#if I'm coming across as like. wildly out of touch I do apologize

[highwayphantoms]

Then what do you consider to be the real middle class? How do you know if somone is truly middle class? Because I'm making 90k and I feel poor after paying my student loans and my car that I use to get to and from work

I'd put you in the lower middle class, same as me. I'm carrying a shitload of debt and most of my money goes to bills, but I can afford to have a car. I can afford to live in an apartment that isn't the bottom of the barrel. I can afford to have pets. I can afford to do nice things like taking the train to Washington DC and spending a few days there.

But that said: the exact lines of where middle class begins and ends is gonna vary from place to place, because cost of living has an impact on that. I live in an area with a relatively high cost of living, but not quite on the scale of like, NYC or much of California.

Six years ago I was living exclusively paycheck-to-paycheck and struggling to make ends meet. Believe me when I tell you the difference between that and where I'm at now is night and day.

(Also, if student loans are kicking your ass and they're federal loans: income based repayment plans. Trust me. It's super worth it if paying your student loans every month is totally draining your bank account.)

[jayke0]

Filled To The Brim

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem reader

Summary: kinktober day 25, Breeding

Rating: 18+

Warnings/Content: Breeding, fluff, p in v, unprotected sex, a bit of crying, overstimulation, rough Steven, brief nipple play, creampie, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 989 (ik it's short, but it's good)

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

…………………………………………….......................

"What did you just say?"

Steven's eyes shoot open and widen, looking up at you like a deer in headlights.

"Oh shit, shit, shit, shit… me and my big bloody mouth… I'm sorry love, that– that was– weird of me to say—."

You watch the gorgeous man struggle underneath you, apologizing profusely for letting his words and mind get the better of him. He looks so beautiful like this, a sheen of sweat covering his tanned skin to make it glisten in the afternoon light, his messy curls sprawling across the pillow and his forehead, and his necklace balancing perfectly between the join in his collar bones.

Slowly, you lean down to his ear and bite the shell of his earlobe softly. "Say it again, I liked it baby."

It pulls a soft whimper from his chest and makes him squirm underneath you, you're able to feel his cock throbbing inside you as you rock your hips back and forth on him and sit back up. "Tell me how you wanna breed me Steven, please." You pout. 

"Shit, dove, I wanna cum inside you so bad, I wanna breed that pussy… please lemme do it. Please, pet."

You start bouncing on him faster, moaning and nodding to the wonderful words that spill from the arguably most reserved man of the three of them. Your hand grabs his and places it on your chest, which he takes as a sign to play with your nipples and tug the hard buds softly. "More baby! Tell me more!" Breathy moans are all that leave your lips after that.

"I'm gonna knock you up love, fuck. 'M gonna fill you up to the brim and make you spill my spend from your hole–."

Holy shit, he's good. You're pretty sure you both look like a scene out of a porno right now… not that you'd know, your head is thrown back so far that you feel your vocal chords straining with each moan. He's fucking up into you with staggered thrusts, one hand frantically gripping your waist while the other continues to roll your nipples between his fingers. As you drive down on him repeatedly, your fingers come between your legs to touch that bundle of nerves that has your toes curling in seconds.

"Don't cum, Steven–not yet. Save it for me baby!—" you manage to blurt out before you're sliding down on his cock one last time to take him all and shaking wildly, thighs clamping shut as you're blinded by pleasure, which is prolonged by your boyfriend's sweet whimpers as he fends off his own orgasm.

"Good boy." You say shakily, rubbing his chest. "good bo—."

Before you can finish, the man is flipping you over onto your back, making your eyes open in surprise.

He tugs your hips till your ass is resting on his thighs and his hands are wrapped around your hips, gripping you tightly to keep you in place.

"Now, I get to breed you properly, yeah love? Please say I can…" 

You feel him rutting into you, short bursts of pleasure coursing through your body and making your nerves tingle with overstimulation. "Of course you c–an, sweetheart," your voice is hoarse. "Breed me baby, please."

Steven's lip seemingly trembles as his brows knit together and he focuses on fucking another orgasm out of you; and filling you with his pent up arousal. He's not caring with his thrusts anymore, hips slamming into yours at a skin-slapping rate, his jaw hanging loosely.

"I love fucking you like this, pet, so so much. Just makes me wanna use you for days and–ah!– cum in you over and over—" Your boyfriend's pace is getting sloppy, but it's still managing to pull you closer and closer to the edge as you look up at him with teary eyes, that same necklace now dangling in your face as he curls over you.

The man presses his face into the pillow as if to hide himself and the filth coming from his mouth, his arm winding underneath you and cradling you while your legs are now straight up in the air. It's a humiliating position, but it makes your cunt feel so good; it's constantly clenching around him and begging for his seed.

Your nails dig into his shoulder blades. "Fuck, Steven, please– holy shit… breed me baby. God, I need you to cum–." You continue to ramble in his ear, a few tears falling down your face at the bruising force he's using. "Knock me up sweetheart… wanna have your babies." 

Suddenly, you feel his hips stutter for a second as muffled moans fill your ears and you feel him spurting hot white inside you, painting your insides with everything he has… but he doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until he can't move anymore, his muscles tensing to stop him from collapsing on you.

You pant heavily. Your built up orgasm subsides, a little to your displeasure, but as your boyfriend pulls his flushed face from the pillow you can't be disappointed for more than a few seconds, a smile replacing the frown.

His soft eyes crinkle at the edges as he smiles back, that big giddy grin that shows literally everything he can give you, just pure happiness that you can't help but replicate. 

"You ok? Sorry… got a bit rough on you there, I know that's not really my 'style'." You feel his warm hand trace your features, thumb wiping the wet trails on your cheeks. "More of Marc's thing, innit?"

"It was perfect, baby, I'm fucking peachy." You giggle softly. You're happy to ignore the ache between your legs, but your boyfriend isn't, noticing how you're still throbbing on him.

"D'you want some help, love?" He asks in the sweetest voice.

"Yes please, if you wouldn't mind."

"I never do." The man pecks your lips before sinking down your body to relieve you of that ache.

...........................................................................

Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra @queerponcho @summonthesoups @motleyfolk @steven-grants-world @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @minigirl87 @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar

(Lmk if you wanna be added or taken off the tag list and i will work my magic 👍)

[ronearoundblindly]

E for Steve? More specifically hideout Steve???? 🥺🥺

For this ask game and for this touch-starved!Steve series.

MINORS DNI. Hooooooo, Nessie, this got me all bothered.

E - Extra Info

Mini-rant time:

I've come across a couple of comments describing Nomad in this story as "subby," which I have to say, I consider wildly untrue.

He's hyper-sensitive, that's for sure, and he's inexperienced, yes. Being starved for touch doesn't automatically make you submissive, though. In my opinion, that only makes Steve more responsive during intimacy and sex.

We know--or we should know--that real doms are getting pleasure and satisfaction from the pleasure of their partner while exercising the most control over the 'scene' between the two (or more) partners.

That and Hideout!Steve are the same picture to me. At least, I'm not saying he's a dom-Dom, like a practicing and negotiated dominant, but he ain't being submissive, folks, as far as I'm concerned. He's learning, he's exploring, and he's coming into his own. That's all.

Mini-rant over! (No one is wrong in their interpretation of him, by the way. I just wanted to explain the headspace I am writing him from.)

He likes skin-to-skin contact. He doesn't care if things get messy. He has no issue with bodily fluids or functions. If you tell him to do something or want to try something, he's game.

He loves to pamper you with soothing back and foot rubs, but he doesn't fetishize any part of that except your pleased (or aroused) facial expressions (and soft noises of contentment).

What else...

The breath play. Oh boy! Probably not as scandalous as you think it might be, but he smothers his sounds in the pillows and tries to be super quiet long enough that Steve is somewhat reliant on limited oxygen before he comes. Of course, he never articulates that, so you found out very slowly and almost by accident.

Since he's so sensitive already, there isn't enough time to distinguish that anything specific might work him up to climax more/faster, but as he gains endurance, he starts to bury his face in your skin (chest, shoulder, or cunt) and remain cut off from air until his end.

Once, when he's holding you up, no support of a wall or anything behind you, and really going at it, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms behind his neck, you're both so sweaty that you slip.

What happens is your one hand catches the back of his neck and the other just latches onto his throat because he is frantically thrusting up into you with his grip spreading your ass. Normally, he'd have one hand to stabilize your back, but instead, he groans something fierce, and all you can do is hold on.

That, my friends, is when you hear Steve Rogers growl 'fuck' loudly for the first time. You'd've apologized if he didn't kiss you so sloppily and sooooo greedily afterward. Let's just say that was a good hint that he might enjoy just a little choking...

🫠🫡

Hmm, and I suppose I should mention that the gif above was chosen because eventually when Steve can be more open with you, we find out he does have a bit of a thing for wearing the uniform during sex. Not all the time, but that holds a special meaning because for just a moment, his work-life and his private-life aren't partitioned away from each other.

Kinda. He's still a fugitive.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[byeuijoo]

night-time apologies 𐀔 nicholas

genre : angst & fluff ⋆ warnings : two broken but repairable hearts ⋆ word count : 832

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

« can we talk? »

your voice disturbed the stillness of nicholas' night. bringing the phone up to his ear, you could hear him sigh for a long time — probably wondering why he'd decided to pick it up at such a late hour. pursing your lips in anticipation of any response from him, you swayed from side to side, mechanically cracking your fingers.

« haven't we already said everything? » — his voice created a bounce in your chest, as if it were the first time you'd heard it in years. but even so, you could clearly hear his boredom in his tone, « do you have any idea what time it is? don't you have school tomorrow? »

« i'm at your door. » you announced without thinking. you felt slightly stupid for having come all the way here, without having the nerve to ring the doorbell, preferring to make his phone ring at 2 a.m. « you're kidding right? » he asked with a more amused voice, as if he didn't think you were capable of such a thing. but when you suddenly became quieter, giving him no answer, you could clearly hear heavy footsteps approaching the front door.

and when he opened it, the one you could call your ex-boyfriend was standing in front of you. your eyes instantly locked with his, and it was with the phone still to your ear that you let a simple, breathless “hey” escape your lips.

you saw his eyebrows furrow, and he quickly hung up the phone, closing the door slowly behind him. letting your arm fall to the side of your body, you suddenly regretted every step that had brought you to where you are now.

« what are you doing here? » he said suddenly, and you could feel his annoyance even more clearly. « i wanted to talk to you, » you explained, lowering your gaze as you searched for words, « i- »

« i don't think we have anything more to talk about y/n, not after what happened. » he said suddenly, cutting you off. raising your gaze to him, you watched him for a few second : he looked tired and annoyed, running his hand through his hair to clear his forehead. you must have really annoyed him — but you absolutely had to make up for it. your fingers clutched the handle of your bag, nibbling nervously on your lower lip, before taking two steps towards him.

« it's not all over yet. » you declared, before a bitter laugh burst from his mouth. nodding and looking away, nicholas turned his back to you and folded his arms across his chest, « ah yeah? i think you've forgotten what happened. should i refresh your memory? »

your eyes met those of the boy for whom your heart was beating wildly, for which you'd give anything to get it back. his accusing index finger pointed at your chest, right where your heart was, « i told you i loved you, and you never answered me. you ran away without giving me any news for weeks. for weeks, y/n. it's a lot. » he looked so hurt, like his heart was still bleeding because of you. his brown eyes seemed empty, and his lips no longer stretched into that lovely smile you loved so much.

so you took another step forward, completely invading his personal space, before standing on tiptoe and mingling your cold lips with his. and against all odds, nicholas didn't push you away — he let you kiss him, the poor boy melting under your touch. and when he placed one of his hands against your waist, you pulled away slightly, looking into the depths of his pupils.

« i love you. i truly do. » you announced, almost out of breath, but in the most sincere way possible. you were convinced he could hear the loud beating of your heart, which could escape your chest at any moment. admittedly, you hadn't responded to his feelings at the time, but all this was new to you — and the word “ love ” was something you thought was too strong for you. but after spending three or four evenings crying, complaining that you missed him to your roommates twice a day, and watching him through his work window 3 times a week, you realized that you could indeed say that you loved him.

« i just needed time to realize it. and i'm sorry. » a smile finally appeared on his lips, before he puts both hands on your cheeks and kisses you as if it were the last time he'd ever seen you. some will probably say that he forgave you too quickly, but no one will ever be able to understand how his heart felt when he heard those three little words coming out of the mouth of the person who was making him lose his mind on a daily basis.

⠀

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

[daydreamgoddess14]

Could you do Garvez with #7, a snowball fight? Pretty please? Preferably starting as friends but ending with them together.

suggestion: ending in a scene where they trip and fall on top of each other in the snow and they kiss for the first time?

Impeccable Aim ❄️

Hi love!! Thank you so much for your request 😊 It's been an age since I wrote for these cuties, so I'm wildly out of practice! Hopefully, I've done this justice for you 💜

Luke Alvez x Penelope Garcia

Penelope Garcia was not a fan of winter. Specifically, wintry weather. Rain, wind… snow?! The only benefits of days like these were being able to curl up on the sofa with a book and a hot chocolate - one doctored with the heavenly spiced orange liqueur Rossi had gifted her. The spicy notes of the spiced orange liqueur mixed with the rich chocolate hit her tongue, instantly warming her up and transporting her mind to a place free of snow and ice.

As she took another sip, there was a sudden knock at her door.

She struggled to untangle her legs from the blanket, "be right there," she called out, buying time.

"It's Luke, you OK?"

"What're you doing here?" She muttered quietly. She finally managed to free herself from the blanket, nearly stumbling as she made her way to the door. As she flung it open, she was met, as promised, with the sight of Luke standing on her doorstep.

"Newbie," she exclaimed, surprise etched across her face. "What on earth are you doing here?”

He flashed her a smile, handing her a box of cookies. 

"Special delivery," he said, stamping snow from his boots onto the coarse mat outside her door.

She stared at him in disbelief, "You drove here?!" 

He shrugged nonchalantly, "I was in the neighborhood. Thought I'd see if you were doing alright, cooped up in here alone."

She frowned, gesturing outside. "But it's awful out there,”she queried. 

"Ahh, it's not that bad. My truck," he told her, "is ideal for this. Do, you doing OK?"

"Yeah, sorry, come on in," she held open the door for him

"Thanks." he said as he stepped past her, a hint of a smile on his face at her invitation.

He shrugged out of his coat, revealing a snug sweater underneath, the epitome of cosy

She shivered. 

"Are you cold?" he frowned. 

"No, no. hot chocolate? You can either have the Rossi special, or the boring alcohol free version,” she offered. 

He followed her further into the apartment, his eyes taking in the familiar surroundings. 

"I think I'll stick to the safe version, I know your alcohol measures," he teased. “I won't stay long, it's getting dicey out there.”

Penelope carefully stirred the mixture on the stovetop, watching the chocolate slowly melt and transform under her watchful gaze. With a generous handful of real chocolate flakes and a sprinkle of sea salt, she stirred until the concoction was smooth and creamy.

She took a spoonful, tasting the rich, velvety liquid and nodded in satisfaction. It was just right.

She added a healthy glug of the spiced liqueur to her own cup, watching the liquid mix in with the hot chocolate and then poured Luke's hot chocolate into his mug. She carefully topped them both with a generous dollop of whip cream.

With a knowing smile, she turned to him. "Marshmallows?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He chuckled, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Do you even need to ask? Of course!”

"So, how you holding up?" he asked. "You need anything?"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Alvez," she warned.

He chuckled at her defensive tone. "I know you are, Pen. I don't doubt your independence for a second. I was just checking in."

He took his hot chocolate to the sofa and sat down, draping his arm along the back as he looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Just trying to be a good friend.”

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't mean to sound so defensive.”

He smiled at her apology, genuinely touched by her sincere tone. 

She took a seat next to him and clinked her mug against his. "Cheers. I hope this clears up soon.”

He laughed, gently bumping his own mug against hers. "Cheers to that. I am not built for winter. Good thing I've got the truck.”

Luke blew the whip cream on his hot chocolate, watching as it melted slightly into the cocoa.

She laughed. "I do not think my little car will get very far in this.”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "No, I think your little car won't make it onto the road."

He took another careful sip of his hot chocolate, savoring the smoothness of the whipped cream blending into the rich cocoa.

"Want me to pick you up tomorrow? So you don't have to drive to the office?”

She raised an eyebrow, surprised by his offer. "You're really willing to pick me up tomorrow? In this weather?"

She was skeptical of his intentions, but a small part of her was warmed by the gesture.

"It's what friends do, Penelope." he told her with a wry smile. 

He finished the hot chocolate and took his mug to the sink, "I should get back before it starts coming down again.”

"You're probably right," she admitted reluctantly. 

There was a part of her that didn't want him to leave, but she refused to acknowledge it.

"Thank you, Luke," she said sincerely. "It means a lot that you stopped by."

"Anytime, Pen. you know that.”

He smiled warmly at her gratitude, touched by her appreciation. "It was no trouble, I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright. You know I always have your back.”

He shrugged his thick jacket back on and took a step towards her, as if unsure how to say goodbye. 

He looked down at her, his eyes meeting hers, "Well, I better get going.”

He gave her one final wave goodbye before he headed down the communal hallway and out of sight. She stood at the window, watching as he made his way to his truck and got in.

He started up the engine, which roared to life with a powerful hum. With a cough and a splutter, the engine croaked. He stepped on the gas pedal, hoping the truck would come back to life without any problems. He tried again, but the same sound echoed through the night air. His frown deepened as he leaned forward, clearly frustrated with the vehicle's reluctance to start.

Moving without thought, Penelope tugged on her snow boots and a jacket and went out, knocking lightly on the window of the truck.

He looked up, surprised and rolled it down, a mixture of confusion and relief washing over him when he realised it was Penelope.

"What're you doing out here?" he asked, leaning out of the window to speak to her.

"Do you need some help?" she asked, teeth chattering. 

"No, Pen, you'll freeze out here."

"Don't be ridiculous, come on. what can I do?" 

He popped the hood of the truck and stepped down, gesturing for her to take his spot.

He grumbled under his breath, knowing that refusing her help was a lost cause. "Get in for a minute, warm up a bit while I take a look.”

He peered at the engine, waving his phone flashlight to see properly. 

"Turn the engine over for me?" he called from the front of the car. Penelope did as he asked, the truck rumbled to life for a brief moment before sputtering and dying down again. 

He swore under his breath, clearly frustrated with the vehicle's defiance. "It wasn't this bad earlier," he muttered as he tried to inspect the engine.

"Again?" he asked. 

This time there was no answer. "Garcia?" 

"Here," she appeared next to him.

He stepped back, allowing her to look into the engine. "Any clue what could be wrong with it?" he asked, his voice gruff with frustration.

The cold air made his breath visible, and the light from the street lamp cast an eerie glow over the two of them as they huddled over the engine.

"Not my strong suit. Should you call breakdown?”

He scratched the back of his head, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "I could, but it'll take a while for them to get here. I was hoping we could fix it ourselves. Maybe it's just a loose wire or something simple.”

"It could be worse than that, you don't want to get stuck in this. Come on inside while we call them and wait." She told him, as she made her way back to the apartment door, she suddenly felt a small thud on her back. She turned around to see Luke standing there, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

He held up a snowball, a smirk on his face. "Sorry, I couldn't resist," he teased.

Her jaw dropped. 

"Seriously, newbie?" 

His grin widened as he continued his attack with a second snowball. This time, it landed right at her feet, sending a flurry of snow up over her boots.

There was a playful challenge in his eyes, daring her to retaliate.

She quickly bent down and scooped up a handful of the snow from the nearby wall, molding it into a tight snowball.

He watched her, his eyes tracking her every move with a hint of wariness in his gaze. He seemed to be bracing himself for the inevitable attack.

"How's your aim?" He taunted bravely. Penelope smirked.

She gripped the snowball tightly, feeling the icy cold in her palm. "Oh, my aim is impeccable," she retorted, a sly grin spreading across her face.

She took aim and hurled the snowball straight at him.

The snowball found its target, landing with remarkable precision in the collar of his coat. A gasp of surprise escaped him as the snow seeped into his skin, causing him to wince slightly.

He looked at her with a mix of admiration and a hint of irritation, surprised by her accuracy.

"Not bad, chica. not bad," he scooped up more snow and took another shot, his competitive nature rising to the challenge. 

He took aim and flung it towards her with all his might.

She let out a small shriek, barely dodging the snowball that would have struck her hip.

A cheeky smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she quickly scooped up more snow for her counterattack.

This time, her aim was off as the snowball sailed past him and landed harmlessly in the snow a few feet away.

He laughed loudly at her missed attempt, a cocky smirk on his face. "You really need to work on your aim," he teased. "Impeccable my ass."

She rolled her eyes at his taunt. "Oh, come on, I was just warming up," she retorted with a scoff.

She quickly crafted another snowball, determined to redeem herself and land a hit on him.

"Get ready, Alvez," she warned.

His eyes sparkled with excitement. 

"Bring it on, Penelope," he taunted, bracing himself for her throw.

She took a different approach, instead of immediately throwing the snowball, she walked deliberately towards him.

His eyes widened in surprise as she neared, his mind racing to anticipate her next move. But before he could react, she launched the snowball directly at him.

It landed on his chest, covering his coat in snow. With a laugh, he took up more snow and set off towards Penelope, closing the space between them, she shrieked again and tried to run from him, giggling.

He pursued her with determination, closing in on her quickly as he clutched the snowball tightly and took aim.

He hurled the snowball towards her, aiming for the collar of her coat. It landed with precision.

She gasped in shock, breathlessly spluttering at the shock of the cold. 

He laughed at her reaction, pleased with the outcome. He closed the remaining distance between them, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“You done now?” he asked. 

“Are you done now? she retorted.

He raised an eyebrow at her indignation and couldn't help but smirk. 

"Oh, I'm far from done. This is just getting started," he responded, gathering more snow in his hands.

Her eyes widened with alarm as she backed up, feeling her foot catch on a hidden patch of ice. She stumbled, her balance rocked, and she began to fall backwards in the deep snow.

Just before she was about to hit the ground, she felt a strong, steadying hand on her arm. Luke caught her in his firm grip, preventing her from taking a hard fall.

He gently guided her back to her feet, his arms still holding her steady until she was stable once more.

"Maybe we should call it quits," he murmured. His eyebrows furrowed with a mixture of concern and something else as he felt her cool hand, holding a lump of snow at the back of his neck.

A shiver ran down his spine as the snow melted and dripped down his shirt, the cold seeping through the fabric and against his skin.

"Are you kidding?!" He exclaimed. Penelope laughed.

"Couldn't resist," she teased.

“Jeez,” he exclaimed, feigning annoyance. "I can get you back, you know," he teased.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah,"

"Prove it," Penelope dared him.  

Without warning, he surged forward and captured her lips in a fierce kiss, crashing against her unexpectedly.

The shift in their combined centre of gravity sent Penelope backwards again. 

This time, Luke was standing far too close to be able to prevent their fall. 

She tumbled back, the thick, fresh snow breaking their fall. 

He felt her body tense up, sensing her surprise at his sudden move and their fall. He began to pull back, worried that he'd hurt her or crossed a line. Penelope’s cool hand on his cheek prevented him from moving away completely.

He looked at her, his eyes searching her face to gauge her reaction.

"I'm sorry," he started. To his surprise, she smiled. Her smile caught him off guard. He paused, his apology suspended in the air.

She looked at him, her eyes sparkling with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. He took a deep breath, willing himself to say something worthy of the moment.

"No apologies necessary," she said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "That kiss was worth the surprise. And the fall, though I do have a very cold butt now.”

“Why don't we go in?” He suggested with a relieved smile, “I might let you make me a real drink after all.”

[prolix-yuy]

...advanced crab walk⁉️ I'm scared to ask

Lovely Nonnie, never be scared! Honestly I googled this one and got a myriad of answers, so I picked which one seemed to make the most sense. And for such a wildly named position, there's only one boy I could choose.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Position: Advanced Crab Walk

Word Count: 1394 (oops)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), oral sex (f receiving), fingering, allusions to bartering sex for freedom, side character death, Ezra is a filthy boy as always.

Notes: Another one that got away from me! Ezra felt perfect for this position, though the way he gets there is very interesting.

You absolutely should not trust him, not after you caught him stealing your filters and running into the night. Definitely not after you tussled when you snuck into his camp, pinned to the dirt with his only functional hand and a wildness in his eyes that spiked fear through your stomach. Especially not after letting you go with a warning, threats of blood bubbling past your lips if you crossed him again. Never mind that he stole from you first, he would stop it with a finality that sent you stumbling back through the Green.

But now, both prisoners of misfortune, you have to consider what being allies might entail.

A larger band of prospectors with dangerous weaponry and even more dangerous smiles led you to your makeshift prison - a defunct transport pod. Your surprise doubled at the sight of your rival, handcuffed to the wall across from you. The space is cramped, barely able to stretch your legs from one side to the next, almost hip to hip with your fellow prisoner. He reeks of sweat and the stale recycled air they pump in to keep you both from choking to death. The sheen of perspiration on his skin amplifies the grime, but his features are strangely alluring now that they are not distorted by glass.

The second day you find your words, and he does too.

“Ezra,” he introduces himself, a foreign drawl tantalizing your ears. “And since we may never leave this sorry excuse for a prison, I will be the bigger man and apologize for my conduct thus far.” You roll your eyes at his half-apology, but accept. He speaks at length about anything, everything. His voice sometimes lulls you to sleep, startled back awake when the silence pervades. He’s always watching you, eyes sometimes sharply analytical, other times soft. You struggle under the idea that he may pity you.

You hunt for breaks in the panels, wiring to open the door, a way to release your manacles. Ezra lets you bounce ideas around like errant leaves on the wind. The cool tone grates at your nerves.

“Why aren’t you trying to escape too?” you snap, the short length of your restraints beginning to chafe your wrists. Ezra’s lazy lean, knees knocked wide and hand loose in his lap, only infuriates you more.

“Patience. I’ve always found striking a deal to be the best way to get out of a miserable situation.” 

“Easy for you to say. What do you have to offer them?” 

His eyes dance over you, contemplation parting his lips. A cold pit drops in your stomach.

“I have my plans,” he says simply. 

The fourth day you lose hope. Tears finally fall as you bury your face in your knees, choking your sobs back. You don’t want Ezra to hear your despair, use it as another way to bargain his way out at your expense. But the longer they fall, the harder they are to hide.

“Why do you cry?” Ezra murmurs, sidling next to you and pressing the warm length of his leg against yours. You’re as grimy and sticky with sweat as him now but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

“How many more nights alive do I have?” you choke out, and his wide palm wraps around your shoulder. A placating touch before the killing blow. Maybe he’ll end your suffering quickly.

“As many as you please,” he says, his fingers coming up to tilt your chin. “I do have a plan, after all.”

“For you.”

“For us.”

You stare in silence, the assured smile on his face glimmering hope in your chest.

“Do you trust me?”

Not a beat before your answer. “No.”

Ezra chuckles. “Smart of you. Do you want to make it out of here?”

A longer pause. “Yes.”

Ezra’s fingers grasp your chin, satisfaction painting his lips.

“Then do as I say. Take off your pants.”

Your heart hammers into a race, body freezing. “What?”

Ezra tilts his head, and the sinful part of his lips wars with your fear. “If I tell you it’s part of my plan to pleasure you fully and thoroughly, would you trust my word?”

No, you say to yourself, but with the walls closing in around you, would it be so bad for your final moments to be orgasmic? 

Stepping out of your leggings, a shiver runs down your legs at the naked appreciation on Ezra’s face. His hand strokes the outside of your thigh, leading you to stand over his hips. Looking up at you, you’re struck to softly card your fingers through the tuft of white hair at his temple.

“I would be honored to prepare you with my mouth, and my fingers,” he husks, the simple straightforwardness buckling your knees. Your curt nod is all the permission he needs to drag his fingers through your folds and stretch you open on them, mouthing at your clit with fat swipes of his tongue and needy lips. Hands clutching at his shoulders, he pumps you with slow, thorough motions, burying his chin between your thighs to slurp and groan. Sometimes his eyes drift shut, focusing the tip of his tongue on your clit, but when they flash up to you your cunt clamps hard. The snarled wrinkle of his nose as he sucks harder pulls a cry from your lips. 

“Down,” he rasps, fingers sliding from your channel with a loud, slick noise. He grips your hip and drags you to your knees, pushing you back to sit on his thighs. Your feet plant by his hips as he angles his cock to press at your entrance. Looking up to gauge your expression briefly, he’s almost confused. You wonder if he’s only taken in the past, never expected to be offered anything.

“Give it to me, Ezra,” you ask, and are rewarded with bared teeth and his cock splitting you open. At this angle he can only shallowly thrust into you, but you lean back to roll your hips down on him. The reward is a healthy snarl.

“Be loud for me,” he orders, and you tilt your head back and let every high-pitched wail empty out of your chest. “Scream for me, and no matter what, don’t stop.”

Your focus narrows on the burn in your arms and thighs and Ezra’s cock breaching you over and over, the mouthwatering ridge of his head stretching you every time. He practically roars at your cunt squeezing him, roughly palming your clothed breast as his fingernail scrapes over your nipple. The only death you’re concerned about is the little one burning its way through your veins.

“What the fuck is going…?” A deep voice not from your lover’s throat fills the small room, but you follow Ezra’s instruction and keep fucking him. Closing your eyes you pray for what plan you’ve put your faith in to work.

“Needy thing, had to have my cock,” Ezra husks, splaying his hand over your chest. “See how greedy her cunt is? You can have her all to yourself if you ask nicely.” You squeeze your eyes tighter to hold your tears back. 

A rumble of a voice, three heavy steps, what may have been breath across your face but then a choking sputter, and a sickly rip. Finally a thud, and Ezra’s arm snaking around your back to pull you to his chest.

“You’re okay, brave girl,” he murmurs, cradling your head as you suddenly sob into his chest. Adrenaline shakes your limbs, makes your breathing erratic as he murmurs to you. “You did everything perfectly, exactly what I told you. And look,” He coaxes your head up to see blood-splattered keys tumbled on the floor. “We have our freedom.”

You take a moment more to compose yourself, Ezra’s cock softening to slip out of you. The loss aches surprisingly, the comfort of him inviting a strange introspection. He unshackles you both, and finds another key that brightens his face even more. 

“We may part ways here, and you will never need look on my face again,” he says, and in his eyes is a promise you never expected. Not of safety, or of peace, but excitement, and ambition, and maybe still a lick of something carnal that calls for you.

“But you can also escape with me, if you so choose.”

You shouldn’t.

But you do.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[wsbhonni]

Sanctuary (Chapter 4: Dinner)

*A spark of hope lingers on Asa’s lips as he watches Arkin leave for the kitchen. Once the man is out of sight, he sits quietly on the bed, looking down on his feet, then occasionally at the kitchen lights reflecting from the floorboards. He watches Arkin’s silhouette walking and moving across the lights as sounds of plates clanking, and the soft smell of food being cooked reaches his sinuses. He knows the kind-hearted thief isn’t going to heed his request for just bread and water. He’s being cared for and all he could think of is the uncomfortable itch in his brain that comes with it. No matter how much the warmth has bloomed in his chest, a weight has made home on his legs after latching itself on his ribcage. 

Asa eyes the quiet shadow making sounds in the kitchen, only for that feeling to rip a part of his throat away. He looks down again, fumbling with his hands now- not really knowing what to do. Conscience etched him a. . . grimy feeling. Like his presence alone is staining the bed, the room, whatever he’s touching. Then it crawls up to his spine, eventually curling around his neck to cover his face; he tries to brush it off to no avail. So he shuffles down on the floor to sit instead.

. . . the killer stares at the wall, the pictures, the dresser, then out the window.. The shadows that made themselves home behind each item appear pitch black rather than the more friendly darkness he has gotten used to in his home, or the hotel. An overwhelming sensation of unease creeps up behind him and wraps its long fingers on his skin. Asa eyes wander back to the kitchen lights for comfort.

Outside of the oppressive headspace he has made for himself, out into the hallway where he walks towards where Arkin is. He stops just shy from the kitchen itself, but enough for him to peep from the corner to see the younger man working on the stove. The clock idly ticked away from 8:23pm up on the wall in front of him. He glued his attention to sunken eyes, he has to wonder how much sleep a father like Arkin usually has. Asa stood there staring at the man for a few moments, before deciding to speak up, despite his wildly uncomfortable throat and the taste of vomit still on his tongue. “Hey..”

-Arkin nearly jumped out of his skin- jumping in the air and cursing in fright.

"Jesus fucking Christ dude-" Arkin sighed, relieved.

An apology was quick to leave Asa’s mouth, he had never seen Arkin startle like that before- it was funny, honestly. He couldn't help but grin at the now flustered man.

"No you ain't," Arkin rolled his eyes.

Asa was worried the brunette had gotten upset with him, until he heard him chuckle, and saw him smiling.

"Anyways, you feeling alright?" Arkin inquired, suddenly serious.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine." Asa fumbled.

The two stood in awkward silence until Arkin turned back to his food.

"Well, I reheated more soup for you, I know it's not what you wanted, but you need vitamins and whatever." He explained, opening a drawer and producing a spoon.

Asa watched how Arkin tensed when his back was turned to him. There was a time where Asa would have loved that- would have loved the power that he had over Arkin. But now- it made Asa feel sick, it made his stomach become heavy and his throat tight. He felt guilty.

He watched as Arkin physically eased as he turned to him again. A bowl of soup in one hand, and a bowl of pasta in the other.

"Ya don't have to eat now if ya don't want to," He said, passing the soup to Asa, taking a seat at his kitchen island.

The man simply sat himself at the other stool of the island- Arkin's dining table, apparently. Arkin seemed surprised at first, but shrugged it away and dug into his food. Asa nibbled at his own food, letting the familiar slightly bland flavour finally wash the taste of bile away. His stomach stirred a bit, so Asa stopped, and looked up to the still eating Arkin.

"Where did you get the recipe for the soup?" He asked.

"Ah, shit, does it taste bad?" Arkin sighed, "-I usually add more flavour to it, but I didn't-" 

'-want to make it unsuitable for a sick person’s stomach’

"-have a lot of spices lyin' around, y'know."

*Asa said nothing but a small nervous smile of gratitude- still unsure of how to process this kind of attention. He glanced at the shelves behind Arkin where the spices are kept: salt, pepper, garlic powder- that’s pretty much it. Asa doubts there’s a lot of condiments lying around either. 

Soft autumn chills have settled inside the dim apartment, the only lights on is in the kitchen where they’re sitting. The estranged killer tries to make some small talk while he watches his ex-victim eat, asking why he keeps the apartment so dark. “To save up on the electricity bill”- Arkin replied with pasta still puffing in one of his cheeks. The conversation didn’t really go anywhere. . . so they just decided to stay quiet

Arkin shifts in his seat with his meal still in front of him, his grip on the fork ever so slightly tightening as he tenses up, staring, then avoiding the man on the opposite side: foreign. . . and vaguely a threat, yet he is weaker than ever; Still, He cannot let his guard down. Under the round circle of warm orange light above the kitchen island, the killer’s stature sitting from across him appears more like a large solid shadow than a person. 

The man returns his gaze with those almost supernatural eyes- drilling into his conscience. Arkin doesn’t know what’s more concerning: the fact that he’s being stared at, or the fact that the killer is barely touching his food.

Arkin takes a few cautious bites while he carefully slips a few looks at his opponent. Asa *is* eating, he just eats whenever the thief looks away. Every time Arkin moves his eyes down to scoop up his  Asa does the same then swallows just in time before attention is directed at him again.. 

It’s weird. Why the fuck is the guy doing that? Arkin decides to watch but before he knows it, the soup is already finished.

Abruptly, the man before him asked after letting out a light sigh- he looked a bit unnerved.

“So. . . Where are you sleeping tonight? I can go home if you want, I-“ Asa stumbled over his words despite sounding like someone’s teacher. He clears his throat: “I’m good enough to leave.” 

Arkin simply scoffed, an eyebrow arched. "Yeah right," He chuckled, taking a drink of water, "Not with how you were hobbling earlier. I don't trust you behind the wheel."

"Who said I was going to drive?" Asa huffed back, rolling his black eyes, "I can call a cab."

"The fair would be stupid expensive, I don't exactly live a few streets away from you."

"Is there a reason why you can't drive me home, then?" Asa crossed his arms, leaning forward inquisitively.

"Tanks runnin low, and I'm tired." Arkin rested his cheek in his palm and smirked.

His expression said 'we can do this all night'. It was charming- at least Asa thought so.

With a purse of his lips, Asa continued their banter. "Then where are you going to sleep, if you insist on me staying here."

"I got a couch, smart ass," Arkin gestured his head to the old beat up couch behind Asa.

As the larger man turned to look, Arkin gathered the dishes. He was slow to take Asa's bowl, as if the man would snap/grab at him; as if he were a wounded animal ready to pounce. He didn't, though- just slowly turned back to a now standing Arkin.

"How old is that thing?" Asa dared to ask, his nose scrunched.

"Got it from an old man havin' a garage sale," Arkin explained, almost proud sounding.

"Please, tell me you cleaned it."

"I vacuumed it!"

"And?"- Arkin rolled his eyes hard as he turned to wash the dishes. Asa took the hint and felt his whole body tense in disgust.

"That's disgusting, how are you not sick?"

"That's rich, coming from you." The response was a little more spiteful than Arkin wanted it to be.

Asa, promptly, went quiet. His face softened for a traitorous second- before bouncing back as if unbothered. Arkin knew he was playing with fire, but he wouldn't take the statement back. Because they both knew it was true- the only “sick” person here just vomited his guts out an hour ago.

*Of course Asa doesn't need someone to tell him he got some wires crossed. But only in his late 20s when he decided to indulge in it. And now that he’s in his mid 30s, after everything that dropped him onto the porch of someone like Arkin; he feels like the wrath has subsided enough to reflect. For a moment his thoughts slip and his first knee-jerk reaction is to not think about it anymore. Asa avoids the pair of eyes directed at him. He’ll come back for it later... or eventually. 

Nevermind what crept into his thoughts, he directed his focus onto why Arkin keeps him alive, *and* in his own apartment no less. If anything, Arkin might not be right in the head either- he figures, but who is he to judge about that subject? Anyhow, the prospects of Arkin having something wrong with him makes him terribly curious. 

It’s quite early to go to bed for Arkin, but he figures the older male would be the type to sleep at 8pm- his doubts got validated when Asa randomly yawns around 9:15. He was going to sleep on the couch as usual when the killer was still unconscious, but now that the man is awake, some new fears settle inside of his worries. What if he tries to kill him in his sleep? What if he rummages through his stuff? Set up traps in his apartment as revenge? What if he does. . . whatever serial killer-psychopaths do while he isn’t looking? He cannot let Asa out of his sight. 

Arkin dries up the remaining dishes and puts them back in place. As he turns around to check if the serial killer was doing anything, only to find the man dissociating and sitting quietly, staring at a wall. But knowing the man has issues, he decided to just leave him alone for now- 

‘I might die tonight’ , He entertained the thought.  

After a while of deliberation and moving to lean on the couch, still facing the man who is sitting in the same place, he spoke up a change of plans “I’ll sleep on the floor” 

His words were enough to snap Asa out of staring into space and turned his head towards him. He can see it, the slight blush that immediately fades away when the man reacts to his declaration. 

“ I have an extra mattress, don’t worry, it’s clean” 

Another confused look shot at his direction. 

There’s that apprehensiveness again, but now it’s showing in Asa’s voice instead. “Alright..”- the man replied. The type of awkwardness when someone offers you something that will benefit you, but you don’t know if you should accept it because it doesn’t benefit the other person. Faced with a blank stare, Arkin comes up with another offer: “Or. . .You can sleep on the floor. Just choose”

-Asa simply blinked back at Arkin. The fact that the other man cared so much about his comfort, ironically, made Asa uncomfortable. He wasn't used to people caring for him like that.

"The bed's fine," He responded flatly, getting up to head to bed.

He wobbled on his feet for a second, his calves feeling like they had fallen asleep. Arkin straightened his back, and looked like he was ready to run to Asa's side.

"I'm fine," Asa responded shortly, quickly getting his balance back.

"You sure-?"

"Why do you care?" Asa finally asked, nearly snapping.

He can't handle his emotions being played with- he could never handle it. Surely, Arkin was simply messing with him, giving him food and his own bed while he heals. Acting amicably with him- did Arkin know how he felt?

"I told you, I don't know," Arkin responded, defensive.

"Stop lying- just tell me why you saved me in the first place-"

"I ain't fuckin lyin' dude!" Arkin yelled defensively, his accent getting thicker, "If I knew why, you'd be the first to know!"

Asa straightened as well, expecting a fight. Only for Arkin to exhale and turn away, rubbing his forehead.

The two stood in angry silence for a moment. Only for Asa to finally sigh and move his way back to Arkin's bedroom. He knew better than to bite the hand that feeds him- perhaps he should just let it go. For now anyway.

When Arkin heard the door shut, he sighed to himself- maybe he shouldn’t explode at a literal serial killer living under the same roof as him. But hey, Arkin's done plenty of stupid things in his lifetime. He turns back to setting up the extra mattress, trying to keep his mind busy

However, his mind continued back to Asa, and how confused he must be. Which was fair, considering Asa kidnapped and tortured him, and vice-versa.

'Because you feel sorry for him,' A traitorous voice called from the back of his head.

Okay, sure he did. The guy was dealt a shitty hand in life- with an abusive murderer father and being thrown from foster home to foster home. But he didn't excuse all the things Asa did- never.

Though, he'd be lying if he said he didn't see himself in Emory. His own dad was shitty, sure, but he never killed anyone. He just got drunk, terrorised Arkin and his mom and sister, only to just up and leave one night.

Arkin groaned, and headed towards the bathroom. Whatever, he just had to ignore his weird feelings until he thought Asa was well enough to go home.

[lizziemichaelis]

Hi, can I order a sebastian yandere x contractor reader with nsfw? Please. Hope you have a nice day. 💖

♥︎Hello! Thank you for this request, yandere Sebastian is the best Sebastian… I kind of ran with this idea lol, I hope you like it! (Also, I don’t really write smut often so I apologize if it’s not great)

“Excuse me?” I stumbled back against the alleyways’ wall as a man approached me, grinning wildly.

“You heard me, pretty lady, why don’t you come back to my place?” My heart began beating faster, anxiety overcoming me as he backed me into a corner. Sebastian had left for a moment to retrieve something from the carriage, and I stayed put on the street. Shortly after a drunken man approached me, bombarding me with vulgar remarks about my body.

“No… I can't, please leave me alone!” I yelled, thinking that I could get out of this situation by myself. The disgusting man reached out to grab me- and just before he could lay his hands on me, a black shadow ripped him away by the collar. Those darkened red eyes and white fangs, it was Sebastian.

“What do you think you’re doing, trying to put your filthy, unworthy hands on her?” His deep voice rang in my ears, an otherworldly edge to his tone. “My darling, please go wait by the carriage while I deal with a pest.” I shuddered.

“Very well,” my voice was a mere whisper as I walked away, my back turned to the scene behind me. That man isn’t coming out of that alley alive. Despite this knowledge- I turned a blind eye to it. He deserves it.

After a few minutes of me being out of earshot, Sebastian returned looking tidy as ever, yet instead of his usual smile there was a frown.

“Get in the carriage, please,” Though his volume was normal, it was obvious he was not happy. He opened the door to allow me to step inside, offering his hand to support me. After I was seated, he followed, sitting across from me. I felt a tinge of nervousness as he stared at me intently. I know how he is… how he feels about these types of things. After the tense moment he reached forward to caress my cheek.

“Are you okay my dear?” He pushed my hair from my face. “Did he touch you? What did he say?” As he spoke those words, his eyes darkened, eager to hear my response. I was relieved that he wasn’t upset with me. I was anticipating a scolding, considering I hadn’t called for him when I was in danger. I paused, taking a deep breath, preparing myself for what his reaction would be to my reply. I’m lucky he didn’t touch me.

“No… no he didn’t touch me or anything of the sort, he just,” I looked up and saw a glimmer of relief in his expression. “Just made vulgar remarks about… about my figure and my chest… and that he wanted to have his way with me,” I could’ve sworn I saw a vein in his forehead burst. “He was offering, no… telling me to come with him back to his home.”

“What disgusting vermin. How dare he make such remarks about you? Would he have taken you or… touched you if I had arrived any later?” He was visibly, and tonally, angry. “I apologize profusely for leaving you alone in the street. I will never make such a mistake again.” He calmed down a bit, leaning in to place a small kiss on my forehead. He leaned back into his seat with a sigh. “That said… we must return to the manor at once, I'm afraid I've gotten rather possessive,” he added, “I want to take what’s mine.”

My mind immediately went to the gutter, triggering a tinge of excitement. It was obvious what he was insinuating. The rest of the ride home was eerily quiet.

Warning: NSFW below the cut

My face became flushed as Sebastian began removing my various layers of clothing, laying me on my bed as he did so. He was silent as he removed my dress, my petticoat, and unlaced my corset. He himself was fully clothed, besides missing his tailcoat. I jerked every so often when his fingers would graze over a particularly sensitive or ticklish spot.

I brought my fist up to my face to cover it in embarrassment as I laid completely bare, his eyes grazing over every inch of my skin.

“So stunning, and all mine. No other creature should even think about laying their hands upon you,” he growled. He paused for a bit longer to look at me until he finally reached his hands forward to start groping my chest, holding my breasts in his hands, slipping my nipples between his fingers. My clit was now burning in response, desperate for his touch. I whimpered when he lowered and began kissing and marking my neck. I'll have to wear makeup to cover that up, he always gets carried away when he’s angered.

One of his hands began wandering lower and lower, sliding along the curve of my waist and then to my hip. It disappeared for a moment, then I gasped as he traced a finger along my slit.

“So wet already?” He whispered against my ear, his breath sending chills down my spine. He then focused on my clit with his gentle touches. I called his name breathily. In response, he lifted from my neck to be face to face with me. His fangs appeared as he smiled darkly at me, red eyes swirling in desire. A look of pure sin.

“My perfect pet,” he praised, then took his free hand to grab both of my wrists and pin them above my head in one swift, rough motion. I choked out a shriek, surprised by his forceful actions. “Maybe I should just lock you up forever,” he slipped two fingers inside of me with ease, “you’d never be able to escape.” He laughed silently, pushing upwards inside of me as I moaned desperately. “Well, it’s just as well for me to never leave your side,” he stretched a third finger inside, “as long as I'm near you’ll never be harmed.” He used his thumb to stroke my clit.

I felt my orgasm fastly approaching, writhing against his hands. I was barely focused on his words- chasing my own release. The most I did in response to him was whimper. Just as I was about to go over the edge- moans loud as ever- he removed his hand from me. I shuddered, gasping out in protest.

“Why… why did you stop?” I opened one of my watering eyes slightly to see him smirking above me.

“You can finish when I'm inside of you.” Bastard. My annoyance was short lived though, for he had taken his cock from his pants and was now teasing my entrance with the tip. I held my breath in anticipation, wishing he would just slam inside of me already. I didn’t need to wait long. I exhaled finally when he slid inside, slowly easing inside. He didn’t stop until he reached the hilt, a look of sheer pride plastered on his face. “My perfect girl, so tight…” He released my hands from his grip, placing his own onto my hips. He pulled out slowly, sensually, and then used his hands to slam me back onto him.

“Sebastian!” I cried out, and he immediately began a rough pace. The force of my body colliding with his own nearly hurt yet the pleasure that accompanied it overpowered any pain. I moaned and writhed underneath him, all control stripped away as he thrusted again and again.

He was hitting just the right spot, and I wanted to cum badly- yet I couldn’t with no stimulation on my clit. Almost as if he had read my mind, he removed one of his hands from my hip and began rubbing my clit. I screamed his name, again, in response.

“Please, please,” I begged, my eyes watering from the pleasure. I needed to finish.

“You wish to cum, my pet?” He asked, though he wasn’t expecting an answer. “Very well,” with that, he pushed me over the edge. My mind went blank as I quivered and contacted around him, overwhelmed with pleasure. Shortly after I finished, he grunted and slammed as deep as he could inside of me, filling me up to the brim with his release.

Suddenly, he grabbed my legs and shoved them upwards, pushing me into a mating press. My mind was still cloudy from my previous orgasm, and I didn't come out of that state until I felt him harden inside of me once again. Truly, his stamina was alarming. This is going to be a long night.

[bontenten]

Sleeping Beauty

Pairing: Shirabu x f!reader WC: 5.6k Genre/Warnings: smut, fairy tale retelling, incest, dubcon/noncon, drugs (sleeping pill), somnophilia, abusive past relationship, implied rape (not Shirabu), panic attack, victim-blaming, hero-complex with a bit of god-complex, hints of yandere, uhh medical malpractice, Shirabu’s bangs

Summary: The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. Shirabu will do everything he can to keep you in a safe haven where you can freely dance with your prince once upon a dream.

A/N: This is a part of the whorehouse intoxicated collaboration, rest of the pieces of this toxic journey can be found here! Thank you Ria and Angel for helping beta <3 Love you both so much.

Unofficial bgm: Once Upon a Dream & Once Upon a December 

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers, pulling you back by a handful of hair. You feel a blanket of pain shoot across your scalp. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

"G-get away from me!" 

You thrash and kick your legs wildly hoping something will land. The moment you hear a pained grunt and feel his grip loosen, you scramble up to your feet and run. Your shoes grate against wet cement as you take off. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as you will your legs forward one after another. The caw of birds seem to act as a beacon leading you through the twists and turns of the terrain.

A left turn here, two blocks straight. Past the corner store and beyond the stoplight. Three blocks. Right turn. Two Blocks. Five steps away. Four...Three..Two...Safety...

----

"In the forest, the princess played with a lot of animal friends. She grew up there in the cottage with three fairies looking after her."

Thunder claps and lightning strikes outside.

"It's so loud Kenjirou-nii!" you cry, burying yourself into Shirabu's arms.

"Shh, I'm here," Shirabu coos, rocking you back and forth until your sobs subside. "One day, the princess was singing with the songbirds..."

Shirabu begins to recount the fairytale of Sleeping Beauty to you, slowly easing your mind away from the turbulence outside.

"Do you think you can sleep now?"

You shake your head and jump again when the thunder claps over the roof of the house.

"It's okay, I'm right here. Big brother’s always going to protect you."

"Like the prince protecting the princess?"

"Yes, exactly. You're always my princess, now go to sleep. I'll wake you when the sun's up.”

After a while, you calm down and slowly drift into sleep with your breaths evening out. Shirabu pulls the covers over both of you and enters sleep as well.

The winds continued to howl outside the window...the branches tapping...tapping against the window...tap...tapping…

----

Shirabu Kenjirou opens his eyes. He had just fallen asleep while studying for the third time that night. There is no use staying at the library if he is going to treat it as a hotel; he’ll be better off going home first. He yawns and stretches his neck, then packs his bags to return to his apartment. There are few students left in the building at this ungodly hour. Dark clouds loom overhead and the air is filled with the pitter patter of autumn rain hitting cement. Shirabu zips up his coat, opens his umbrella, and walks into the dark.

You would have been so frightened by this sort of weather, whimpering under your blankets, counting sheep with shaky breaths. Just like how you did in that dream of his earlier.

While growing up, Shirabu hadn't cared all that much about anything else considering he spent most of his time with his studies or playing volleyball. Although there was you, his little sister, he figured you had your little bubble anyway. But on a stormy night, you teetered down the hall after finding your parent’s room locked. Afraid and sleepy, you looked for comfort elsewhere and arrived at Shirabu’s room.

Shirabu had been most irritated and decided to shoo you out with strings of curses and profanities, but he couldn’t. The sight of your form huddled right outside his bedroom, with young eyes pleading for him took hold of a bit of humanity in Shirabu’s heart. So, he let you into his room, a safe haven, and eventually a world that was composed of only the two of you against the rest of the world.

Shirabu has known for a long time that you are the most brilliant, precious, and purest thing he’ll ever encounter. Always perfect. Forever unsullied. 

There are many things that Shirabu wants to shield you from. If he can secure one more hour of innocence, one more day, one lifetime, he’ll do so without a moment of hesitation. The real world is unlike the fairy tales that you hear about while growing up. 

The real story of Sleeping Beauty is anything but beautiful. There isn’t a handsome prince the princess meets in a forest. No color changing cake. No kiss of love. In the real story, the princess is put into an endless slumber and has her virginal body taken by some unknown beast of a king, used like a rag for his carnal pleasure. When he leaves, the sleeping girl is then forgotten like trampled daisies under the hooves of horses. And she will wake to find her womb bulged with bastard life as a result of the damnation. The stretches clawing around the navel as permanent reminders that nothing will wash him from her.

The real world is dark. Horrible. Wretched. Dirty. Filled with suffering. That is why he, Shirabu Kenjirou, responds to the call to action and enters a life of service. In his heart he yearns to save and help, even if just a little, by becoming a prince with a white coat. He will not give up trying to salvage pieces of humanity he’ll touch, and in the process, carve out a haven, a little forest with a cottage, for his dearest sister to safely live in.

It has been a while since he last heard from you. Partly his own fault, really. Ever since Shirabu entered university and then medical school, the number of times you two would meet up dwindled. The hours on the phone became texts and soon after, communication vanished into mostly silence.

You are in university now, grown up and stepping into the real world, but that doesn't mean you are no longer his little sister. And because you are the one and only, Shirabu feels that he should try to do a better job as an older brother and check-in with you to see how you are doing. So, Shirabu takes out his phone that’s still on silent after studying.

27 missed calls from Sister 

Shirabu pauses in his tracks and returns the call. Cars zoom by on the streets while he waits for the line to connect. 

He was right, you must have been frightened.

The first call doesn’t connect, so Shirabu immediately tries the second time. You pick up on the third attempt.

"It's me, I'm so sorry I didn't pick up earlier."

"K-Kenjirou-nii..." your voice weakly translates over the speaker. 

Shirabu presses the phone closer to his ear and turns up the volume. "Where are you now," he demands. "At school?"

"...Your place..." Your voice sounds so dangerously faded, like petals beaten to the ground from the rain.

Shirabu bolts. His apartment is just a couple blocks away. Around the corner just up ahead. Shirabu makes a sharp turn and splashes through a puddle. 

"Stay...on the phone with me," he urges, paying no mind to his soaked shoes and socks.

You nod in understanding, as if he’ll hear your action.

"I'm almost there okay, almost."

Shirabu isn’t lying. A few moments later you hear the frantic footsteps coming closer to you. The stomping noises make your skin crawl, but the familiar face of your brother melts those fears away. He appears with his wet bangs stuck to his face and his shoulders heaving up and down. It’s him, your niichan, your prince finally here.

You scramble up and dive into his open arms, in relief that you are safe at last, as you finally allow tears to mix with rain.

"I was so scared. I missed you so much, Kenjirou-niichan," you sob into Shirabu's wet coat. "Where were you, where were you?"

"I'm sorry. I'm here now, I'm sorry," Shirabu apologizes, "Let's go inside first, alright? We’re both drenched.”

----

Under the bright lights of the living room, Shirabu gets a better look at you. You catch his discerning eyes studying you up and down, visually tracing the markers of your demise. That’s when you crack.

“Kenjirou-nii...the real world, the world is a horrible place. I trusted him, you know? I trusted that man.”

Foolish and stupid, Shirabu wants to say. It’ll be easy to simply yell at you.

Shirabu is not someone without a temper. He was quite known for it back in his high-school days. The bruises, the scars that did not heal well. Shirabu reminds himself to keep his composure, especially in front of you. He’s to be a doctor. He’s to be a protector, a savior. And with the training he already has so far, Shirabu knows he’s already as good as any board certified, licensed white-robed saint. He just needs to do what he’s meant to do. Heal. Clean. Purify.

After listening to your brief tale, Shirabu tells you not to worry about anything else tonight other than take a hot shower and get some rest. He gives you a reassuring smile and sends you off to the bathroom with towels and a large t-shirt.

While you wash-up and lose your thoughts piecing together the messy events of the night, Shirabu paces in the living room after he changes his own wet clothes. Nevermind the medical books he still needs to pour over, all Shirabu wants to do right now is track down the culprit and stick a scalpel through his socket. No, that’s just too easy. That bastard deserves something much more horrible, a slow and patient torture, a death within grasp but just out of reach. As if agreeing with Shirabu’s thoughts, your phone on the coffee table lights up. Shirabu picks up the device and watches the notifications pop-up.

Shirabu sees an unknown number call you. He doesn’t pick up, letting the phone ring while he reads the numbers across the screen and commits them to memory. The phone calls stop and an onslaught of texts follow; some coherent and others far from decipherable. There are messages of broken apologies and confessions of persistent love. Requests for you to go back to him. Shirabu scoffs at the language.

Shirabu continues to wait with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. How dare the man behind that accursed number treat you, his little sister and princess, in such a foul manner. This beast who stole from you. Who is the reason behind the tainting of your now sullied innocence. 

Finally after a few minutes of silence, the screen lights up with a series of curses and condemnation that show the man’s true colors. A morphed beast due to your lack of response. Shirabu scrolls through the list of notifications again with impassive eyes, but the tight death grip around the device gives away the boiling rage beneath his skin. 

"You will pay," Shirabu seethes, taking a knife from the kitchen and ramming the sharp end straight into the device glass. The phone buzzes desperately and goes dark. You have no use for that phone anymore after all of this anyway, and the cursed number is already memorized by Shirabu for his own purposes.

----

Shirabu’s room is tidy. The two bookshelves on either side of the table are filled with books, photos, and many other accolades. That’s your older brother alright: perfect, proper, always right. Always right about everything, except one thing. The world you know really isn’t the wonderland he told you about growing up. Not at all. 

You bury your face into Shirabu's pillows and will yourself to sleep. You are safe here in his bed. It’s a haven...safely tucked in a forest. You are in a forest. The trees and the breeze. Songbirds are singing. 

You can dance here, twirl about...safe...free…

The trees melt.

Birds squawk and screech, scampering away…

Ink engulfs you....swallowing you whole

Falling...falling…

"You'll never wash me from you," he sneers. "You'll never really get away. Time to wake the fuck up."

NO! you try to scream. You can’t, the weight on your chest sinks you deeper, only silence is uttered...choked…

Wake up.

Wake up.

"Wake up!"

Your eyes fly open and you see him. Him. A blood curdling shriek finally tears through your throat and you thrash. "Getawaygetawaygetaway! NO!"

"It's me, hey, it's me. You're okay, you're safe." Shirabu’s eyes widen with worry at your outburst, but gives you ample space to breathe and compose yourself.

This familiar voice. It does not belong to him. It’s definitely not him.

"...Kenjirou-nii?" you ask quietly. The shadow is backlit from light coming in through the door and your vision is still fuzzy from the nightmare.

A tender hand closes around yours. "Shhh, it's okay, you're okay now. It was a bad dream, you're safe. You're safe. I'm here."

Cold sweat runs down your temples. Your breath is fast and shallow.

"Follow me, okay. Breathe in..." Shirabu takes a deep breath. You follow his voice and movement as if they are lanterns guiding you through a maze. "And breathe out. Good, you're doing great. Breathe in...and out..."

You feel your mind slowly beginning to clear with each inhale and exhale. Finally, you see Shirabu clearly again. You can smell the scent of his body wash from him. The texture of the blanket rubs against your fingertips. You’re here in Shirabu’s room. Safety. Haven. 

"I'll be right back," Shirabu tells you, before leaving you for a moment and going towards the bathroom. He opens the medicine cabinet, pops out a few white pills from a box.

"Here," he says holding out the small tablets in the middle of his palm. The off-white seems to almost glow in the dark.

"It's zolpidem, a sleeping pill I sometimes take for insomnia. It'll help you for tonight, and then we'll get you something else tomorrow that'll work better."

You look at the pill and then at Shirabu. Shirabu is someone you love and trust with all your heart. His embrace is your anchor and haven when the rest of the world has turned a blind eye. He’s your brother. One and only. There’s no reason not to trust him.

"I won't see him will I?"

"No," Shirabu affirms. The pills don't really manipulate dreams, but if reassuring you can placebo sweet dreams, then what harm really is there? He didn’t pass Ethics with top marks for nothing.

Shirabu gently presses the pill body against your lips and you part them, allowing the small object to slip through. He feeds another and you open your mouth obediently. You look at Shirabu’s eyes which are fixated on the way your lips wrap around his three fingers.  Kenjirou-nii’s lashes are so nice and pretty, you think. 

One gulp of water later, and you feel nothing but a cold sensation traveling down your throat and disappearing into your belly.

"It'll take about half an hour, I'll stay with you until you fall asleep," Shirabu says. He supports your back and gently lowers you back into the comforts of the plush mattress. Shirabu will surely carry the same attentiveness and care when he becomes a full-fledged doctor. You are sure of it. The big brother you grew up with has truly grown up and matured. But no matter how much he changes or how much you mess up, he’ll always be your big brother.

"Can you lie down next to me again, like when we were young?"

An innocent request from a patient-in-need. Shirabu complies and lies down next to you.

"I remember when we were young, I would make you dance with me to live out my princess dreams. You remember?”

Afternoons next to the stereo, crayons scattered on the floor. The smell of something baking in the kitchen. Shrieks and laughter in the living room. Even though Shirabu would be mildly annoyed at first, he found humoring your imagination to be a pleasant and soothing experience. Even he was sometimes whisked away from textbooks into a magical forest that was just you and him. The stress and burdens of everything else all seem so much lighter on his shoulders when you’re simply just there.

"Of course I remember, silly."

You hum softly and continue waiting for the medicine in your bloodstream to make its way through your body.

"Do you...remember the sleeping beauty story you would always tell me?"

"Yea?"

You pause for a moment before quietly asking, "Kenjirou-niichan, why did you lie to me?"

Shirabu does not respond and only glances over at you, eyeing your closed lids. Closed though they may be, the tiny beads of glimmering tears are beginning to emerge from between the lashes and trail down your cheeks.

"There is no prince, Kenjirou-nii...no prince for me, no one...niichan...," you mumble between your breaths. The drug is starting to take its effect, ushering your mind into another dimension far away from hurt and pain. It swallows you like a pit of ink, sinking you deeper and deeper...

----

Kenjirou-nii, why did you lie? Earlier, Shirabu felt his breath hitch when you asked that. 

He calls out your name softly, brushing over your cheeks, and listening to your soft breathing for a good while to make sure you are in fact asleep. At long last, maybe this is a good dream.

A lie? No! Not a lie, Shirabu wants to tell you. For you, his dearest sister, who only ever deserves happiness, in the rawest and truest form. You are supposed to have a life of others giving gifts of love, never having to offer anything of your own.

Shirabu feels his blood boil once more at the thought of that man who stole your innocence away. The one who took your body for his own carnal pleasures. The one who dared to steal you from him, Shirabu Kenjirou. If Shirabu's nails are not kept in immaculate condition for his profession, no doubt, his grip would be drawing blood from his palms.

Those marks and scars across your skin. Shirabu traces his finger down your neckline and along your arms...

Your head turns from left to right and you manage to shrug the big collar of the t-shirt off your shoulder. Shirabu can see, under the glow of moonlight from the cleared night sky, a nasty mark. A permanent mark. And before he realizes it, his fingers are already traveling over, tracing along and testing out the patterns and bumps.

Shirabu feels his chest burn beyond the anger and fury. Guilt. Where was he all this time when you were suffering? Why hadn't you just called him then? Anguishing thoughts of his little sister writhing in pain under that beast's grasps tear Shirabu apart. Did you cry? Were you scared? All these years studying for what? For what noble purpose is Shirabu trying to pursue if he can’t even save those closest to him?

Shirabu continues to search for any other marks or discolorations that are splayed across your skin like a map. It is what it is now. But Shirabu still has his calling. He is a man who answers to a life of service and healing: a prince in a white coat. No matter what happens, even if you’re tainted now, you’ll still be his little sister.

Even if your naivety and stupidity got you into the mess in the first place. Of course, why didn’t you listen to your brother’s warnings and stay in a safe haven like a good girl? Stay in your room and study for your future like a good student? Like him? Why did you think running off for fun, enjoying “youth and freedom” like the other degenerates would be a good idea?

Shirabu grits his teeth. Look at you now, damaged and past the point of no return, used. Injured and ill. Still, he needs to get the full story first, and see where else you might possibly be hurt. A complete diagnosis needs to come first. After the messages from the man, Shirabu is all the more certain that there are more clues left, and he needs evidence. He needs to know. The comforter is pulled away and careful hands examine the lines of your palms.

Once upon a time, you grabbed Shirabu’s hand and tried to use the methods of schoolyard palm-reading on him. You even exclaimed, “Kenjirou-niichan, this line means you’ll live a long life! And we can be together forever because my life line is really long too!”

Shirabu smiles at the memory and presses a kiss to the center of your palm. It must have been so painful, how could you have possibly endured? But you did and you survived. You are so brave. 

Probing fingertips trace across your collarbone and push the fabric of the large t-shirt up to reveal your torso. Shirabu blinks, realizing that this is now the body of a fully matured woman. You take a deep breath in your sleep from the cold air running across your exposed breasts. Shirabu can see the nipples perk up from the chill and hesitantly touches the bud with a hint of academic curiosity.

“Mmm, that tickles...” you giggle softly. Your hand pushes Shirabu's off and scratches the same spot he just traced, fondling your own breast briefly before letting go and continuing to sleep. Even grown up now, still the same adorable little sister.

Shirabu lets himself tease your nipples and knead the soft flesh of your breasts, toying around and watching your cute little expressions. Sometimes you’ll respond again and paw the tickling hands away. It’s fun, like playing a little game.

But when he lets his eyes wander down, Shirabu’s eyes narrow. Below the breasts, on either side of the waist, Shirabu sees damning marks of deep purple turning into a disgusting yellow. Like cursed claw marks. Shirabu hesitantly presses on the bruise, watching the color transform under his touch. He stops immediately when you begin to whine in pain. Carefully, Shirabu presses a kiss on these markings too, just like any other little injury you sustained in the past. A kiss so the pain flies away.

Foolish, foolish girl. Naive princess. Why did you let this happen to yourself? In the future, don’t run anymore. Stay here where it’s safe. 

There is just one place left Shirabu did not examine yet, a hidden spot that is supposed to be locked away that someone else discovered. Shirabu looks down at the dark lace panties obstructing his view like gates of a castle. It’s a poor “keep out” message; if anything it entices anyone who sees it to come in. A tempting invitation to see what’s behind.

Shirabu allows his clean fingers to easily slip through and begin a thorough investigation through the soft folds of flesh. His fingertips dip into a pool of wetness. He furrows his brows. When did this happen? 

Why are you wet? His eyes focus on your sleeping face that still has a relaxed smile. What are you dreaming about that makes your body like this? Shirabu drags the fingers covered with your slick to circle your clit. In response your thighs clamp and twitch. So sensitive, still inexperienced, even if you’re sullied. 

Shirabu slides the soaked panties off and pushes your thighs apart so he can continue his examination. That person must have touched this area too, his fingers have been here, and then…plunged his fingers into you like so. Your body trembles as Shirabu’s two fingers probe in, fully examining your inner anatomy. Soft, warm muscles clamp tightly around his digits and try to stop them from entering further. It’s for your good and his knowledge. He pushes deeper into you, dragging alongside the bumps and ridges of your walls.

You whine loudly and arch your back when Shirabu’s fingers find a sweet spot. Your head shifts on the fluffy pillows.

“Did you like that? Did that feel good?” Shirabu asks, probing your hole once more. As if in agreement, your body twitches again and your hips automatically roll against the palm, pressing your sensitive clit into the surface. Your breathy sighs are soft and sweet, unlike any other sound Shirabu has heard from you. It’s like a spell that enchants Shirabu and beckons for him. He shudders as he feels his cock responding to each noise coming out from between your lips.

It’s good, something feels so good. Under the sunlight, you feel warmth pooling throughout your body. There are tingles in the soles of your feet, like grass tickling skin while running around barefoot. Your body feels so light and relaxed. It’s warm and you’re not in this forest alone. The shape of a prince appears. You know he’s a prince because his voice is gentle and his touch feels safe.

If this feels good, it’s only because this is an act of love. If this makes you happy, it’s because it’s love. If it’s love, it’ll fill the empty pools of hurt. And if you’ll be whole again, you’ll heal. Shirabu makes up his mind and caresses your cheeks tenderly, So beautiful. Always beautiful. A sleeping beauty. His hand reaches to the waistband of his pants.

The prince rests his hand on your hips and excitement jolts through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck and smile back.

Shirabu freezes the moment he feels your arms wave into the air and reach for him. The sneaky fingers run across his skin.

"Dance..with me," you slur before falling back into silence.

The alarm washes away when he confirms you are still sound asleep.

"Are you dreaming of your prince?" Shirabu asks while tearing open a condom packet. Medical safety. He should have worn gloves earlier too, if he wasn’t already too entranced. "Dancing? Then I'll dance with you."

Forever. I'll be your prince, my sweet darling.

Shirabu runs the length of his hardened cock along your glistening slit. Rather than take, rather than pillage and steal...Shirabu will give. Replace the gross markers of pain with soft fleeting kisses. Replace the innocence stolen with love given unconditionally. Shirabu will give you all the love you deserve and more.

Shirabu’s fingers weave into your delicate ones, the palms join together, and your fingertips automatically lock with your niichan’s. It’s the starting position for a waltz in the forest, once upon a dream.

The man takes the initiation, the leading step. Shirabu closes the gap, sinking his length into your sweet embrace in a fluid and wet squelch. You respond, digging your nails and tightening your grip on his hands. Your other arm hugs around your partner, your niichan, pulling his body close against yours. Your blank eyes flutter open briefly to look straight at the shadow of Shirabu. Of course, you don’t see anything, you’re actually in a warm forest shyly gazing at your prince. Shirabu almost thinks that he woke you up, but you only let out a quiet moan before your body relaxes again.  

Shirabu groans and rests his cock in your warm and tight embrace. This is the way it should be, how it ought to be done. No one else can lead you in this dance the way he can. The way he will. This is not the self-fulfilling king stealing the princess’s virginal body for his own pleasure. This is the loving prince who loves and gives selflessly. Your big brother knows you the best, knows how you’ll respond, knows how you’ll like it. Shirabu slowly draws himself out and thrusts back in.

The prince presses himself so close to you, and you inhale sharply. During the waltz, you always have to maintain body contact with your partner. You feel his breath on your cheeks, and you’re sure he can feel your hammering heartbeat. The intimacy builds in the tender but secure hold. The steps are quick but the movements are not violent. It’s just enough that the heat stirring in your core spreads throughout your body.

Breaths become more labored and raspy into the act. Shirabu sees your face morph into bliss as he continues his pace and rocks his hips into you. His own brows furrow as Shirabu feels his grip over rationality falling apart with each thrust. Each flutter of your walls against him only invites him to come in deeper, farther. Harder. 

“...K-Kenjirou-nii...,” you softly cry out.

Your honeyed voice is a thick syrup trapping Shirabu, coaxing him. It’s like a melody inviting a weary traveler, a lost prince, in for rest. Your voice, your body, it’s tantalizing.

"Too good," Shirabu groans to himself. Why is it so good? You, his little sister, how? He looks down towards where he sees his cock, covered with your fluids, disappear into you. The thin latex barrier doesn’t stop how close the two of you are, Shirabu feels each clench and spasm around him. “My little sister, I didn’t know…” 

Shirabu can now understand just why that man did all that to you. Why that man wants to keep you by his side. Why he incessantly sends messages and tries to manipulate you back into their world.

It’s the only explanation, really, when you don’t even know how bewitching your body is. How enticing your voice is. Anyone would want to keep it as their own. Your warmth, your sweet, sweet hole. This cunt of yours is itself a safe haven. And Shirabu feels like he’s the one being made whole from you. It’s all because of you.

Each moan from you. Those gentle mewling cries, a witch’s spell, an incantation for addiction. That man is trying to manipulate you? How? When your whole existence manipulates everyone first, drawing them all in with the image of your unsullied purity.

Shirabu feels his impending release around the edge. His pace quickens and his thrusts meet with each of your twisting squirms. Your head tosses side-to-side on the pillow as your sleepy climax washes through.

Spin. Faster and faster in the forested ballroom. Twirl for the finale. You feel a dizzying jolt as the prince dips your body back. It’s a whirlwind of love. In your dream, the sunshine is so warm and growing so much hotter. It feels like you’re floating. So light and free. That prickling tickle in your feet is growing stronger until little fireworks set off across every corner of your body, filling you completely. The forest melts as the colors blend together in a dreamy painting. 

Euphoria, as Shirabu finishes spectacularly, clutching your sleeping body close to him in a messy ending pose. The final winds of the dead storm outside sound like a rumbling applause for this sinful waltz. He can hear his own pants and your shaky breaths mix into a fading duet. Shirabu lets himself bask for a moment, resting, entangled with you.

Everything makes sense now. He completely understands why the bastard king forces himself onto Sleeping Beauty. He completely understands why your allure is much too exquisite to pass on. Shirabu pulls out and carefully removes the condom, collecting the white essence you bewitched out from him into a little package with a tie. Dangerous little princess, that you are.

Even though Shirabu now fully understands the complete story after careful examination, there are still a few lines Shirabu will draw. One, that man has still committed a very grave sin, being the first to sample your purity, stealing that away from Shirabu? Damaging your flesh and skin? Unacceptable, he thinks as he tosses the used condom into the waste bin. A complete low-life who doesn’t know how to cherish. Punishment will be due.

Shirabu returns to the bed where your unconscious body is still sprawled between bunched sheets. His blank eyes study your spread legs and puffy cunt that’s still quivering every now and then. He taps his index finger against your sensitive clit. As if it is a magic button, your body briefly trembles on command. As if you are ready to enchant another unsuspecting traveler into your safe little haven. A little bit of fluid leaks out from your hole, presenting itself seductively. Welcome. 

Shirabu scoffs. And number two, you’ll be better off staying here with himself, your big brother. You’ll be safe here with a prince who knows best how to love you right, and give you the world. This is the way it should be; before you completely lose yourself into degeneracy and invite just about anyone into you. 

Those sleeping pills will be insufficient for the long-run. A different concoction while you are still healing from your terrible trauma will be needed. A cocktail of sorts that will target different needs. Yes. Shirabu files that thought away, putting it towards the top of his to-do list. There’s so many things he has to take care of. Too much pain in this world waiting for him to don white robes and be out there.

“But you’ll always come first on niichan’s list,” Shirabu whispers, slipping your panties back on and pulling the comforters over your body. He’ll never allow you to be sullied again. You’ll stay here in this safe haven, like a little cottage tucked away in the forest. Dream here. Find happiness with the only prince you need.

The first rays of dawn begin to brighten the sky, shooing away the cloak of night. The first songs from the birds announce the arrival of a new day. The morning light filters through the windows of the room, spilling over onto the bed and your quiet, unmoving form.

Time to wake up now, sleeping beauty.

[hyperfixatingmenever]

Mystery of Love | Part 3/7 | 3K | Mature

Title: Mystery of Love

Fandom: Narcos 

Pairing: Javier Pena / Reader

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 3K

Warning: A touch of smut but mostly just implied. No real warnings this chapter is just going to hurt like a bitch lol

A/N: I'm so sorry I didn't update last month! School was so crazy and I just found this chapter so hard to write! So please forgive me, and I hope to get back to my original updating schedule! I love you all! Pls have this moodboard as an apology! Lol 

Everything in italics is a flashback. I'm too lazy to figure out how old Olivia is, so for this fic let's pretend she's old enough to talk, but young enough that she doesn't talk much, very monosyllabic lol. Also IMO ‘call me by your name’ is very problematic and overall terrible… but the chokehold this song has on me lol

Finally pls check out Nat’s amazing Fic Rec List (she added ‘Its Not Easy’ ❤) and message me if you want to be tagged in future updates!!!

Mystery of Love By Sufjan Stevens

Masterlist | Chapter 2 - Chapter 4 | Ao3

The morning came sooner than your foggy brain was ready for. The sun seeped through your curtains and eyelids, waking you up to a painful throbbed in your head. Slowly you realize the once lovely warm sun had now made your face hot and sticky. Eventually, rolling out of bed, you close the curtains completely and make your way to the kitchen, with your hand shielding your sensitive eyes. Arriving in the kitchen, you head to the fridge and grab a water bottle. You first take the cold water bottle and place it against your throbbing forehead, eventually opening and downing half of it with some painkillers. Leaning against the counter, you slowly survey your kitchen and living room; small things littered the table, counter and floor. After last night you were done with Javier and everything that reminded you of him, he had moved on, and it was time for you to do the same.

Slowly your brain eventually stopped throbbing, and you made your way back to your room and started to search the bottom of your closet. “Got it!” Tossing things aside, you pull out an old ratty gym bag with embroidery-stitched across the side, ‘Laredo Eagles.’ Seeing this crumpled-up duffle, you start to think about the first time you saw it.

Javi was stuck on some stakeout and wouldn’t be home for hours, but something about this one felt different. You know Javi’s job tended to be dangerous, but you had this unnerving feeling in your stomach that something wasn't right.

It started shortly after Javi called to tell you about the stakeout and told you to just go to bed and not wait up, but once he hung up, you knew there wasn't any chance you were falling asleep tonight. You tried to keep yourself busy, but at this point, you had cleaned your entire apartment twice and were running out of things to do. Eventually, you had a drink on the couch in hopes of calming your nerves. Your thoughts began to wander, ‘I hope he's okay? I hope he doesn't run in by himself? Gawd, I hope Steve’s got his back. What would I do if he didn't come home?’. While your mind wandered wildly, the sun had long since set, and the ice in your drink had melted. All without you realizing how much time had passed. The jingle of keys and the door opening and closing had no effect on you, but the heavy duffle bag being dropped on the floor was finally what woke you from your thoughts.

“Javi?”

“Jesucristo!” Jumped wasn't the right word, but Javi was definitely startled by the disembodied voice in the dark.

Walking over to a lamp, he turned it on, and both of you wince at the sudden bright light. You couldn't see his face, just his dark silhouette as he stood in front.

“What are you still doing up? I told you to go to bed.”

Standing up, you walk over to him. As you say, “I was worried about you.” you reach out to cup his cheek, but he flinches away. For a single second, you feel hurt that he pulled away from you, but as his face moves into the light, you see the start of a black eye, a busted lip and a cut on his forehead.

You give a small gasp. “What happened, Javi?” Stepping forward, you brush his dark curls away from the dried blood on his forehead and look him in the eyes. This time Javi makes no effort to try and move away from you; in fact, he steps forward and puts his face on your shoulder. After a few silent moments, Javi finally mumbles, “It's 4am. Why aren't you asleep?”

“Why am I still awake? Because I was worried about you stupid!”

This makes Javi chuckle slightly.

“What was your plan? Just come to bed and hope I don't notice the black eye in the morning?

Javi gave a weak shrug, with his face still rested on your shoulder.

“I was going to clean it first... then go to bed.”

Though his eyes were closed, you knew he could tell you were shaking your head disapprovingly and rolling your eyes.

“With what? I've got nothing that could help here, other than some pain killers?”

“I grabbed some stuff from the embassy. It’s in my duffle.”

After a deep breath, you very lightly push him off of you and head to the kitchen. Pulling out a kitchen chair, you tell Javi, “Grab your duffle and sit down.” With no argument from him, he heads back to the door, grabs the bag, places it on the kitchen table and sits down. Opening the bag, it smells powerfully like his cologne, but underneath, it still has a vague smell of a sweaty locker room. Looking around, you find the medical supplies loosely tossed in the bag and slowly set everything up on the table.

As you open an alcoholic swap, Javi starts to protest, “You don't have t-” but you quickly ‘hush’ him and give him a light kiss on the corner of his lips, making sure to avoid the busted part.

Eventually, you had everything cleaned and bandaged. As you looked over his face, you suddenly realized, “Oh and ice for your eye!”

Quickly you turn around towards the fridge, but suddenly you feel a grip around your wrist, and you're pulled the other way. Javi was now standing, and you were pressed against his chest. His lips were suddenly on yours and kissing you passionately. You let yourself initially melt into him before your brain suddenly pushes him away.

“Javi! I don't want to hurt you!”

Sitting back down on the chair, he pulls you onto him. Straddling him now, he starts to kiss up your neck, his scruff tickling you as he goes, his hands grab onto your ass, and with a deep growl, he replies, “You could never hurt me.”

Standing up, you try and shake off his phantom touch that travelled across your body.

Walking over to your dresser, you open the drawer that Javier swore he didn't need but was still full of his clothes. Carefully keeping each shirt and pair of pants folded, you gently place each in the duffle. After more than a dozen pieces of clothing, the process became automatic, leaving you to feel nearly numb to the soft shirt that used to give you so much comfort.

Javi walked into your apartment early one Saturday morning and flopped onto your couch, groaning loud enough for you to hear him from the kitchen. Peaking your head out, you see his hands rubbing his eyes in frustration as his head leaned back against the couch.

"What's wrong?"

Without opening his eyes or missing a beat, he starts yelling about something that happened in a meeting this morning. He spoke so quickly, and with such passion, he seamlessly switched between English and Spanish. You didn't know nearly as much Spanish as Javi, but you could tell his vocabulary was getting more colourful with each word.

Coffee mugs in both hands, you head to the living room, where Javi was still yelling. Carefully you place the coffee down, sit beside him and stretch your legs across his lap. And as seamlessly as his speech, his hands land on your legs and start to softly caress. It takes a minute for his brain to catch up with his hands, slowly his word slow, and lose passion. He finally opens his eyes and sees you in one of his shirts… without pants. Shifting your body slightly, you innocently move to show that pants aren't the only thing you're not wearing.

Javi’s eyes raked over you. “How is it that you look so much better in my clothes than I do?”

Giving him a quick smirk, you shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. As Javi starts to lean forward to kiss you and probably ravish your body, you hear the toaster pop, and you quickly stand up and head back to the kitchen. Watching you leave, Javi groans and dramatically slumps back against the couch.

Peeking into the living room, you see Javi’s eyes once again closed, and you think it's time to have some fun. Silently you pull his shirt off your body and toss it on his face. You turn away from him and saunter towards the bedroom, making sure Javi can see every single part of your body. Without turning around, you call out to him, “I think breakfast can wait.” Before you can even make it to the bedroom, you hear Javi jump off the couch and run after you, making you giggle in the process.

Slowly you pick up the last shirt in the drawer and bring it to your nose, smelling him one last time, before placing it with the rest.

Making your way to the bathroom, you see the counter split into two very casually domestic his vs hers sides, both cluttered with toothpastes, deodorants, perfume and cologne. Looking at it, you remember brushing your teeth together, Javi wrapping his arms around you when you applied makeup in the morning, you teasing Javi as he 'trimmed' his poor excuse for a beard. But as you finished clearing his side off, you turned towards the shower, and you can't help but be hit with another memory.

Breathlessly you feel yourself come back into your body. The freezing tiles pressed against your skin, are your only anchor to this world. You can hear Javi talking to you, but his voice feels miles away.

“Are you back, Hermosa? - That good, huh?”

You limply bat your hand at his chest, which only makes Javi’s deep laugh bounce and reverberates off the walls. As his laughter started to subside, you tried to stand up straight, but your limbs wobbled and betrayed you. Javi quickly reached out and grabbed you, pulling you into his body. “Come here.” Gently, Javi washed your hair and body as you leaned against him, still not trusting your wobbly limbs.

Slowly you feel yourself get closer and closer to normal. Lifting your head, you look up at Javi. His eyes fall on you as he continues to shampoo your hair, and he smirks.

“There she is. Chica bonita.”

Even though the shower was hot, you could still feel some heat rise to your cheeks, quickly you buried your face back into his chest to hide your reaction to the silly pet name.

“What we did would make anyone blush, but where you draw the line is ‘Chica Bonita? Interesting." You can feel him shaking his head in disbelief with a hint of laughter.

Feeling safe pressed against his chest, no matter the teasing, you breathed in the sudden floral scent surrounding you. Looking up once again, you see Javi washing his hair with your shampoo. Looking down at you, he cocks his eyebrow. “What? I couldn't reach mine without risking you falling over.”

A smile creeps onto your face as he continues to wash his hair and support your body with his. You nuzzle your face into his chest, trying to hide your growing smile. The idea that he would leave your apartment smelling like you ignited something almost primal in you. With a new sense of desire, you push off against Javi and passionately kiss him without even thinking. Thankfully your once jello-filled legs don't betray you, and you only pull away once you're breathless.

Javi practically begged for more once your lips left his, but mirroring his previously cocky attitude, you lazily stroked him a few times as you whispered in his ear “later.” Trying not to laugh, you promptly get out of the shower and leave Javi alone in what you can only assume to be mild distress.

Similar to the water, the memory and subsequent feelings washed over you, but now, instead, you only felt cold. Placing his few shower products in the bag, you leave and make your way to the living room. Your eyes lazily scan your living room, looking for anything of Javier's. You grab his iconic yellow-tinted glasses from the bookshelf and any other odds and ends that held any memory connected to Javier. Feeling satisfied with the living room, you turn around, only to find a tiny little orange octopus named Ollie.

"All I'm saying is Ollie the octopus. Isn't that original." Javi states as he shrugs and sarcastically rolls his eyes.

"She's just a baby, Javi!" Chuckling, as you bounce Olivia on your hip and tease her with 'kisses' from Ollie. The louder she squeals and squirms, the more you attack her with Ollie kisses.

"Well, It doesn't matter! I think that Ollie is a cute name! - Right, Olivia?" You remark over-enthusiastically.

Although she could talk, she only happily nodded her head, showing her agreement to her choice of name.

Javi shrugged his shoulders in defeat before starting to turn towards the kitchen. Though before he could, Olivia's arms were outstretched, doing her grabby hands at him.

Although Javi swore up and down he hated kids, and kids hated him, Olivia was the one outlier. Maybe it was the frequency he was over at the Murphys home, or maybe Olivia just had a soft spot for grumpy DEA agents, but whatever it was, Javi always tried to hide how much he loved her.

As if there was more than just you watching, Javi begrudgingly walked over and took Olivia (and Ollie) from your arms. Instantly she cuddled in, rested her head in the crook of his neck and started to quietly hum.

You had recently noticed her habit of humming into people’s necks as if she was a kitten purring in happiness. However, even with your best efforts (including your purchase of Ollie), you had not been bestowed the honour of her happy hum. The only people who held that honour were Connie, Steve… and Javi.

You loved that little girl, but you couldn't help but get a little jealous that Javi ‘I hate kids’ Pena and her had such a connection.

Trying to hide the hints of jealousy, you casually ask, “Do you know when the Murphys are getting home from their date?”

Turning from his mundane task, gently bouncing Olivia in his arms, he gazes almost through you, revealing why you're really answering, but then slyly asks, “Why, Jealous?”

Rolling your eyes at his very evident taunt, you try to show it had no effect on you, but eventually, you give in. “I'm just saying! I'M the one who bought her Ollie! Why doesn't she love me?”

Javi walks back to you and gives you a kiss on your forehead. Thinking Olivia had brought out a soft, comforting side of Javi today, you look up at him to only be met with a smirk you've seen countless times before.

“What can I say? I'm popular with the ladies.”

Shaken out of your memory, you hear your landline ringing. Your attention quickly moves from the soft octopus in your hand to the landline hanging on the wall. Although you were unsure who would be calling you this early in the morning, you answered tentatively.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank God! You got home safe! I was so worried about you!"

"Amy?"

“Who else would be calling you this early on a Saturday morning?”

Silently you think and agree with her statement, giving small nods.

“Well, I'm happy you got home safe. I was kicking myself, worrying if something happened to you because I didn't leave with you. - Remind me not to take club recommendations from people at work.”

You could practically hear Amy's eye roll from the other side of the phone.

Though it was early it was nice to finally have a friend to talk to and get out of your own head. You didn't know how to keep Amy on the phone, so you blurted out the first question that came to mind. “Who recommended the club?”

“Oh, one of the other office girls. What's her name?” You could hear Amy snapping her fingers, trying to remember the mystery woman's name. “She's always got those long bright red nails?”

You run through all the desks in your brain trying to remember red nails clicking on a keyboard, and after a few beats, you land on a desk. “Janice?”

“Janice! Yep, that's it! She heard us talking about going out, and she recommended Atmósfera, saying she and her boyfriend always go there.”

“Well, I guess we'll know for next time.” You chuckled lightly.

“Next time?” Her question was filled with more excitement and anticipation than actual curiosity.

“Yes, next time.”

Amy gave out a loud squeal that was so loud you had to pull the receiver away from your ear in hopes of keeping any of your hearing. When Amy first invited you out, you didn't think you were ready. Ready for partying, friends, to move on, but today’s a new day, and you're ready!

Finishing what you can only assume to be dancing, Amy returned to the phone and asked if you wanted to go for breakfast and spend Saturday together. Most Saturdays before, you would have spent it with Javi, but you weren't going to let this new friendship go so easily. After some further discussion, the two of you decide that she will pick you up in an hour. Realizing you had continued to talk in your designated hour to get ready, you both eventually hang up, and you quickly head to your room to get dressed.

Standing at your front door, with the duffle bag over your shoulder, ready for breakfast, you look at your now cleansed apartment and feel lighter, no longer suffocating in the man you once loved.

It had been weeks since you had walked down the hall towards Javier's apartment. As you walked it started to feel like the hallway was never-ending, but eventually, you arrived at his door and knocked. Instinctively you can tell the footstep coming toward you are his. As the steps got closer, you carelessly dropped his bag with his keys on top, turned your back towards his door and made your way to Amy, who should be waiting outside. As you walked away, you heard his door open, yesterday you would have turned back to catch even a glimpse of Javier, but today, that didn't matter. He didn't matter. Not anymore.

Tags: @louderrthanthunderr @mishasminion360 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @almaeunice @athalien @kirsteng42 @bxxbxy @hallway5​

[lightofthemoonglow]

OOO, can I have a "i need to lose my virginity and you’re the only person i want to lose it to’ sex" with poly Ghostface? Btw You're SOOOO cute, ugh I'm obsessed 🥺 ILY 💕

I’m cute??? Me? Holy shit....when did that happen?

[50 reasons to have sex prompts]

“I want to have sex with you guys.”

It’s a typical Saturday night. You’re at Billy and Stu’s apartment, far away from the chaos of your dorm. Tonight’s movie theme is vacation slashers. The three of you are on the couch, with you leaning against Stu while your legs are across Billy’s lap. As one movie ends, but before either of them can get up to swap for another one, you blurt out the thing that had been on your mind for a while.

It had seemed very logical when you had thought of this plan. You wanted to see what all of the fuss was about, they were your closest friends and the three of you had fooled around a few times over the years. So why not ask Billy and Stu to help you finally lose your virginity? You could probably find someone else to do the job, but your college courses took up so much of your time and energy that it seemed like a waste of time. So asking your friends to help you out was the more logical option.

There is an awkward silence. You can feel your face prickling and you duck your head, mumbling an apology. But before you can finish standing up to leave, Billy’s hand closes around your wrist and he pulls you back down.

“Are you sure about that?” Billy’s eyes are impossibly dark as he studies your face. Stu wraps his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We’ll take real good care of ya,” Stu chimes in, earning him a sharp look from Billy.

“Yeah, I’m very sure.” It’s the only thing that has made total sense. You want this, it’s the right thing to do.

Billy leans in and kisses you on the mouth, slow and sweet, as Stu’s lips find your neck, his shaky fingers running along your arms and down to your legs, gripping your thighs tightly. The three of you stay like this for a little while longer, kissing and touching each other gently, almost chastely.

Eventually, it goes to the bedroom, the three of you practically tripping over each other in your eagerness to get there. You’re giggling with anticipation as Billy takes off your jeans, slipping out of your shirt yourself. You watch the guys undress each other,  pausing to kiss every now and then.

And then they’re on the bed with you, Billy pulling you to sit between his legs as Stu crouches between yours. “She’s so fuckin’ wet,” Stu declares as he runs a finger along your slit, making you moan and your thighs twitch.

“Just for us, right?” Billy whispers in your ear. One of his hands drifts down between your legs, teasing your clit as Stu gently slides a finger, and then two, inside of you. They work in tandem, making you whimper and moan softly.

And then Stu’s mouth is all over you, frantically licking and sucking, his fingers still inside and Billy’s hand is around your throat, wrapped around it, but not squeezing. “You’re all ours, baby.” You nod frantically, your hips bucking wildly and as Stu’s tongue brings you to orgasm,  you aren’t thinking very much at all, certainly not enough to reply. 

Billy is gentle with you, holding you close as he officially becomes your first. You’re more than ready for him, which he points out with a gleeful look on his face. Stu’s right next to you, watching as he strokes himself, more than happy to do so. After all, he made you come first. 

It ends with Billy making you come on his cock, pulling out and coming all over your stomach while Stu finishes on your chest. “Yeah, she’s all ours,” Stu chuckles, stroking your hair and through the haze of pleasure, you realize that you always have been, even before tonight. 

[hailbop1701]

Curing a Rainy Day

A sort of five times Star Trek gen fic for your viewing pleasure. I mentioned I would write it but please be aware that I wrote this on my phone late at night and I has no beta. Typos and mistakes will be found. 🤣

-H❤🖖

Word Count: 2,166

Sulu:

Leonard McCoy wasn’t a huge touchy-feely type of man. Well, that’s what he really wants folks to think anyway. He was a doctor and that meant it was his oath-bound duty to cure what ails his patients. Whether it was from a physical malady or an emotional one. The first time he initiated his “Rainy Day Cure” --title courtesy of his daughter-- to one of the command crew he was surprised that it was Sulu of all people. If Len were being honest he thought it would have been Jim. Sure he had hugged the kid in the past but he always let Jim be the one to initiate contact. The reason why is complicated and a story for another time. 

When he found him the young pilot was huddled alone in Observation Room Five, his shoulders hunched, his down so his eyes were hidden and mind lightyears away. Leonard had a feeling he knew where. The chaos after Khan and Marcus had caused a lot of damage, and not all of it was physical. They were all still healing even a year later. They had left Kronos not three hours ago and according to the mission report, Sulu’s younger sister was…

Not who she claimed to be. ‘Yuki,’ McCoy recalled her name lamely as he made his way loudly over to the depressed man.

She revealed that she worked for Section 31 and was determined to fix the Federation the right way. Though the term “Right way” is skewed for many folks. War was almost started, again and the Enterprise had to stop it, again. Section 31 now had the last little pebble of Red Matter and was holding it like a…” Nuclear deterrent” as the old saying goes. 

Shaking his head Leonard pushed recent events to the back of his mind and continued on his own mission. Plopping down on the couch that faced the giant window of stars, McCoy leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. 

He didn’t offer his apologies or sympathies, he knew Sulu didn’t want them. So they sat in silence. Sulu just shook his head and looked up at the doctor with confusion and betrayal in his eyes. “I don’t - I” he stopped swallowing and the helmsman looked so young Leonard didn’t even think about it until after he had already done it. 

He wrapped an arm over Hikaru’s shoulder and squeezed. Sulu stilled for a moment before relaxing and saying what needed to be said, a weight slowly lifting off his shoulders and his chest. 

Scotty:

Leonard and Scotty were both having a terrible terrible time. The cold sucked in Leonard’s opinion and being trapped on an ice ball of a planet only confirmed his feelings. Looking over at the Enterprises Chief Engineer, Leonard had a feeling that he wasn’t alone in his thoughts and feelings. 

The Scot was curled into a tight ball up against the last running console the entire ‘Fleet base had. He was shivering and muttering to himself, glaring at the distress signal he had rigged up. There was nothing they could do but wait. Rubbing his hands together to warm them Leonard moved toward the console and slid down to the floor next to Scotty. Touching shoulders with Scotty, McCoy tucked his hands under his arms and sighed. There was nothing he could really say to ease the engineer’s anxiety -- which stemmed from Delta Vega no doubt --  so he simply let his presence be enough. 

Scotty glanced at Leonard to see that he was looking back at him with calm understanding. Grunting Scotty curled himself closer to the CMO and let the man wrap an arm around his shoulders. They didn’t speak a word and only moved when they heard the sounds of the rescue party on the other side of the sealed doors. 

Chekov:

Pavel Chekov was the youngest of the command crew, so he was automatically protected and treated like the youngest sibling of a giant family. The navigator understood that his friends didn’t mean to and that it was just sometimes a reflex but he was getting damn tired of it. Today was his birthday, he had finally turned twenty! Chekov was so pleased to find that after the incident with Khan he was being treated like he should. There was one person who always treated him like he was young and precious. 

Pavel found that he didn’t mind so much. Doctor McCoy treated almost everyone that way -- even though he wasn’t that much older than the rest of them --  in an almost fatherly manner. A true caretaker. Chekov allowed the behavior from no one but McCoy. 

Leonard walked into “Rec Room Two” taking in the crowd with a softening scowl. A small wrapped parcel gripped in his hand. He looked down at the present, weighing it in his hands carefully.  With a sigh, McCoy strode through the room looking for the birthday boy. Jim waved at him wildly from the other side of the room a huge grin on his face. Narrowing his eyes, Leonard saw that his captain wasn’t in fact drunk at all. Grunting in approval he smiled at Chekov who was hurrying over to greet him. 

“Happy Birthday Pavel,” 

Chekov grinned and his eyes widened at the present presented to him. Leonard gestured for him to open it and the young man did excitedly. The wrapping paper littered the floor a long black box in its place. Slowly opening the box the navigator knocked a silver antique pocket knife into his hands. Examining it closely he looked up at McCoy in confusion. 

Leonard shifted nervously on his feet. Clearing his throat he pulled out a similar from his belt. “My daddy gave me this one to match his when I turned twenty. I know your pa wasn’t around as you grew up and so I thought…” his sentence fell into silence. For once Leonard McCoy was at a loss for words. Pavel quickly wiped a stray tear from his eye and grinned at his friend holding onto the gift tightly. 

“Thank you doctor!” he said gratefully and Leonard understood that it was for more than just a knife. A small smile graced the CMO’s lips and pulled the kid in for a hug. 

With anyone else, Pavel would have been annoyed. This was an exception. 

Uhura:

Leonard was tired. He longed for his bed but as he looked around at all of the injured crew he pushed the longing away. There was no time for it. Rubbing the blurry fatigue from his eyes he pushed on. Triage, surgery, aftercare. He really didn’t truly stop to breathe until the middle of gamma shift when the ship was sleepy and quiet. The only noise was the soft beeps and whistles of monitors. His nurses quietly whispering and working. 

Christine hours ago told him to stop worrying and to go to bed already but something in him just couldn’t. Blinking dumbly down at the PADD in his hands he sighed and signed off on the next round of Spock’s antibiotics. During the Enterprises most recent scuffle the bridge took a hit and the science station exploded sending the first officer flying, earning him a ticket to medical. 

After the fight was over and things had only calmed down to a trickle of wounded instead of a flash flood, Nyota Uhura breezed through sickbay’s doors. She waited patiently and even helped where she could. When Spock came out of surgery and was placed in a private room she immediately went to his side and hasn’t moved an inch since. Jim would have been right beside her if he could afford to. But it appears the admiralty wanted words and had kept him busy since. McCoy had barely just convinced him to get some sleep saying that he would call if anything changes. 

That was three hours ago. 

Leonard walked -- though Nyota would say shuffled -- into Spock’s room, his eyes going straight to the monitors above the bed. The half Vulcan was resting peacefully. McCoy knew it was only a matter of time before he woke and would go into a healing trance. Something that should be monitored anyway. Leonard quietly wondered who he would grant the opportunity to slap Spock awake this time…

“Leonard!” 

The sound of his name made the CMO snap his head in Uhura’s direction. Her eyes were fire, filled with frustration, exhaustion, and worry. McCoy winced, “Sorry Nyota, guess my mind wandered a bit,” he said somewhat sheepishly. Her expression softened a flash of guilt passing through her features. 

“You need more rest. You’re going to run yourself into the ground at this rate,” she scolded half-heartedly. McCoy gave her a small smile and a shrug, 

"I'll rest when I'm not needed." He whispered and badly covered up a yawn. The hidden meaning behind his words wasn't lost on the linguist though. She pressed her lips into a tight line deciding not to comment. Instead, she rested her gaze on Spock once more her hand inches away from his. 

So deep in thought, Nyota hadn't even realized that McCoy had left and come back, a tray with a couple of hypos in his always unwavering hands. Catching her eyes he gave her another encouraging smile. He took care to tell her everything he was doing and how it would help keep infection away. Leonard knew he didn't have to explain but he felt it necessary to fill the quiet with "Illogical chatter" as Spock would surely call it. 

Uhura was so tired and so frazzled that she was startled to find the CMO crouching in front of her with concern all over his face. "You need to get some rest Nyota. I can have a cot brought in if you'd like…" 

Uhura, let a few tears fall before she bottled it up again. She shook her head wiping her face, "I'm alright Leo. Everything is just catching up to me…" she mumbled with a watery chuckle. Leonard snorted at the nickname she had given him, 

"Just let me know darlin' " 

And without truly thinking about it he pulled her into a hug. It only took Uhura a second to process what was happening before she wrapped her arms around him tightly. A genuine smile breaking across her face. The first time in hours she felt content, safe, and able to truly breathe. 

Jim: 

James T. Kirk was a touchy-feely type of man. Leonard supposed it may be from a less than stellar childhood. So whenever Jim would pull him into a one-armed hug or slapped his back or even leaned up against him, McCoy would let him. He would definitely bitch but only half-heartedly, Leonard needed to keep up appearances after all. 

So when they found Jim partially dead, hanging from his wrists in a cave all smirks and charm…

Well, no one batted an eye when -- after he made sure that the man would live -- Leonard pulled his best friend in for a hug. Jim just laughed, laid an arm over McCoy's shoulder, and leaned into the hug. 

"I only had to get tortured and offered to an alien God for you to hug me. Good to know," 

"Shut up Kid," 

Spock:

No one ever thought the words McCoy, Spock, and hug would ever be uttered but stranger things have happened on the Enterprise. 

No stranger than an alien device that turned back time. In a physical sense anyway. Leonard looked down at his adolescent hands and sighed with a heavy eye roll. "Not this again," he grumbled with a shudder. 

Looking around the room he saw Jim shouting at Mudd who had bought the alien weapon and decided to point it at him and Spock. McCoy tilted his head, his eyes going comically wide. 

Spock! 

Where was the green-blooded rugrat? Leonard looked around and sighed in relief at the sight of the first officer. He was hidden under a rickety wooden table. Crouching down Leonard gave Spock a small smile, he waved and gestured for the Vulcan to come closer. Apparently the younger you go the further your mind goes with it. Spock had a mentality of a...of well, a toddler. He couldn't have been more than two. 

Spock stared at Leonard intensely before darting out and crashing into his legs. McCoy stumbled a little before he got his footing. Spock looked up at him with wide scared eyes, tears threatening to fall. 'Must have gotten all Vucan-y at four or five,' Leonard thought as he picked up his friend. 

Leonard pulled Spock close, hugging him to his chest whispering softly. Spock seemed confused for only a moment before he buried his head into the young CMO's neck. 

Jim of course saw it all and later under the threat of meeting his end via an airlock kept his mouth firmly shut. The only thing the Starship Captain said -- which everyone agreed-- Doctor Leonard McCoy could absolutely cure a rainy day. 

Tags:

@lauraaan182, @chickadee-djarin, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234, @sayuri9908,

[itcantbe]

Zelink Week Day 5

It's @zelinkweek2021 Day 5: Domesticity: hearts/family. I used the "family" aspect of the prompt. There's a picture floating around from "Creating a Champion" that shows Link surrounded by animals like Snow White and it made me think of him taking care of injured or orphaned animals. Now, in the game, I'm one of those monsters who delights in bombing goats and stabbing foxes, so this is not my deranged in-game Link, but is probably more true to what I imagine his character to be. I also like the idea of Zelda being exasperated with him over it, but then doing the same thing and claiming it's science.

Read it here or on ao3! I'll admit I got impatient with this one and posted it about a month ago because I needed some validation. The kudos I got for this story cured my writer's block! Title is from Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young's "Our House."

Now Everything Is Easy 'Cause of You

“Link.”

He pretends he doesn’t hear her, observing Zelda’s frown out of the corner of his eye as he scurries into the barn, something bundled in a blanket clutched in his arms. He had told her he’d stop, but what — was he just supposed to ignore a cry for help?

In the barn he finds an empty crate with a lid, the slats set so there's a gap in between each one that allows air to flow easily. With a quick apology to his horse, he stuffs it with a few handfuls of hay from the manger. He then gently sets the bundle inside before picking up the crate and taking it into the house.

On the way he rehearses various excuses and arguments in order to plead his case to Zelda, only to find her waiting for him at the table with alcohol, gauze and bandages. Link sighs in relief and gives her a grateful smile. Then he unwraps the blanket, carefully holding the squirrel in place while Zelda cleans and bandages the long gash on its back leg. When they’re finished, he stocks the crate with acorns, a handful of wild berries and a bowl of water before setting the lid on and putting it in a quiet corner of the barn.

When Link gets back inside, Zelda has cleaned up the medical supplies and is sitting quietly at the table looking through a book. She doesn’t look at him.

“It’s the last one.”

“Mmmm hmm,” she hums, almost as if she agrees with him. She flips a page.

“For real!”

Another page flips, the paper snapping as she swipes it over with her finger.

“Mm hmmmmm,” she hums again, skeptically.

They both know it’s not the last one.

*******

Link isn’t judgy, unlike some people. Just who he won’t say, but their name starts with “Z” and ends with “-elda.”

So he only watches her levely from his seat at the kitchen table as she scuttles up the stairs, carrying a bucket that makes dangerous sloshing sounds. She won’t look at him. Seems to be a pattern.

He hears the clack of rocks, and the tap as they are set against glass, then the sound of water being dumped from a bucket. He continues to stare at Zelda, in competition with how much she refuses to look at him, as she runs down the stairs, empty bucket waving wildly on its handle and making a horrible squeaking noise. In a few minutes she returns to slosh up the stairs once again, and again he hears the sound of pouring water.

She comes downstairs a final time and sits across from him. Her eyes still evade his.

“Have a nice walk?”

She hums in assent. He continues to stare at her, so he catches it when her emerald eyes glance up quickly, and down again just as quickly when she catches his gaze. She bites her lip, as if repressing a smile. Then she closes her eyes and lifts her nose in the air.

“A last hurrah!” she says.

“Sure, sure.”

That night Link lies in bed, Zelda curled snug against his back, and falls asleep watching the tadpoles in the glass tank she’d put them in, the moonlight leaving sparkling trails in the water as they dart about.

****

Zelda squeezes his hand as he swallows against the lump in his throat. It had been a bit touch-and-go, the wound getting infected and taking a long time to heal properly. But finally Link lifts the bundle from the crate and sets it on the ground before loosening the blanket and gently pulling it off.

The bushy-tailed squirrel — Link had been calling it Nut — pauses only a moment before racing to the nearest tree and scampering up the trunk. Link sniffs as Nut gleefully leaps from branch to branch and disappears into the forest canopy. He and Zelda stand there a moment more before Link sighs a long, shaky sigh and turns to give her a smile. She places her hand on his cheek and gives him such a tender smile that he has to blink rapidly to keep the tears that fill his eyes from spilling over. He thinks he’s never been so happy in all his life.

After another few weeks they race each other down the hill, each carrying a bucket filled to the brim with frogs, frantically trying to keep them from hopping away before they get to Firly Pond. Link had to loop around twice to reclaim some of his wayward passengers, and Zelda took an elaborate zig zag route down the hill, so they end up sliding to their knees in the mud at the side of the pond at the same time.

They’re both laughing so hard they can hardly breathe, and they empty the wriggling, ribbeting contents of their buckets into the pond. The tadpoles had completed their metamorphosis and now it was time to release them back into the wild. The water ripples and the sun flashes green off the shining backs of dozens of frogs as they swim out into the pond, the darners that flit about casting a wary, faceted eye at the surface and deciding to make themselves scarce instead of being dinner for hungry amphibians.

Zelda turns to him with a huge grin on her face, the sun caught in a golden halo about her hair, and Link’s breath is stolen clean away at the dazzling, joyful light in her eyes. He pushes himself off his knees and takes her hands, pulling her up, over and on top of him as he lays back in the grass. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her sweetly.

It all was worth it, he thinks, everything that came before, if it allowed him to have this person, this life, these frogs, right now.

*******

There was the deer with its antlers caught in the tight twists of a bramble bush. The fox with a thorn in its paw. An energetic rhino beetle he promised to babysit for Beedle.

One time Zelda brought home a huge black crow with an injured wing. They’d had to chase it all about the house as it hopped, flapped and squawked, until it finally exhausted itself and Zelda could catch it to tend to its injury.

They were shopping in the village, and separate for a short time when Zelda stops in the tech lab to see Purah. Later, Zelda is standing in the street, arms folded and a stern look on her face. Link is holding the halter of an elderly donkey; he’d agreed to let a merchant’s donkey live out its retirement in their barn. Link likes donkeys; they’re small, strong, tough, and a little silly. Just like him.

Link takes a page out of Zelda’s book and chooses not to look at her. It’s hard. He likes looking at her.

“There’s no room in the barn!” she says, exasperated.

“Sure there is! I’ll expand it out, no problem. There’s lots of room back there! Oh! I can add a wall, too.”

Zelda rolls her eyes and walks back across the bridge to go home.

“I’ll even get it done before winter!” He shouts at her as she walks away. All he gets back is a sarcastic wave over her shoulder. Huh! She has no confidence in him!

He waits a few days, until she’s gone to visit Impa and Paya in Kakariko, before he begs Bolson to help him build the barn.

“Please! I’ll pay you whatever.”

Bolson smirks and waggles his eyebrows. Link sighs in annoyance. Bolson laughs.

“Anything for you, stud.”

“Do … do you think you can get it done before Zelda returns in a couple of days?”

Now it’s Bolson’s turn to roll his eyes. Really! Does nobody believe in him? Bolson agrees but only if Link brings the wood. Link spends the rest of the day chopping trees in Midla Woods.

When Zelda returns Link proudly shows off the new barn

She slides her arms around his neck and pulls him in. He wraps his arms around her waist in relief; he had missed her terribly.

“It’s a nice barn,” she whispers before kissing him, a deep kiss that tells him she had missed him just as much as he had her. His heart squeezes at the thought, that he might mean as much to her as she does to him. Seems impossible, though.

Suddenly a shrill, whistled cat call splits the air. Zelda pulls back from their kiss to look and Link chases after her, his lips landing instead on her neck. That’s fine by him, and he kisses and nibbles down her throat.

“Have a good night, Princess!” calls a sing-song voice from the bridge in front of their house. It’s Bolson.

“Goodnight! And thank you for the barn!” she calls.

Link freezes, his lips pressed into the hollow above her collarbone, as Bolson and Karson burst into laughter before they saunter their way into the village. Traitors.

As soon as he knows Bolson and Karson are gone, Link ducks down, grabbing Zelda by the knees and tucking his shoulder under her hips. She screams with laughter as he stands up, her feet kicking the air and her hands scrabbling for a grip on his backside. He starts for the house, almost dropping her when she starts tickling him.

He sets her down at the door, both of them breathless from laughter, then tugs her to him for another kiss. He fumbles behind him for the doorknob, never breaking the kiss, before he finally manages to open the door and pull her inside.

*********

They’re hiking about the foothills of Ebon Mountain when they hear a tiny, frightened bleat somewhere in the tall, waving grass that covers the slope. They look at each other, both wide-eyed and alarmed, and immediately set off to investigate.

It’s not long before they stumble across a tiny, fluffy mountain goat kid tucked up against the side of what presumably was its mother. The arrow in the mother’s neck speaks more of an errant shot from a bokoblin than evidence of an unscrupulous Hylian hunter. The baby was likely only a day or two old. It’s well into autumn, and though the days are still warm, the nights are cold, and they often wake up to see the morning sun sparkle on frost-covered grass. They both know they can’t leave the baby goat to its fate, and with an unspoken agreement, Link hands Zelda his hood and she wraps the tiny creature up warmly before carefully picking it up. They head for home.

Zelda quickly heads upstairs to rifle through her books in search of an animal care reference guide. Link takes the baby goat into the barn, which is warm and cozy with the new wall. The donkey quietly munches on hay and their two horses lip gently at his sleeve and hair, hopeful his pockets are filled with apples for them. He shakes them off to go back to an isolated corner, only to find their barn cat, fat and sleek from a steady diet of mice, curled up in the hay, her kittens gamboling about her. The cuccos cluck at him from the barn rafters as he gives up, deciding he’s uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the orphaned goat by itself in the barn. He brings the kid back inside the house and makes it a nest in a corner by the fire.

He and Zelda cross through and out of the village to Koyin’s sheep farm. She gives them the basic rundown of how to care for the goat, which isn’t too different than caring for orphaned sheep. Koyin looks under the goat’s tail and announces the goat is a she. She gives them a special feeding bottle and a jug of fresh sheep’s milk and tells them they need to feed the goat every four hours or so, and to come back the next day for a fresh jug of milk.

Later, Link makes dinner while Zelda sits on the floor, the baby goat in her lap, and feeds it sheep's milk from the bottle. They’re both learning to use the bottle and Zelda giggles as she attempts to mop the milk from the goat’s chest as it fights to return to the bottle. Link’s heart seems to swell in his chest at the sight, filling with warmth that spills over and fills up his whole body.

They eat dinner while the baby goat wobbles about the house, her tiny hooves tapping on the wooden floor and her stub of a tail wagging a mile a minute. Zelda props her elbow on the table and leans her head into her hand as she watches the goat amble about, a soft smile on her face.

“Let’s name her … Link Junior.”

“That sounds like we’re keeping her.”

“She lost her whole family …” she begins, then stops before sucking in a shaky breath. He reaches across the table to squeeze her other hand, and Zelda turns from watching the goat to look at him. Unlike before, they can’t seem to stop looking at each other since they found the orphaned goat, lingering gazes and soft smiles.

“Why Link Junior? Why not Zelda Junior?”

Zelda rolls her eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Link didn’t think he was.

“We’d have to save Zelda for …”

She stops again. Link realizes he was being an idiot; of course “Zelda” was reserved for any daughters she might have. He can feel his cheeks warm, and his thoughts skitter away from the topic. They’d never really discussed the future like that, just taking the days as they came, thinking ahead only in months and never years. Their lives had been shaped so much by one event that they had never really broken from the habit of never thinking about the future. He thinks: Does she want children? Would she even want them with him? Again his mind avoids thinking about it, unwilling to imagine what his life would be if she didn’t.

Once dinner is over and the dishes are cleaned up and put away, they get ready for bed, then prepare another bottle for the goat. Link sits on the floor, back against the wall, and Zelda is sitting between his legs and leaning against his front, the goat in her lap greedily sucking milk from the bottle.

“We should call her Hylia,” she says. He raises an eyebrow, even though she can’t see his face.

“Isn’t that a bit sacrilegious?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m the one with the blood of the goddess, after all.”

He snorts a laugh in her ear, and she elbows him, the goat bleating in protest when the action jostles the bottle. He laughs again, and tightens his arms where they’re wrapped around Zelda’s middle. Finally the goat finishes, and they laugh as she shakes her tiny frame, milk droplets flying from her mouth, before going over to her nest of blankets to settle down.

“Hylia it is,” he says. “But I’ll be sure to carry a sign around so the goddess knows who to direct her lightning at.”

Zelda scoffs before twisting around in his lap. At first it seems as if she plans to argue, but instead she lays her head on his shoulder and wraps her arms around his neck. He arranges his body so that she can sit comfortably and holds her close to him. The autumn winds whistle outside, but inside they’re warm and snug together, wrapped up in each other on the floor. The apple tree creaks in the wind, and Link thinks he can hear the animals shuffle in their sleep in the barn. He thanks the goddess that he has this, this home, this family, even if it might not last. Even if it’s not forever.

Zelda sighs contentedly, and yawns, before tucking her head back into his neck.

“I love you,” she says sleepily, and he tightens his hold on her before burying his face in her hair.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

“We should think about adding onto the house, maybe.” Her voice is muffled from where her face is turned into his body.

Hope flares in his chest, and he has to swallow several times before he trusts his voice to remain steady.

“Oh?”

“You know …” Zelda yawns again. He holds his breath in anticipation of what she will say next.

“So Zelda Junior or Link Junior have somewhere to sleep,” she mumbles, her eyes drifting closed.

Suddenly it’s as if he can see it. The puppies from one of the stable dogs stretched out, asleep in front of the fire, as a tiny version of Zelda toddles about. Hylia out in the field, cropping the grass low as her kid butts it’s head into her belly in search of milk. The elderly donkey contentedly eating the apples thrown down by a smaller version of Link up high in the boughs of the apple tree. The horses slurping water from the pond as the barn cats chase butterflies in the yard. Zelda in his arms, much as she is now, but this time it's in the future. It’s forever.

Zelda’s breath has evened out, and Link can tell she’s fully asleep. He buries his face in her hair again, hopeful that she can’t feel how his body shakes, that the tears soaking into her hair don’t wake her up. Once he would have laughed if someone had told him this would be his life someday, holding the princess close as she dreams about their future together. Once, he wouldn’t have believed he had a future at all.

Link pulls himself together enough to scoop up Zelda’s sleeping form and carry her upstairs. She grumbles as he sets her in their bed, and then sighs softly when he curls himself around her, pulling the blanket up over both of them before he drifts off to sleep himself. He dreams about being beside her, much as he is now. But this time it’s in the future. This time it’s forever.

[angelsfalling16]

From that quote-prompt list...

Have you done "I'm not leaving you here"?

Been needing some angst. XD

💜

Thanks for the prompt! <3 Sorry it took me so long to complete it; I wanted to make it a little bit longer and make it part of my 20fk series. I hope you like it! Also, I just saw that it was your birthday yesterday, so happy belated birthday!! :)

You can also read this on ao3

---

Baz

Simon gets called out at the beginning of class to go on a secret mission for the Mage, and even though it has happened before, it seems to irritate me more today. Why does Simon keep allowing the Mage to use him as his pawn?

He is more than a bomb that the Mage can point at one of his many enemies and allow to go off. He’s a person, a boy, and he doesn’t deserve to be treated like this, like he’s expendable. I don’t understand how I am the only one who sees this. Surely, even Penny would be wary of this. But I guess no one is willing to go up against the Mage like that. (Except maybe Fiona.)

One of these days, he is going to get himself killed, and I will not sit idly by and watch that happen. I have to make Simon see that he’s being used, that he doesn’t have to keep doing this. As soon as this class lets out, I take off in search of Simon. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to catch up with him before he gets too far away.

He isn’t in our room, but his scent is strong here, which means he was here not long ago. I rush over to the window and look out of it over the grounds to see if I can see him walking away, but he isn’t there. I’ll have to cast a spell then.

It works instantly, and I can feel Simon. He’s close. The spell starts to pull me towards him, and I take off out of our room, practically flying down the steps. I’m not sure my feet even touch the ground, but I don’t have time to stop and think about that because I have to reach Simon before it’s too late.

The spell is leading me towards the gates. I’m not sure how I’ll be able to get through with one of the Mage’s gates standing guard, but I will do whatever it takes, including spelling the idiot out of my way if I have to.

I don’t have to worry about that, though, because there’s no one there.

That’s strange, I think. There has been someone standing there every day since eighth year began, so something must have happened if the station has been abandoned.

I slow as I reach the gates to open them, and I take a moment to recast the spell to strengthen. It feels like I’m close to him, but it doesn’t feel like Simon has moved any farther away since I initially cast the spell. If there was a threat this close to the school, you would think that the Mage would have raised some kind of alarm, but he doesn’t even have anyone at the gate. It just goes to show how terrible he is at his job.

I continue to follow the pull of the spell, and it brings me to the road, then across it, then to the woods on the other side.

I can hear some sort of commotion now, and I pick up my pace. I have to help Simon. He probably won’t want it, but that’s too bad. I would die a thousand times over in order to protect him. I will not let him die if there is any way that I can prevent it.

When I reach Simon, there is no sign of the Mage of any of his men. It appears like they abandoned him here to handle this threat on his own. It’s unbelievable.

Simon is being surrounded by dozens of goblins, all of whom are vying for his head. He is doing his best to fight them off with his sword, but it isn’t enough. He’s fighting a losing battle.

One of the goblins has managed to get behind him and has a knife raised over him, ready to attack. Before I even have time to think about it, I have summoned a ball of fire in my hand, and I send it soaring in the goblin’s direction. It makes a contact, and with nothing more than a shriek, the goblin catches fire then disintegrates into ash.

Simon spins around to see what happened, and he’s understandably shocked to see me. “Baz?”

“Watch out!” I shout, rushing forward to cast a spell at a goblin that lunged at Simon as soon as he turned his back.

I keep casting spells and sending fire at the remaining goblins, and once Simon recovers from his shock, he turns to fight with me, swinging his sword wildly about, beheading one gobbling after another. He’s brilliant at it, and I almost wish I could stop and watch him in action.

We fight side by side, killing goblin after goblin, but our efforts seem futile because the goblins just keep coming at us, spilling through the trees on all sides, forcing Simon and I to stand back to back. It doesn’t look like we’re going to make it out of here alive, but we can’t give up.

One of the goblins manages to knock my wand from my hand, and I curse under my breath. I can summon my fire without it, but as the goblins close in on us and I start to grow tired from so much use of magic, I’m not sure how longer I can keep doing it.

The goblins manage to get a few good hits and cuts on us, and the smell of Simon’s blood forces my fangs to push through my gums. I could bite them, but goblins are foul and bitter tasting beings. Plus, it would leave me open to attacks from the others if I got distracted by one of them.

“You should go,” I hear Simon say behind me.

“What?”

“You’re stronger than I am. You’ll be able to make it out of here alive. Just go!”

“I’m not leaving you here! You will never be able to defeat them all on your own.”

He’s quite for a moment, and I hear a demon cry out as Simon stabs at the same time that I shoot some more fire at the ones in front of me. It’s getting harder to summon it; my magic is starting to run low. But I won’t run. I won’t leave Simon behind. I could never live with myself if I left him here to die.

“We just have to keep fighting. Someone will come help us eventually.” I don’t even believe it as I say it.

“Who? No one even knows we’re here.”

“What?! I thought the Mage sent you here.”

“He did, but he said that he had a more pressing matter to attend to. There were only a few goblins at the time, and this is my responsibility. It’s me they’re after. Which is why you should go. It’s not you they want. They’ll probably just let you leave.”

If I make it out of this alive, I am going to murder the Mage.

“I’m not leaving you!” I repeat. I look around for my wand, but I don’t see it. The next flame I summon is barely more than an ember, and it only injures the goblin in front of me, rather than killing it.

“I’m sorry, Baz!” Simon shouts, and the tone in his voice worries me.

“Why are you sorry?” I shout back, whirling around to see what he’s about to do.

That’s when everything goes black.

***

When I come to, all I see is trees.

With a groan, I force myself to sit up. There is a pounding in my head, but most of my other injuries have already started to heal. I look around and am relieved to find that Simon is lying beside,

“What happened?” I asked. “The last thing I remember is you apologizing.”

“I went off,” he says, grimacing like he hates to admit it. “I tried not to because I was worried that you would get hurt. That wouldn’t have been a problem if you had run like I told you.”

“I couldn’t leave you there!” I say, angry because he actually believes that I could just abandon him like that.

“Why not?”

“Because I--.” I cut myself off before I can finish that sentence.

“You…what?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t want you to die, alright?” I look away, but then a thought occurs to me. “Why did you care whether or not you hurt me?”

“If you died because of me, I would have a lot worse problems than a horde of goblins attacking me,” he says, but the blush on his face tells a different story.

He’s right, though. If I had died, Simon would have instantly moved to the top of Fiona’s list, right above the Mage, who is coincidentally now at the top of my own list.

“Look,” Simon says, “none of this matters. We made it out alive. Now, we can go back to trying to kill each other instead of nearly getting killed by other things.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” I mutter under my breath as I push myself to my feet, but somehow, Simon hears me.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” I start to walk away from him, back in the direction of Watford, but Simon stops me by grabbing my arm and pulling me around to face him.

“Baz…. Why did you come out here? Why did you try to help me fight the goblins when you could have let them kill me and been rid of me for good?”

“Because I don’t want you to die,” I hiss. “I actually care about whether you live or not. Unlike the Mage.”

He makes a face at that last remark but apparently decides to ignore it for now.

We’re standing barely a foot apart, and his hand is still on my arm. I could turn and run from him, but instead, I allow him to pull me closer. Because I’m weak.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t want you to die either.”

My breath catches, and my heart skips a beat. I know that it doesn’t necessarily mean that he likes me, but it’s progress. It’s better than him hating me.

He gives my arm another tug, and we’re so close now that I have to tilt my head down to look at him. He brings a hand up to rest gently on my cheek, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes me at his touch. I lean down until our noses brush but stop there, meeting his eyes. The world seems to have disappeared around us, and it’s just him and me.

Whatever happens next could change things forever. I just wish I knew what he was thinking.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, and then I know exactly what he’s thinking.

“Yes,” I breathe.

Then he kisses me.

It’s soft yet passionate, fast but gentle. His lips part around mine in a sigh, and it is the best thing that I have felt. I feel like I’m flying for the second time today, and I wonder at how Simon can make me feel like this. Like nothing else in the world matters, which feels so true.

I love Simon. He is the most important thing in my life, and I will never let anything bad happen to him for as long as I can help it. I will keep loving him and protecting him until the day I die.

[join-the-joywrite]

Take my hand (take my whole life too)

"We played the Oprheum!"

The bouncing hug only lasted a second or two. While the boys regained a significant amount of lost strength, Julie's was slowly dwindling. She was, after all, only human and was out of home way later than usual. Her own internal clock seemed to be screaming at her to at least sit down.

Instead, she went down with the boys as her foot caught on a cable and she stumbled to the floor.

Alex made for a soft landing, one for which her apology was littered with giggles. Alex didn't mind. The slight pain was welcome in comparison to Caleb's jolts. Not to mention, he'd wanted to hug Julie ever since she cried during her not-so-private performance of her mother's song weeks ago. So he lay on the floor and squished Julie tight, only bringing forth more giggles.

"Hey, my turn!" Reggie yelled, rolling over and dropping himself half on Julie, fully on Alex.

"Oof," Luke commented, "that looks like it hurt."

"It did," Alex wheezed, adjusting himself to get used to the additional weight.

As one, all three of them held out an arm to Luke, who didn't hesitate to scoot closer and join the cuddle pile. Head on Alex's shoulder, he was right in front of Julie. He gave her a smile that, had she been standing, would've probably made her lose her balance. She gave him one back.

"I like this," Reggie murmured contentedly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah," Julie agreed, relishing in the fact that she could finally hug her boys, "me too."

They stayed like that for a moment before Alex sat up with great difficulty, sending them all tumbling. "You're all very heavy," he stated by way of explaining.

Julie chuckled and moved to stand up. Luke and Reggie grabbed one of her arms each.

"Stay," both whined. Reggie continued with a grin. "I promise I can be a soft pillow for you."

"I'd love to, honestly, but Carlos is waiting for me. He wanted to talk to me and. . ."

"Fine," Reggie huffed, "but just know that I'm feeling incredibly hurt right now."

Julie ruffled his hair, grinning when he closed his eyes and smiled under her touch. "There's always tomorrow."

Still, all three of them pouted when Julie stood up and righted her clothes.

"I'll see you guys in the morning," she said before walking to the doors. She paused just before closing it. "Thank you, guys."

Alex gave her a wave. Luke smiled at her with a dopey expression. Reggie continued to pout.

Julie bounded up the pathway, gait as giddy as her smile. Carlos was waiting for her in the living room.

"Hey," she said, joining him on the couch.

"Hey."

"Whatcha got there?" she asked, nodding to the paper Carlos' hands were clamped around. "Another French dip recipe?"

Carlos shook his head. "You know what this is."

"I . . . really don't."

"Your band! They're--!" Carlos stopped and glanced around looking for their father. He leaned across the vouch and whispered to Julie with wide eyes, "ghosts."

Julie forced a laugh. "What? No, don't be silly, there's no such thing as ghosts."

Carlos lifted his eyebrows. "Okay, then explain this."

Julie picked up the little black and blue page Carlos tossed to the middle of the couch, recognising it as a CD insert. For Sunset Curve. Julie's own eyebrows lifted slightly, but she continued to pretend like she hadn't a clue what was happening. Then she turned it over and knew the jig was up. Staring up at her was all four members of Sunset Curve. Trevor, or Bobby, sure looked different when he was younger.

"They're just lookalikes--"

"I'd believe you if they were here and we could touch them."

The idea of being able to hold and hug her bandmates brought a warm smile back to Julie's face. She quickly wiped it off and shook her head. "Where'd you even find this?"

"In the box with the French dip recipe."

"Ah."

Carlos suddenly looked around wildly. Julie looked around too.

"What? What happened? What are we looking for?"

"Are they here?"

"What? No, they're in the garage--"

"Aha!" Carlos grinned and folded his arms. "You're a terrible liar, Jules."

"Wh-- I am not!"

"You are, though."

Julie jumped slightly and moved away from Reggie. Carlos noticed and immediately turned his gaze where Julie looked. "Are they here now? Tell them I say hello!"

Julie rolled her eyes. "They can hear you, dork -- and it's just Reggie."

"Tell him that I say hello."

"Reggie says hello," Julie said, heaving a resigned sigh. "What are you doing here? I told you I'd see you in the morning."

"I knew it," Carlos whispered to himself as he watched his sister talk to thin air. She looked, in all honesty, a bit insane, but at least he knew he was right about the ghosts. "So how does the ghost thing even work? How come I can't see him now, but we can all see them when you play?"

Julie whipped her head from Reggie to Carlos. "It -- I'll explain it all tomorrow, okay? It's been a long day. Reggie, go back to the studio. Carlos, to bed. It's late."

"All right," Carlos grumbled, sliding off the couch. He paused at the stairs and glanced back to see Julie scolding nothing. He hoped he'd get to officially met the guys. Julie made them seem fun.

"All right, little man, what do you wanna hear?"

Julie repeated the question to Carlos, letting him know that it was Reggie who asked.

Carlos thought for a moment. "I like the song you were singing before you got back into the music program."

"Oh, that's not our song, that -- that--"

"No, it's okay," Luke said, "I'm sure we can work something out."

"I -- okay."

Carlos sat down on the couch, almost bouncing with excitement as Julie took a seat behind the piano. The melody she played wasn't loud and energetic like their usual songs. It was quiet and gentle. Even when the band kicked in, they were much softer than usual. Julie hummed along where the words should be so that Carlos could easily speak to the boys.

"I'm--"

"Wait!" Carlos said, jumping off the couch, cutting Luke off. "I'm gonna guess based on what Julie says about you."

"You talk about us?" Luke asked with a teasing grin.

Julie hit a particularly furious note. "Shut up."

"Luke, Reggie and Alex," Carlos said, pointing to the correct band member as he went.

"Nice, little man!"

"This is so cool," Carlos whispered, eyes widening when Reggie paused playing and knelt down for Carlos to stick his hand through Reggie's arm. "Woah."

The band noticed that they were very intangible to Carlos.

Luke was only slightly disappointed when Carlos chose to focus his attention on Alex next.

"I like your hoodie."

"Thanks," Alex said, beaming. "Here, you wanna try?"

"Nah, I don't play music . . . okay, maybe a little."

Julie laughed softly as she watched Alex stand and then point where Carlos should hit. To keep them from disappearing, she continued the piano. Luke kept up with his guitar, grinning at her all the while. Their little musical conversation didn't go unnoticed by Reggie and Alex, who shared a knowing glance before Carlos grabbed Alex's attention.

"Have you ever accidentally stabbed your drums through with the sticks?"

"No, and please do not do that. We have no idea what it costs to repair dead instruments."

Carlos handed the drumsticks back to Alex and hopped off the chair. He stood in front of Luke, who knelt down as Reggie had done.

"So. You're the one my sister has a crush on."

"Carlos!" Jullie yelled, standing up and slamming down about five wrong keys.

"It was nice meeting you," Carlos yelled as he fled the garage.

With her face burning, Julie chased him down.

Alex and Reggie did their best not to laugh. They really did. But the shell-shocked look on Luke's face was hilarious. Even the withering glare Luke sent them didn't help quieten their laughter.

Up in the house, Ray Molina thought he was about to witness a wrestling match. "Julie! What are you doing?"

Julie, who suddenly realised there was no way to explain why she was attacking Carlos without either sounding like a lunatic or exposing the phantoms to her father, slowly slid down to the ground.

Carlos sat up on the couch. "Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a crush on Luke! Julie has a--"

"Oh, that is it!"

Perplexed, Ray watched Julie spring back on the couch with a war cry, followed by a pained, "How could you say that in front of him?!"

"Who's Luke?"

Carlos, seemingly determined to ruin Julie's life, broke out from her seeking arms and grinned at Ray. "The beanie boy in her little boyband--"

"CARLOS!"

"Julie," Ray said, a playful warning edge creeping into his voice as he folded his arms, "is there something you want to talk about?"

"No! Not at all! Excuse me, I have to go, um, rehearse!"

"Rehearse?" Ray exchanged an amused grin with Carlos. "What for?"

"Uh, future gigs? You know, since we played the Orpheum, we might get like a ton of calls and -- oh, like this, see?" As Julie held up her phone, both Ray and Carlos saw Flynn's name, but both decided to give Julie a small reprieve. In the meantime, Carlos could fill Ray in about this little crush business.

"You are not going to believe what just happened," Julie said, taking the stairs two at a time. "I took Carlos down to the garage to meet the guys, you know, 'cause he figured them out and he wanted to meet them, but then he told Luke I have a crush on him and I ended up chasing Carlos back to the house 'cause I didn't want to stay in the garage with Luke -- and Alex and Reggie -- and then my dad caught us fighting on the couch and then Carlos told my dad that I have a crush on Luke and my life is over!"

Flynn took a moment to respond. "Well . . . it's not like he's wrong, is he?"

"Flynn!" The wail that Julie threw into her pillow as she face planted her bed was equal parts betrayed and mortified. "How am I supposed to show my face at practice now? Can I come and bury my head in the sand at your place?"

Flynn laughed over the phone. "Grow up, Jules. You turned Nick down for this air cutie. Nick. You made your choice, now live with it."

"Flynn," Julie growled.

"Okay, okay. Look, you have to talk about it at some point. There's no way you can have that kind of fire on stage without some mutual attraction, and that's just Luke and Reggie. Then there's Luke and you. Jules, that's not even a fire anymore. There is something serious between you two and even though I still think it's a bad idea because he's, you know, air, I still think you need to talk about it before the wrong thing blows up."

"I know," Julie sighed. "I can handle Luke -- I think. It's my dad I'm worried about. How do I explain it all without him wanting to take me to a shrink?"

"Don't tell him anything. Show him. Maybe with a little less flair than you did with me. Play him something soft. Like . . . wasn't your mom in a couple of bands when she was our age? Maybe he'd know one of her songs. Maybe if you guys played something of hers, he'll have enough of his head around him to know it's all real, but enough of it will be in the clouds that it'll be easy to explain."

Julie stared at her phone, at the contact photo she had of Flynn. "You are a genius."

"I know. So, I was just calling to ask how you're holding up, but I'm going to assume everything is fine and the guys didn't cross over?"

"Yeah, no, it was really weird. Caleb's curse just sort of . . . broke, I guess, after I hugged them."

"Wait, hold up. You hugged them? What was that like, arms hanging in the air and hoping you were touching?"

Julie sighed a happy sigh. "We have a lot to talk about."

"I'll be there for dinner, no excuses -- and I expect your dad to know what's going on by then."

Julie rolled over and muffled a groan of despair into her pillow.

"Rough day?"

"It's only ten," Julie whined, lifting her head to give Alex her sad eyes.

Alex smiled. "You'll be fine -- I mean with your dad thing. With Luke on the other hand. . ."

Julie faux sobbed into her pillow, eliciting a soft chuckle from Alex, who sat down on her bed. He reached out for her shoulder then quickly drew back. Ever since Julie left the garage last night, it had been on his mind -- on all their minds -- that the hug was a one-time thing. He didn't want to confirm their fears if they were right.

"Hey, it's okay, Jules."

Julie let out a strangled wail that took Alex a few seconds of clamping his mouth shut to avoid laughing at the poor girl.

"I'm serious. You know, Luke, he . . . he's not great with feelings. He talks with music, with songs, with lyrics. He says the most important things when he looks at you on stage or at a rehearsal or when you're writing music together. He's just scared. I mean, we all are, but him most."

Julie sat up, hugging her wail-pillow to her chest. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Alex shrugged. "All I'm saying is, give him a chance -- and give Carlos a break. Honestly, he might have just done you a favour."

"I cannot believe you're taking Carlos' side."

"I'm not! I'm not, I'm just -- things are already complicated. How much worse can they get?"

Julie sighed. "I don't know. . ."

"Well, it's not like Luke does either. He's locked himself in the bathroom and Reg and I think he's been crying in the bathtub this whole time. We'd phase through the door but Luke can actually hit us if he wants to so. . ."

"Oh, and you think I can't?" Julie teased.

The two shared an amused grin, but beneath it, both were thinking the same thing. What if she couldn't?

"All right, I'll tall to him. But you and Reggie have to leave."

Julie ventured into the empty garage. She looked around for Reggie and Alex, unsure if she was relieved or not when she didn't find them. Up in the loft, they watched Julie disappear as she headed further in towards the bathroom door.

She knocked gently. "Luke?"

Silence.

"Come on, I know you're in there. Alex says you've locked yourself in and won't come out."

"I'm not Luke."

"Okay, but I need to talk to Luke so can you pass on the message for me?"

"I'll let him know."

Julie smiled, finding Luke's behaviour somewhat amusing. She leaned against the door. "I'm sorry about Carlos, he . . . he just really enjoys embarrassing me in front of people. I guess he figured since you guys can't really speak to other people, you'll have to talk to me and we'll all have to confront whatever he said so that's why he picked you to tease and --" Julie broke off with a sigh.

The bathroom stayed silent.

"And I'm sorry for running out after him. I was just . . . I was afraid of what you'd say."

When Luke spoke again, though his voice was much softer, it was also much clearer. As if he were closer to the door. "Why? Was he . . . telling the truth? Did you say something?"

Julie fidgeted with the sleeves on her yellow jersey. "No, but I'm not exactly the most subtle person and if you haven't noticed, I suck at lying."

Luke laughed softly. "Oh, we noticed. Everyone knows you're a horrible liar."

"Thanks," Julie said with a grin, "I mean, I really just came here to affirm what a bad liar I am."

"Ooh, sarcastic too."

"Shut up."

"Well?" Luke said after a moment of silence. "Was he?"

Julie leaned against the door and sighed. "What does it matter? It's not like anything would come of it."

"It does matter, Jules. It -- it matters because -- well, I mean, you matter. To me."

"I know," Julie said softly, turning so that her back was against the door. "It sucks, doesn't it?"

"Not all of it sucks," Luke murmured from the other side of the door. "We could find a way. You've already done so much that no other lifer ever has, as far as anyone knows. Why stop there?"

Julie laughed. "Your ambition is very inspiring, Luke, but everything has a limit."

"So find that limit, then. You'll never know how high it is if you stop now."

Julie felt something brush her hand and glanced down to see Luke's arm phasing through the door. She wanted to reach for his hand but she was afraid she'd just pass through him. So she made a joke instead.

"You do realise that a floating arm is way more unsettling than anything else ghosts have ever done, right?"

"How's a floating head?" Luke asked, pulling his hand back and leaning forward. He gave Julie a grin. "That's always scary, right?"

"Stop it, that's weird."

Neither noticed that Julie had managed to make physical contact with Luke until after she'd shoved him back into the bathroom.

"If I come out there, are you going to poke me in the eyes again?"

"First of all, I didn't," Julie said, appreciating that Luke wasn't reacting with the panicked excitement she felt. "Second of all, I'll try not to."

"Okay, but if you do, I'm really going back into the bathtub."

Julie twisted her fingers and wrung her wrists and bounced nervously as she waited for Luke to step through the door.

"Can we try that again?" Luke asked, holding out both hands to her.

The scene felt vaguely familiar to Julie, and everything came crashing down when her hands passed through Luke's once and then twice.

"You're nervous," Luke said softly, "there's no need to be. You didn't think last time. You weren't nervous."

"I can't. I don't know what it is--"

"Yes, you do. You know it's not us doing anything. You're the one with all the magic, Jules."

Nervous but now confident, Julie tried once again. She thought she'd be able to walk on water whe she felt Luke's hands close around her own. The smile he gave her was the usual dopey look she always noticed him wearing around her.

"See? It's all you."

Julie squeezed his hands, almost like she was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. "I like this," she murmured.

"Hey, Jules?"

"Yeah?"

Luke watched her eyes widen the tiniest bit as she gave him a questioning look. "Uh, do you -- about what Carlos said . . . We will talk about that, right?"

"Yes. I promise. Just . . . later?"

"Okay." Just the promise was enough for Luke. Besides, he could hold her, now. He could hold her hand, brush her hair out of her face, hug her. He could even flick her nose or tug her curls to annoy her, nudge her around when she didn't laugh at his jokes. And if -- he hoped she did -- but if she didn't feel the same way he did, then being able to be her best friend and just high five her now and then would still be enough. She wasn't just out of reach anymore.

Ayeeeee this just be sitting in my notes??? I found it like this??? All it needed was a title??? Speaking of, I might change that title and steal it for a sad fic oop

[branded-witha-j]

Final part to the @lilacprincessofrecovery request. Thank you for an incredible request. I had such a great time writing it. 💚

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That night with The Joker felt like a fever dream. You woke up in your bed the next morning, not sure how you got there, but certain it had something to do with the hangover you would be nursing. After taking you to the restaurant, you ate for the first time all day, eventually drowning your nerves in expensive champagne. It didn't take long for you to become giddy and pink-cheeked, J purring in delight at your giggles of happiness.

This morning he was not with you, the other side of your bed empty, your work clothes still on. The thought surprised and disappointed you simultaneously, little memories from the night before coming back to you as you shuffled into the bathroom to freshen up.

Standing before the mirror, you drifted off, remembering as J took one of your hands in his, complimenting your fingers before suckling one into his mouth. You suddenly remembered the pull of his tongue, the heat inside combined with metal, your fear temporary as desire rolled over you like a growing breeze.

He left you breathless, popping your finger from his mouth and using his own to offer you a bite of decadent chocolate. You accepted immediately, nipping at his fingers until you sucked away any traces of it from the tips. The feel of him tracing your bottom lip as you chewed had you aching and pulsing in a way that you hadn't felt in a long time.

You wanted him, the memory of his hand at your throat in the office making you let out a peep of a moan, his ears sharp and picking it up immediately. He leaned in, bringing that crimson mouth of his dangerously close to yours, and everything else faded out as he kissed you. As you went to kiss him back, he pulled away, instead seeking out your throat.

That's when he marked you, your yelp so loud that he brought a hand up to cover your mouth. Like a vampire eager to draw blood, he kissed and nipped at the reddening skin, a perfect indentation of his teeth pressed into your flesh. The entire act made you feel lightheaded with desire, the same happening as you looked in the mirror and examined your neck.

The mark was there, giving truth to your memories, and you stroked at it until your phone ringing brought you to reality. It was a voice you didn't recognize, the man saying he was downstairs with a delivery and needed a buzz up. His request confused you, but a look out the window revealed a big van with a company logo on the side.

It was a delivery of flowers, so many that they took up your entire living room, all of them roses of the deepest red. You were shocked, not knowing this was only the beginning. Returning to work that night, you were informed that your job had been changed, your new task working the books. Even the person telling you seemed confused, letting you know you were needed up in the office.

You knew the office, the night before your first time inside, and you were a nervous wreck when you approached the door. Before you could even knock, it opened, the tall man motioning you inside. He stepped out after you, closing the door behind him, and left you standing alone.

"Mister J..." You barely got the words out when he called to you from the chair behind his desk.

"Come here."

The room was cast in shadows and all it did was make you feel more nervous as you stepped forward. The closer you got the more of him that came into focus, your eyes adjusting as you stopped before the desk. There he sat, The Joker, dressed in something expensive, his eyes not staying on your face long before they drifted down.

"Take that uniform off."

His request caught you off guard and you felt your heart pounding. You faltered, looking around nervously, and a crisp snap of his ringed fingers made your head jerk back in his direction.

"Do it now."

You started with your pants, the skin tight black denim making you work to tug them down your legs. You had forgotten to take your heels off and they tangled with the garment until you dropped them all on the floor and stood back up with a huff. It left you in a white button down, the bottom wrinkled from being tucked in your pants.

Your eyes met with The Joker's and they almost glowed in the semi-darkness, his head jerking for you to continue. Your hands were shaking slightly and it became hard for you work the buttons, not realizing that he was now standing in front of you until you glanced up to whisper an apology.

The words died on your lips, his head down and watching as he popped loose the first button, revealing a glimpse of your bra. He kept going, mouth set in concentration as he worked his way down, eventually crouching before you to undo the final button.

Your nerves were raw and crackling like an exposed wire, a shiver passing over you as he parted the fabric and revealed you to him. He was so close and you were so nervous, your hands coming up out of habit to cover. He swatted them away, making you gasp, and as you tried again, he grabbed you about the wrists and directed them to your sides.

"Don't move."

You flinched as his fingertips glided across the skin of your hips, tracing along the edge of your panties and down along the side of your thighs. All you could think about were the imperfections, how he was so close he had to be disgusted with them. Again your hands drifted up and your arms wrapped around your midsection like a security blanket, your eyes widening as The Joker stood to his full height. He seemed to tower over you, but it was mostly your nerves and your exposure that made you feel so small, your burning face turning down.

"What has upset you?" His question caught you off guard and you shrugged in a way that infuriated him and had him bumping you and corraling you until your back bumped into the cool glass window that overlooked the club. It felt nice on your scalding skin and a hand at your jaw forced you to look up.

He was a dangerous man, someone that killed for pleasure, but none of that occurred to you in that moment. His hands wrapped around your wrists, forcing them at your sides again, and he held them there as he asked his question again. This time it was in a way that warned you to comply.

"I hate my body!" You blurted the words out, feeling his hands drop from your wrists immediately. You yelped out as he went for your throat, fingers spreading until he framed your jaw and forced your head back.

"Why?" His question made you laugh, the sound cutoff as he tightened his hand.

"Because..." You motioned at your stomach and thighs as if that would be the answer he wanted. The dangerous look in his eyes made you continue with a gulp. "Because I'm fat."

A click of his tongue made you flinch and he loosened his grip, letting his hand trail down between your breasts before turning to palm at your stomach.

"You're soft." His rings felt cool on your skin as he continued to explore and touch you, goosebumps erupting as he slid his palm between your thighs. "And warm."

His fingers teased at the front of your clothed center, making you gasp and throb wildly. He smiled, sneering down into your face, letting his fingertips seek out the edge of your panties and slide under. You both made a sound at the contact, J's eyes rolling back.

"And hot." He moved you suddenly, never letting his hand leave the place between your thighs, spinning you until you faced the club. No one could see you, only the two of you could see the crowd below, and a flick at your clit brought you to attention.

"You're perfect." You pushed back into him as he stepped closer, feeling him hard and strong in comparison to your soft and meek.

You felt intoxicated by him, the way his fingers stroked at your most sensitive skin setting you on fire. You wanted him and you could tell that he wanted you too. You were the one to make the decision, your arousal making you brazen. Reaching back, you sought out the front of his slacks, fumbling awkwardly to get them loose. He did nothing, watching and waiting until you were able to complete your task, one of your hands diving into the opening you created.

You touched him for the first time and it was terrifying and exhilarating. He was like velvet covered steel and he welcomed your touch, his hips rocking with you until his patience finally waned.

With an impatient tug, your panties dropped to pool at your ankles, one of his feet kicking your legs wider apart. Everything was happening so quickly, but you weren't scared anymore, feeling his hand come over yours to pull him from his pants. Both of your palms came to the glass with a clap that vibrated the surface. Nails tried to rake as he pressed into you, but there was no purchase to be found on the smooth, cool surface, your cry of pleasure fogging up the glass.

Pressing even closer, The Joker's mouth ghosted over your ear, purring and making you shiver. You both rocked together, getting acquainted, and even the music booming below couldn't completely mask the sounds of your screams as he began to fuck you.

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