikki?”

“I think someone’s hurt,” he heard Robb say from behind him. “No one’s up waving their arms around to say they’re okay.”

“Em! Nikki!” Caleb hopped onto his four-wheeler and rode across the field, his heart pounding. He’d been in a number of rollover accidents over the years and had always been fine. But when he was in elementary school, his neighbor’s dad had died instantly in an ATV accident. He’d been there, too young to exactly understand what was happening, watching people run around trying to revive him. Also, this was his sister and his girlfriend, and he couldn’t help but feel protective.

Caleb jumped off his four-wheeler, his boots squelching in the mud. The ground was especially soft here, water pooling up around his ankles. He heard another ATV roar up behind him.

Mike was bent over next to one of the overturned four-wheelers. “Em! Hey! Em!”

Caleb ran up beside him and saw his sister sprawled on her back in the mud, her eyes closed. Blood trickled from her nose and a gash near her hairline. 

“Em!” Caleb shouted, shoving Mike to the side as he dropped to his knees next to her. “What the fuck was that, asshole?!”

Mike sat down hard in the mud. “I didn’t mean to! Fuck, I think one of the tires got her in the face…” Their friends Robb and Dana pulled up beside him, coming from a different angle.

Caleb leaned over her, gingerly touching her muddy skin next to the gash. Em groaned and her hands clenched. “Em?”

She didn’t respond, so he looked up, trying to see where his girlfriend had ended up. “Nikki?” 

He almost didn’t spot her due to the mud, but his eyes stopped on something red and blue under one of the ATVs.

He reacted instinctively; he wouldn’t even be able to recall his actions later. Skirting around the ATVs, he slid in next to her, ignoring the sludge that lapped over the top of his boots. Her upper half was completely submerged in the thick, watery mud. He first tried pulling her up at the waist, but the weight of the four-wheeler resting on her lower half pinned her down. 

Robb ran over, and they lifted the ATV off her prone body, setting it upright. Mike broke free of his stupor and grabbed Nikki under the arms, hauling her up and out of the divot she was lying in.

“She didn’t jump free?!” Mike exclaimed, mouth agape, still holding her out of the mud. “Why didn’t she jump free?!” 

Caleb and Mike turned her over. She flopped boneless onto her back, covered in mud, her goggles lost in the puddle. He cradled her head in one hand and rubbed his other hand down her face, trying to wipe the mud off. Watery muck leaked out of her nose and mouth. In a panic, he pushed his fingers into her mouth, trying to scrape out the mud.

“Nikki! Nikki!” She didn’t respond, her limbs dangling as he shook her. “Fuck! I think she breathed it in!”

Caleb leaned his ear close to Nikki’s face. She was motionless, reclined back in Mike’s lap. He’d never seen someone so still outside of a casket. Her chest wasn’t rising, and he couldn’t feel any movement. “She’s not breathing!” 

He pinched her nose shut, not bothering to drag her out of Mike’s lap, and sucked in a deep breath.  He covered her mouth with his, felt the grit of the mud on her skin. The chill of her lips. Then he breathed into her. Or tried to. His cheeks puffed out, her cheeks puffed out, but then the air stopped, finally forcing its way out of the side of his mouth with a sputtering sound. He took a breath and tried again, with the same result.

“I can’t get any air in her!” He shouted, looking up at Mike.

“Dana’s calling 9-1-1,” he heard Robb say.

“Is your uncle home?” Mike asked. His own wild eyes reflected Caleb’s fears. “Can he help?”

“Get her on a four-wheeler with you!” Robb shouted. “Get her over to dry land! I’ve got Em!”

Mike and Caleb scrambled to their feet, awkwardly hauling Nikki’s limp body between them. Caleb climbed onto his ATV and dragged her out of Mike’s arms, setting her sideways on the seat in front of him and wrapping his arm around her middle to keep her from falling off. Holding her was like holding some kind of rag doll; there was no muscle tension in her body whatsoever.

His ATV roared and jumped forward, and Nikki’s head lolled back on her neck.

Their friends Leigh and Nina waited on the other side, and they helped him get Nikki off the ATV and over the ring of tree trunks. Then they laid her out on one of the drier sections of grass.

Caleb leaned over Nikki again, forcing his fingers between her teeth to scoop out more muck. Leigh dropped down across from him. “Is she breathing?”

“No, and I can’t get any air into her!” 

“I think we need to do chest compressions!” Leigh said, briefly resting her hand on Nikki’s motionless chest. “I know CPR from school!” 

Caleb leaned over Nikki and tried to breathe for her again. When the air escaped uselessly out the side of his mouth, Leigh rose up onto her knees. She clasped her hands together and pressed her palm between Nikki’s breasts. It took her several hard compressions to figure out depth and rhythm, and then she started counting, her thrusts making Nikki’s body quake and twitch.

“One and two and three and…”

Caleb turned Nikki’s head to the side, hoping more mud would trickle out. Nina joined him, a bottle of water in hand.

“I’m going to wash off her face,” Nina said, meeting his eyes. “Is that okay?”

Caleb nodded and watched as she used a bottle of water and a cleanish t-shirt to wipe the mud off Nikki’s face.

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine…”

“Mike’s gone to find your uncle!” he heard Robb call out. “And Dana took my four-wheeler to try to find cell service, we couldn’t stay connected long enough to talk to 9-1-1!”

“…thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two…” A faint sound came from Nikki’s mouth with each compression. It was disturbingly like the sound you’d expect to hear if someone were violently squeezing a bag full of liquid.

 Now that Nina had washed Nikki’s face, he could see that her beautiful umber skin had gone gray, her full lips purpling. He grasped her jaw, holding her mouth open so he could sweep his finger inside. More muck came out, along with another gush of orange water.

“How’s Em?” he called, his voice cracking.

“She’s okay!” Robb called. “She’s conscious. Keeps trying to get up, but she’s making sense now, so I think she’s alright. No, dammit, stay down, they’re taking care of her!”

“…eighty-six, eighty-seven, eighty-eight! When I get to one hundred… after you try to give her breaths… I need to switch!” Leigh was breathing hard, and if Caleb weren’t so terrified, he would be impressed by her strength. She hadn’t faltered once as she forcefully compressed his girlfriend’s sternum. “Ninety-nine, one hundred!”

Caleb scraped more muck out of Nikki’s mouth and then turned her face to the sky, tipping her chin back and pinching her nose shut. Her cold mouth was still as much of a shock as it had been the last time. He blew hard, but again the seal broke from the pressure. “Fuck!” 

“Nina, sit with Em,” he heard Robb say. “I’ll take over compressions.”

Caleb opened her mouth. The inside of her mouth was mostly clear, but he of course couldn’t see into her airway. He tilted her head back further and covered her mouth with his again, blowing hard.

Then Robb was on his knees beside her, his hands coming down hard between her breasts. Caleb turned Nikki’s head back to the side, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Her head was moving with each compression, but her face was still. She looked bad; he’d never seen someone that ashen color, not ever.

The squelching sound coming from her throat resumed. He watched Robb moving over her forcefully, the compressions from his burly arms making her stomach bulge out even further. Looking at her bloated abdomen, he thought she must have swallowed some water. The thrusts caved in her ribcage, jerking her shoulders and making her arms twitch. There was even movement down her legs and into her feet.

“…forty-three, forty-four, forty-five… I’m counting to one hundred, right?” Robb asked.

“I think…” Leigh sounded uncertain, and she was still breathing hard. “I think so, yes. Until we can get air into her. Anyone disagree?”

No one said anything except Robb, who was still counting.

When Caleb looked back at Nikki’s face, he could see foam, mud, and water oozing out of her nose and mouth again. “I think this is helping… the mud is coming out! Come on, baby, I need you to start breathing!”

“I can keep going,” Robb said. “After the next breaths. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred!”

Caleb quickly cleared her mouth and then leaned in to try another rescue breath. This time, though there seemed to be a lot of resistance, he saw her chest rise. He forced another breath in and got her chest to rise a little further.

“One, two, three…”

“I got some air into her!” Caleb exclaimed. “This is helping!”

“Should we switch to thirty compressions and two breaths?” Leigh asked, her voice anxious and loud. “I think we should.”

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

The wet bag sound was transitioning to a gurgle, followed by small surges of muddy water and orange-tinged foam leaking from Nikki’s nose and mouth.

A hand suddenly touched his back, and Em dropped down on her knees by Nikki’s head. She looked terrible, her face ghost pale and a dirty shirt pressed to her head wound. “Oh God… Caleb…”

“Thirty!”

Caleb turned Nikki’s face to the sky again and forced another breath into her lungs. Her chest rose, then fell. He gave her another breath.

“One, two, three…”

Caleb spared another look at Em. She was crying, her eyes locked on the violence Robb was doing to Nikki’s chest. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault,” Caleb choked out.

Abruptly, Nikki’s body heaved, and a great deal of muck shot up into her mouth. 

“I need to turn her on her side for a second!” Caleb exclaimed. Robb stopped compressions and Leigh helped them roll her over so the muck would slide out to the ground and not back into her throat. Nikki made a gagging and choking sound, and then there was another flood of orange water and mud from her mouth. Robb pressed his fingers into her neck as Caleb cleared her mouth.

“She doesn’t have a pulse!” Robb shouted after several long seconds, and they put her on her back again. “Caleb, take over!”

He didn’t hesitate, thinking about what mud might still be in her lungs, and how her heart wasn’t beating. He tried to mimic what he’d seen from the others, his clasped hands thrusting into her chest with a force he never would have previously imagined using on her.

As he worked, wisps of thought kept curling through his mind, threatening to distract him. 

How relaxed he’d felt when he’d picked her up that morning, Nikki coming to the door and insisting he approve her outfit before they left. Peeling the clothing off her when they decided they had time to spare. Further back, the look on her face when he’d explained what “mudding” was, and his own surprised laughter when she’d agreed to come along. The day they’d decided to make it serious. The first time they had sex. The day he met her, just a Tinder date that became so much more.

“Hey, Caleb, that’s thirty!” Robb had his hand on his shoulder. Caleb rocked back, lifting his hands. Em had moved, and Leigh leaned over to give Nikki rescue breaths.

“Count out loud,” Robb said. “It helped me concentrate.”

Caleb forced her sternum down. “One, two, three…”

They heard the roar of an ATV coming up the gravel access path behind them. 

“… eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

“Caleb!” His uncle hit the ground running. “The ambulance is on its way; your aunt and your friend are in place to lead it up here. What the hell happened? Em! You’re bleeding!”

Leigh leaned over and forced a breath into Nikki, her chest rising higher than it had so far.

“I’m okay,” he heard Em say. “But… we rolled and the four-wheeler…”

Another breath.

Em couldn’t speak. Caleb started chest compressions again. 

“One, two, three…” Come on, baby! Wake up, wake up…

“We found her face down in the mud with the ATV on her, sir,” Robb said. “We pulled her out and brought her over here. She inhaled a lot of water and mud. She’s not bleeding, we don’t think, but we don’t know how else she might be hurt.”

“…twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Caleb finally looked up at his uncle. The man’s face was pale, his eyes wide. His uncle David was typically stoic. He’d never seen him look so rattled. 

“Rescue station ain’t far,” David muttered. “We should start hearing sirens soon.”

Then it was time for Caleb to perform compressions. He could see her stomach bulge slightly with each thrust into her chest, felt the cartilage in her ribcage give. “…ten, eleven—Are we breaking her ribs? Fifteen, sixteen…”

“I don’t know,” Robb said. His face was blotchy; pale with red splashed across his cheeks. “I think… I don’t know.”

“You’re doing the right thing, son.” he heard his uncle say. “Do you know how long it’s been? The paramedics will want to know.”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Caleb hovered over her, shaking his head as he watched her chest rise with Leigh’s exhalation. “I don’t know how long… Too long!”

“At least eleven minutes,” Nina said, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “That’s when I saw you pull her out.”

Caleb felt his eyes sting as he started compressions again. “One, two, three…”

“I hear the ambulance!” Nina said, her voice much louder. 

“…seven, eight, nine…”

“We should switch,” Robb said. “We don’t know how long it will take them to get up here.”

“…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, okay—”

“I’m going to stand at the top of the drive,” Mike said.

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Caleb leaned back, gasping and shaking out his burning arms, his eyes flying to Nikki’s face as Leigh breathed for her. She was still gray, with bits of dried mud along her jawline. His eyes traced down along her long neck and down to her chest. The sports bra was cut low enough that he could see the top of a bruise, looking like a malevolent shadow cast on her skin.

Robb started compressions, his big hands obscuring the bruise, fingers pressing against her left breast through the sports bra. “…three and four and five…”

The siren was getting louder, and Caleb could hear the tires crunching on the gravel. He reached out, took Nikki’s hand. Squeezed it, then brought it to his lips. He thought it was a good chance he was saying goodbye, and either way they would be loading her up in the ambulance soon and he didn’t know when he would see her again.

Then he gently sat her hand down in the damp grass.

“One and two and three and four…” 

The ambulance was close enough now that the sirens and the sound of the tires on the gravel drowned out the squelching sound coming from her swollen stomach and her wet lungs.  Caleb’s uncle showed the paramedic driver where to stop so that it wouldn’t get bogged down.

Caleb was about to be in the way. He scrambled to his feet and almost fell back down, the scenery around him tilting madly. He stumbled backward and then dropped to a crouch as the paramedics unloaded and hurried over to Nikki’s side.

“We have another unit on the way, but they’re twenty minutes out. Where’s the second victim?”

“It’s me,” Em said, sounding miserable. “But I’m okay.”

Robb and Leigh were asked to move back, and he watched the medics quickly assess Nikki’s condition. The female paramedic restarted chest compressions.

“How long have you been performing CPR?” the male paramedic asked. He’d grabbed a duffel bag from their collection and produced a mask with a balloon coming off the top of it. He pressed the mask to Nikki’s face, squeezing the bulb twice before moving on to another task.

“We pulled her out of the mud about thirteen, fourteen minutes ago,” Robb said. “We saw the accident. The ATV rolled over her and she ended up unconscious with her face in the mud and the ATV on her legs.”

“...ten, eleven twelve… AutoPulse?” the female medic asked her partner.

Everything was going so fast, and Caleb didn’t know what a lot of what they were saying meant. He jumped in when he could with things like her name and age, and no they didn’t think she was injured but they really weren’t sure. The male paramedic gave her two breaths from the bag and then checked her abdomen and chest for obvious injury. He went on to use a pair of shears to snip the fabric of her bra down one side and across the straps. The female medic lifted her hands for a second, and he pulled the fabric to the side, revealing her breasts. Compressions started again, her breasts undulating.

The two worked together, the female medic giving Nikki forceful chest compressions, lifting her hands again so the male medic could apply a large white defibrillator pad over Nikki’s sternum. Then she went straight back into compressions, Nikki’s head bobbing with the force. The other pad was applied just below and to the side of her left breast. A few seconds later, a high-pitched whine filled the air.

Caleb watched the male paramedic grab a large, flat blue bag and set it on the grass above Nikki’s head. He opened it up, revealing large white pads attached to straps and a short blue backboard. The female paramedic was still pounding mercilessly on Nikki’s chest, her ribcage flattening and rebounding. Caleb was too far away now to hear the sound the forceful compressions made.

The male medic walked around to Nikki’s feet, stepped one foot between her legs, and grasped her wrists. The female paramedic stopped compressions and he pulled Nikki up into a seated position, her head lolling back. Something about the way Nikki’s body flopped made Caleb want to cry, and he pressed his hand to his mouth.

The male medic held her there for a few seconds as the female medic dragged the blue board underneath her. They laid Nikki back, her breasts swaying, and the male medic rapidly fastened the white pads over her chest before pressing a button.

The straps moved automatically, pulling the large white pads down to her chest. Shortly after, the machine started pumping, pulling the pads down across her chest over and over again. The machine was surprisingly quiet against the noise of everything else. 

Nikki’s stomach rippled and her arms twitched. The male medic folded something white down by her head to hold it in place, and then clipped a harness over her shoulders.

“I’ll get her going on an IV and epi, you intubate and suction."

The machine clicked away, stopping briefly for the male medic to provide breaths from the bag.

“I didn’t know that a… a CPR machine was a thing,” he heard Leigh murmur.

The male medic tipped back Nikki’s head and angled a device into her throat before he said: “Pause compressions.”

The female medic reached over and pressed a button. The machine beeped, and the compressions stopped. The high-pitched whine from the monitor continued. The male medic made quick work of the intubation, and shortly after he reached around and pressed something on the screen of the compression device. 

Compressions started again.

This time, they continued even when the male medic squeezed the bag, which he’d removed from the mask and attached to the end of the tube. 

“Caleb.”

He looked up. David kneeled next to him, putting his hand on his back. 

“I called your folks.”

He had a hard time paying attention to what his uncle was saying. There was a noisy motor sound, and some commentary about what she’d aspirated. He kept looking back at Nikki. He felt hollow and distant.

“They said they have a number for her parents. They’re going to call her folks and send them on to Grace General. If anything changes, we can let them know.”

“Nothing shockable,” the female medic said, pressing a button on the machine. The pads pulled themselves down hard into Nikki’s chest. “…epi.”

“…time?”

“Caleb?” His ears were ringing.

“Coming up—twenty—”

“Caleb!”

His hearing was fading in and out.

“Give—no ROSC—load and—”

“Caleb!”

Caleb blinked in surprise at his uncle’s worried face. He was laying on back in the wet grass, David looming over him.

Leigh’s worried face joined David’s. “One of the paramedics just asked about Caleb.”

“Okay,” Caleb muttered, though he felt disoriented. “Nikki…”

“He’s conscious and talking,” David said, pitching his voice loud enough for the medics to overhear. “I reckon he fainted.”

“She’s dead,” Caleb whispered. 

David’s face changed, unexpected tears glistening in his eyes. Caleb didn’t think he’d seen him cry other than at the funerals of his grandparents. “They’re still working on her, son.”

Caleb didn’t respond. He let his head fall to the side so he could see Nikki. He really couldn’t see much. A bit of her profile, with the tube protruding between her teeth. The machine pumping her chest. Her muddy sneakers, swaying.

He looked back up at his uncle and felt a tear roll down his cheek. 

David held out a hand. “You up for sitting up yet?”

“V-fib,” he heard the female medic say. “Let’s shock her.”

David pulled him upright and kept an arm tight around his shoulders. “You don’t have to watch that, Caleb. It might be upsetting. See, your friends are all looking away.”

He watched anyway, as her chest jumped and her limbs twitched. There was a silent few seconds before the whine started up again.

“Damn. Asystole. Resuming AutoPulse. I’m going to push another epi. Give us back something we can work with, Nikki.”

“After that you want to package her up and do another rhythm check in the bus? Before we head on to the hospital?”

“Let’s do it.”

Caleb thought this was probably a bad sign, but he wasn’t sure. David must have felt similarly, because he said: “They haven’t called the time. They haven’t called her.”

The male paramedic stayed with Nikki while the female quickly packaged things up and hauled most of it to the ambulance. When she came back, she spoke briefly to Robb. 

The female medic crouched at Nikki’s feet and leaned forward, tugging on the blue fabric at the bottom of the CPR device. It unfurled into a lightweight stretcher. Then she picked up the monitor, slinging the strap over her shoulder, and lifted the IV bag. Caleb was surprised to see Robb helping them with the blue stretcher. His friend’s face had gone white.

When they stood, Nikki’s legs hung limp over the end of the stretcher. The machine kept performing compressions, unfazed by the movement.

The female medic looked over toward David and Caleb. “When we start moving, we’re going to take her to Grace General. They can do more for her there and they’re expecting her.”

They walked her to the gurney, and then loaded the gurney into the ambulance. Both medics climbed in and closed the doors behind them.

Everyone was silent for what felt like a very long time. Caleb let his breath out in a rush and pressed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He felt like he was supposed to be doing something, when there was no longer anything for him to do.

David was speaking to him, he realized, and he looked up, though his eyes immediately drifted to the ambulance.

“We’ll ride down after the ambulance and your aunt is going to pick us up at the bottom of the drive,” David said. “She’s already ready to go. Why don’t we go ahead and get ourselves ready to do that?”

Caleb nodded.

“Does she have a bag that you need to grab? She might have insurance cards that she’ll need.”

“Everything’s in my pack,” he muttered, and suddenly his was in front of his face.

Mike, his face anguished, clutched the pack. “Caleb,” he began.

“Not right now.” David took the pack from Mike. “He can’t hear you right now.”

“But I—”

“Go the fuck home,” Caleb heard himself say, his tone ice. 

“Don’t push it,” Robb interjected. “Come on.”

“We’re going to go,” Leigh said. “We’ll get him out of here, Caleb. Robb and Dana are going to get Em down to the house. You’ll let us know? Let us know what…?”

“He will when he can,” David said. “Come on, Caleb.”

Caleb let his uncle help him to his feet and steer him over to a waiting four-wheeler. 

The back doors of the ambulance suddenly opened, and the female medic jumped out, slamming the doors behind her. She stopped long enough to call out: “We just got her pulse back. We’re transporting her now.”

Caleb climbed into the ATV behind his uncle, stunned into silence as the ambulance started, turned on lights and sirens, and headed down the gravel drive.

“Does that mean she’s going to make it?”

“It might, son. If you pray, do it now.”

[azumasoroshi]

minidura chapter 1 react

hey guys started reading minidura i think im in love

just imagining izaya going like "yahoo!! X3" man. i know mikado is the real protagonist and not being able to see through izaya's eyes adds to his charm and intrigue but like mannn itd be so fun to just watch him fuck shit up like in that one episode. he must be hilarious to people watch with

god they're so fucking cute i love this chibi style

IT'S HIMMM IT'S MY BABYGIRL

"he's the one who most fails to live up to his name"? is that like a kanji name joke goddammit

i really shouldnt just like. post the entire pages but it's such a pain to keep taking screenshots :sob: you guys have no idea the pain my wrists were in after that drr ten react

haha dramatic irony but i just realized i have no idea what exactly izaya takes responsibility for and what stuff he blames on human nature/self-interest/naïvite and now i have to find out ugh

durarara illustrators draw simon normally challenge :sob: im so sorry they do this to you king if i ever get around to drawing you ill do you justice

also tiny shizuo <3333

obsessed with walker's cat face he and erika are so platonic(?) soulmates besties cringefail weeb team rocket ass duo

i was 100% ready for erika to start grilling mikado on his supposed raging homosexual unrequited love(?) 300k slow burn romance but oh well. it happened in my head so it must be canon

i dont care enough about the raira trio to ship mikakida or whatever their ship name is (isnt the celty head girl named mika too. oops) but i do think it's funny that their ship name could be kidado because that sounds like cuidado. watch out

ok i know they're trying to make him look cool but he does not look cool in the chibi art style lmfAOo

itd be really funny if they switched the styles to the normal manga style during serious moments like i think the bsd wan manga/anime did lmfao

LMFAO??? i like how we only see the top of izaya's head pff-

celty my bbygirl i love your shadow puppets dont listen to them

yk what it's actually a crime this didnt happen in canon

AND HERE HE ISSS!!!!! cringefail pathetic loser my beloved

god i hope he narrates the entire minidura (he probably wont)

ok he's really cute though....catboy irl fr

CAUGHT MID MONOLOGUE

cant believe they're both on a rooftop together whoa prime spot for confessions amirite (<- delusional)

im posting the tiny floored izaya on his own later because that's adorable. he's so cute when he's half dead

itd be really funny if all the events from minidura were all in izaya's concussed ass head from this moment as explanation for being noncanon

the "doctors hate him" meme but it's convenience store workers and shizuo heiwajima

actually construction workers probably hate shizuo too. and urban planners and anything that has to do with city work and also doctors because shizuo evades their healthcare insurance because he doesnt need it (i looked up japan's healthcare costs for this joke and concluded that i dont have enough time to pit the sources that say it's expensive and the sources that say it's reasonable against each other) and also vending machine companies

the "doctors hate him" meme but it's all of ikebukuro and shizuo (and also izaya)

i love how izaya just. stops bleeding. his platelets working mad crazy

(it's pretty easy to find translations online but here's the site im reading on anyway)

[mizkit]

new blog post: ICFA: the last two days

new blog post on https://mizkit.com/icfa-the-last-two-days/

ICFA: the last two days

Let’s see. Friday I had a 10:30am thing, which I know because I couldn’t have breakfast with the family. Oh, yes, it turned out to be what Geoffrey Landis said might have been the most fun he’d ever had at an ICFA panel! laughs

It was a panel with myself and Kate JohnsTon, moderated by Novella, and Kate read an incredibly funny piece from the point of view of a genetically engineered modern T-Rex who was very, very horny, followed by two more very funny pieces, after which I read from my Pride & Prejudice pastiche, Magic & Manners, which was not nearly as funny and yet led, ultimately, to what arguably became the theme for the panel, which was…ejaculation. o.o

(See, in Austen, people don’t ‘burst out’ with words when they speak enthusiastically. Sometimes they exclaim, but very often they ejaculate, and given the whole horny T-Rex part of the panel… yes, well, it was very funny and poor Novella was just sort of sitting there with a hand over her face while Kate and I howled with laughter. It was AMAZING.)

Seriously, though, it was a great panel; the audience had good questions, the whole thing was obviously incredibly silly, and we had a truly wonderful time. Kate and I felt like kindred spirits immediately, and just, my god, yeah, it was really fun. I’m sure I could come up with more details (actually, the Magic & Manners stuff led into a pretty good, if brief, conversation about decolonization of fantasy), and I know we made Kate read more of her T-Rex book (which is actually a post-apocalyptic story based in a lot of science, and I’m really looking forward to it), but yeah, overall, it was great.

I think we went straight to lunch after that, where Mame and his wife, Woppa Diallo, who was the other guest scholar but was unable to attend in person, gave plenary speeches that ended with me having an entire LIST of non-fiction books to read; Mame (suffering, as he was, from imposter syndrome) kept saying he hadn’t even realized he WAS a scholar, but my god, the man is incredibly well-read, well-spoken, and insightful. We should all ‘not be scholars’ like he is. He and Woppa both spoke about ‘whimsy’ in African cultures, which was so interesting I may break it out into a short blog post of its own, and just…yeah, it was great.

Friday afternoon all the GoHs had a student caucus thingy that we went to in order to be available to answer questions specifically from students. Mostly there weren’t students in attendence, but the moderator (Andrew, from yesterday’s post) was great, and we ended up having a really good discussion, some great audience questions, and hopefully some insightful stuff was said. (Mary did end up asking me if I’d considered the possibility that I’d been a shaman in a previous incarnation, so, you know, things went a lot of places in that conversation!)

Ellen (Kushner, yes yes I’m definitely name dropping) invited me out to dinner on Friday with herself and Delia, and a couple of other people, including Kate of the T-Rex story, MaryAnne Mohanraj, who ofc I knew OF (we own one of her cookbooks, in fact!) but whom I’d never actually met, and a charming man named Will whose last name I’ve forgotten but whose reading I’d enjoyed earlier in the conference. Ellen apparently has a thing about finding good places to eat that aren’t right on the conference site, and we ended up going out for an Uzbek/Turkish meal that was almost impossibly delicious. We were partway through ordering when it became clear we were going to order half the menu, and the guy taking our order said, more or less “ok but you’ve got to order the to’y osh, it’s the house special,” and upon being reassured that we intended to, we just hadn’t gotten there yet, was satisfied. :D It was a wonderful, funny, delightful evening with absurd amounts of truly delicious food, and I’m extremely grateful for it. wibbly smile

Saaaaaaturday…oh, I hung out with MaryAnne Mohanraj in the morning for a bit, and…at some point? I had another panel? I think? With the other GoHs? And it was–well, for one thing, we were asked to read, which literally none of us expected, but Mame had his award-winning short story on his phone and Mary had a copy of one of her books of poetry with her AND she had a copy of URBAN SHAMAN!!! that she plopped in front of me to sign and, as it turned out, read from. :D And after that it was a Q&A that ranged from use of time in our various pieces (AGAIN, some really INTERESTING STUFF about African perceptions of time in storytelling that could probably use a post of their own) to copaganda, which as I’ve become aware, my stuff is rife with.

I went for a little walk after that and came back into the hotel to sit down and play Pokemon in the lobby, and after a few minutes Mame came by from a walk of his own and sat and we chatted, and then MaryAnne dropped by just as he had to leave, and then just as she was leaving, someone else she knew stopped by, so I was introduced, and as SHE was leaving, someone SHE knew stopped by–it was great, I felt like I was holding court. :D

I met–ah, man, I met so many cool people. I was sitting with the head of the conference’s fairy tale division at dinner one night, and at the banquet reception on Saturday she introduced me to her fairy tale ladies, who included a real genuine fan of mine (the woman who had asked about the copaganda, which was such a good question, honestly), so we had a lovely conversation and then they invited me to be in their annual picture. Obviously I said yes, and my fan, who is short but happened to be standing right next to me, when I said, “Should the shorter people go in front?” said, “I am short but I am not going anywhere. I am never moving from this spot ever in my whole life,” which was pretty cute. laughs She kept saying she was trying REALLY HARD not to completely fall apart, and she didn’t, and she was adorable and sweet and I loved her. :)

The dinner and awards ceremony were lovely–I, as were the other GoHs, was given an honorary award from the BIPOC committee, which made me extremely emotional–and post-dinner we all went out to the pool for an after-party, where I went with the express goal of “I’ll say good night and goodbye and that’s it,” and which took longer than the 90 minutes I’d expected it to (quite a lot longer, actually), but was a wonderful way to end the conference.

I could honestly write more and more and more about it all, but post-con writeups are taking up my “ok I have no brain to write fiction with” time, and I think by tomorrow I’ll be back to Able To Write, so I probably can’t spend the rest of my life waxing lyrical about the conference. :)

Me, Mary & Mame (picture by Mame): We had a great time. :)

[house-of-slayterr]

Night of the Living Red: I See Red Pt. 3

CW: Smut like I promised, lol.

I’m too lazy to focus on the magic spell part of the story, so just assume the boys work like vampire diaries vampires now, and they’re free from Max’s site bond.

Your POV:

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful. I snuggled up to Marko on the couch as I barely listened to the stories the other boys were telling. They didn’t really feel like leaving the cave again. I noticed Paul shifting in his seat, looking uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong puppy?” I asked him.

His skin flushed at the pet name.

“It’s nothing.”

I frowned, uncrossing my hands from around Marko’s shoulders, and crawling across the couch over to Paul. He gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing slightly. It was a delicious sight. He tried to look away, but I held my fingers under his chin and turned him to face me. He licked his lips, his breathing getting heavier.

“It’s clearly not nothing, I can smell it on you. What is it?”

“Really, it’s no big deal.”

“Paul-“ I warned.

“Ok ok, I tell you.”

“Good boy.”

“I’m the only one who didn’t get to feed before you changed our plans for the night. I’m hungry.” He whined.

I chuckled lowly, the sound purring in the back of my throat.

“We’ll why didn’t you just say so baby? I think a little demon blood is just what the doctor ordered.”

“We- we can drink from you?” He blinked.

“Our blood is highly sought over by many groups.” I explained, “hear we taste better after we’ve fed ourselves though.”

He locked his lips once again. Poor boy must have been starving.

“How do we know this isn’t a trick?” David finally spoke up.

“Do I have any reason to lie?”

“You lied to get up here and hold us hostage.” Dwayne said flatly.

It was clear he was still upset about my little display of dominance earlier.

“No, I said I wanted you go with you. Not my fault you assumed my intentions.”

He rolled his eyes.

“And why would you do that for him?”

Gosh, still so paranoid these too.

“I told you I liked you. Trust me you’d all be dead right now if I didn’t. I could have had my fun and left you here to rot. But I didn’t. Why? Because you guys seem fun, and anything I can do to piss off my ancestors is a plus in my book.”

“Your family seems complicated.” Marko chimed in.

“You don’t know the half of it lover boy. Diplomatic families are seriously energy vampires. That’s why most of us don’t live past our 20s. When you have everything, nothing really feels like it’s worth anything. Sounds privileged, I know, but I’d rather live on the streets then ever go back there.”

“You could stay here.”

All heads in the room snapped to him in an instant.

“Now don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m serious, I don’t see why she couldn’t.”

“Maybe the fact that she’s a vampire hunter.” David pointed out.

“Yeah, one that’s going to give us the ability to walk in the sun again. She could probably even free us from Max if we ask nicely.”

“And who is this Max?” I asked intrigued.

“The bastard that turned us. Fucker said we’d be a family, but all he does is boss us around. And leave us to fend for ourselves. You know I had to teach them all how to vampires?” David ranted.

I frowned. What kind of Maker doesn’t stick with their fledgling.

“And he’s not very nice.” Paul pipped it.

“Is that so?”

“He’s always yelling at us for something.”

I ran a hand through Paul’s hair, swiping it out of his face. A small smile crept onto my own.

“What?” He asked.

“Nothing, just thinking about how nice his head would look as a foot stool.” I said.

He laughed, it was a sweet and additive noise. I desperately wanted to hear it again. God, these vampires were doing something to me. I could barely even hear the voice in the back of my head telling me to kill them. Normally humans had to try to get me in the mood. Half of the people here didn’t even like me, yet their annoyance with me was making me wet. What were they doing to me?

“You’d really do that?” David asked.

“You kill my priest, I’ll kill your daddy. You won’t even be confined to this shit brick little town anymore. We could go anywhere you want!” I offered.

Some travel companions would be nice. Vampire souls were much more filling than human souls. Just the energy radiating off of Paul right now was enough to keep me full for the night. But I wanted more, so much more. I looked back down at him, shifting a little so we were sat at the same height. I just starred at him for a bit, and he started laughing again.

“What?” He asked once more.

I placed a hand on his cheek.

“Can I-“ he didn’t even let me finish my sentence before his lips smashed into mine.

The kiss was hungry and desperate. Any other person would be able to ignore the other boys, but I could smell their arousal from here. They were turned on by me kissing Paul, so why not give them a show. I deepened the kiss, biting down on his tongue hard enough to draw blood. But he didn’t even flinch, not stopping the flow for a second. When I finally pulled away for air, I licked the small dribble of blood off his chin.

“You’re sweet.” I smiled at him.

I could tell I was torturing the poor boy. He was hungry and I’d just selfishly taken from him. But the blush on his cheeks was so damn cute. I gave him one more peck on the lips before crawling onto his lap. I leaned in so my back was against his chest, and moved my hair to one side of my neck.

“We’ll go on, it’s only fair.” I said.

He didn’t bother hesitating, I could already see his face shifting. Damn he was hot. I drew in a small breath as his fangs pierced the skin of my clavicle. God did it feel good, I leaned my head back, giving him more space to play around with. I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. I heard David chuckling from a crossed the cave. My spinning head probably making him sound further away than he actually was.

“Is this turning you on little succubus?” I could hear the smug tone in his voice, and it was not helping.

I pried my eyes open and looked at him the best I could.

“I’ve only heard stories of vampire souls, never been this close to one before.” I said.

A guttural growl sounded from Paul’s throat and I nearly lost it at that.

I snapped my legs shut and threw my head back again.

“Christ, baby you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” I purred out.

“He’s hardly even touching you” Marko laughed.

“I don’t see your hands doing anything-“ I snapped.

In less than a second Marko was in front of me kneeling on the floor. He ran his hands up my leg and his skin was so cold it sent goosebumps through my skin. I could feel David’s eyes trained on me from across the room. But he made no attempt to move, just watching with intent while sipping his beer. Dwayne was trying desperately to hide his arousal but he couldn’t hide from me. I chuckled to myself as he turned the other way in his chair, his back toward us.

Marko’s hands stopped when they reached the hem of my dress. I grit my teeth, frustrated that he wasn’t moving fast enough.

“Marko, I swear to Lucifer if you don’t rip this dress off me right now I’m going to stake you in your sleep.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, the sound of tearing fabric echoed off the cave walls. Oops, sorry mom. I was glad I wore my good lingerie set today, the red lace moulded to my every curve. I heard David clear his throat as he clearly choked on his beer. A shit eating grin crept onto my face. This was probably the closet to heaven a demon like me could ever get.

Marko’s hands tightest on my thighs as he pushed my legs apart. I was helpless to even try to tease him right now. This all felt so backwards, me submitting to someone. Normally my prey loved to beg before me, letting me do anything I wanted to get them off. But right now, these two vampires had me putty in their hands. And I wasn’t going to complain. It felt nice to not have to work for it. I felt his teeth nip at the inside of my thigh, and I let out a shocked gasp. My hands instinctively went to Paul’s hair, trying to gain some stability. He growled into my neck. He likes having his hair pulled, good to know.

I felt the slight sting as Marko bit down into the flesh of my plush thighs. His right hand stayed dug into the flesh of my hip, as his left hand reached up to rub circles on my clit. His hands felt amazing and I could hardly get out a sentence right now even if I tried. And somehow knowing David was watching shamelessly, and Dwayne cowering was just making everything so much better.

Normally I had to do a lot to get even a fraction of this wet. I hardly even orgasmed anymore when I fed from my clients. No matter how hard they tried, or how desperate they were to please me, I always had to take it. But as long as they orgasmed, I could get my fill. Sex had never really been about my pleasure before. I almost wined when Marko’s teeth left my skin.

“God Kitten you’re so wet.” He slurred out.

I couldn’t help the blush that spread through my checks.

“A succubus only needs the other person to orgasm to feed. And god those humans are boring.” I whined.

“You’re telling me nobodies ever made you cum?” David chimed in.

Now Paul’s teeth were out of my neck as well. He brushed some hair behind my ear as he readjusted his grip on me, keeping me steady.

“Not even in the room long enough to get wet usully. Human men are feeble creatures, all you have to do is touch them a little and then they’re done. They don’t know the difference between real or fake moans. One time this college boy had summoned me, and it was his first time. Barely had him in my mouth for a minuets before he was screaming. Poor boy was so embarrassed, I didn’t even want to try more, afraid I might break him.” I confessed.

David let out a light laugh.

“God, you’re more of a saint than me. I’d be pissed with the amount of pent up frustration you must have.”

“What do you think the killings for?” I quipped.

Marko’s hand was still on me, and don’t get me wrong it felt amazing. But I could at least think right now, long enough to have a congestion. But if I’m honest, I just wanted David to shut up and kiss me. And it seems my intentions were heard loud and clear. David set down his beer and moved over to the couch. Paul scooched us over so he could sit.

“Nice bra.” He complimented.

“What can I say, reds my favourite colour.”

“You’d look pretty bathing in it” he said.

He moved my hair out of the way and began leaving hot kisses on my neck. I could feel his little smirk after each one.

“Paul, baby, you full already?” I asked.

God I sounded like a concerned mother right now. Not the vibe I was going for.

“I’d much rather be eating something else.” He purred.

I shifted my weight so I was leaning most of it on David. Marko simple followed along, and Paul’s lips were back on me. He pulled away much to quick for my liking. But between Marko licking the wound on my thigh, and David trailing his hands down my spine, did I really have room to complain? I could taste a bit of blood in my mouth.

“You see, that’s what you taste like baby.” Paul complimented. “Most delicious thing I’ve ever sank my fangs in”

Why was I blushing so damn hard? I never blushed. I’d heard almost every line in the book from all the people I fed on. But something about the way Paul spoke just made my stomach Erupt in butterflies. I felt David’s hands reach the edge of bra, and a soft click was heard as he undid it. I let him take it off and throw it somewhere in the cave. Paul’s eyes had gone wide and he was practically drooling.

“Wanna know what I think?” I asked.

Paul nodded, his yes never leaving my chest.

“Your head would look much prettier between my tits.” I smirked.

The way his eyes lit up was practically adorable. I head David chuckle from behind me, the sound breathy in my ear. Paul latched his mouth onto my right breast and swirled his tongue skilfully around my nipple. I leaned my head back into David, you played with my left nipple with his hand. My body felt like it was on fire.

“Keep your eyes trained on me sweetheart, we’re going to make you feel so good.”

I heard Dwayne get up and footsteps disappear. I tried to move, thinking maybe we should stop. I felt bad. But David just pushed me back down.

“Don’t worry about him, just focus on us kitten.” He said.

And I could I say no to that? I pushed Dwayne from my mind for now, sad that the forth wouldn’t be joining us. They were cruel with it, bringing me to the edge several times and pulling away just to hear my winds. Every time I would squeeze my eyes shut, David would make me open them again, calling me a bad girl for not following the rules. Right, keep my eyes on him, I could do that. It shouldn’t be that hard.

Was this was all my clients felt like? No wonder I had regulars who kept coming back for more. I wished I could feel this blissed out all the time. It’s as almost painful. But the good kind of pain, the pain that reminded you you were alive. Despite my fathers best efforts, I was still here. And right now I’d say I was winning at life. Two have three hot vampires with their attention solely on me. It was like a dream.

“You haven’t had a taste yet” I pointed out.

I knew my blood would work as an aphrodisiac to them, I just casually left that part put. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, besides they wanted to jump my bones the second they laid eyes on me.

“You want me to bite you, don’t you you little slut?” David asked.

I wanted to be cheeky and snap back, but instead a small “please” passed my lips.

What in the name of Lucifer was going on right now? I never beg for anything, let alone sex! What kind of succubus would I be if the others found out I was out here being a little bitch? But then again, none of them ever even dared to try a vampire.

“Ooo, I like it when you beg kitten. Say that again.”

“Please David! Please bite me!”

“How could I say no when you beg like that?”

Paul had taken over David’s work on my nipples so the boy could readjust. He licked a stripe up my neck and it sent shivers down my spine. I could feel his fangs gently scraping my skin and it was driving me crazy. No, I wouldn’t allow him to tease me. I grabbed his head and pushed it down, causing him to bite me. I could feel him chuckle into the bite.

“Somebodies desperate.” Marko teased.

I didn’t even noticed he had slipped two fingers into me, too distracted by David. The way he looked under me, smiling at me lazily as he played with my pussy, it was indescribable.

“Hell you’re pretty” I breathed out.

He stopped his movements for a second thrown off by my comment. But he quickly regained focus.

“You think I’m pretty huh?” He teased.

“Since the second I laid eyes on you. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. I’m so glad I entered that alley.” I said.

My words seemed to get him to pick up the pace. Praise kink, noted. Now I just had to figure out what David’s tik was.

“I wanted to fuck you so bad baby you don’t even know the things I was going to do to you.” I kept going.

My sentences came out shaky and breathless.

“You looked so pretty covered in that man’s blood. It’s the only thing I could think about all day.” I confessed.

Paul’s hands began roaming my body feverishly. It seemed he wasn’t happy all my attraction was on Marko. Neither was David, who bit harder into my shoulder, making me let you a gasp, as my back arched slightly.

“Oh fuck!” I called out.

Paul chuckled, pulling away to switch to my other breast. He bit down on the skin around my nipple, and I should have been angry but he looked so beautiful doing it. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open, he moved to straddle my thigh and was grinding down against it, desperate for any type of friction.

“Yeah, that’s it baby, just like that, you’re making mommy feel so good.” I praised.

David completely drew back at that, and my eyes moved to meet his. His eyes met mine in a glare. I smirked.

“Awww, is daddy mad I’m not giving him any attention?” I cooed.

I could feel his erection pressing up against my ass. Bingo, I’d hit the Jack pot.

“Im sorry Daddy, I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. Show them how it’s done.”

The growl that came from his throat was mouthwatering. I felt high out of my mind. It was like they were made for me, and I for them. Marko seemed to take that as a challenged as he changed the angle of his fingers and I swore I was seeing stars.

“Oh shit! Fuck!” I cried out.

“You can’t even think right now can you baby?” David said.

And he was right, I could barely comprehend anything that was happening right now. I watched as he reached into his pocket and lit a cigarette, and brought to his lips. He took a long drag of it, and with cigarette still in hand, he wrapped his finger around my neck and craned my head backwards. He pulled me in fro a hungry kiss, blowing the smoke into my mouth. The slight tingle of the nicotine making my mouth feel hot. I strangled out a moan, and David squeezed his hand tightly around my throat.

I knew I would last long now, so I stopped trying to fight the orgasm they’d been building for almost an hour now. My breathing was shallow and rugged.

“It’s ok, cum for us baby” David gave me permission.

There was no time to think about it. Almost as if his words commanded it. I could feel the hot coil burning in my stomach was about to snap.

“Come on baby, I know you got it in you. Can you cum for daddy and his brothers. Show us how pretty you sound.” He encouraged.

Half his words didn’t even reach my ear drums a is threw my head back, arching my back, grinding my hips down on Marko’s fingers. I couldn’t even decide who’s name to moan, so I threw it to the wind and just let out a guttural cry. Every once of my body was on fire and my heart was pounding. Holy shit, if that’s what a real orgasm felt like, I never wanted to feel anything else again. I’d let them fuck me for hours just to get a taste of it. I couldn’t even tell who’s hands were hear as I tried to come down from my high.

“That’s it baby, you did so good for us. Such an obedient little girl.” David cooed.

I could still smell his cigarette.

“Can you look at me?” He asked.

His voice was more gentle then I expected.

“There you are.” He smiled at me.

I still couldn’t bring myself to speak.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He asked.

I simply nodded my head.

“Aww, I think we broke her David. She can’t even speak.” Paul said.

Normally I’d smack him for that comment, but right now I was thanking Lucifer for this boy. There was still blood on his lips. I pulled him in for a kiss, and heard David chuckle. I laid back against David’s chest, still trying to speak. Paul lifted my legs to lay against his lap, and Marko adjusted himself to lean his back against the couch. I watched as he brought his soaked finger up to his mouth and kicked them clean. I swore the sight alone was already making me wet again. Damn it!

David’s eyes followed my line of sight and he smirked.

“It’s a shame only he got to taste you.” He said.

“You can taste me anytime you want” I said dreamily.

As a succubus, orgasm were so much different than they were as a human. Everything was 100 times more intense. For all intensive purposes, I felt like I could kill god right now, ironic, right.

“Your legs are still shaking.” He pointed out.

And that they were. Every part of my body felt tingly.

“Need more, want more.” I cried.

“Such a needy little thing aren’t you? And to think you wanted to kill us earlier.” He teased.

“Still might if you don’t kiss me right now.” I said.

I leaned up to bring him in for a kiss. My stomach muscles were sore from how hard I’d tensed. Suddenly I heard foot steps approaching. We all brought our focus to the sound.

“Omg, sorry!” A girl called.

She turned around and covered her eyes. I chuckled slightly. Next to her was Dwayne, and on the other side was a brunette boy. Dwayne made eye contact with me, pointedly avoiding my naked body. Such a gentlemen.

“I was wondering where you went dude.” Paul said.

“We never told Star or Micheal we came back to the cave.” He shrugged lazily.

Really? That’s all he had to say right now? So Star, that was her name.

“You don’t need to apologise Star, a succubus is never ashamed of her body. It’s not a sin too look you know, Lucifer himself told me.” I said.

I crossed my legs, and brought them to my chest, at least attempting to cover myself for her sake. My goal was never to make anyone uncomfortable, that was gross. Paul whined at my sudden lack of touch. Such a sinful noise that I wanted to hear again and again.

“You can turn around now.”

I told her after Marko had removed his jacket and draped it over my back. I’d notice Micheal never once tried to overt his yes. Maybe he thought I couldn’t see them through his sun glasses. Star moved over to the other couch to sit by Dwayne, but Micheal stayed put. And I knew why, he was miserably failing at trying to his his sudden erection. I chuckled darkly.

“Come on Micheal, I don’t bite, not unless you want me to.” I winked.

The poor boy was practically trembling as he walked over to his seat. He quickly pulled a pillow down on his lap.

“Dwayne didn’t think you guys would still be at it.” Star explained, still bashful as ever.

She was positively adorable, and god did I want her. Women were very different than men, much more complicated.

“No worries doll, you have nothing to be sorry for” I cooed.

“God, you’ll flirt with anything that walks won’t you?” Dwayne snapped.

The fuck was his problem?

“If said think had the cutest face I’ve ever seen, then yes.”

She covered her cheeks with her hands, only serving to make her more cute. Maybe it was because I was still high on vampire soul right now, but I couldn’t stop my heart from swelling anytime she moved. Everything about her was adorable, her style, her long curly hair, the way she figured with the ends of it when she was nervous. It made my heart flutter. A completely different experience to the one I had just moment ago. Something most Succubi never get to feel. We were creatures of sex, not love.

“You’re the one who brought her here,” I pointed out, “how could I not, pretty girls like her deserve the world.” I said matter of factly.

Dwayne rolled his eyes. That was it.

“You do know I can smell you right? You can keep denying it all you want Dwayne, if you don’t want to have any fun tonight, then be my guest. But let the lady and her friend speak for themselves.”

“Y-you can smell him?” Micheal asked.

I knew what he was really asking.

“You too. It’s almost like you’ve never seen tits before” I giggled.

He groaned clearly embarrassed.

“It’s ok baby, everyone has their own pace. No need to get so blushy on me.” I cooed.

Paul cackled beside me.

“Aww little Mikey want to play.” He said.

I couldn’t hold back my laugh. Paul almost seemed more proud of that then helping me reach my orgasm. I reached up and stole the cigarette from David’s fingers. Smirking as he glared at me. I let out a long puff of smoke before speaking.

“It’s ok, I have more than enough juice for tonight. We can just chill and enjoy ourselves.” I said, “but I’m not completely opposed to round two.” I finished.

David angrily swiped the cig back from me. I watched as Star squirmed in her seat. Interesting, her eyes were trained on Micheal. She had a crush, how cute.

“Unless of course, you want to help the poor boy out Star. Wouldn’t want to step on any toes here.”

She couldn’t even stutter out any actual words. Poor girls brain much be running a hundred miles an hour.

“I wouldn’t even know how.” She finally muttered.

“That’s ok sweetness, I could show you. Nobody better to learn from really.”

She blushed even harder if that was possible. I wrapped Marko’s jacket around my shoulders and stepped over him on the floor, crossing the room to her. I bent down beside the couch like Marko had earlier. I gently took her hand in mine when she showed no apprehension.

“Do you want to?” I asked.

Her eyes met mine, and I understood why her name was star now. It was like she held the whole galaxy in her eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to Love, I’d be more than content to just sit by you.” I said truthfully.

The boys were clearly alarmed by how different I was with her Vs them. So sweet and gentle. Even I was a bit taken aback, never really feeling this way before.

“You intrigue me, Mon coeur, I would be honoured to show you.”

Dwayne’s eyes were on me. The jacket barely did anything to cover my exposed skin. My lace panties now soaked and barely leaving anything to the imagination.

“I could show Micheal how to please you too, wouldn’t you like that?”

I rubbed my thumb against her knuckles. Her skin was so soft, unlike the boys. Her hands felt nice in mine and I couldn’t fight the smile that broke on my lips. She was making my heart do summer salute just by looking at me. I saw her eyes scan the room. She was uncomfortable by the audience.

“Marko?” I asked, drawing his attention to me.

I didn’t even have to ask, he already knew where I was heading.

“There’s a nest in the back of the cave, we wouldn’t even here a thing.” He offered.

“Do you want me to make you feel good baby?” I asked her.

She gave a shy nod. I was quick to pick her up from the couch, my demon strength making her feel like a teddy bear in my arms. She let out a squeal, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and burying her face into my neck. I could have sworn my heart stopped. I’d never heard a cuter sound. I used one arm to hold tightly onto her legs so she felt secure. I held my other hand out behind me for Micheal to grab.

I lead them both away to the back of the cave. Micheal seemed tense and I gave his hand a gentle squeeze. I already had more than enough fun for tonight. I was more than content to just focus on their pleasure. I had to admit, they’d make quite the couple.

“Dwayne was telling us about you” Micheal spoke.

His voice came out horse and strained.

“Oh?”

“He said you’re going to help them.”

“What can I say, I’m a charitable demon.” I laughed.

“Are you really a demon?” Star asked, sounding a bit scared.

I shushed her. “You have nothing to be afraid my mi amour, you’re in good hands tonight.”

This was going to be a long night, but I didn’t mind one bit. I’d finally found people that made me feel alive, made me feel almost human again. And once I got a taste, I was addicted. But there was still Dwayne. The only man alive to ever resist my charms. He was like a forbidden fruit, dangling right in front of me. And by Lucifer did I want to take a bite!

Tag: @vechkinfan @henhouse-horrors @iloveslasher @oceansrose2002 @tohuntafreak @queer-and-utter-chaos @judeknight @phantomenby @patient1666074 @auntvamp @lazuli-leenabride @2525sc

An: Sorry it took so long lol, I forgot I said I was going to make this a trilogy. You guys can decided what happens from here 😏 as an asexual I’m still really bad at writing smut lol. I have no idea what I’m doing. Why do y’all keep asking (not saying you should stop, this was fun) but I hope you enjoyed none the less. Everyone got a happy ending this time, unless you count Max and the priest who would surly die the next sundown. 😂

I totally wasn’t listening to this song while writing or anything… 👀

[brotheralyosha]

Ryan wrote about Goncharov, Tumblr’s fever-dream Scorsese movie, in Monday’s newsletter, but since then there’s been an absolute explosion in press coverage — it went from Polygon all the way to the Guardian and the goddamn paper of record. 

But why? Why has this meme in particular captured the attention of an audience outside the bounds of the dashboard? I mean, Tumblr churns out platform-wide participatory memes all year round which barely get a look in edgewise from the gen pop. 2022 alone has seen the vocabulary takeover of “blorbo from my shows” and the iconic Live Slug Reaction, to say nothing of the GOUGAR. 

Unquestionably, it has more than a little bit to do with the “all eyes on Tumblr” energy of the past few weeks due to the ongoing Twitter meltdown; simply put, more journalists are paying attention to the site than before. But also, Goncharov is pretty damn impressive on its own. It’s as if knowing they were being observed, Tumblr decided to put on their best show, one that demonstrated at full force its best features as a platform. I mean, that’s not really what happened, but it’s a fantastic coincidence even so. 

Despite, or perhaps in spite of, observations that the Goncharov created by the hive mind really shows all the marks of its communal creators never having actually watched a real Scorsese movie, it is a perfect canon. The kernelsprite of the original silly shoe label was prototyped by the successive additions of the “this idiot hasn’t seen goncharov” post and then finally the poster by @beelzeebub, which provided the necessary names and faces as fuel for what followed: including over half a thousand fics on Archive Of Our Own. 

Goncharov is, and don’t cringe at this, really pure. Like a classic fairytale, it shows off the power of communal enthusiasm to make something genuinely moving out of almost nothing — in this case, a silly shoe. Scorsese works beautifully as its symbolic centerpiece: his crusade against superhero movies makes him the perfect figurehead for such an anti-commercial communal phenomenon. While Marvel fandom of course still has a strong presence on Tumblr, the site’s heyday as a center of franchise consumption is perhaps in the rearview mirror. This year, the platform obsessed over the Dracula Daily Substack and, when it was over, prepared to read Moby Dick in the form of Whale Weekly— as a hotbed of contrarian classicists it has never been healthier. 

Tumblr is a platform that has an incredibly strong identity and thrives on the continual re-evaluation and analysis of that identity, so of course Goncharovposting was followed by a spate of meta-Goncharovposting that analyzed the reasons and mechanics behind the meme behind the movie. A salient observation was posted by mrv3000, who argued that the phenomenon could be seen as a response to larger pop-cultural trends: “By media companies making The Story more and more exclusive and inaccessible to more and more people, fandom will turn to things in the public domain or even make up their own Story in order to have fun where anyone can join in.” 

If there were to be a center of a growing movement away from the pablum of binge-watching and towards something far more strange, of course it would be Tumblr, a true Library of Babel of our time. It’s Borgesian, it’s Nabokovian, it’s Calvinian. but most importantly it’s Goncharovian.