#just working my way up to the biggin'

[twnj]

'And now we’re here and like this and…” His hand touched hers on his cheek, tried to lower it, but Temari held firm as though cemented to him. He cleared his throat. “Do you remember what I said about why I offered that draw in Miami?”

The words, like scripture, tumbled out of Temari without thought: “Nothing is more captivating than what you can’t yet understand.”

Shikamaru nodded. “You captivate me like nothing else, Temari. Even now. I’m so sure I understand you, and yet you still feel impossible to pin. It should infuriate me, make me want to give up, but it just…” He chuckled nervously, shrugged his shoulders, and squeezed her hand.

“It just what, Shikamaru?”

“It just makes me love you more and more.”'

Grandmaster on ao3 by @notquitejiraiya

[lockes-woods]

Stuck Chapter 26

A/N: Hey, sorry again for another unintentional hiatus. I'm fine but work/apply for school have been crazy this past month. I'm most likely not going to have a set posting schedule til November at the earliest. Since this is going to be my last fall not in school for a while I'm going to attempt kinktober. Anyway I hope you enjoy the update it took a while but it's a biggin.

Warning: PIV, oral (m. receiving), masturbation, spanking, name calling (ex whore or slut), (LMK if I missed anything).

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“That should be the last of it,” Mihawk said, as Himiko finished tetrising the last box in place. She nodded, a shiver shooting through her at the late December air. She was normally fine in the winter, but the wind chill always cut through to her bones no matter how many layers she had on. It didn’t help that they were up before sunrise. She hit the button on the side of the car to allow a gentler closing of the trunk. She tried her best to be mindful of Shanks as he lay splayed out in the middle row. The redhead had woken up with a nasty hangover. Thankfully his hangovers manifested as headaches and light sensitivity. Mihawk had already assured her that if he were to get sick it would have happened right after he woke up. Because of his discomfort, Himiko and Mihawk did the brunt of the work loading the car, while he set up in the middle row with earplugs, a blanket, and preemptive sunglasses.

“Ready, love?” Mihawk asked as he reemerged from the building after returning the cart.

“Yeah,” she nodded circling around to the car to the front passenger seat. She once again closed the door with just enough force to pull shut. Mihawk was less careful as he slammed the driver’s side door shut. Shanks groaned in protest. She could hear him rustling to get comfortable again, before his breathing even out again as he fell back to sleep.

“What would you like to listen to?” Mihawk asked, buckling his seatbelt.

“Will Shanks be okay if we listen to music?” She asked.

“I’ve already changed the programming so that the sound will only come out in the front speakers.’ Mihawk answered, shifting into drive, “Feel free to connect to the Bluetooth and play whatever you like.”

Himiko hummed to herself as she tried to decide what music Mihawk would like. But then again, he did say they could listen to whatever she likes. She held herself back from jumping as Mihawk’s right hand moved from the PRNDL stick to resting on her upper thigh. In her shock, she accidentally pressed play on the last album she had played, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, by Chappell Roan. She bit her lip trying to keep herself composed as Femininomenon started to play through the speakers.

 He absent-mindedly rubbed his thumb up and down on her legging-clad thigh. For a simple gesture, it garnered all of her attention.

“Who is this artist?” Mihawk asked after listening to the line, ‘I got a wand and a rabbit.’ In the song Red Wine Supernova. Shanks’s lack of comments on that particular lyric confirmed that he was really asleep.

“Her name’s Chappell Roan, she’s been making music for a while now, her fame grew this past summer. If I’m being honest, I didn’t really start listening to her music until recently after Sanji insisted, we listen to the whole album at work. She’s grown on me a lot after that. What do you think of her?” Himiko asked.

“I’m not sure yet, I think I’ll have to listen more before I form an opinion.”

“Well, that’s good because I was gonna listen to the whole album either way.” Himiko joked.

“Is that right?” Mihawk asked as they reached the suburbs surrounding the city. Because of the early hour there were little to no cars around and even fewer pedestrians.

“Mmmhm,” Himiko hummed, “That’s what you get for having a twenty-something sugar baby,”

“Love if that’s the worst of it I’m happy to suffer through,” Mihawk responded, with a firm squeeze of her thigh and a small quirk of his lip.

“So, what’s the plan for the day?” she asked as they continued to make their way out of the city’s limits.

“There’s a small drive through coffee shop about halfway that we always stop in at. When we get to the lake house we normally unpack and then stop in at the diner at the base of the mountain for breakfast. Generally speaking, things get more expensive the higher up on the mountain you go. You’ll probably meet Judith and Marge either when we get there or sometime today. If they’re too busy to meet up they normally leave a baked good and a note with any issues with the property that have happened since we were last there for the summer.”

“Judith is the psychic, and Marge is the owner of the sex shop, right?” Himiko clarified.

“Yes, it’s actually funny we met them separately and only found out they were a couple after Marge invited us over for dinner one night.”

“How did you meet them?” Himiko asked as they left the city and got onto the highway. The sun had just begun to rise.

“We met Judith first, while she does psychic reading year-round, she has a stall at the local farmer’s market to draw in tourists.” Mihawk started, “We met Marge later that week while exploring the town. Our first few summers there we rented a cabin. We met them about two years before we bought the lakeside property. We would have never invested in it without their help keeping up the maintenance.”

“Do you believe in psychics?” Himiko asked. Mihawk hummed to himself for a moment, taking time to fully take in the question.

“While my gut reaction is no, I don’t entirely doubt them. I’ve seen a lot of life and death in my occupation. I believe in giving credit when credit is due, and I’ve seen the comfort people have found in psychics, religions, and other ways of thinking. If it is what someone needs to continue holding on to, that belief is what makes it real. I believe those types of spiritual relationships only possess the power one gives them. And I would never want to take that peace away from someone. So, while my surface-level answer is no, I do believe that the relief psychics can give to certain people of a similar mindset is priceless. As long as there are no ill intents, I don’t see any issue with it.”

Himiko nodded as she took in all of what Mihawk was saying.

“While it seems a little silly in retrospect after my dad’s passing, I used to write him letters and get him cards for his birthday, Christmas, and Father’s Day. I’ve always straddled the line between agnostic and atheist, but I will never be able to quantify the comfort those letters and cards gave me at the time. While I do it less now, I still write him occasionally when I’m having a particularly hard time.” She finished keeping her eyes locked on the road ahead of her. The area became less and less developed as they drove on, now to the point that they were surrounded by snow-covered evergreen trees as far as they could see.

“I don’t think that’s silly,” he responded glancing down at her with soft eyes, “You found a non-harmful way to express your overwhelming emotions. If it made you feel better, then that’s all the validity you need.”

Himiko blinked back tears as she turned her head to look out her seat’s window, a genuine smile stretching across her lips. Mihawk gave her thigh another small squeeze as they sat in comfortable silence before the current song transitioned into, HOT TO GO!. The pair both laughed at the juxtaposition of their conversation and the current song’s vibe. Himiko’s tears were gone as fast as they came. Before she knew it they were exiting the highway and were pulling into a small ‘U’ shaped driveway in the middle of nowhere. After taking in the small building in the middle did it hit her that this was the coffee shop Mihawk had mentioned earlier. They were officially halfway. Mihawk ordered his standard vanilla oat milk latte, while Himiko ordered a peppermint bark blended coffee drink and they ordered Shanks a hot black coffee.

The redhead only began to stir in his sleep as they pulled away from the stand and the smell of coffee enveloped their car once Mihawk rolled his window back up.

“How far are we out?” Shanks questioned, voice still gravelly from sleep. Mihawk gave Himiko a knowing look as she reflexively squeezed her thighs together at the sound of his voice. While she was grateful, that he hadn’t made a comment, his little smirk worried her about what he would do with this new information.

“We’re about halfway love,” Mihawk answered, as they took the on-ramp back onto the highway. Shanks hummed in response taking out his earplugs out and nursing his cup of coffee. His blanket and shades stayed put.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked sipping on her frozen drink, as she watched him from the rearview mirror.

“A bit,” he groaned, “I’ll be better after I finish my coffee.”

“You’d really feel better if you drank an electrolyte drink before we left,” Mihawk lectured, “You know coffee only makes you more dehydrated.”

Shanks only hummed in response as he took a large sip of his coffee, blatantly ignoring his husband.

“Who are we listening to?” Shanks asked, shifting up into a sitting position.

“Chappell Roan, the next song coming up is my favorite from this album,” Himiko answered, as Pink Pony Club rang out through the speakers. They sat in content silence as they listened through to the end of the album.

“Love, if you’re up for it we’d like to discuss our expectations for our relationship,” Mihawk said, as he clicked off the speakers.

“Okay?” Himiko responded, while she knew they were bound to have this conversation at some point today, she didn’t expect it to be this early. But then again it may make more sense to get it out of the way before they officially started their vacation.

“I know we were set to decide the hard guidelines of our relationship as it developed at a later date. I believe now is that time,” Mihawk started.

“That makes sense,” Himiko nodded in agreement.

“To address the elephant in the room we should probably start with your romantic relationships outside of ours,” Mihawk suggested.

Shanks scooted over to the middle seat to be heard easier, “But before we start, I did want to apologize for my comment last night about you wanting to end the relationship. It was out of line and uncalled for.”

“It’s okay, I knew you didn’t really mean it.” She responded.

“It wasn’t okay though,” Shanks started, “It was from a place of jealousy and misplaced anger. I don’t want you to ever feel like it’s okay for me or anyone else to talk to you like that.”

“Okay,” Himiko nodded, taking a sip of her drink, as she processed what he was saying.

“Piggybacking off of that, not to speak for both of us, but I don’t feel comfortable sharing you with anyone other than Shanks,” Mihawk said, Himiko could see Shanks nodding in agreement from the rear-view mirror.

“That makes sense,” Himiko agreed, “I wouldn’t want to risk either of your sexual health by being with someone else.”

Mihawk and Shanks shared a look before replying.

“While that is a factor, it’s a small one,” Mihawk started before Shanks cut him off.

“Baby we don’t want to see you with anyone else. Not to sound possessive, but we want you. If my jealousy last night, and my reaction to your kiss wasn’t enough indication. We don’t like seeing you with anyone else, we want you for ourselves.”

“Oh,” Himiko responded somewhat dumbfounded, “I-I didn’t think you felt so strongly about that.”

“Baby, I think you need to give yourself more credit. While you’re so smart you’ve been very thick-skulled about our attraction to you.” Shanks said while Mihawk nodded in response.

“I hate to say it, but it’s true darling.” Mihawk started, giving her thigh a tight squeeze, “Even now it doesn’t seem like you have even begun to understand how attracted we are to you, and how desperately we want you.”

“Okay,” Himiko nodded after a moment, “So, we’re officially exclusive?” she clarified.

“Yes,”

“Yeah,” Mihawk and Shanks responded immediately.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” she asked, as they merged into the off-ramp. According to the GPS they were only ten minutes out.

“Just to check in, have you given any thought to whether or not you’ll be keeping your jobs during the spring semester?” Shanks asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Himiko answered honestly, “It’s not that I don’t trust your funds or anything like that, I just don’t know how to operate without being that level of busy.”

“That’s what worries us, love,” Mihawk said, turning off into a side road, they were only a few minutes out, “We’re scared at your potential to burn out if you keep burning the candle at both ends.”

“Especially if you are planning on being a full-time student,” Shanks added.

“Okay, I promise I’ll give it some thought, I will have to give my two weeks as soon as we get back.” She responded, thinking out the details as she talked.

“That’s all we ask,” Mihawk said, as they pulled into a long freshly plowed driveway. The rest of the property and surrounding area had a decent covering of snow. His hand moved from her thigh to shift from drive to park once they settled up next to a purple jeep.

“Huh, looks like Judith and Marge beat us here,” Shanks commented, stepping out of the car. He groaned at the unfiltered light of the sun without the car’s tinted windows. Mihawk and Himiko followed suit as they made their way to the trunk of the car. The door had just finished its slow automatic opening when She spotted two older women standing on the back porch to their right. She followed after Shanks and Mihawk as they went to greet the caretakers.

Based on the descriptions they had told her she assumed the older black woman on the left was Judith and the older asian woman on the right was Marge. If it weren’t for the gray in their hair Himiko would have guessed they were in their early fifties instead of their late sixties. They were definitely close with Mihawk and Shanks, at least enough to tailor to their comfort levels. Both women greeted Shanks with a hug and then gave Mihawk a handshake. Before Himiko could even begin to feel awkward Judith gave her a warm smile.

“You must be Himiko,” Marge said as the men moved to the side allowing Himiko through.

“Um, yeah, it’s nice to meet both of you,” Himiko managed to get out through her nerves. This was the first time she interacted with anyone outside of her friend group (and Boa) who knew about the dimensions of her relationship with the couple.

“Oh, baby there’s no reason to feel nervous, we’re no strangers to polyamory. You should have seen the polycule networks of queer women in the 70s.” Judith laughed, causing her to smile back in response.

“This is your sugar baby?” Marge asked rhetorically, “She’s too beautiful for either one of you let alone both, you better be paying her well.” She paused before turning to Himiko, “Sweetheart, are they paying you well?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Himiko answered rushed as she felt her face begin to heat up from Marge’s aggressive compliment.

“And she’s polite to her elders,” Judith mused, “Sweetheart if this doesn’t work out, I think you’d be perfect for our granddaughter.”

Marge hummed in agreement, “That’s true, you’d make a very cute couple.”

“Okay, okay,” Shanks cut in trying to reel the conversation back, “We didn’t bring her here for you to set her up with Amy. We brought her because she’s already in a relationship,” He said, gesturing to him and Mihawk, “And we’d like to spend more unobstructed time with her.”

“I just think she deserves to know her options,” Judith said raising her hands up defensively.

“I agree,” Marge said, backing her wife up.

“Not to bring this back on topic, but were there any major issues while we were gone?” Mihawk asked with a small, amused quirk on his lips. The conversation shifted to home repairs, raccoons getting into the garbage, and a small bat infestation in the attic that had all been dealt with. The older couple walked with Shanks around the property as they spent just as much time filling him in on home repairs, as they did on the small-town gossip. Meanwhile, Mihawk and Himiko unloaded the car and got each item to its designated spot, leaving the real unpacking to take place after breakfast. While Himiko knew factually that they owned a lake house, she didn’t expect it to be so big. She had been picturing a small, but comfortable cabin in the woods.

It was larger than any home she had ever lived in with her father. The main floor consisted of an open floor plan kitchen/living room area and had a wall of glass facing the lake. There was also a laundry room, and a half bath as well as access to the two-car garage. The second floor had two full baths, one for the three guestrooms, and the other in the master bedroom. Himiko brought up her suitcase, the last thing to be unpacked, up to the master bedroom while Shanks and Mihawk caught up with the older couple. She hummed to herself as she made her way through the second floor to their bedroom. It had a similar layout to their bedroom back in the city. There was a huge bed and bathroom fit with a tub big enough for the three of them. Instead of a glass wall that led out to a balcony in the city, there was a terrace with multiple pots of plants that had been snowed over. The only thing that struck her as weird was the two doors that weren’t open. She knew logically that one was most likely a walk-in closet, it was the other one she couldn’t figure out. When she opened the door closest to her it confirmed her theory that it was a walk-in closet. She parked her suitcase there before exploring next door.

When she first walked in it looked like another smaller closet, except instead of clothing hanging from the hooks, there were various ropes of different sizes, thicknesses, and materials. Outside of that, there was a sleek black dresser. Himiko glances over her shoulder before opening the top drawer to the dresser. Even though she was in a relationship with the couple it felt kinda dirty to go through their things. It was filled with sex toys, specifically ones that those with penises would enjoy. One drawer had cock rings, other vibrators, another had a fleshlight, and other insertion toys. Himiko could feel the blood rush to her face as she closed the last drawer and slowly backed out of the closet. She turned around to shut the door, stopping just short of running right into Mihawk’s chest. He gently held onto her waist to steady her, as she rested her hand on his chest for balance.

“Having fun snooping love?” Mihawk asked in a teasing tone. If she didn’t already feel flustered, she certainly did now.

“Um-I” she started, losing her train of thought as she got lost in Mihawk’s eyes.

“It’s alright darling, you were bound to explore that closet at some point this week.” Mihawk said with a slight upturn of his lips, “Though unsurprisingly you found it ten minutes in.”

“It’s more of a sex shop than a closet,” Himiko commented without thinking, causing Mihawk’s smirk to widen.

“I suppose you’re right, though it is unfinished,” Mihawk commented.

“Unfinished?” Himiko questioned as he rubbed small circles into her hips.

“Mhh,” he hummed, “There’s an empty drawer for you to love.”

“Oh,” she replied dumbfounded for the second time today.

“We were planning on bringing you to Marge’s shop at some point this week if you’d like to explore different sex toys. Only of course if you would feel comfortable with that.”

“Yeah,” she responded quietly, still buffering as she took in the situation. Mihawk mistook her quietness for shyness. He gently cupped her face and tilted it upwards, thumb rubbing comfortingly along her jaw.

“There’s no reason to be shy darling; there are very few things that you could do that would cause us to negatively judge you. And after getting to know you I’d doubt that you’d be capable of that on any level.” Mihawk started, “Now are you feeling hungry? We were planning on heading into town for breakfast if you’re feeling up for it after the drive.”

“Yes, Sir,” Himiko responded, placing her hand over his hand and cupping her face. He leaned down for a short, but sweet kiss before reluctantly pulling away. His hand released her face in favor of holding her warm hand in his cold grasp.

By the time they made their way back to the driveway, the jeep was gone. Shanks greeted her with a smile, as he leaned against their car.

“What was the hold-up?” Shanks asked as Mihawk unlocked the car.

“She found the second closet,” Mihawk answered for Himiko. Shanks smirked in response.

“Well, that’s no surprise, she’s always been an over achiever,” Shanks responded. While his sunglasses were in the way, Himiko knew he was giving her a mischievous look.

“So where are we going to eat?” Himiko asked, trying to segway the conversation away from sex. She was always easy to fluster when she was sleepy. It didn’t help that her only form of caffeine for the day was more sugar than coffee. She would need a real cup of coffee or an energy drink before she would be ready for any of those kinds of conversations. Or rather that level of caffeine to not make her feel like a total fool in front of them.

“It’s a diner called Saplings,” Shanks answered, opening the back door on the passenger’s side for Himiko. They shared a smile as she climbed into the middle seat and Shanks closed the door for her.

“Why is it called Sapling?” she asked as the couple buckled up their seat belts.

“They have an intensive selection of different maple syrups,” Mihawk answered.

“Aw, that’s really cute,” Himiko mused as they began to back out of the driveway.

“Have there been any sex toys you’ve been curious about?” Shank asked, clearly not ready to move on from the topic at hand.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, beginning to feel flustered, “I’ve only really ever used sex toys when having sex with women.”

“So more like dildos, vibrators, and strap-ons?” Shanks inquired.

“Yeah, even though they were mainly used on me I do have preferences when it comes to different strap-on harnesses.” Himiko answered, “I guess outside of this,” she said gesturing in a circle, “I’ve never had planned out sex with a man; it was always more of a spur of the moment kinda thing.”

Mihawk acknowledged her with a brief hum before Shanks began to ask more questions.

“So, you’ve never pegged anyone before?” he asked.

“No,” she confirmed as they pulled up to the diner, it was on the smaller side but looked lively. It was quarter to eleven, if Himiko had to guess she’d say it was the rush from the after-church crowd that filled the place up.

“Would you like to?” Shanks asked as Mihawk turned off the car.

“Yeah, I’d definitely would peg either of you if it were planned out; at least for the first time.” She answered.

 “Hmm, I think that should be on the top of the list of toys if we do end up at Marge’s shop. You know in case we need one we have would already have an emergency strap-on” Shanks suggested. Himiko didn’t need to see Mihawk’s face to know he was giving Shanks an unimpressed look.

“In what situation would we end up in a pegging emergency?” Himiko asked, amused.

“I don’t know, I guess if one of us is busy and the other wants to do cock warming or have their back blown out.” Shanks answered casually, before getting out to first to open the door for her.

“Ah, yes the biggest problem in a bisexual throuple; not enough dicks.” Himiko commented jokingly, before pausing, “I don’t think I’ve ever fucked anyone with that big of a dildo before.” she added, getting out of the car.

“What size dildos are you used to using?” Mihawk asked as he circled around to their side.

“With most of the women I used a strap on with it was never up to your size preferences,” Himiko answered.

“Oh, and what’s our size preference sunshine?” Shanks asked, teasingly.

“You’re saying that like you weren’t a certified size queen before we got together.” Mihawk cut in, a smirk forming on his lips.

“That’s not true,” Shanks dismissed, but while his words said one thing the blush forming on his face indicated the other.

“But even though you two are together wouldn’t he still be a size queen then? It’s not like he downgraded when you got serious.” Himiko mused as Shanks got more flustered.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right darling.” Mihawk agreed as his smirk widened. While it wasn’t unheard of for Shanks to get this flustered, it was definitely a feat to wind him up so quickly. Especially to the point of silence. Shanks didn’t talk until they slid into their assigned booth in the back of a restaurant. It was so full and loud, that they were just able to hear each other. After the waitress took their order, and they were informed of the longish wait time the throuple settled in each nursing their coffees. While it wasn’t up to the standard Himiko was used to, it wasn’t the worst coffee she ever had. It made her reminiscent of all the meals she had been served at various diners across the country while her dad was still alive.

“You know sunshine, I’m not above making an example out of you for mouthing off like that,” Shanks said, taking a sip of his coffee. Before she could respond, Mihawk once again cut in.

“You say that like she wouldn’t enjoy that.”

“But she has a praise kink,” Shanks rebutted, “You’ve seen how her face lights up when being praised and how tight she gets,”

It was now Himiko’s turn to feel embarrassed as her partners openly discussed her mannerisms.

“While a week ago I’d agree with you, you didn’t see how desperate she got when I was lecturing her about the idea of disciplining her in the bedroom. She looked like she was one scrutinizing comment away from accepting any punishment I saw fit. She even bit her bottom lip in that way she does whenever she gets turned on.”

Himiko quickly released her bottom lip from its place sandwich between her teeth, before she could even attempt to defend herself the food arrived, and after the waitress left the couple continued talking about her like she wasn’t sitting right there. While she knew on some level this was rude, she also couldn’t bear to stop their conversation.

“Okay while that may be true it doesn’t mean she doesn’t prefer being praised,” Shanks argued.

“You don’t know that.” Mihawk argued, “We’ve never tried it before.”

“Care to put your money, where your mouth is Dracule?” Shanks taunted, “If she’s really so turned on by being degraded by you then you can go on a solo date with her before the week is over and spoil her as much as you’d like.”

“And if you win?” Mihawk inquired.

“Then I get to go on a solo date with her and spoil her as much as I’d like.” He answered. Mihawk hummed in thought before nodding in agreement.

“And how do we determine which she likes better?” he asked.

“Easy we fuck her at the same time, whoever can get her to cum first wins.” Shanks answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Is that okay with you sweetheart?” he asked, finally acknowledging her.

“Y-yeah,” she stumbled out, already wet from the idea of this wager. They turned their attention back to their breakfasts. The second the waitress stops by to check on them they ask for the check. Himiko took a final swig of her coffee before following behind the couple as they made their way to the counter to pay and made their way back to the car. The short car ride was silent, but electric as each DILF tried to form a plan of attack. Himiko tried to stay still but couldn’t help rubbing her legs together for some relief. She knew whatever each one of them was coming up with was bound to put her out of commission. She couldn’t imagine what state she’d be in by experiencing both their plans.

Shanks once again opened the car door for her. The couple walked up to the bedroom at a leisurely pace, that was still too fast for Himiko’s shorter legs. She bit her lip out of habit as she sped walked to keep up with them. Once the door shut behind her the energy in the room shifted. Shanks immediately began to strip, while Mihawk guided her to the bed and encouraged her to sit down as he sat down to her right.

“Before we start, I want to make sure you’re aware of all your safeguards incase anything makes you uncomfortable.” Mihawk started, “I know you’re aware of the stop light system and your safe word, but I also wanted to let you know what I may do so it doesn't blindside you. Especially because it’s our first time exploring this together. I’m going to be calling you names, and may strike you is that okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” Himiko nodded, the way Mihawk’s eyes sharpened at the mention of that title was not lost on her.

“Where do you feel comfortable being smacked?”

“I think just my bottom,” she replied after pausing to think.

“Would you be interested in me spanking your pussy?” He asked, “Or just your ass?”

Himiko could feel her face begin to warm again, “Um, I guess both.”

“Do you have any hang-ups or questions?” he asked, getting up from the bed.

“No, at least none that I can think of now. I’ll use my safe word if anything doesn’t feel right.” She answered, Mihawk smiled in response as he too began to strip. Himiko unintentionally bit her lip as Mihawk eased out of his jewel-toned top and started on the buckle of his belt. She jumped when a warm hand grasped her chin and physically pulled her attention from Mihawk.

“Baby, you know it’s rude to stare, don’t you?” Shanks asked teasingly, holding her face in a gentle cradle.

“Sorry, Daddy,” Himiko apologized, trying hard to focus on maintaining eye contact as his swollen cock swayed with his movement inches away from her mouth.

“It’s okay baby, I know you’d never do anything rude intentionally; you’re our good girl after all,” Shanks replied, thumb gently stroking her cheek.

“I don’t know about that,” Mihawk cut in, making his way over to them, Himiko tried hard to focus on his face and not how his member moved with him.

“She’s barely listening to anything we’re saying,” Mihawk said, now standing next to Shanks, “She’s too distracted by our cocks to give us her full attention.” Shanks hummed in reply as Mihawk continued, “Though I suppose it’s not entirely your fault, after all, you’ve always been motivated by your need to be filled. You’ve always been a slut when it comes to pleasing us as well. Though I wonder if it’s only for us, or if you’d be just as happy taking a load from anyone that gives you attention.”

Himiko could feel the heat rush up her neck to the tips of her ears as she took in Mihawk’s accusation. She found herself frozen, just as she had been the first time he lectured her in his apartment.

“I dunno,” Shanks started, “She’s always been so good at taking us like a good girl. She never complains.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive,” Mihawk remarked, “Have you ever wondered how she got so good at taking our cocks, even with the bare minimum prep.” He said looking down at her with a scrutinizing glare, “I wonder how many cocks you’ve had inside of you to get that good; especially for someone your age.”

Himiko shook her head in response as she attempted to form a semi-cohesive thought.

“I-I don’t want anyone else, just you and Daddy,” she interjected, her voice bordering on the whinier side.

“That doesn’t mean you haven’t been a slut in the past.” Mihawk mused, “It didn’t take any coercion to get you into our bed the first time. Especially considering we had only entered this relationship days prior.”

“Please, Daddy,” Himiko openly whined as she rubbed her thighs together. “I need you,” she said looking up at him through her lashes. She could see Shanks’ resolve weaken in real time as he shifted to get closer to her.

“I have to give you some credit at least,” Mihawk said holding onto Shanks’ arm to stop him from moving any further, “You’re smart, at least for cock slut, to identify the weakest link and go after. You can’t wait to be filled by your Daddy, can you?” Himiko nodded in response, bottom lip sandwiched between her teeth. Mihawk smirked.

“Shameless,” he commented, “We may have to reconsider if you’re even worth wasting a load on. I bet it’s a dime a dozen to you. Just a dumb little whore who gets off on being used.”

“Please,” She whined, mind beginning to get hazy.

“Oh? And what are you planning on doing to earn your keep.” Mihawk asked, never breaking eye contact.

“Anything,” she responded breathlessly. She could feel the uncomfortable wetness of her slick soaking through her panties. Mihawk’s smirk widened.

“Get up then,” he ordered, Himiko only tilted her head in confusion.

“Oh darling, it’s going to be a long day if you question every one of our demands; don’t worry you’ll be back to being a cum dump soon enough.” Mihawk chastised, tugging her up by her upper arm, in a firm, but gentle grasp. The couple then took a seat at the end of the bed. Himiko looked down at Mihawk, staying still in their switched position until his next command.

“Strip,” he ordered. She nodded, quickly shedding her flannel. Before she could move on to her thermal, Mihawk’s hands shot out to stop her.

“Slower,” he said, releasing his grasp on her arm, “Make a show for your Daddy,”

Himiko couldn’t help but bite her lip as her eyes locked onto Shanks’. He looked as desperate as she felt. Since he had sat down his hand had moved down to his cock as he shamelessly teased himself, gaze never leaving her body. Too enraptured by her and Mihawk’s interactions to keep up with his own role.

She slowly tugged her thermal over her head, before moving onto the front clasp of her bra. She made sure to alternate eye contact so neither man would feel left out as her bust bounced out of its restraint. Her bra slid off her arms, joining the pile of clothing on the floor. A deep whine escaped her as she slid down her leggings. The couple gained a perfect view of her slick connecting her to her bottoms.

“Fuck,” Shanks groaned, now unabashedly jerking off.

“So wet already love?” Mihawk asked an amused, but not surprised look. She nodded rolling her lip between her teeth, consciously keeping her hands to the side to avoid the need she had for release.

“Make Daddy cum,” he ordered, now grasping his own member. Himiko immediately dropped to her knees, shuffling forward between the redhead’s thighs.

“Hey, baby,” he greeted with a groan.

“Hey, Daddy,” she replied back, replacing Shanks’ hand with her own. She moaned onto his cock as she licked up the overflow of precum, before sucking his head into her mouth.

“Fuck,” Shanks moaned, “Such a good girl, doing so well. Fuck.” his hand threaded through her hair to keep her at his preferred pace. Himiko could feel her core pulse with the need for release. Looking up Mihawk pulled Shanks in for a desperate kiss as he fisted his own cock. Himiko saw the window and slowly slid her hand down to her folds, sliding two fingers up and down her slit before she breached her pussy. She couldn’t hold back her moans as she quickly ascended closer and closer to her orgasm. Her eyes snapped shut as Shanks came deep down her throat. She continued to suck, past the point of overstimulation, as her own orgasm ripped through her. Once she came back down from her high, she eased off Shank’s member, panting. Shanks immediately fell backward as he basked in the afterglow of his orgasm.

Her eyes widened as she opened her eyes to find Mihawk already looking down at her with a sharp gaze.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, as she eased her fingers out of her cunt, hand literally caught in the cookie jar.

“Sir-” she tried to start before he hushed her.

“Exactly who gave you permission to cum darling?” he asked, releasing his cock, moving to grip her face and force eye contact.

“No one,” she panted. Mihawk hummed, before responding.

“And who’s in charge?” he asked.

“You and Daddy,” she answered, “I’m sorry Sir.”

“Oh, you will be darling,” Mihawk responded, he moved up the bed, careful to avoid Shanks as he patted his lap. Himiko stood up on shaky legs and crawled up to meet him.

“Lay down love,” he directed, Himiko wordlessly crawled onto his lap face down. She was immediately aware of Mihawk’s pulsing member against her stomach.

“While I never explicitly told you not to cum, you’ve always asked in the past.” Mihawk started, “To the point that I assumed you were aware of that rule. Now, how many spanks do you think you deserve to curve your behavior darling?” he asked stroking her ass. Himiko tried to think clearly, but her mind was still foggy from her orgasm.

“10?” she responded.

“Are you telling me or asking me?” he replied.

“Telling.” She said in the firmest voice she could muster for now.

“Good, you will be counting after each strike, is that clear love?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” she replied with a whine as he pushed her thighs apart for easy access to her pussy. Before she could even react to the cool air on her hot core Mihawk landed a strike on her right cheek.

“One,” she said as he rubbed down over where he hit.

“Two, three,” she gasped out as he progressively moved lower down towards her core.

“Four,” she started before choking out, “Five,” when he backhanded her in the same movement.

“Color,” he asked smoothing a cool hand down her bottom.

“Green, please Sir,” she said, borderline begging. She didn’t need to confirm it to know her slick was leaking down onto Mihawk’s thigh. He hummed in acknowledgment, before removing his hand. Himiko was about to plead for more when he suddenly came down on her with three hard smacks, two of which were backhanded. She quickly called out the numbers, before he moved his hand back. She inadvertently held her breath waiting for the last two. She was mildly disappointed he hadn’t spanked her pussy. Himiko was convinced he was psychic as he landed the last two hard strikes to her pussy within the same breath of her thought. She listed off the last two numbers as his cool palm cupped her sex to give a bit of relief from the hard hits. She fell against his lap as she tried her hardest not to grind against his hand.

“Good,” Mihawk praised briefly, “I guess you aren’t totally beyond hope.”

Himiko hummed in acknowledgment as she pulled back from his lap.

“Love, I’m going to fuck you now, if you’re still up for it,” Mihawk asked. Shanks stirred from his stupor and crawled up to meet Himiko as she made a decision.

“Okay,” she nodded, pussy throbbing not only from pain but also neediness.

“You may cum, but only after I do; is that clear?” Mihawk asked.

“Yes, Sir” she responded with a nod, straddling his lap with shaky legs. Shanks moved in behind her not only to physically support her but also to be there emotionally.

“Sir, may I?” she asked looking up at him.

“Whenever you’re ready darling,” Mihawk responded, hands migrating to her hips. She let out a sigh of relief as the head of his cock breached her slit. As always she eased herself down as slowly as possible to allow her body time to adjust to the girthy intrusion.

“Fuck,” she moaned as he bottomed out.

“Go on, be a good girl and take your load,” Mihawk ordered, grip becoming bruising, as he held himself back from fully taking over. He tried his hardest not to get ahead of himself. He had to pace himself it was only halfway through their first day; and they had a whole week to go. A moan escaped him as she found a steady fast rhythm. Mihawk rubbed up and down her sides. He was close trying to stifle his orgasm for as long as possible.

He only lasted a few more minutes. His downfall was the sight of how beautiful Himiko looked as she lost herself in the feeling of his cock. She let out a moan, as she played with her chest, and ground herself down on his pubic bone for any relief she could find for her clit. He came without warning, his grasp on her hips tightening as he thrusted up hard inside of her. He let out a drawn-out “Fuck,” as Himiko began to bounce on him, still chasing her own release. They moaned in unison. Mihawk from overstimulation and Himiko for the relief Shanks greeted her by rubbing her clit. She came with a shout, before collapsing onto his lap. He held her in his arms, soothingly rubbing up and down on her back, as Shanks slipped out from behind her. He reappeared with a washcloth just as Himiko eased off of his lap. He made quick work of cleaning them before tossing the washcloth in the vicinity of their hamper and joining them in a cuddly mess.

“So, I guess you won huh?” Shanks said over Himiko’s shoulder as she began to slip into sleep.

“I don’t think I’ve ever lost when either of you are involved,” Mihawk answered, pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

MASTERLIST

[vindictusoverlord]

It’s a Jhin fic. Have fun degens👀

TW: depiction of murder, harsh language, sexual themes.

Kinky(?) stuff!: choking, orgasm denial, oral, slapping, biting, dirty talk(kinda).

Word count is 6,100. It’s a biggin.

God speed, soldier.

————————————————————————————

"Ah," Jhin coos, relishing at the heavy thunk! of his last victim. Under his breath, he recites to himself; "My cacophony... the diminuendo... an opera of death... truly exquisite..."

It was all the musings of an inspired lunatic and it danced on his tone, bobbing delicately like a swan on the water, but it defined his chaotic nature entirely— he was a heretic of classical theatre.... Despite this, you had found that you were just like him, anyhow— twin flames sharing the same sick, perverted proclivities and an affinity to a dramatic bloodstained curtain call— it only made sense that you'd find yourselves wound up like this after another one of Jhin's flawless masterpieces. Such a remarkably stunning signature on a heap of corpses and all the while, Jhin stood untouched and unsullied before them. He blew the smoke off his pistol as he gazed below, sending a misplaced chair tumbling over with his foot to admire his handiwork.

"You've outdone yourself, Jhin," You removed your mask as you spoke, wiping off the splattered blood with a handkerchief, trying to alleviate his anger with your smile, and placing your palm on the small of his back. "Really, it was a beautiful performance."

The man holsters his weapons, spinning them with a certain theatrical flair as he does so, and adjusts the collar of his shirt. "It would have been different had you not been here," He says, tone heavy and dark like the narrator to a story, but the cadence hinted that he was pleased with your show tonight, even if he was horribly angry at the men below. "My art would be nothing if not for you."

"I hardly did anything at all. Please, save your flattery." You grin coyly, admonishing the false humility, but Jhin laughs anyways, seeming to accept that you were, in fact, just fine. Though he had always found it peculiar, he admired your consistent sense of dignity and grace on the battlefield. It was a recurring behavior that you displayed— that is, shifting all the credit of a smooth job to him— when it was truly you who set the whole gig up. But nonetheless, and despite his mixed opinions on the matter, Jhin knew it was best not to argue it, but rather to focus on the task at hand.

While you fish around the bodies for your throwing knives, Jhin turns away from his artwork to finish what you had both come all the way there for— an entire shipment of shimmer and the blueprints of an illegally built underground warehouse, as they all tended to be. The two of you slowly load up the truck with the heavy boxes of drugs, securing them down with tarp and straps, before making the two hour trip back to your client's base of operations.

While the driver careened down the interstate, you found yourself thinking about the choices you've made thus far. It felt as though it may have been getting old, working for chump change and constantly moving; always at the mercy of the dangerous political climate. On the other end, it seemed as though Jhin didn't much care for the result of a mission or why he was there in the first place, but rather focused his attention to the clean kills and the adrenaline rush he got from it. You felt somewhat similarly if you were honest, but the pay was important if you were both to stay alive and in hiding. As two of the most wanted criminals in Ionia, odd jobs like this were hard to come by and bounty hunters were plentiful. You took it upon yourself to be the eyes and ears while Jhin was better at talking and finessing, and between the two of you, your chemistry was undeniably successful. Had your doubts been even slightly mitigated by this success, though, perhaps you wouldn't be thinking so often of leaving with your resident maniac in tow.

Even when you handed over the documents to your temporary employer, listening to the excessive palaver while they unloaded the cargo, you felt confident and secure in your partnership with Jhin the Virtuoso, and he felt the same in you. Rarely did he come to trust anyone. But you... well, you had an electricity to you. A particular kind of panache. The first of its kind to catch and hold the killer's eye, and likely the last. Jhin had great plans for you as his partner in both crime and in love, and he endlessly daydreamed about those deviant fantasies of ruthless killing and depraved splendor upon a bed of thorns and gold. Frequent dreams of staining the goose down duvet with the bloody theatrics of your trophies and images of your exquisite countenance twisting with prodigious ecstasy blinded him— oh!, indeed, all of that he wished to share with you alone. Jhin had a plethora of scenes he wished to enact with his beautiful accomplice, and as you sat beside him, absently tapping your pretty fingers on your leg, he had half a mind to show you those perversions right now—

"Jhin," You snap in front of his face. "Are you okay?"

He inhales sharply. He hasn't even realized the two of you had finished up so quickly, let alone that you were already home. Jhin's thoughts consumed him, inspired by the way you peered over at him with those deep (e/c) eyes full of curiosity.

"Yes," he says, confidence oozing off of him. "I'm fine. Let's get this going, shall we?" It was so frustrating to be pulled out of such a tantalizing spectacle, but he begrudgingly lets the thoughts drift to the back of his dirty mind, nodding his acknowledgement at you before following your lead out of the vehicle.

As you said your goodbyes and shook hands with the driver, Jhin's eyes wandered to your plump behind. He gave his farewells as well, of course, but as they parted ways and you began your steady march just a short pace ahead, Jhin returned his ardent stare. As quickly as they had been suppressed just moments before, the debauched musings collided with him once again as they had for the last few hours. He counted the steps until the two of you entered your temporary home, timing them just perfectly with the clicking of your rubicund heels. Soon.... He thought, I'll give her a show of a lifetime... another timeless masterpiece for the ages...

You felt Jhin's heavy gaze on you, prickling your skin into a subtle shiver. It was often that you pondered whatever spiraled about in his warped mind, but his disassociation didn't phase you much more than peaking your endless curiosity for this man's inner machinations. Even as you fumble with the key, you can't shake the feeling that something was wrong with Jhin, as he had been a bit off since you had announced the recent contract to him. He had an innate sense for those kind of things, so it left you on edge to know that even he was skeptical.

But for now, you'd enjoy each others company in the warmth of your humble home. Nothing else mattered for the next few days while you both rested, restocked, and recouped.

As the heavy door opens up, you enter the room, allowing yourself to finally unwind as Jhin struts past you. After sliding off his shoes, he sets his things down while you close and lock the heavy door, making your way quickly to the large restroom. You were caked with blood and dirt and, seeing as though you were both germaphobes, you couldn't wait to wash the filth down the drain.

"(Y/N), my dear," The man says. "Might I join you for a moment?"

"To wash up?"

"Don't play dumb," Jhin finally removes his mask, setting it carefully alongside his personal items. "To admire. I'll wash up later in the evening."

"Of course," Despite your perceived confidence, your heart slipped into a new gear. He nodded to your acceptance of his request with a smile, staying behind to allow you a moment to fill the tub, but never taking his eyes off of you as you stripped away the soiled fabric, tossing your mask and cloak into the laundry hamper.

He adored your figure, tracing every inch in his minds eye, even if he'd seen it bare many times before. It never ceased to leave him speechless. His feelings had been confounded to an infinitely constricting noose around a proverbial neck, and as you peeked over your shoulder and sweetly smiled at the killer, Jhin felt it tighten even further.

The hot water felt nice on your submerging body. You hadn't realized how sore you were from the scuffle earlier in the day, and having almost been killed this morning left a sour taste in your mouth. Unseen cuts and bruises stung while you sank slowly into the tub, suppressing a grimace as you come to rest at the bottom of the deep basin, enjoying the bubbles that rose up to your neck and surrounded you. Jhin enters the room shortly after, a glass of wine in both hands, and takes a seat on the side of the tub. He passes one to you, a grin curling his top lip.

"To a job well done," The man taps his glass against yours, savoring the sweet wine as he sips from the rim, humming a song to himself as he rises back to his feet. You simply relax back in the tub, scrubbing down your skin with a washcloth and enjoying the rich tone of Jhin's voice. You sit in silence for a while, simply enjoying one another's company while he sings to you, and before long, he speaks up again.

"Do you have anything else in store for us this upcoming week?" Jhin asks, leaning against the sink counter, amusing himself while you bathe. An air of insouciance lingered about his contemplation as he did so, eyes glittering with childlike mischief.

"Hmmm," You mull it over as you rinse your hair out, brushing through the tangles with your fingers. "Not that I'm aware of." Having finished, you rise up from the tub, bend over to pull the drain, and wring your hair out with the plush towel.

Jhin curls his lip upward. "Lovely. Then I'll have you all to myself."

"Oh, you have plans, do you?"

He says nothing, rather letting his silence speak for him as the glass finds its place onto the countertop. He watches you from start to finish, enamored by the seemingly menial task of drying yourself down. You hang up the towel, your hair still leaving little droplets along your skin, before sauntering carefully towards him.

"You know," Your voice is a soft purr as it comes out, calm and collected. "I'm really quite fond you, Khada Jhin. You do know that, don't you?" Your fingers run up his dress shirt, the fabric still pressed firm and starkly clean, from sternum up to around his shoulders, intertwining yourself into his warm embrace. His cologne was decadent and made you feel love-drunk, the floral musk driving your mind to dangerous places.

"But of course I know." He coos. "I am the luckiest man alive, after all."

You rise to your toes and place your lips softly against the crook of the man's neck, briefly sinking your teeth into the flesh before moving on to another, lower spot. Jhin hums his pleasantry, acquiescing to your painful leisure, and tightens his grip on the edge of the counter.

You enjoyed his white-knuckling— the way he held back and bit his silver tongue; how he melted into you like wax; when his lips parted and he sighed, the air thick with tension... You continued down, showing him just how much you loved him; gradually unbuttoning his collar, loosening the tie, and then the placket. You left neat kisses along his pale, scarred skin, raising goosebumps along the surface. Jhin releases a careful hand to caresses your cheek, desire apparent in his focused eyes. His lips twitch when he lifted your chin up with only his forefinger, forming something of a crooked smirk. His normal tepid expression, characterized only by the mask he wore to disguise his heart, was replaced by a sense of passion and, hidden behind his gaze, an exhausted restraint.

Jhin nudges your nose with his own, softy falling into your lips. His breath tasted of wine, bittersweet and boozy, but his touch was soft and deliberate. You melted against him, submitting to your yearning, but Jhin remained surprised nonetheless. You ruled him, every part of him— you, the deliverer of divine retribution to his physical and spiritual being; the one that took his life into your hands— and his soul flickered and faded with every touch, lingering on the timbre of everything you said, just as your tongues did. They mimicked a decadent crescendo until you both needed a breath, stealing the oxygen from one another like it would suffocate you to disconnect for even a moment. And like comets, you were destined to meet again, and so you did, with his hands pressed onto your waist and hips and one your own against his chest, the other making its way down to the bulge in his slacks.

And you both fell back into the other.

The tide of idolatry was all consuming. As Jhin kissed you, it felt as thought you were ascending— almost like falling upwards through the clouds— as you fell deeper in love with the maniac. Just like the first time you had shared a kiss, you felt the distinct shock through your core every time since then. Those rampant butterflies that almost made you nauseous, the furious beating of your heart, and the dizziness that fogged your mind kept you going back for more. Endlessly craving more.

As if he read your thoughts, a slender hand wrapped around your neck and you hummed into his embrace. Jhin pulls away after a moment, his lips grazing against yours, and following instinct, you lean forward, longing for all of him. His other hand, breaking away from your hip, pulls his belt out of the loops and slides behind the waistband of his trousers. Jhin unbuttons them with a simple flick of his thumb and forefinger, letting you to unzip them yourself, and then returns his hands to the countertop. You drop to a squat before running your fingers along his waist band, lingering on each peck you give his abdomen. Jhin watches intently, seemingly mesmerized by your finesse, and, almost as if he forgot how to breathe, his exhales hitch on an absent thought with every breath he takes in.

You slowly drag the smooth fabric from his slender hips, biting softly onto one side of his undergarments and tugging with your hand on the other, only closing your eyes when you return upwards to leave a trail with your lips along his prominent pelvis bones. His member softly presses against the side of your face as you led your kisses to the base, lingering there for a moment to take in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. Mesmerized by his simple beauty, you peer up at him, relishing the sight of his vulnerability as if it were a drug.

"I've been thinking about you— this— all day," Jhin whispers. The light catches his face in a way that accentuates the sharpness of his features and softness of his skin. He was, by most accounts, a very average looking man, only his demeanor setting him apart from the crowd. He was fairly inconspicuous without his mask, though he hated to be without it, but his almond shaped brown eyes held a certain frigidity and authority-- a professionalism, almost-- and his skin was no longer pallid as it had been when you had met. The honey colored warmth in his gaze captured light and turned it auburn like muted fire or an endless horizon— simply full of life.

You bat your eyes at him, feigning innocence. His confidence faltered when you did that, staring up at him through those pretty eyelashes, eyes wide and full of wonder. The way your gaze gleamed with mischief made him let out a nervous chuckle, one that made his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Just sit back, my love." Making eye contact, you let your tongue drag along the underside of his cock to the tip, amusing yourself with the subtle twitch of his hooded eyelids. "Let me take care of you."

He always acted like it was the first time you touched him, as if it was the stars and sky falling right above him in a perpetual performance. Jhin, who put out an air of arrogance and wise experience, was simply a man after all. And every man had a weakness.

Jhin bit his bottom lip as your tongue twirled around the head and ever... so... slowly... inched down as if to absorb him in his own pleasure. Your lips wrapped delicately around your teeth to protect his flesh as you moved forward, flexing outward as you gradually pulled back, creating a suction that forced a soft moan from your fragile lover.

You, the kind woman that you were, took your time building up your tempo, enjoying the soft grunts Jhin elicits, and begin to glide your hands up his thighs. Your fingers softly prod around his package, wrapping around to cup his balls as the tip of his shaft passes down your throat. You hold it there for a few moments before shifting back, returning to your original tempo, but this time, you go all the way down to his belly, grazing his happy trail with your nose. Jhin lets out a sigh, instinctively twisting his fingers in your wet hair. He knew he was at your mercy by the way you moved your tongue so expertly and pulled those degrading noises out of him. It was as if your intention had been solely to devour him soul first. Unbeknownst to you, had that kind of unity been an option, Jhin would gladly let you.

The churning knot built up quickly in the pit of his stomach, raising a pressure below that made it hard to breathe out against his soft moans. The dirty gargling noises that erupted from your throat had him biting his lip far too hard, his head thrown back to whisper his pleadings with the gods, and somehow even through all the pleasure, he softly thanked them, too.

You wrapped your free hand around the remaining length of his cock, pumping back-and-forth in unison with your mouth, capturing it all within the depths of your greedy throat. None of him would go untouched, unloved, or ungrateful, and you were going to make sure of that. You would love all of him down to the molecules of his very being until the day he died.

And as you took all of him in, pressing your nose against his belly over and over, Jhin bit down on the sleeve of his shirt. It had begun to slip off his shoulders, the sleeves just long enough for him to try to suppress his raunchy melody within the fabric. But his legs began to buckle, his arms flung back to the countertop to keep him from falling, and your momentum didn't stop. You kept it up, eyes closed to bring forth your earned prize, and the sheer thought of you forced the man to utterly submit to your presence. You could feel the flexing of his restraint on your tongue as he held back as strongly as he was able to, but before long, Jhin would meet his limit.

The man leans forward ever so slightly as he snakes his hand around your throat once again. His fingers tread lightly along your skin as they wrap around it, pressing into the flesh. His breath hitches as he feels the girth of his cock sliding down, and out, and back again, amazing himself by how well you could take in his length.

"Oh, fuck..." he murmurs, tightening his grip in your (h/c) locks. "How do you... do that?" Jhin hums as he struggles to pull you off of him, eyes dull and weak as if he was simply a puppet and you were the marionette. You noticed a string of spit hung from your lip to the tip of his curved dick, licking your lips seductively up at his bewilderment.

"No more?" You ask, obediently placing one hand in your lap to play with yourself.

He chuckles— exasperated— eyes flickering between the placements of your hands. "Look what you do to me... it's simply... not fair." He spoke quietly between labored breaths, meekly gesturing at his cock now drooling with pre-cum. His hand finds its place there, long, slender fingers dividing to hold his flesh at the base, accentuating the curve.

"Fairness is a construct," You move closer to his proud member, making eye contact with him as you plant kisses along the his hip bones and his stomach, holding onto his hip with one hand to keep him in place. "If life was fair to all of us, we wouldn't be on the run. And we," You gaze up at him, deviance dancing like demons across your expression, haunting your erotic smile. "Could do whatever we wanted."

Jhin shudders at the sight of you below him, toying with your pussy as his cock stood erect against your flushed cheek. He enjoyed the chase you presented his way as if you were a mouthy slave to his wishes, your sexual deviancy a lure to reel him into a whirlwind of eroticism.

His fingers brush gently through your hair, smoothing out the chaos he had made in it just moments before. "Stand up for me, my rose," Jhin coos, his words flowing off his tongue like poetry. "I think it's your turn, now."

With a quick nod, enticed by his intent, you rise to your feet and take Jhin's offered chivalry. He places your wet fingers onto his tongue, locking eyes with you as he closes his lips around them. His tongue swiped off your juices, delicately dancing along each of the two fingers as he cleaned them up. You couldn't help but sigh, a mewl following shortly after, when you slowly pull your fingers back out. His seduction worked every time, and the image of his face buried between your legs, squished by your thighs until he struggled to breathe... but that intense climax would be worth anything.

"Ready?" He asks.

Baffled, you simply nod.

He leads you to the neat and organized bedroom, shirking off his white dress shirt along the way. He turns and captures you within his arms, positively bursting with passionate affection. You couldn't help but giggle as he did so, becoming ensnared in yet another embrace of his lips. The man slowly walks you back to the bed, never once breaking the contact when he lifts you up onto the mattress. His tall form looms over you, and those same kisses become sloppier as he makes his way down your body.

You feel his slender fingers graze against your skin, down from your shoulders to your breasts. His large palms cup underneath, one hand pressing softly against your hardened nipple, while his tongue plays on the other. Jhin's eyes are closed as he just slightly touches his bottom teeth against the sensitive skin. You grip the duvet under you, trying desperately to hold back the electricity that flowed through you. You could feel the small smile he let slip out, his adoration peeking out through his long, dark eyelashes, and he continues moving down.

The way his hands felt on your skin stirred goosebumps on your skin. They were calloused on his fingertips— a signature sign of a musician— but the smooth palms kept an arch to them that applied just the right pressure as he touched you. As his hands slid slowly past your hips and down to your thighs, he allows his thumbs to just barely brush against your sex while he works his kisses downwards. Before long, Jhin has you wriggling in his arms while he teases you, hushed gasps escaping as you squirm. You prop yourself up on your elbows, pouting your lips and furrowing your brow in protest.

His eyes are narrow, thinned with tension, and he takes it as his sign to brush his lips gently against your heated sex. The man's tongue softly slips from his lips, making a small circle before he kisses your womanhood again. He flattens it out, carefully watching your expression as he goes to work, twirling and flicking in an improvisational dance that landed every move. He kept a consistent pressure and suction on your clit as he always did, skill simply unmatched, volleying the flatness and extending the length of his tongue.

Jhin presses his palm into your lower stomach, sinking it in and holding it there. While he does, his free hand slides his index and middle fingers along your opening, coating them both with a mixture of your juices and his saliva before slowly— oh, so slowly— inserting them into you. He allows you to acclimate, always having loved the tightness and the way you gripped his fingers, humming his praise into your sex.

You let out a soft moan, something more akin to a drawn out, breathy "fuck!", as his long fingers curl upwards, seeming to beckoning you from within. The pads of his fingertips firmly tapped against the spongey part of your sex, curving in and out with a leisurely pace. It felt as though he was coaxing your heartbeat, and it seemed to follow without much hesitation. It descended through your chest, making friends with the butterflies, as it found its home there amidst them. Your breathy moans matched the thudding, decadently rising in pitch as Jhin pushed and pulled his fingers. The pressure built up quickly and formed a fiery heat that began taking root within your depths.

Jhin, of course, knew what you liked and he knew it well, only slightly picking up his pace once your body had flexed, then relaxed and slowed down-- and when it tensed again, he repeated this process, counting to four in his mind to keep a consistent pace.

"Jhin, please..." You beg, a pathetic expression clear as daylight on your face. "I want you—"

He smiles, not stopping his pace and replacing his tongue with the padding of his thumb, swirling it in quick circles, as he speaks. "I know," he croons, melodic in his tone and ever so satisfied with your reactions. It almost sounded like he was placating you, begging for your orgasm as if he wanted nothing more than your body contorting against him.

"I'd like you to cum for me first. Will you do that, my love?" Jhin whispers.

"Yes," You nod weakly, unable to hold from setting your head back down on the duvet. "...sir."

He smiles, going back between your legs with the same fervor. "That's my good girl."

Naturally, you lay back and bring your hands up to fondle your breasts, squeezing the buds softly as you begin to cross over the brink. It takes a few more minutes as you ride your hips into him, taking greedy steps towards the edge as tears formed in your eyes and your thighs cramp from the shaking. Jhin throws his arm over your leg, using a part of the weight of his body on the other to keep them separated and to hold you still as you slip into bliss.

He wouldn't stop until your mind was numb and empty, until your eyes rolled back and your body twitched uncontrollably, letting a pool of drool hang by your cheek. Jhin couldn't hold back from that kind of torture. It was, for him, another pure form of art he performed only for you. And while you lay there squirming, your sweet voice filled the room with a music he could hear every day, all day, for the rest of his natural life.

Your head was spinning, face hot and slack. Your climax had you in a chokehold, lasting longer than you had expected it to. The white hot heat that took over you seared your skin like a brand, marking you forever as Jhin's.

"My sweet girl," Jhin licks his lips, crawling on top of you. "You are so beautiful like this." He positions your legs on either side of himself, cupping your cheek as he kisses your trembling lips, his tongue tracing the soft flesh before he dives back into your embrace. You taste yourself on his breath— the tangy sweetness of your love made you sweat— and you wrap your arms around his shoulders tightly, afraid to let go.

Jhin positions himself at your entrance, tracing his length over your sex before he poses to enter, kissing your forehead before he does so. "Do you want it, my darling?" He hums sweetly, just mere inches from your ear.

"Always," You whimper, barely able to bring yourself to say much else. The fog of his presence held your mind in a bird cage, and it was a helpless, thrashing creature all the while. "Please."

Gradually, he pushes himself in, lowering the tip of his cock into you with his thumb, bringing his hips closer to meet yours. You inhale as his length enters you, the fullness making your breath hitch. You were still so terribly sensitive, arching your back to feel it all— as Jhin gently began to rock his hips, your hands instinctively press against his bare chest. Your fingers traced carefully over his scars, letting them take their place on his collarbone.

"You're doing so well." Jhin's voice is gruff, his kisses dotting your neck and forehead as he speaks. The man brushes the hair from your face, mild and deliberate as he makes his way through the routine. He treated you as if you were a delicate flower on the cusp of a spring bloom, pressing his forehead to yours, clearly relishing in the meek mewls he was able to earn as he picked up his pace.

Jhin pulls back, scooping your legs up onto his left shoulder and straightening his back. He looks so tall and overpowering here, the coldness in his gaze still lingering amidst his dark stare. You couldn't completely take away the sadistic side of the killer, but you loved to see his aggression every now and then.

He picks up his pace, pumping in and out, every move calculated, breaths intertwined as he gazes lazily down at you. He filled you perfectly, the curve of his cock greeting your depths. It was almost as though he could read your mind; the way Jhin's fingers snake in between your thighs while he moves matched your thoughts. He makes quick movements, deliberately toying with you with a fiery fixation on the way your expression contorts.

The man watched as your eyes rolled behind your eyelids, lip quivering against your labored breathing, and he just loved the way you used your hands against the mattress to push yourself back against him. He loved the curves of your body, decorated with your numerous scars. They were a sign of a warrior, uncontested through your countless battles, and while he imbibed your intoxicating aura, you grew ever louder as his pace picked up. The aggression turned primal when his fingers grazed your neck, the melody of skin-to-skin impact filling the thick air. His manicured nails just barely scratch the skin, sending ripples of goosebumps across your body. A crooked, sadistic smile seems to crack across his face, and without any warning, Jhin sends a hearty smack! against your bottom.

And gradually, he slows down to an agonizing pace. He gyrates his hips ever so slightly before moving his callused palms over the length of your body. You sigh out your grievances, something of a mixed bag of pleasure and annoyance, and his brows furrow. Jhin's face shifts, once something so perverse and barbarous, to the warmth of a hearth, or the color of yellow daisies. He was gracious and charming, like the story books would say, but his tone-- a gruffness in his voice-- was the stark opposite.

He leans over, the fingers of one hand clasped on your neck and softly tapping in succession, and whispers, "Who do you belong to?"

"Only you." You murmur it back, only just barely audible, but he smiles as he releases you.

"Show me,"

And so you adjust yourself, slowly making your way to the edge of the bed. Jhin sits down, surveying your every move, but one leg after the other, you lower yourself onto his lap. He holds you, chest to chest, covered in a sheen of sweat. Your breathing was discordant, a tribute to the wild look in your eyes. His, however, were heavy. They were shrouded in ambiguity, a darkness lurking just beneath, and when his lip twitched at the left corner, the air pulled taught once again. Tension could be cut with a knife... But this, well, perhaps not even a bullet could pierce through.

Your stomach churned. All the while, your heartbeat sped up. The man before you was unequivocally methodical about everything he did, even when he brushed the hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. Without much control, your body squirmed at his touch, much like the shaking of leaves in a breeze. It was a shudder that washed away reality-- one that swept away all of the stress of life. Here in Jhin's presence, you felt as though the moon wasn't so far away. That maybe, just maybe, you could touch the dust upon its surface.

Jhin allowed you to lower yourself onto him, slowly rising and falling as the tide. His broad palms spread out against your bottom, lifting ever so slightly while you move, and his lips... They leave a trail along your shoulder, down to your collarbone, and... back up your neck. The man softly bites into your skin, a groan departing from the floor of his diaphragm.

That guttural noise... so primal and inviting... it always provoked something of a beast within you. A devil that yearned for submission.

Jhin hadn't expected you to push him back so roughly, but his eyes trailed your body as you sat up straight and dug your nails across his bare chest. He didn't react much aside from that and preferred to observe. He loved your lust for power and the way you took what you wanted. It was so aligned with his own methods, and initially what drew him to you, so with every movement and shaky breath that left your chest, he, too, rose to that peak of pleasure. It started in his throat, down to his lungs and all the way to his palms, closing in on his innards, and the to his toes. It consumed him in the same way it consumed you.

He came before you this final time, whimpering so, so very softly, but the moment felt like forever and nothing all the same, like the world was stuck in a volleying limbo. You let your hands drop beside his head, reveling in the quivering darkness hazing your thoughts. It was an absolute wash of warmth that drowned you out like a monsoon— the way Jhin held you in his arms as you both shivered, moving your hips ever so slowly in mesmerizing circles to capture his essence within you.

Tepid fingers twisted together behind his head, absently fiddling with the ring that adorned your left hand, and mind clear... absolved, almost. The man hugged you tightly against his chest, his complexion dewy, heart beats colliding in unison. You sigh outward, satisfied and relaxed, and that feeling of butterflies returned, rushing through your core to make you hum your satisfaction to your lover.

"You inspire me." Jhin croons, so soft and calm as he pants, and runs his fingers across the edge of your jaw. He was riding the bliss of his orgasm, floating high amidst the clouds.

You breathe in the romance, exhaling when you meet his lips once more. "And you..."

He smiles and your heart flutters.

"Complete me."

[asivenathi]

What I have learnt about providing intervention

Blog 1

I worked with a client who had sustained 7% TBSA significant hot oil burns to their right hand and arm in a recent accident at her house. I got to see how severe a burn injury can be and how it impacts function as this was my first burns client. The client was struggling with pain, limited mobility, and emotional distress related to the trauma of the incident. During our sessions, I focused providing interventions to improve pain management, and regain function in the affected upper extremity.

Initially, I felt a combination of empathetic and concern for the client's suffering with the pain of the burn. Seeing the client in pain and distress was emotionally challenging, but it also motivated me to provide the best possible care and support. This interfered with treatment as I would not move the client’s affected fingers during passive range of motion movements as I just felt sympathetic.

The interventions I implemented, therapeutic exercises, and pain management strategies, and functional activities such as upper limb dressing, meal prep and clean up and grooming were effective in addressing the client's immediate needs. However, I encountered some challenges in balancing the client's physical rehabilitation with their psychological well-being. “Recovering from a burn can leave a burn survivor struggling to cope with the physical and psychological trauma of their injury. Finding new ways to encourage positive coping strategies and strengthen their sense of self-efficacy and occupational identity can help to encourage the burn survivor to actively participate in their recovery and thereby increase their resiliency after injury” (Kurakazu, 2022, p.1). I could have focused also on the psychosocial impact that the burn has on the client. I tend to get anxious when I am with the client which makes the client uneasy and lose the client’s trust in me as a student, I will work on managing my own anxiety as it interferes with my treatment. Additionally, I realized the importance of collaborating with other healthcare professionals, such as psychologists or social workers, to provide holistic care for the client.

Reflecting on the experience, I recognize how hand in hand the physical and psychological aspects of burn injuries go together. Beyond addressing the physical symptoms, occupational therapy plays a crucial role in supporting clients' mental health and emotional recovery. I also acknowledge the needed to read up on the condition of burns itself, the stages of healing, the type of burn, evidence-based practices to provide the best intervention tailored for the client’s unique needs.  To enhance my practice, I will look up on articles and information for psychosocial interventions for burn survivors. I will also proactively engage in interdisciplinary collaboration with and other healthcare professionals, to provide comprehensive support for clients with burn injuries such as finding out from the nurses when the client’s bandages will be taken off for my next burn’s client as I did not ask this time. Additionally, I will regularly reflect on my experiences and positively receive feedback from my supervisor, use it effectively so that I can improve on treatment ensuring that clients get good treatment.

This experience reinforced the importance of holistic care, considering not only the client's physical impairments but also their emotional and psychosocial well-being. Moving forward, I aim to further develop my skills in treating trauma burns clients and collaborate closely with interdisciplinary teams to optimize outcomes for burn-injured clients to be up to date with the client’s progress to provide treatment that is best for the client.

References

1.Kurakazu, D., Biggins, K., & Groger, S. (2022). Tell Me Your Story: A Case Report on the Use of Occupational Storytelling in the Treatment of a Subject with an Upper Extremity Burn Injury and Complex Psychosocial Issues. Journal of Burn Care & Research, 43(5), 1211–1214. https://doi.org/10.1093/jbcr/irac064

[haleigh-sloth]

I think that people often forgets that editors and publishers can influence the story of one of their manga artists works. Like hk isn't totally blameless he can be messy/questionable at times but the man can write if they let him (I wish they gave manga artists more than one month break) and I'm guessing that if it isn't profitable in their eyes they surely step in but apparently we can't criticize anything ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Man, people used to try to defend the editor back in the beginning of the villain hunt arc, but I haven’t seen any of that as of late. Luckily.

Mostly because I’m assuming most people are starting to see how bad this editor has ruined the story.

I’m not saying I think this is permanent. I really don’t think it is. Precisely because nothing important has happened since this editor’s influence took over.

When it gets down to really plot relevant stuff, I don’t see Hori letting that get messed up. I can understand letting little set-up arcs like this go down the drain, but I truly think Hori cares enough to salvage the actual important stuff.

There haven’t been ANY villains this arc, so my guess is that the hero-focused arcs just are never going to live up to the villain focused ones. I feel that Hori puts more effort into the villain focused ones, and I feel like it’ll continue to appear that way until the end.

I’m not worried about the manga at all, but god damn I AM annoyed at the state of it currently. And anybody who tries to defend this editor in my inbox like the LAST time I shit on him is not even gonna get a response. Because my irritation PEAKED last night when I had to have this shitty movie shoved in my face. The editor, as some have said, is inexperienced. And idk, I really wish he’d get replaced and work on a smaller scale story before taking on a biggin like this one. But oh well, just gotta endure til the plot picks up.

[mercurygray]

Earlier today on one of my Discord servers we were discussing how best to introduce an original character into a fanfic. There were many good and interesting approaches considered, but the question got me thinking about how I do this, generally, and the question seemed to invite creating a new character, from scratch, to see how she got on selling her story.

I was in the middle of a meeting when a lot of this discussion took place, so I had a very brief sketch in my head. This young woman - we'll call her Phyl - works in air traffic control at Ramsbury.

 If I start the scene up with the Paraguys on their way to a plane, she's just a bit of background noise - something to whistle at as they go by on one of their jumps. But if I start up on her, in the control tower, bored to sobs, waiting for lunch and discussing the arrival of the Americans with a friend on shift, I've been given some reasons to pay attention to the story, hopefully I've hooked the reader into which Americans, given them enough of a picture to start them thinking about who the endgame might be. I have to establish her on solid ground before I go anywhere else or no one is going to give two figs. 

Let me know what you think?

--

These night shifts were the very devil.

It was all well and good if you were at a station like Biggin Hill or Tangmere or Gravesend, where there were sorties flying at all hours and crates going out on a regular timetable, but Wiltshire wasn't quite as handy for the Channel coast as Suffolk and Kent, and a posting to sleepy little RAF Ramsbury meant a lot of very exciting evenings with nothing but a cup of tea, an empty radar plot, and the crossword for company.

In other words, absolutely thrilling.

Aircraftswoman Phyllis McCray contemplated the bank of clues and tapped the end of her propelling pencil against the page, tea cooling close at hand. "Unkempt women, nine letters."

Her watch partner turned around slowly in her chair, slightly slouched, the leads from her headset catching her before she made the full rotation. "Us."

Phyl gave her a patient stare.  "I think that rather leaves us a bit short, Bern, I said nine letters. Slatterns! Right, thirty five down, a sticker that doesn't know it's been licked, starts with S - oh, a stamp."

Bernice Handley (Bern or Bernie to friends) sighed.  Even patriotism had limits on nights like this one, and one could only get so far on knitting socks on shift - or filling in clues for your puzzle-mad co-worker.   "Why do you bother asking?"

"Because I'm trying to be sociable, Bern, and it's helping keep me awake."

"You should have joined the intelligence service," Bern suggested. "Brain like yours. Why ever didn't you?"

Phyl contemplated the crossword (Eleven across, Hawaii floral welcome, three letters - lei.) "Air Aux sounded like more fun. Learn range-finding and all that. What's the name of the strait between Denmark and Sweden?"

"Who knows?" Bern frowned, realized she was being asked for the answer, and turned again in her chair to glance at the large chart on the wall, sighing when she realized reading the thing would involve  actually getting out of her seat. She laid down her headphones and went to go look. "Kattegat - two ts, starts with K, spelled like it sounds."  Phyl smiled and made the appropriate notation on her page. "Do you know what's for breakfast?" Bernie asked, checking her watch, her notes, and the wall clock in slow succession as she made her way back to her chair. "I'm starving."

"Probably porridge again," Phyl said, unconcerned, her mind moved on to fifteen across, city in western Canada, and the now present K. How did one spell Saskatchewan? It didn't do to worry on food - they would get what they would get and be grateful for it. It was a lesson Phyl had learned long ago at her family's crowded table, but Bernie, who was only six months into her National Service and had not yet shaken her middle-class tastes or posh London suburb roots, had not.

"God, at the rate we're going I'm going to turn into a oatcake. I know it's not patriotic but I'd kill for an egg. Or more sugar for this tea."

Phyl bit back any comment she’d thought about  making regarding Bernie's complaints and continued with the puzzle. She would have liked to work in intelligence, finding patterns in radio traffic or some such, but they wanted people who sounded right for that sort of thing, women who came from families like Bernie's, who'd been to good schools. Not scholarship girls from up north who only sounded right when they tried hard enough to remember the dulcet tones of the announcer on the BBC.

Bernie had apparently moved back to her own magazine, flipping through the article without really reading anything. "Have you met them yet?"

"Mmm?"

"The Americans," Bernie supplied. "There's a whole crew over near Aldbourne, up at the big house. Mary was in Swindon last week, with Ralph, she said they were everywhere. Swanning around like movie stars, apparently."

Phyl nodded, running through possibilities for a five letter showy garden perennial. Trust Bernie to always want what she couldn't have. She was young. She would learn. They all did, eventually.

--

The purpose of the exercise was to see if I could create and introduce a brand new character in a way that might provoke you to read more. How'd I do?

[surveys-at-your-service]

Surveys #431-432

two biggins’ in one, beware the long post.

Do you own any Funko Pop! figurines? No. How many cats and dogs have you had as pets in your lifetime? I couldn't possibly count the cats. A lot. We've had I wanna say eight dogs through my entire life. Can your mom and/or dad play any instruments, or how about anyone else in your family? No. My older sister played the clarinet in school, though. Have you ever colored in an adult coloring book as a stress reliever? I have, but they don't really affect my stress level. Can you crack crab legs without a tool? UGH EW I hate crab legs. So mushy and just... ew. I don't think I've tried to without a tool. How many light sources are in the room you’re in? Excluding the natural light out my windows, three. What’s your favorite thing to put on bagels? Just your usual cream cheese. Who’s your favorite director? Tim Burton. I love his style. Bats: cute or gross? Bats are SO goddamn cute. What was the last really intense pain you felt? I had a sudden pain in my chest the other day that scared me quite a bit. Would you rather vacation by a beach or a lake? A lake, for sure. How would you feel about traveling abroad alone? I'd be way too lonely. What is your father's middle name? John. Where did your last kiss take place? The airport. Which movie villain do you find the most terrifying? Probably Jason. A masked guy just casually pursuing you with a knife is horrifying to me. If you married your favorite celebrity what would your last name be? Fischbach alskdfla;wer;lkwera;wle Do you stick your tongue out often in pictures? No. Which one of your family members are you closest to? My ma. Would you rather have name brand shoes or name brand clothes? Shoes. It's very important for them to be comfy for me. Are you a good liar? Yes. :x Are you proud of your parents? Yeah. If you could get backstage tickets to ANY concert - which would you pick? If Mom was with me, Metallica. She would actually fucking die if she met them. Like she cried and laughed with joy when she found out about the concert in Raleigh some years ago, and we thought we were going to go, but yeah, money. Which is better: orange or grape soda? Orange cream soda. Grape soda is so gross. Was the last thing you ate hot or cold? It was room temperature. Who was the last person in your house who isn’t family? Our landlord/family friend. I think. What color was the last swimsuit you wore? Black. Can you remember the last song you listened to? I'm listening to "Thoughts & Prayers" by Motionless In White right now. Have you ever been dumped really harshly? Ha, that is a colossal understatement... Can you do a back flip, or anything else of that sort? Definitely not. I couldn't even do stuff like that as a kid. Do you have any exes you can’t stand anymore? No. What happened to cause you to feel that way about them? ^ Are you more of a phone or a computer person? Computer, for sure. Do you have a job, and if so, where do you work? No. If not, do you want one? Not right now. I want to focus on the gym and getting in shape. Do any medical afflictions run in your family? A whole lot. What’s your favorite Mexican dish? Shrimp quesadillas. Or rice with cheese sauce. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Yeah, hockey and baseball. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? I'm actually conflicted on this right now. I use tampons, but there are reasons I don't really like them and am considering something else. Have you ever ordered a specially made cake from a cake shop? Not me myself, but Mom has. What months were you and your siblings born in? My two immediate sisters were born in April and June. What did you have for dinner last night? Uhhhhh... I want to say I had a chicken pesto bowl? Have you ever had sex in/on a vehicle? No, that sounds so uncomfortable. Do you do anything to groom your eyebrows? No. I don't care about that anymore. Has your town ever flooded? Oh, for sure. Hurricane Floyd from when I was... I wanna say two or three WRECKED my area. Have you ever played at the McDonald’s play place? Yeah. That was a blast as a kiddo. Have you ever taken a picture of snow? Yeah. Do you cry easily? Very. Are you happy with where you live? No. The suburbs suck. I miss living in the country so much. Do people ever mistake you for being a different race? No. Do you hate the last person you kissed? No, she's my best friend in the whole world. What genre is your favorite movie? I actually don't know what it's considered? It's a kids movie, though. Who was the last person you were in a car with? My mom. Do you like the picture on your license/I.D. card? My permit picture is fucking hideous. When was the last time somebody hit on you? *shrug* Was the last person you met a male or female? A guy - my personal trainer. What brand is your underwear? I'm in my pjs, and only a madman would wear underwear to bed. What’s your favorite Thanksgiving food? Just the rolls, really, lol. I'm not a big fan of Thanksgiving foods at all. Do you have a TV in your room? No, because I don't watch TV. Are any of your electronics charging right now? My laptop always is, though I know you shouldn't do that. I need to charge my phone, too. What was the last video game you played? Video game, not computer, I want to say uh... The Legend of Spyro: Dawn of the Dragon? What’s the biggest promise someone’s ever made to you? Did they keep it? To never leave me. He didn't. Google, Bing, or Yahoo? Google. What was the last song you had on repeat? The song I mentioned earlier. Who is your favorite person to watch on YouTube? Markiplier. :') How many college degrees do you want? It'd be nice to have a Bachelor's in SOMETHING, but I'm not returning to school. Three tries was enough money down the drain. Can you wink? Yeah. Do you own any jerseys? No. Have you ever tried to snort Pixie Stix as a child, or even an adult? Uh, no. Do you like going to baby showers? Do you go only for the cake? No. The last time Jason and I hung out in any capacity was his brother's wife's baby shower, and it's a bad memory. As well, it just reminds me of what I once wanted with him. I'll go to them and be okay, but definitely not thrilled. Has there ever been a time in your life, you felt sexually undecided? Yes, especially in the I want to say 8th grade. I had an inescapable crisis that literally lasted a whole week (or maybe more) forcing myself to believe I was straight, despite already showing but denying bisexual attractions. I was religious back then, so believed if I wasn't straight, I'd go to Hell. Then I came out as bisexual in uhhhh... 2018 I wanna say, and that was a long examination of my feelings. It felt like a massive weight off my shoulders when I accepted it. I felt legit happy. Do you think tattoos and piercings are sexy on the opposite sex? ugggghhhhh yes Do people ever ask you to do things they’re too short to accomplish? No. What color are the headphones you have at this moment in time? My earbuds are pink and white. Ever choked severely on something during lunch at your school? No. Do you eat more vegetables or fruits? What’s your favorite fruit/veggie? Fruits, for sure. My fave is strawberries. What would you say is the color of your favorite bra? I have a pink and black lacy one that is super cute, but it's too small for me right now. It just stays in my drawer. Is anyone in your family a firefighter? Who is it anyway? No. What do you usually buy when you go to the dollar store? If I'm stopping there for a snack (which is usually the only time we stop by one), I tend to get a honeybun. Ever peed in the pool? Be honest! No, that is so gross. When you’re older, what kind of house do you want to live in? I want a medium-sized house that's semi-isolated in the woods. I'd love a nice path to walk down and take photos, a catio for Roman or whatever cat I may have in the future... stuff like that. I need lots of nature. Where do you want to get married? In some sort of gothic building, though I'm sure that would be a WILDLY expensive venue, so I doubt that'll happen. Realistically, either in the woods or even a massive flower garden. Do you plan on having both your parents at your wedding? Yes. What is your favorite childhood TV show? Pokemon. Honestly, do you like school? No, I didn't. Last thing that made you cry? PTSD. Honestly, are you keeping a big secret right now? No big secrets, no. Last person you took a walk with? Sara, years ago. Have you ever liked someone who didn’t like you back? Oh, have I... Who was the last person to actually pick you up in the air? Probably Jason, honestly. Does any part of your body hurt? My non-existent abs are killing me from exercising yesterday. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to change a regret what would you do? While it's tempting, hand me the cash. Can you keep a secret? Absolutely. You tell me a secret, you can guarantee I'll be keeping it between you and me. Your favorite romantic movie? The Notebook. How do you feel about Valentine’s Day? I honestly like it. I love the aesthetic of it, and I know people say "well you should celebrate love every day," and while that's right, what's so wrong about nationally designating a specific day to appreciate it? I think it's a very cute holiday. Who was the last person you took a picture with? My sister Katie. Do your jeans have rips, tears, and holes in them? I haven't worn jeans in yeeeeaaaarrrrssss. When I did though, I loved jeans like that, especially for skinny jeans. Do you celebrate 420?No. Have you ever kicked a vending machine? No. How do you eat Oreos? I prefer to just dip them in milk. If that's unavailable, I separate the two parts, eat the cream, and then the two cookies. Do you wear your shoes in the house? No. Would you survive in prison? Absofuckinglutely not. It's dark, but just to be entirely honest, I'd probably find a way to kill myself. Ever been to Georgia? I've been through it. Do you get your hair cut every month? Not every month, no. It needs a trim right now badly, though.

Current relationship in detail. I'm single and should be. If you were kicked out of your house, who would you call/go to? My dad. List things you spend money on in an average week. Nothing. Rate each of your sexual partners (if any) from 1-10. He was honestly a 10 lmao like I don't have a lot of experience at all, but yeah. Post the last FB group/page that you joined. I actually don't remember because I've been on break from Facebook for around a month. Would you parents be mad if you were in a relationship? No... Think of the last person you had sex with. Do you think they’ve slept with anyone else since they last slept with you? I'm sure he has. He dated someone right after me for like... eight months or something? Is there someone that you believe you will always be attached to? I think that's very obvious by now. What board games are you good at? Idk, I don't really enjoy board games. Is there a sport/hobby you keep thinking about taking up, but that you’ve never quite gotten around to starting? Definitely no sports, but I've been wanting to get back into video editing. I just... haven't, even though I have the software. Do you think pranks like egging/toilet-papering someone's house are funny or immature? They're incredibly immature. I see zero humor in them. Do you think “sleeve tattoos” are a good idea? They're hot as fuck, man. Is there anything in particular that your parents argue about? What? I'll just say they're divorced for good reasons. Do you ever actually read the “Terms and Services” when you sign up for websites and such? No. If you have a handheld games console (a DS or GameBoy, for example), how often do you use it? Almost never. Your phone is ringing. It’s the person you fell hardest for, what do you say? Realistically, I wouldn't answer because I don't answer numbers I don't recognize. Hypothetically, if I knew it was him, I'd probably say something along the lines of, "Hey J, are you okay?", because something must be seriously wrong if he wants to talk to me of all people. If your best friend was kicked out, would your parents let him/her live with you? Mom absolutely would. Are you afraid of falling in love? I'm terrified of it. Is there anybody you wish you could be with right now? I wish I didn't. Have you ever kissed someone & wished you didn’t? Yes: Tyler. Did you get kissed last night? Haven't been kissed in years. Do you enjoy going through a carwash? Bring out the rainbow soap and it's hype lmao. How did you get most of your scars? My cat, ha ha. He sometimes plays way too rough, and I just scar very easily. Ever had to take an inkblot test? Yes, when I went to a psychologist. Have you ever been in trouble for something you honestly didn’t do? Maybe? Have you ever seriously slapped someone in anger? My sister as a kid on her arm. Safe to say I got in trouble for it. What/who woke you up this morning? Just my body. Who was the last person to be in your bedroom besides you? Mom. What’s one of your locked text messages? da;lsd;fakwer I have one locked from Sara that says something like, "You are so beautiful." I cried. Have you ever finished a game of Monopoly? I think? Jason and I used to play the digital one you could download on the PS3. Is there anyone you know who’s in any way paralyzed? No. I mean, I know of a girl who went to my school who was paralyzed from the waist down in an accident, but I didn't/don't know her personally. She was a MASSIVE deal in my education community. Like you would see "prayers for (name)" on school and church signs. The truth all comes out when someone is drunk, true? Usually true. I sometimes think back on the one time Jason was drunk, and he just told me in the most adoring voice, "I love you, Brittany." It's painful as fuck to remember. I really do wonder if he meant it, given this was in the later half of our relationship. When was the last time you felt disappointed in yourself? Constantly. How about feeling disappointed in someone else? I dunno. For you, do you commonly feel more jealousy or envy? I definitely experience envy more often. Do you rely on the heads/tails flipping of a coin sometimes for decisions? No. Do you have any specific chores you do around the house? I'm supposed to empty the dishwasher in particular. For you, does comfort or fashion come first in dressing? Comfort, 100%. Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other? No. Do you like Laffy Taffy? I do. That sounds pretty good right about now. Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners? Electric. Are your biceps at all noticeable? Yeah, no. Have you ever seen a walrus? Yeah, at SeaWorld as a kid. Did you ever have one of those Easy Bake ovens as a kid? Yeah. My little sister in particular was obsessed. Does your bathroom have a theme to it? No. From inside of your house, how many doors lead outside? Two. Are there a lot of trees in your yard? No. :/ I miss that. Have you ever liked someone that treated you like crap? No. Have a best friend? Yeah. :') Does it bother you when your best friend does stuff without you? That is so childish. Everyone needs space sometimes. But to answer the question, considering she lives many states away from me, obviously not. Is there a secret you’ve never told your parents? Yes. Does anyone hate you? I wouldn't at all be surprised if Jason does. Colleen might, but I really don't give a shit if she does. What’s the one thing you regret more than anything? The way I spoke to Jason after the breakup. If only I could take those letters back. Do you remember important dates? I am VERY bad at dates, doesn't matter how important they are. What’s some lyrics from a song that means a lot to you? "For such a little thing, you sure are in your own way" from a Mother Mother song. Who gives the best advice? Sara. Who do you usually see in your dreams? :) Jason is nearly a permanent fixture. Jeez, I'm bringing him up a lot in this one. I'm surprised my PTSD isn't dragging me into a pit for it. What type of cake did you last eat? Uhhh I wanna say double chocolate? Mom got two slices from the store for me and herself a long time ago. How many of your friends are gay or bisexual? A large number. I don't feel like counting. What’s your favorite type of sandwich? Just your usual peanut butter and jelly. When was the last time someone asked you out? Did you accept or decline? Years ago by Girt. I accepted. Do you like The Offspring? Sure, I like a handful of their songs. One pillow or two? I sleep with two. Do you like Mad Libs? Sure, they can be funny. Are you suicidal? Well damn, just throw that in there. Anyway, no. I'll admit I've had very brief, passive thoughts very rarely as of the late, just wondering if there really is a point to me being here, but I'm not actively suicidal at all rn. Where do your grandparents live? They're dead. When alive though, they lived in Florida and Michigan. Do you cut yourself? And this one? No, I haven't in many years. What is your pet’s name? Roman and Venus. Have you ever been to Canada? No, but I'd love to visit. Aren’t babies overrated? "Overrated" is definitely the wrong word... I don't particularly find a lot of babies cute and I don't want my own, but they're not overrated. Have a built-in pool in your backyard? Never have. Ever won yourself a stuffed animal? Yeah. Ever had someone else win you a stuffed animal? Yes. Ever been to a circus? No. I wouldn't set foot into one. Ever shot animals? I never, ever could. Do you consider yourself intelligent? I USED to. I think I'm dumb as shit now. School knowledge did not latch onto me well, I guess. Have you ever run away from home? Yes. It was so overdramatic. I came back hours later because I had my phone and Mom texted me threatening to call the cops. Do you put family first, friends, relationships, school, or something else? I will never put my mental health behind anything/one again. What’s something you’ve stood up for in the past? When Colleen and I were friends in middle school, we both spoke before the class in absolute disgust at how our classmates were treating our poor substitute teacher. Colleen had AT them, while I was more tame about it but still wanted to bash into their heads that they were all being absolute trash to the poor man. What’s something you worked extremely hard to get? My mental wellbeing. Granted, I'm not exactly "well" now, but once upon a time I was living in the deepest ocean trench as far as depression goes. Are you satisfied with your body image? Hell no. I really, really, really hope loyally going to the gym will help me with that. Have you ever been labeled negatively or otherwise been called something extremely derogatory? Not that I know of. Have you ever seriously taken advantage of someone or been taken advantage of? No. Have you ever been seriously ill? Mentally, immensely. Physically, not really. I've had some nasty stomach bugs, but nothing truly severe. Have you ever befriended a former enemy? Ha, it's funny, I used to hate Jason's first ex/heartbreak for how badly she hurt him. Like she could've been falling off the face of the earth with only me to save her, and I'd let her keep falling. I hated her. Yet now we're Facebook friends and comment on each other's stuff like it's nothing, ha ha. She reached out to me a few years ago to apologize for high school stuff (she also hated me for Juan - her ex or something along those lines - being interested in me instead of her), we chatted a bit, and now I think she's great. If you’re not religious, would you ever pray as a last resort? If you are religious, do you often pray for other people? I don't pray anymore. That's all I'll say to keep this from becoming potentially very offensive. Have you ever dated someone, then after you dated they came out of the closet or switched (for lack of a better word) sexual orientation? I'm pretty sure my middle school boyfriend Aaron is gay, but I'm not certain. He vanished from Facebook a long time ago. Has a boy/girl ever walked a ridiculous distance just to see you? How about vice versa? I tried doing that the night of the breakup. By car, I know it was a seven-minute drive, but walking there, never mind at night, was ludicrous. I only didn't manage because after a few minutes, Mom came after me and kept cutting me off with the car. When was the last time you felt really uncomfortable? Right now. My abs REALLY hurt, and I'm also cramping like a motherfucker after not having a period for 3+ months because of TMS therapy. I'm still pissed about how it had a physical effect on me, but didn't mentally do what it was meant to. Is there anything that your mom is really known for as to how she is as a person? She is very, very loving and lives to help others. Who have you been talking to the most today? Nobody, really. I've spoken with Mom obviously, but for the most part, today's been quiet. Are you nosy? I can be pretty damn nosy, yes. What’s the meanest thing you have done to a friend? Consistently flirted with her boyfriend behind her back. I was 12, okay? If your ex called you crying, what would it most likely be about? THE ex, I have no idea. I don't know what's going on in his life, besides his mother dying quite a few months ago, but I don't see why he'd contact me about that. Who was the best kisser out of all the people you have kissed? Jason. Have you ever been told that you have an annoying laugh? No, but I think I do.

[factual-fantasy]

I'd love to see more of your Decepticon OCs as well! And how they're interact with your Autobots!

I wish I could show you more, because I feel like if I were to go through the effort to draw them all it might actually be worth it.. But right now I just cant handle a project so big.

But hey, to cheer you up, how about I show you a picture of Big Blue?

Say Hi to Big Blue!

Certain things in the photo had to be censored, i’m sure you understand.

Unfortunately, I never had the honor of getting to see this beautiful behemoth in person. He was lost to the family long ago... So, this image is actually a picture of a picture because of that, like the Dragster’s pictures.

Those two figures in the image are grown men, as far as I can remember they’re about average height. Like uh... 5 ft 8 inches? I don’t know, but as you can see, Blueberry over here is very tall and tanky. Anyway these two guys are standing up mostly straight and are at eye level with his hood. His tires come up a little ways over the belly button and his rear-view mirrors are bigger than their heads. Hes a biggin that’s for sure.

Big Blue also has 4 sets of Dulles in the back, adding up to 10 tires all together. I have been told that this absolute monster was used to haul scrap metal around the junk yard, Which is why he’s so big and needs so many tires.

Fun fact!! VD actually found Vega in the very same junk yard that Big Blue used to work at! Cool huh? Vega really got a second chance didn’t he? :]

Anyway.. sorry I cant show you my Decepticon OCs, they just haven’t been drawn yet.. Maybe if I get the motivation out of no where I can draw them, but for now I think it would be better for me to stay within my limits. <:^

[scullysexual]

daisies (1/)

kinda college au but not really | that gap between leaving high school and going to college | Coming of age idk | female!mulder | 

Summary: But it’s as the mouse wanders over to universities closer to the East then the West she knows there’s something not quite right with her, something that makes that pen slip over the lines ever so subtly, not enough for anybody to notice but if one was to look hard enough they would see it.

A mattress on the floor, her belongings scattered around, an important thing lying on the mattress. She picks up her coat and Fox watches as she walks away, leaving her there in a rundown apartment, the most important thing walking away from her.

@today-in-fic @mypanicface (pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged)

- - - 

I got a record player that was made in 2014.

Died by hair blue, it came out a seasick sort of green.

I like vintage dresses when they fall just below my knees.

I pretend I scraped them climbing in the trees.

Sometimes I think all I’m ever doing is,

Trying to convince myself I’m alive.

DAISY THE GREAT, Record Player Song.

 - - - 

There’s a jam jar labelled Dana’s College Fees. Billy had one, Missy had one, and Charlie’s is counting as each day passes.

Even if all four Scully children had plans that didn’t encompass college it didn’t matter, their path was already written out for them- they could pick the course, even pick the university if their father was in a good mood, but they were going, end of.

“I might run away before then,” Charlie says with a smile. He’s sixteen and full of hope that there’s still a way out.

He and Dana sit in the treehouse, something that came with the house, already there when they moved in. Mom had been unsure of it at first, uncertain of its stability, told them not to go in it. That was until Charlie had climbed into it one day, curiosity getting the better of it. It hadn’t fallen, Charlie hadn’t died like Margaret assumed he would and it was theirs, shared between the four of them then only shared by two when Bill and Melissa moved out.

“You don’t want to go to college?” Dana asks. She sits on the small couch, Charlie lounging in the hammock, swinging it side to side.

His answer his towards the ceiling.

“I don’t see the point,” he tells her. “Why be held down by education when you can just go…”

It’s something she keeps thinking about as she looks at universities and the courses they offer. Missy took Geography- she liked travelling and had plans to go up and down the East coast. She had a feeling Charlie wanted to go further.

Sometimes she wished she had her siblings’ abandon but often times she found herself more similar to Bill Jr; lines coloured between the lines, always doing what their parents expect of them, never stepping out of line, looking at universities in the border their father had made for them.

But it’s as the mouse wanders over to universities closer to the East then the West she knows there’s something not quite right with her, something that makes that pen slip over the lines ever so subtly, not enough for anybody to notice but if one was to look hard enough they would see it.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A mattress on the floor, her belongings scattered around, an important thing lying on the mattress. Fox picks up her bra, shirt, and jeans and heads into the bathroom.

She doesn’t bother buttoning up the shirt, instead picking up the white toothbrush off of the sink and beginning the ritual of brushing her teeth.

Turning away from the mirror she eyes her bedfellow asleep in the bed. She’ll have to wake her up soon, Fox thinks, but for now she spits, puts the toothbrush back where she found it and exits the bathroom, now buttoning up her shirt as she goes.

She picks up her companion’s disregarded coat from the floor, fishing for the cigarette pack she knows is in there. Her hands wrap around her box and Fox pulls it out, throwing the coat back on the floor and the box on top of it.

The cigarette hanging out of her mouth, she wanders over to the window and pushes it open.

The air is warm for the early hour only foreshadowing how hot it’s going to be today. It’s no bother, aside from the occasional uncomfortableness, weather doesn’t tend to bother Fox that much, perhaps she’s accepted to it since moving to California.

She climbs out of the window, landing directly onto the fire escape. Below her, life goes on, people hurrying to work or wherever they need to be.

The cigarette lit, inhaling and puffing, watching the scenes under her, Fox wonders what it would be like to have a purpose, a structure to the day rather than just waking up, having sex, then going to sleep.

“You owe me a pack.”

Fox turns to find her girlfriend awake, standing at the open window. She takes in her attire and smiles.

“You found my T-shirt, then,” she comments turning back outwards.

“I think it looks better on me,” the other girl says. She takes the cigarette out of Fox’s fingers and takes her own puff.

“At least tell me you have underwear on,” Fox asks, staring at her legs. When she pulls her eyes back up to the girl’s face, she smirks.

“Of course not,” Fox chuckles, shaking her head. “Why would you?”

“Maybe I want to give your downstairs neighbour a show.” She passes the cigarette back to Fox.

Maybe there is a pool of jealously at that thought and for good measure Fox looks to the fire exit underneath her, grateful to find it empty.

“Unfortunately for you, Mr Biggins isn’t awake yet.” She flicks the bud over the edge, watching it tumble down to the world below.

She finds her girlfriend gone when she turns around, having climbed back into the apartment. Fox follows, climbing through herself and watching as the girl begins redressing.

“Where are you going?” Fox asks. She tries to keep the whine out of her voice.

“Home,” the other girl says, shucking on her jeans. She throws Fox’s T-shirt over her head, briefly exposing her bare breasts that Fox’s eyes are immediately drawn to. She covers up quickly enough, with her own clothes.

“You should go, too,” she says once her head is through the hole.

“Phoebe—” Fox begins, ready to scoff at that notion, tell her once again that she hasn’t had a home since she was thirteen years old.

“Mine were the same,” Phoebe says, standing up and moving over to where Fox stands. Her hands on her chin, lifting her face up. “Finally they learnt to accept it. Yours will too, eventually.”

She pulls her hand away from her chin, holding it in her own.

“It’s been four years, they never will.”

Phoebe begins an assault on Fox’s face, kissing every bit of skin as a way to soothe the pain.

There’s no pain, really, at least Fox likes to think that.

“Go home anyway,” Phoebe says, forehead pressed against Fox’s. “Get out of this hovel for a bit.” She kisses Fox’s lips and Fox tries to hook onto it, put her arms around her and fall back into the bed and stay there for the rest of the day but Phoebe pulls away before she can do any of that. She picks up her coat and Fox watches as she walks away, leaving her there in a rundown apartment, the most important thing walking away from her.

[thesleepy1]

I should probably start writing down what the semi solid plot is going to be instead of just relying on my head.

The general story is this, Lia Jones-Williams comes from a wealth white family and she is attending this prestigious college. However, this college takes scholarship students so there are people from all sorts of backgrounds. Lia meets one such person one day as she is exploring the campus.

She stumbles upon the art studio and there she encounters G. A. Callidora who immediately gives off this eccentric, philosophical, almost manic personality. G. A. Callidora goes off about never ending life or time or something that throws Lia for a loop. But Lia stays because G. A. Callidora is a master at their work, an incredible sculptor who brings life to stone.

Day in and day out Lia goes out of her way to see the process on the sculpture, even putting up with G. A. Callidora's nonsense just to be in the presence of such art. That is, until G. A. Callidora seemingly out of no where dies. Fell off the scaffolding while working away; an accident, suicide, the authorities say. Very common in starving artists with as many screws loose as G. A. Callidora, the staff say.

Almost no one mentions the obvious, murder.

Jess Biggins, who is a senior at the college, makes it very clear who she suspects the murder to be; Oliver Evans. Oliver brush off said claims and everyone around him believes his word over Jess', because why wouldn't they? Who would believe the companion of such a nutcase when there was a much more reliable charismatic man with a scout free reputation.

Lia doesn't know who to believe. The urgent senior who says she has seen the same crime repeated over and over again, the man of Lia's dreams with a loose smile that couldn't possibly belong to a murderer, or G. A. Callidora's spirt who has made a home inside of Lia's mind; doing nothing to help Lia figure out the artist's murderer.

[cannibalcreepers]

Cherri x Reader Lemon

Huhuhe, a bit of a big one I made for ya! 

Hopefully it’s good I am not the best as writing stuff xD 

- - - - - - - -

Cherri was an interesting man, that was for sure. You had met him as ‘Cherri Biggins’ at

‘Mosswick Camp For Kids’ that you had signed up to council for, after all it was a decent summer job and you yourself had gone to this camp before when you were a child. 

As for Cherri, he was the camps groundskeeper, well he was the new groundskeeper who had replaced Mr Smith unexpectedly, as Cherri had kindly explained to you and the other ten councilors. But straight of the bat you knew something was a bit strange with Mister 'Biggins’. 

He never seemed to eat around anyone, he was barely seen working and no one knew where he wandered off to at night, but what perplexed you the most was that the man never seemed to give the other councilors the time of day except for you.

It was no secret that many of the councilors found him quite attractive and so did you, the two different coloured eyes catching both the women and men’s attention, along with his fit build, long blonde hair, curved lips with the large scar, and seven fingers that seemed to have a different story on how the other digits went missing. 

So you found it very surprising that he would stop his duties to help you lift heavy equipment like the canoes or storage boxes, it also got a few sourly jealous looks shot your way from half the council team,you could ignore those easily and luckily your friends just shrugged it off as you being a lucky goose to gets the rugged swamp-man's attention.

You took the kind gestures happily, letting yourself flirt a little back with Cherri and to your delight he would respond back in kind all the while giving you gentle touches to you shoulder, arms and back with lovely compliments to your work ethic or your looks in general.

What made your stomach fill with butterflies the most was whenever he praised your work “Yer doing so amazin’ there Y/N, kinda wish you’d stay longer than just a month” Cherri would grin, patting your shoulder before leaving you to get back to his own jobs. 

So when the fourteenth night came along, you had never expected this little camp of amazement would turn into a nightmare.You had found two of your fellow councilors dead, their insides removed and limbs thrown across the canoe storage room. It was a horrifying sight that set your heart into a panic as a scream ripped out from your throat.

The first to find you was Cherri and you were so relieved to have someone you trusted there to be by your side, feeling his arms wrap around your body and pull you close to his chest “Shhh, I’m here” he would whisper against your hair. He pulled you away from the area and the now growing crowd of the other counselors that came to investigate the scream.

You didn’t know where you were being taken, all you remembered was walking and walking, the image of the two bodies stuck in your head. You didn’t even hear the sounds of yells and cries of fear and pain that came from the camp you were walking away from, all you could hear was the calm heartbeat of Cherri and the sound of your boots crunching on sticks and leaves. 

Wiping at your eyes would you notice how far away from the camp you were, extremely far that you could hear nothing now, but the ambiance of the wetlands and wind chimes? Looking up from where you held onto Cherri would you see a handful of run down wooden huts, it was strewn with a variety of fishing nets, camp items such as ripped tents, sleeping bags and broken canoe paddles, clothing and suitcases placed in different places of the weird make-shift village.

As Cherri continued to walk you closer to one of the huts would you dig your heels into the mud a bit in protest, but the only response was the man’s fingers digging into your arms and being more forceful, here you finally found your voice “Cherri, where are you taking me?” 

The man stopped and looked down at your tear stained face, he wouldn’t respond yet as though trying to find the perfect answer to your question “Thought you would feel safer here, away from the camp….away from what you saw? Do you not want to be aroun’ me Y/N?” Being asked such a thing made you feel guilty, after all the kind things this man had done for you and now you were assuming the worst of him.

“I do, I want to be around you. Is this your home?” 

A large smile formed on his face and through your teary eyes, you thought you could see slight cracking and peeling around his upper lip, but the thought didn’t linger long as he got you inside “Yeh, it may not be homey but it’s home t’ me” Cherri explained settling you down on a rather dusty old recliner that had springs that poked into your back.

“Stay here, I’ll get you water” With that, he’d leave around a hallway bend to where you assumed the kitchen was, allowing you time to look at this man’s home and boy were you getting mixed feelings, either this man was a hoarder or was too lazy to clean out his home but there were so many items in the house from cages, chains, fishing needs, boat parts, house parts, clothing and so much more, your eyes finally settled to a half opened door and you felt a need to investigate. Looking back to where Cherri had gone around, you quietly as possible got off the old recliner and made your way to the dark room, stepping delicately on the creaky wooden floor so as not to catch the man’s attention.

Once close enough, you would push the door open and peer inside, hand reaching along the wall for a light switch. When the switch was found, you gave it a flick and winced at how bright the light was compared to the rest of the house, the room itself was simple, clean with only a single king size bed by the wall, a thin rug and a wooden chair in the corner, it definitely was different from the clatter and messiness of the rest of the house. 

 Through your snooping you hadn’t expected there to be a presence behind you, you had almost jumped out of your skin when you felt hands on your hips and Cherri’s lips against your neck. “It’s not nice to snoop’ round people’s homes like this” The man growled, the sound in his voice did sound playful but there was this hint of anger in his tone that made you go a bit tense.

“I-I’m sorry. I was just-” You were cut off quickly from Cherri’s roughness to spin you around, your eyes wide and shocked at how rough and forward he was. “Is fine, I’m jokin’. Though, for trespassin’ in my room, you should pay the toll'' You felt your cheeks go hot red as the man leaned in a captured your lips, they were not the sweetest of kisses, it was rough and oddly squishy, feeling as though his nose almost caved into your cheek and his top lip was made of rubber.

But Cherri was giving you no room to inspect as he was already leading you into the bedroom and on the bed, the kissing was getting heated as he towered over you, his hands sliding up from your hips to your waist, leaving your body to reach for your hands and intertwined your fingers in his. “Cherri…” You’d gasp out, reaching up to tangle your fingers through his hair and along his jawline, you would cry out as he bit at your bottom lip and began to grind against him, your mind getting foggy, completely forgetting about what you had witnessed before, that or your brain was pushing out the horrors in favour of something more pleasurable and easy to deal with.

“I’ll make ya feel better, darlin’” Cherri whispered against your lips, and in response you would bite gently back on his upper lip, which was a big mistake as there was a sudden tearing noise and you felt something wet and thick fall on your chin. 

The hand holding went from gentle to a rough grab of your wrists, your eyes shot open in shock as Cherri forced your hands above your head and used his body to keep you anchored down, but that wasn’t what made you gasp out in shock. It was Cherri’s face, what once was a lovely strong nose and soft upper lip had been nothing more than prosthetic fake skin, which you spat out and gagged a bit from it being in your mouth. Now what stared down at you was a scarred blistered muscle of where a nose and lip once was, his sweet smile formed into a wicked mean grin.

“Ah dang….do you have any idea how annoyin’ it is to find that stuff? But that’s fine, you’ll get used to this face eventually” Cherri would sneer, before he could yank your arms up further would you respond “But I like your face!”

That was something Cherri didn’t expect, his hands around your wrists loosening up as his eyes stared down at yours with confusion “What?” He would ask, not sure he was actually convinced, so you continued “You’re so handsome Cherri….I don’t care about you being scarred” Your sweet words seemed to be melting the man’s anger, his hands completely letting yours go, allowing you to cup his cheeks and lean up to place a soft kiss to his lipless mouth, which garnered the softest of purrs from him.

“I want you to make me forget….I just want to think about you” And that’s all you needed to say as the man captured your mouth in his, his arms wrapping around your body to pulling you in close “I can do that” Cherri responded, that sweet smile on his face again. 

His kisses left from your lips to your neck and down to your collarbone, gripping at the side of your councilor uniform, he unceremoniously began to rip and forced the shirt off you, wanting to get to your skin underneath.

Many more clothes would follow after, a mixture of your own and his thrown ungracefully all over the room, his hands sliding down your legs, having them wrap around his hips as his hardened cock pressed against your inner thigh. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, so fuckin’ gorgeous I could just devour you” He whispered, his hand that only had two fingers and a thumb slid between your legs and pressed against your hole, rubbing and circling around the entrance before sliding a single digit in, causing you to let out the sweetest of moans. 

 Your nails ran along his back as he fingered you slowly, curling the singly finger slightly to force your walls to stretch.

The second finger would follow in soon after, his thumb pressing against your skin whilst the two fingers stretched and moved at a painfully slow pace. “Please! Cherri, I need more” You begged, your body aching for more than the cruel torture Cherri was putting you through

“More? So greedy, how much more do you want?” The man mocked, his fingers starting to get quicker and rough, making you gasp at the sudden change “So much more! I want you!” You responded a bit too loudly, feeling your cheeks heat from embarrassment.

“You want me? What do you want me to do?” He was being mean, teasing you, the roughness once against going to a horrible slow pace, he was edging you and you hated it.

“Just fuck me! Cherri please, I want you to fuck me!” You practically screamed, staring into his eyes with a begging need that only made the man smirk smugly “How could I say no to such a pretty face?”

Slipping his fingers out, Cherri placed a hand on your hips as the other lined his cock up against your entrance and with a rough thrust slid his way into your tight heat. It was all you could ask for, being filled up by the man, both his hands now gripping at your hips, thrusting into you at a fast, brutal but simple pace. 

The room would echo with the sounds of both your grunts, gasps and the slap of skin against skin as he fucked you. His mouth was agape and eyes closed, paying more attention to his movements and the pleasure around his body, that when you reached up to cup his face his head snapped up with a wild look in his eyes.

Seeing your flushed cheeks, full lips and lustful eyes, it all but made Cherri go full force on his thrusts, going from an easy pace method to wild and intense. You had to cling onto the man’s frame, nails digging into his back and legs wrapped around his hips, squeezing them against his skin to the point you would definitely leave marks and bruises on him. 

As the pleasure began to hit, the wave of ecstasy filled over your body, crying out against Cherri’s chest as your body tightened and spasmed from the orgasim that wrecked you, your fingers digging into the man’s flesh until the bones hurt under your skin. The heated pain you caused Cherri was all he needed to spill into you, his own orgasim more a deep guttered possessive growl, allowing you to squeeze the last drop out of him before his body relaxed and slumped beside you.

Slipping out, Cherri wrapped both arms around your smaller frame and pulled you in close to his chest, massaging his fingers into your back in slow circles “Hmm, feeling better now?” he would ask, pressing a soft kiss against your lips.

As you were about to answer, the sound of a heavy wet thump by the door was heard, catching the attention of both you and Cherri. There by the open door stood a giant of a man, his hair the same colour as Cherri, but shorter and messier, with a giant scar that ran along his head and over where an eye would be, his body littered in scars and lumps. One eye staring at you with concern and confusion before glancing at Cherri, by this giant's feet was the body of one of your councilor friends, you froze at such a sight, clutching onto Cherri as your heart stopped, you couldn’t seem to find your voice, to cry out, hoping Cherri would protect you.

But instead of fear or any signs of being protective, the man beside you let out an annoyed huff and sat up to grab at one of his clothes “Hog, I’m kinda busy here. Go fuckin’ deal with that elsewhere” The man snapped, waving a dismissive hand at the larger man called Hog to leave. Hog was hesitant at first, once against glancing at your paled, confused face with nothing but sadness and worry before turning to leave, dragging the dead body away.

Through your confusion and fear, you felt Cherri cupped at your face and squeezed your cheeks roughly “Now, bout that cup of water….still want it?” Through tear filled eyes you would nod “Good Y/N….I’ll be back” You winced when he placed a kiss on your forehead and finally got off you and walked  towards the door, picking up the rest of his clothing before stopping by the door to turn at you “Welcome to the family” Was his last words before leaving you to your thoughts. 

[wistfulcynic]

Their Way By Moonlight: The Magic (Chapter 17)

In which the last of the curse is swept away and Zelena gets what’s coming to her. 

-

This chapter took me sooo loooonnggg to write. Partly because of writing other things, partly because I’m struggling to focus during the lockdown. Normally I spend at least one afternoon a week writing at a local coffee shop but of course that’s not possible right now and it’s wreaking a bit of havoc with my productivity. 

BUT! There is now a chapter count for this story! It will be 18 chapters in total, this one and a final one to wrap things up. Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with it for the past *gulp* more than a year. I love you all, but especially @thisonesatellite​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ and @katie-dub​​ whose enthusiasm and support means the world to me ❤️❤️❤️

-

SUMMARY: A new curse has fallen on Storybrooke and this time Emma is trapped inside it, deliberately separated from Henry and anyone else who might  help her break it. But what no one knows –including her own cursed self– is that she and Killian have the ability to share their dreams, and are working together in secret to find a way to break the curse and free everyone from a new and dangerous foe.

Rating: M

AO3

-

The Magic:

Snow White had heard the expression ‘earth-shattering orgasm’ before, of course she had, but like any sensible woman with a realistic perspective on men and their limitations, she’d never taken the phrase literally. 

Until now. 

Now she lay sprawled and trembling in her once-lonely bed, panting harshly wondering if the world had always spun so damned fast. She chuckled breathlessly against the sweat-slicked skin of David’s shoulder. 

“Damn, Charming, you’ve always been good but I’ve never felt the earth move before,” she teased. 

David rolled over and grinned at her, his hand trailing down her side and over her hip. “What can I say? It’s been a long time and I was highly motivated.”  He leaned in to nuzzle her neck as his words echoed through her mind. 

It’s been a long time… a long time… long time…

Snow gasped as realisation struck, just as David pulled back with a start and she could see he understood as well. “The curse,” she exclaimed. “Is it broken?” 

“I think it is,” he replied. “I remember…” His eyes filled with regret and he pulled her close again. “Snow. I remember.” 

Snow wrapped her arms around him and they held each other in silence for a moment, far too tightly for comfort and still not nearly tight enough as their cursed memories washed over them. Everything that had happened over the past year, the wretchedness of it, living together and feeling nothing for each other. It should have been impossible, Snow thought, they were True Love. She could certainly feel her love for him now, surging up almost indignantly as if it resented having gone un-felt for so long, and yet she remembered looking at him with pure indifference. She shuddered and David’s arms tightened still further. She knew he was wondering the same thing she was. Who, what, could possibly have done this to them? 

She tried to sort through the memories, of Regina—as their maid, of all unbelievable things—and Zelena—wait, who exactly was Zelena?—and Emma, and— 

“Emma!” she cried, jerking her head back so abruptly it narrowly missed a collision with David’s chin. “David, she’s here in Storybrooke! How is she here?” 

“I was just wondering that,” he said grimly. “What do you say we go find out?” 

~

“We should go to Granny’s,” suggested Henry. “That’s where everyone went when the last curse broke. I bet they’ll go there again.” 

“Good thinking.” Emma nodded in agreement but Killian shook his head.

“What about Zelena?” he asked. “Do we know how the curse breaking will affect her? Perhaps we should stop by the sheriff’s station first.” 

“I think Zelena will be okay in her cell for a bit longer,” Emma replied. “She’s still behind that shielding spell I put around her.” 

“Nevertheless I’d feel better if we checked,” said Killian. “Not that I don’t have every faith in you, Swan, but we should err on the side of caution. Zelena is nothing if not unpredictable.” 

“Hmmm, yeah that is a point. And she has been one step ahead of us for most of this.” Emma’s expression turned thoughtful. “Okay, we can go to the sheriff’s station, but I’d actually kind of like to go find my parents first.” She shrugged. “Just to see them, you know. Before we get caught up with the rest of the town.”

Killian smiled. “Of course, love.”

“And, um, actually, can I go to Regina’s?” asked Henry. “I want to make sure she’s okay, and I can tell her about the plan to meet at Granny’s.” 

“That’s probably a good idea,” said Emma. “The rest of us can go to my parents—” 

“It might be better if you did that without me,” Killian interjected. “Your father and I were still on rather shaky terms when I saw him last and my presence with you would likely raise some questions best kept for later.” 

Neal snorted, then shrugged when the other three glared at him. “What? He’s not wrong.” 

“So where will you go?” Emma asked. 

“I was thinking I could stop at the sheriff’s station by myself. If Zelena is as secure as you think then you needn’t come along unless you wish to. I can check on her quickly then head to Granny’s and meet you there.” 

“Okay, that sounds like a good plan,” said Emma. “Henry goes to get Regina—” 

“And Robin, they have a date tonight so he should be with her.” Henry’s eyes lit up. “I bet Robin Hood will be useful in—well, in whatever comes now.” 

“Yeah, okay, so Henry goes to get Regina and Robin while I go to find my parents, and Killian will go to the station to check on Zelena. We’ll meet back at Granny’s as soon as possible. Everyone okay with that?” They all nodded except Neal, who still stood in the corner with his arms crossed. Emma fixed him with a glare and he scowled in reply. “Neal?” she said in a warning tone. “What about you?” 

Neal swept the room with his scowl and shrugged again. “I’ll go with Hook,” he said. “Check on Zelena then meet you at Granny’s.” 

“Really?” Emma demanded. “That’s what you want to do?”

“Hey don’t forget I worked for Zelena under the curse. I saw what she’s capable of, and that was without magic. If she’s even a little bit free then trust me, the pirate’s gonna need backup.” 

Emma looked questioningly at Killian. “I wouldn’t mind some backup, actually,” he said. 

“And you’re sure you’ll—be okay?” Emma asked, turning to Neal again. 

“If you’re asking can I go half an hour without punching your husband, yeah I can,” he replied with a sneer. “But those questions your parents are gonna have? I’ve got them too. Just as long as both of you remember that.” 

“Once we’re sure the town’s safe we will tell all of you everything,” Emma assured him. “We promise. Just behave yourselves until then. Both of you.” 

Killian and Neal exchanged a long look, then nodded stiffly to each other. 

“Fine by me,” said Neal. 

“Aye, and me.” Killian tightened the arm that still rested around Emma’s shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Be careful, love,” he murmured in her ear. “We’ll see you at Granny’s.” 

Emma tightened her hold around his waist and quickly checked the protection spells around him. They were still firmly in place, and as strong as ever. Even if she somehow managed to gain control of the curse magic, there was no way Zelena could use it to harm Killian. Emma drew a deep breath and told herself to relax. Killian was safe, thoroughly protected, and there was no reason for him to know that she’d never let him go alone to face Zelena unless she was certain of that. 

She gave him a final squeeze and then released him, stepping back and gathering her magic. 

“Everyone ready?” she asked. 

“Just one last thing.” Killian disappeared into their bedroom and returned a moment later, tightening the straps of the brace that held his hook. 

“Just in case,” he said, as he tugged the sleeve of his sweater down over it and Emma nodded. “Ready when you are, love.”

She poofed Henry first, sending him straight to the living room of the loft. Killian and Neal she directed to a safe corner of the sheriff’s station, then took herself to the doorstep of the house where her parents now lived. 

~

The Rabbit Hole was silent but for the low drone of the dwarves’ conversation across the room. The Merry Men sat in a circle, beer mugs clutched in white-knuckled grips, every ear turned to the large man standing at their centre. 

“And that,” concluded Little John, with one final flourish to his rapt audience, “is how I reorganised the entire filing system at the library!” 

The Merry Men erupted into cheers, pounding on their tables or leaping to their feet to clap the hero Little John on his back in hearty congratulation. All but Will Scarlet, who sat back in his chair with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. 

“Pah,” he scoffed, once the furore had died down. 

“What’s that, Scarlet?” said Little John. “Did you say something?” 

“Pah, is what I said,” Will replied. “You’re always biggin’ yourself up, John.” 

“Oh? You think you could do better?” 

“I’m the bloody town records clerk, mate, of course I could do better. Let me tell you about my filing system—” 

Alan-a-Dale took a deep swig of his beer and shook his head fondly. “I never thought I’d live to see a day on which Will bloody Scarlet boasted about his filing system, eh, Stutely?” He elbowed the man sitting next to him. “I could see you doing that perhaps… but...” his words trailed off as he realised what he’d said. 

Scarlet... Stutely... filing systems... 

The curse. 

At the bar, Grumpy was having an epiphany. 

It hurt a bit. 

“Dopey,” he growled. “Did you… talk?” 

Dopey’s eyes went wide and he slowly nodded his head. His mouth opened but no words emerged, closing and reopening again in increasing confusion, his expression shifting to one of panic as he felt in his pockets for his notepad.

“Here.” Doc fished a piece of paper and a pen from his own pocket and handed them to his brother. Dopey took them with a grateful smile and wrote a single word. 

How? 

“I’ll tell you how,” said Grumpy. “The curse.” 

“The curse,” his brothers repeated, exchanging nods amongst themselves. 

The curse? wrote Dopey on his paper. 

“It’s broken, you idiots,” growled Grumpy. “THE CURSE IS BROKEN!” 

Comprehension dawned on the Merry Men’s faces as Grumpy’s words rang through the bar. They turned to each other in delight and began slapping backs and shaking hands once again. 

“Will Stutely, as I live and breathe!” cried Alan-a-Dale. 

His companion’s face broke into a wide grin. “Alan-a-Dale, well met indeed, my man! Has it been you all this time?” 

“It has!” said Alan, laughing and clapping his friend on the shoulder as they hugged, observing from the corner of his eye Will Scarlet almost lost in the bear-like embrace of Little John. “The devil’s own curse, this was. I wonder who cast it?” 

“Who else?” snarled Grumpy as he and the other dwarves approached. “The Evil Queen. She did it before and she’s done it again, and this time she’s not getting away with it.”

“What do you mean to do?” asked Little John. 

“We’re going to find our axes and do what we should’ve done the last time. Make certain the Queen can never hurt us again. Now, who’s with me?”

~

Regina was too distracted to notice the curse’s magic begin to shift and creak but she felt it shatter. She gasped as the razor shards of it prickled against her skin, jerking backwards and breaking her kiss with Robin. His arms were still tight around her, stopping her from stumbling, but his forehead wrinkled in confusion and she watched with her heart in her throat as he shook his head and blinked rapidly, and an expression of apprehension crept across his face. 

“Your Majesty,” he said cautiously. 

Regina refused to feel hurt, reminding herself that he probably thought she’d been under the curse as well and things hadn’t exactly been friendly between them in the Enchanted Forest. Of course he’d be concerned about her reaction to finding herself kissing him. 

“It’s still Regina to you,” she said softly. 

“Er—” his frown deepened. “Is it?” 

“Yes. Robin—” she reached up to touch his face and he flinched, his muscles tensing. Fear made her heart pound as she let her hand fall to his shoulder and groped for the best words to explain. “You were cursed.” 

“I remember. It was—wait, why do you say I was cursed? Weren’t you as well?”

“No.” 

“But you—er, we—” 

She nodded. “I had quite a lot of time to think this past year, with everyone else in town under the curse and with my son gone—” her voice broke and she paused for a moment to get hold of herself. “And I realised how much I regretted not being more… receptive to you in the Enchanted Forest.” 

“‘More receptive,’” he repeated. “That’s an interesting way to phrase it.” 

She felt herself flush. “I was a bitch,” she said flatly. “And I’m sorry.” 

His eyes widened at this blunt statement and then a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “Not a bitch,” he said. “Forceful. Determined. Prickly, perhaps.” His arms tightened around her, and her heart fluttered when she realised he’d never removed them. “Fascinating,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower.  

She caught her breath then slowly lifted her hand again and laid it flat against his cheek, stroking her fingers across his cheekbone when he didn’t flinch away. He leaned closer and her hand curled around the back of his neck as his lips claimed hers. 

Regina sighed into the kiss, shivering at the electric frisson down her spine as his hand slid up it and into her hair. Her arm wound around his shoulders and his tongue slipped into her mouth and then a cloud of white swirled up from the living room floor and Henry appeared. 

~

Emma took a deep breath and raised her hand to knock on the door but before she could it swung open to reveal Snow and David, looking flushed and mussed and very surprised to find her standing there. 

“Um,” said Snow, blinking in confusion, and then joy broke across her face. “Emma!” she cried, throwing her arms around her daughter. “Oh, Emma!”

Tears welled in Emma’s eyes as she returned the hug and they rolled freely down David’s cheeks as he wrapped his arms around them both, cradling the back of Emma’s head in his hand in that fatherly way he had that always made her choke up a little. 

“I’ve missed you guys,” she said, sniffing and blinking rapidly. 

“We—well, we didn’t actually miss you, but oh, I wish we had,” cried Snow, hugging her harder, and Emma and David both chuckled though their tears. 

“Is it bad that I know exactly what she means?” David mused. 

They clung to each other for another minute, a sniffling mess of limbs, then Emma pulled back. “We need to go to Granny’s,” she informed them, wiping her eyes. 

“Yeah,” David agreed. “We had the same thought. That’s where people will congregate and they’re going to want reassurance. And honestly probably some vengeance. They let Regina go the last time but now—” 

“Regina didn’t cast the curse,” Emma interrupted. 

David and Snow exchanged confused looks. “Didn’t she?” David asked. 

“Don’t you remember?” 

“All I remember was that the curse came on so fast, almost out of nowhere,” said Snow. “And Regina had been working on finding a way to get back to Henry. I guess I just assumed.” 

“Mom, she was cursed as your maid. And Henry wasn’t even here. She was miserable. Do you really think she’d do that to herself?”

“Good point,” Snow conceded. “But if Regina didn’t cast the curse then who did?”

“Zelena,” replied Emma grimly.

“Zelena!” 

“Yep. Oh, and she’s the Wicked Witch of the West.” 

“The Wicked—” 

“But we don’t really have time to get into that now,” said Emma. “We need to get to Granny’s in case there’s another mob like when the last curse broke. We’ll need to give everyone that reassurance.” 

David nodded in agreement but Snow had clearly not been listening. “But Emma,” she said, “weren’t you cursed too? How do you know—” 

“Look, I promise I’ll tell you everything, but we kinda do have to hurry.” Emma tried to keep the impatience from her voice. “I can transport us with magic—” 

“You can?” 

“Mom!” 

“Sorry, I just—this is a lot to take in.” 

“Well, take it in at Granny’s. Can we go now?” 

Her parents nodded but before Emma could gather her magic, her phone buzzed with a text. A scowl darkened her face as she read it. “Change of plans,” she said, tucking the phone back into her pocket. “I’m sending you two to Granny’s now, and I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.” 

“Where are you going?” David demanded. 

“To the sheriff’s station,” said Emma grimly. “And I’m going in hot.” 

~

White smoke swirled and dissipated, leaving Killan and Neal in the sheriff’s station, just around the corner from the main room and out of sight of the cells. Neal started to move forward but Killian held out his arm to stop him and gave a small shake of his head. He pulled a mirror from his pocket, the same half of a broken compact that he had used to signal his location at Zelena’s farmhouse to Regina. It was just a mirror now, as far as he knew, the enchantment on it lifted or possibly expired, but a mirror was all he needed. 

He flattened himself against the wall as close to the corner as he dared and carefully angled the mirror until it reflected the image of Zelena in her cell. She was reclining on the cot with her legs tucked beneath her, examining her fingernails. Everything else appeared normal.

Killian slowly released the breath he’d been holding and returned the mirror to his pocket. 

“Looks fine,” he whispered to Neal. “I’m going in.” 

“Wait.” Neal kept his voice low but the urgency in it was unmistakable. Killian turned to look at him, carefully holding on to his patience. 

“What?”

Neal shifted his feet, grimacing slightly. “Look, man, I—I need to know something before we go in there. If I’m gonna trust you to have my back I need to know.” 

“Know what?” 

“Why you married her.” 

“Neal—” 

“Yeah, yeah, now’s not the time, curse is broken, gotta save the town, I get it. We will. But I need to know why.” 

Killian sighed. The timing wasn’t great but he would prefer to have this conversation with Neal alone, with no David around to bluster or Snow to cluck. He reminded himself that Neal still didn’t know about the connection Killian and Emma shared, or what had happened between them over the past two years. Their last conversation had been in Granny’s, when Killian had promised to back off. Finding him married to Emma now must surely look to Neal like blatant betrayal of that promise. His anger, however inconvenient, was understandable. 

“Because I love her,” Killian replied. The simplest explanations were always the strongest, and there wasn’t time right now for nuance. “I love her and she loves me and we want to spend our lives together.”

Neal’s scowl softened and some of the tension left his shoulders. He gave a small nod. “Okay.” 

Killian nodded in return and together they moved towards the main room of the station. Just as they turned the corner a rush of magic struck them, with the strength of a storm surge on an angry sea. It flung them both off their feet and sent them flying backwards to land in an undignified heap in front of the door. 

Killian shook his head to clear the ringing from his ears then realised that it wasn’t ringing at all, but a shrill cackle proceeding from the direction of the cells. He ground his teeth, even as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, grabbed his phone from his pocket and thrust it at Neal. 

“Text Emma,” he snarled. “Tell her to get here right away. Then stay out of sight until she arrives.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Stall the bloody witch until Emma can deal with her. Now hurry!” He scrambled to his feet and rounded the corner again, pushing his way through air made thick by magic. It resisted him, no longer a storm surge but a fen, the magic clinging to his clothes and sucking at his feet as he fought his way forward towards the cell where Zelena was still lounging, her pose ostentatiously casual and her expression far too pleased for Killian’s liking. 

~

“Mom!” Henry cried, not seeing them at first. “Mom, you—whoa!” His eyes bugged comically and he clapped his hand over them. “Bloody hell!”

Regina leapt back, shoving at Robin’s shoulders until he released her and smoothing her hair. She knew she must be blushing furiously, and Robin’s amused expression only confirmed it. “Henry!” she exclaimed. “What—what are you doing here?” 

“The curse broke,” said Henry. He peered cautiously through the gap between his fingers then seeing them standing a good foot apart removed his hand. “My mom and dad—er, both my dads are gathering everyone at Granny’s to figure out what happens now,” he explained. “I said I’d come here to get you, but I wasn’t expecting—I mean, I knew you weren’t alone, but—I thought people kissed at the end of dates!” 

“They do, but… well…” Regina looked helplessly at Robin.

“But it’s not every day that a curse breaks in the middle of one,” concluded Robin smoothly, stepping forward and offering Henry his hand. “Hello, Henry, it’s good to meet you properly,” he said. “I’m—” 

“Robin Hood,” interjected Henry with a wide grin, shaking the proffered hand enthusiastically. “I know. That’s so cool.” 

Robin chuckled. “I’m pleased you think so,” he said, with a teasing glance at Regina. “Your mum was somewhat less impressed.” 

Regina rolled her eyes dramatically, but she couldn’t quite suppress her pleased smile. “What do you want from me?” she huffed. “I said I was sorry.”   

“So you did but I’m not sure I’m quite convinced—”

“Look, this is great,” said Henry, with a smirk and an eye-roll of his own. “I’m glad you guys are, you know, bantering or whatever, but the thing is we’ve got this curse that’s just broken, and—” 

‘The curse!” Regina’s smile evaporated as a thought struck her, and she snatched up the flowers Robin had brought, scowling as she examined them. 

“Um, yeah,” said Henry. “It is broken, right? Emma said—” 

“Yes, it’s broken.” Regina plucked one of the flowers from the vase and peered at it. “Shattered, actually.” 

“Shattered!” 

“Yes.” Regina shivered. “It was always unstable and with all the pressure you’ve been putting on it lately, bringing love back, it was only a matter of time before the cracks burst open. Which leaves us with a new problem. That curse was made with magic from several different realms, and now it’s loose in the air and sort of—fighting with itself. Can’t you feel it?” 

She looked up to find two pairs of concerned eyes on her. “I—maybe?” said Henry. “What does magic feel like?” 

“Different magics feel different but this is like… well, to me it feels like shards of glass but for you it would be more like pinpricks all over your skin.” 

“Shards of glass?” Robin exclaimed as Henry nodded. 

“Yeah. I think I feel it.” 

“As do I.” Robin put his arm around her, running his hand up her back. “Are you all right?” 

She smiled, more touched than she could express by his care. “I’m fine. But we have to get rid of this magic. Storybrooke isn’t big enough to hold it all, and the longer it stays here the more dangerous it will become.” 

“How do we get rid of magic?” asked Henry. 

 Regina looked again at the flower she held. “I think I might have an idea.” She looked up at Robin. “This flower,” she said. “Can you show me where you picked it? The exact spot?” 

He nodded. “Yes, I remember it perfectly. But it’s deep in the forest.” 

Carefully Regina probed at the magic swirling around her. Most of it had been loosed by the curse, far too sharp and dangerous to use, but there was enough of Emma’s light magic remaining in the loft for what she needed. “I can take us to the start of the footpath by magic, we’ll walk from there,” she said. “Henry—” 

“I’m coming too,” Henry interrupted firmly, already on his phone. “I’m texting Emma now, so she’ll know where we are.” 

“Good idea.” Regina looked again at Robin, who was watching her intently with a small smile on his face. Her belly gave a little flutter. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“I am.” He curled his hand around her shoulder as Henry tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Though I wish I had my bow. Unfortunately I’ve no notion of where it may be.” 

“Oh, hey, I do!” said Henry said brightly. “I saw it at the pawn shop!” 

“Do we have time to stop there and fetch it?” 

“No,” said Regina. “But Henry if you tell me exactly where it is, I can summon it as we transport.” 

“It’s in the back, hung on a mannequin in the far left corner.” 

Regina closed her eyes and did her best to envision the back room of the pawn shop. She gathered all the magic she could touch and wrapped it tight around the bow, and the three of them. “Okay,” she said. “Here we go.” 

~

“Well, hello, Captain,” Zelena purred as Killian struggled up to the bars of her cell. “What an interesting situation we find ourselves in.”

“Do we?” Killian kept his expression bland, carefully not revealing either the effort it took to hold himself upright against the crushing force of the magic in the room or the little details he observed, such as the fact that Zelena’s cell was still securely locked and the catlike smugness in her smile. 

“I’d say we do,” she replied. “You must have noticed that the curse is broken.” 

“Aye, that I did. The curse you told us we would never break. I suppose that is interesting.” 

Irritation flashed across Zelena’s features, just for a second but he was watching too closely to miss it. “Yes,” she said. “You’ve done me quite a favour, you and your wife.” 

“Have we? Things seem to have changed remarkably little for you.” 

Zelena’s smile slipped again, for longer this time. “Breaking the curse released all its magic,” she spat. “It’s free now and it’s everywhere. There’s no escape from it.” 

Killian fought to keep his own face from revealing anything. That was exactly what Emma had said. Its magic is everywhere. 

“And yet, you’re still in a cell,” he pointed out. 

Zelena snarled and he felt the air surge again. This time he was prepared for it, with his feet well-braced. It was rather like standing on the deck of a ship in reverse, he thought. On a ship the sea moved beneath him and here the air moved around him, but the rolling waves and the importance of keeping a wide stance with one’s feet firmly planted remained the same. Zelena’s lip curled in a snarl when he teetered but did not fall, and when the air ceased moving a moment later she fell back against the wall with a little huff. 

She can affect the magic, Killian thought, but she can’t properly use it and the effort tires her. That’s good to know.  

But where the devil was Emma? 

White smoke swirled up just behind him and Emma appeared as though his thoughts had conjured her, wearing the darkest scowl Killian had ever seen on her face. Another surge of magic waved outward from Zelena’s cell, quick as the lash of a whip and giving Emma no time to brace against it. She threw up her hands in a makeshift shield but she was not quite quick enough to block the whole wave and she stumbled backwards, just for a moment—before Killian even had time to react she had righted herself and spun about to face Zelena. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. 

“Whatever do you mean, dear?” asked Zelena, outwardly calm once again. 

“What are you trying to do with the curse magic?” Emma demanded. “How are you even touching it?” 

“It’s my magic,” Zelena hissed. “Did you really believe you could just cut me off from it?”

Something flashed in Emma’s eyes and her lips curled into a smile Killian recognised as highly dangerous. “There’s a thought,” she said. 

“Well you’ll have no time to think it,” sneered Zelena. 

A startled shout sounded from the hallway and Neal appeared, sliding on his back along the floor as a force invisible to Killian’s eyes dragged him by his ankle. Killian darted forward to help him but the moment his balance shifted he felt the magic in the air grab him, felt a crushing pressure on his chest as he was hauled backwards and slammed hard against the bars of Zelena’s cell. Dazed and winded from the impact, he drew a wheezing breath and shook his head to clear it, only vaguely aware as seconds later Neal was flung against the bars next to him, choking and gasping for air, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at his neck. 

When Killian’s vision cleared he looked up to see Emma charging towards him, fury snapping in her eyes as she used her own magic to push through the sucking resistance of the force that tried to hold her back. Their gazes met and Killian could read her intentions perfectly in her determined glare and the set of her jaw; he knew her far too well to think even for a second that she might do anything other than what she now intended. She meant to save him and damn the cost, but if she went for him first it would be too late. 

Which was precisely what Zelena was counting on. 

“No, Swan,” he gasped, “Neal! Save Neal!” 

Zelena cackled. “You’ll have to choose, Saviour,” she spat. “You’ve no time to save both. But the moment you release me from your shielding spell, I’ll release them.”

Emma’s eyebrows drew together and she looked sharply at Neal, whose face had gone mottled purple as he struggled for air. As difficult as breathing was for Killian, it was plain to him that for Neal it was far more so. He was choking to death and had mere seconds left. 

“Protection… spell,” he ground out, trusting that Emma would understand.

She did. Relief washed over him as she nodded and shifted direction, heading instead for Neal. Zelena snarled and Killian could feel the force around him shifting, the pressure on his chest lessening. Zelena couldn’t maintain such a strong hold on to him while also keeping Emma away from Neal, he realised, and he could see the moment the same realisation struck Emma. With a furious shout she sent a burst of magic from her hands that burned clean through the curse magic, blazing an open path to Neal. 

Zelena gave a cackle, triumphant on its face but with desperation ringing through. “Careful, Saviour,” she hissed. “One wrong move and he dies!” 

Emma was frowning in concentration. She appeared to be feeling with her magic, Killian thought, probing at the force that was choking Neal in search of weaknesses. 

“You’re right,” she conceded, with what he considered to be remarkable calm. “I don’t know how you’re influencing the magic like this, but I can’t untangle it without killing him. This, though,” she held up her hand and the subtle knife appeared in a swirl of smoke upon its palm. “This can.” 

Zelena screeched in fury as Emma held the knife out with its sharp edge pointing downwards and with a single strong, controlled movement slashed through the air, severing nothing that Killian could see but Neal fell to the ground in a heap, clutching his chest as he sucked in huge gulps of air. In the same instant Killian realised that the pressure on his own chest was gone, that the air had shifted again, shoring up the space between Zelena and the door of her cell as Emma slowly turned to face her. 

~

Robin strode along the footpath through the forest, his pace brisk and his steps sure. His bow and quiver were slung across his shoulder and Regina had to admit, wanted to admit after having wasted far too much time already in denying it, that his whole ‘rugged outdoorsman’ thing really did it for her. She hadn’t felt such simple animal attraction to anyone since—she winced as a spear of something that felt uncomfortably like guilt lanced her heart—since Graham. 

She squirmed a bit before she could stop herself, and though neither Henry nor Robin was looking at her she adjusted her jacket and smoothed its lapels, wishing she could smooth away her conscience as easily. The thing was a damned nuisance, always pestering her with reminders of the terrible things she’d done, and all she had to atone for. It would keep doing that, according to Killian, until she’d made an effort to redress her wrongs. Regina grimaced. Graham was one of those wrongs, she knew, and she knew that there were consequences she would have to face—wanted to face, she reminded herself, she was genuinely tired of being a villain—for killing him. 

But not just yet. Right now there were more pressing matters that needed her attention. 

The path dipped, steeply and without warning, and the light through the trees shifted. It shimmered along the description of a downward curve, as if reflected off the edge of a blade, and when its arc was completed they found themselves standing in a wide clearing where the sunlight was dappled through shifting leaves and the ground a riot of colour. 

“This is it,” said Robin, gesturing. “This is where I picked the flowers I brought you.” 

Regina knelt and plucked a blossom from the ground, the twin of the one she had selected from Robin’s bouquet. “A mist lily,” she said, examining the trumpet-shaped head with its soft blue-grey petals, bobbing atop a slender stem. “I thought it was.” 

“What’s a mist lily?” asked Henry. 

“Just a flower.” Regina stood again and offered it to him. “It has no special properties, except that it only grows in the Enchanted Forest.” 

Henry’s eyes went wide. “The Enchanted Forest!” he exclaimed. 

Regina smiled. “Yes. This is the Enchanted Forest. Well, part of it anyway. I’m not sure exactly where.” 

The trees surrounding the clearing were densely set, tall and wide and with thick-leaved branches that formed a canopy above their heads. It was impossible to see beyond it. 

“At a guess, I’d say we’re at the northwest edge of your kingdom,” said Robin, frowning at the forest floor and then up at the sky. “Where it borders the ogres’ land. About, oh, two or so days’ trek from your castle.” 

Regina felt a flutter in her belly. “How can you possibly know that?” she demanded. 

“Mom, he’s Robin Hood!” 

“Indeed.” Robin’s smile edged into a smirk, one she would dearly love to kiss off his face. “I’m an excellent tracker, as you know, and the first rule of tracking is to know where you’re starting from.” 

“So cool,” breathed Henry. “Can you teach me how to do that?” 

“Of course, if you wish. Though I think before we attempt to track anything through this forest I’d like to know exactly how we got here.” 

“Ah,” said Regina with a smirk of her own. “That is the question. I believe…” she turned back to the path behind them and peered closely at the way the light hung in the air. “I believe this is a portal.” 

It was a thin, neat slice through nothing, no wider than the breadth of a hair and invisible at most angles. Approaching from the correct one, however, one could simply step through it, out of one world and into another. 

“But how?” Henry frowned as he circled it, poked his head through then pulled it back again. 

“Unless I’m very much mistaken,” replied Regina, “it was cut by the subtle knife.” 

“The knife Zelena had!” 

“The very one. This is how she got the curse magic from the Enchanted Forest and into Storybrooke. And,” she added, her lips curving into a triumphant, vicious smile, “it’s how we’re going to get it back out again.” 

~

Emma unlocked Zelena’s cell with a wave of her hand and stepped inside, still moving with some difficulty through the magic-thickened air, but more easily than before. Zelena was weakening, Killian thought. Pushing against Emma’s shielding spell to manipulate the curse magic was exhausting her. 

Emma halted a foot or two in front of the cot where Zelena still reclined. Her previously triumphant pose now much more closely resembled cowering, Killian remarked, despite her attempts at bravado.

“I wanted to give you a chance, you know,” said Emma. “A chance to change and redeem your mistakes. The same chance we offered Regina. The same chance everyone deserves, at least once.” Though she wasn’t looking at him, Killian felt her words powerfully, deep in his heart. 

“But,” Emma continued, “you refused that chance, again and again, and now it’s obvious that you can’t be trusted not to keep trying to harm us, even when you’re behind a shielding spell. There’s nothing I can do, no magic I can use that will keep my family safe from you. You’ve made it so my only option is to kill you, and that I won’t do.” 

“Because you’re weak,” snarled Zelena. “Too weak to do what’s necessary.” 

“The fact that you think that,” said Emma calmly, “is your weakness.” 

She raised the knife again and probed the air with it, feeling for something Killian could not perceive—but Zelena could. For the first time he saw genuine fear in her eyes as it began to dawn on her what Emma intended. 

“No!” she cried, leaping up off the cot. “No… you can’t! You wouldn’t! You wouldn’t!” 

An expression of grim determination settled on Emma’s face as she located what she had been seeking with the point of the knife. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish there was another way.” 

“No—” Zelena’s cry was cut off as Emma made another slashing motion with the knife, a single short downward thrust. Zelena gasped, a heartrending sound of pain and unspeakable loss, then collapsed onto the floor, her eyes gaping wide in shock and horror. 

The sucking resistance in the air was gone, Killian realised, replaced by buzzing noise that started low then grew perceptibly louder as the air itself began to vibrate. “Emma—” he began, but he was cut of by Zelena’s shriek of pure rage. 

“What have you done?” she howled. “What have you done? My magic… my magic—” 

There was sorrow in Emma’s eyes, and a deep compassion, but no remorse. “You’ll never touch your magic again,” she said. “I’ve cut your link to it forever. The subtle knife can cut anything, you know.” 

“You’ve ruined me! You bitch, you—” 

“I did what I had to do to keep the people I love safe from you,” snapped Emma. “You would never have stopped trying to hurt us. Now you can’t.” 

“Swan.” Killian reached cautiously into the cell, dizzy and discombobulated by the increasingly frantic vibrations that surrounded them. He slipped his hook around Emma’s arm, holding tight to the bars with his hand. “Love—what’s happened to the magic?” 

Emma allowed him to tug her out of the cell and closed and locked the door behind them. She turned to him and frowned. “What do you mean—oh.” Her eyes went wide and she gripped Killian’s arm. “Oh. Shit.” 

The buzzing was deafening now and the vibrations frantic, pinpricks of magic crackling and snapping around them with electric vigour. 

“You can feel that?” asked Emma. 

“Aye, I think even my organs can feel it.” 

“It’s like an army of chainsaws in my head,” groaned Neal, struggling to stand. Emma held out her hand to help him and Killian his hook, still keeping a tight hold on the bars of the cell to balance all three of them. “What is it?”

“It’s the curse magic,” Emma replied. “It’s sort of—untethered. But it’s been that way since the curse broke, I don’t know why it’s acting this way now.” 

As she spoke purple smoke swirled and Regina appeared, flanked by Henry and Robin. “I think I can answer that,” she said, turning to glare at her sister where she lay slumped on the floor of her cell. 

“Hah,” said Zelena, with an attempt at her old sneer. “I’d love to see you try.” 

“As would I,” said Killian. “Sooner rather than later, love, before we all turn to liquid.” 

Regina shifted her glare to him, then began to explain. “We already know that this curse is not like the last one,” she said, and Emma nodded. “Zelena patched it together out of a hodgepodge of different magics, some of which should never have met. That’s what made the curse so unstable. And now that all of that disparate magic is loose it’s clashing and reacting, and that’s what we—what all of us, I guess—can feel.” 

“So what are we going to do about it?” asked Emma. 

“Storybrooke is too small to hold all of it safely,” said Regina. “It’s stuck within the boundaries of the town and there’s just too much of it. We need to send it somewhere where it has room to disperse, and the different kinds of magic can repel away from each other. We need to send it back to the Enchanted Forest.” 

Killian scowled. “How the bloody hell do we manage that?”

Regina shot him another glare. “There’s a portal in the woods, one that Zelena must have used to cast the curse in the first place. One cut by the subtle knife.” She and Emma exchanged a significant glance. “Robin found it.” 

“Stumbled upon it, more like,” said Robin. 

“But what does that mean?” Killian pressed. 

“It means we have an outlet,” said Emma, and Regina nodded. “We can funnel the magic through that portal and out of Storybrooke.” 

“Exactly.” 

“But then, how do we close the portal? Oisín said only the knife bearer can do that, and—” 

“We’ll have to worry about that another time,” said Regina. “Once the magic is back in the Enchanted Forest it won’t be a danger to us anymore, and I can make a temporary patch to block the portal. It’s not a permanent solution but it’s the best we’ve got, and we have to move fast. The longer we wait the more dangerous the magic will become. We need to do this now.” 

“Okay,” said Emma. “You go back to this portal, then. I’ll gather the magic here and send it to you, and you funnel it out. Does that work?” 

Regina nodded. “It should.” 

“Um.” Emma frowned. “How do we—do you have something, like a signal or something to let me know where exactly you are?” 

“Take this.” Killian withdrew the broken compact mirror from his jacket pocket. “You still have the other half?” he asked Regina. 

“I do.” Regina took the mirror’s twin from her own pocket. “These should work perfectly.” She waved her hand over both mirrors. “I’ve modified the spell so they’ll act like beacons. Once you have the magic under control, press your thumb on this mirror—” she handed Killian’s half to Emma “—and my mirror will send up a signal to show you exactly where I am.” 

“Got it.” 

“Okay.” Regina flexed her fingers. “Are we ready?” 

“I’m coming with you.” They all turned to stare at Robin, who looked alarmed at the ferocity on their faces. 

“I don’t think there’s much you can do to help,” said Regina. 

“Perhaps not, but I’d prefer it if you weren’t alone,” he replied, and Regina’s expression softened to an almost girlish smile. Killian exchanged a glance with Emma, who just shook her head. Henry beamed. 

“All right,” said Emma. “Regina and er—” 

“Robin Hood.” 

“Right. Regina and Robin, um, Hood will go to the woods and make sure the magic gets through the portal. I’ll collect it and send it to them and the rest of you—” she glared at Neal and at Henry, and finally at Killian, narrowing her eyes. “The rest of you stay out of my way.” 

~

Flanked by his fellow dwarves and trailed by the Merry Men, Grumpy burst through the doors of the Rabbit Hole and headed down the street.

“We’ll go to Granny’s,” he said. “Gather a nice mob. Then we’ll hunt down the Evil Queen and this time she’ll get what’s coming to her.”

The dwarves chimed in a chorus of agreement but from the Merry Men it more resembled concerned muttering.

“A mob sounds like the wrong kind of justice,” said Little John. “Are you even sure it was the Queen?”

“Of course I am,” snarled Grumpy. “Who else would it be?”

“Well—”

“It was her,” Grumpy declared as they turned into Granny’s outdoor seating area. “It’s always her. Trust me.” 

The door to the diner swung open with a cheerful chime of its bell and Snow and Charming emerged, she with a wide, delighted smile and he with his arms crossed firmly over his chest.

“It’s so good to see you all!” cried Snow.

“But you’re all going to need to turn around and go back home,” said Charming.

“Home?” growled Grumpy. “I don’t think so, Your Highness. We were cursed, again, and we’re going to make sure that this time is the last.”

“Oh we will make sure of that. But if your plan is to go after Regina I’m going to need you to rethink it. Regina didn’t cast this curse.”

“Ha,” said Little John, earning him a glare from the irate dwarf. 

“Well then who did?” he demanded. 

Charming’s expression was grim. “Zelena.”

“Zelena!” echoed Grumpy, as voices rose around him, dwarves and Merry Men all speaking at once. 

“What, the mayor?”

“Ex-mayor.”

“Why would she curse us?” 

“What does she get out of it?” 

“Who was she in our world, anyway?”

“I don’t know, I don’t remember her.”

“She was the Wicked Witch of the West,” said Charming, raising his voice above the din.

“Like from Oz?” called Will Scarlet. 

“How do you know?�� Grumpy demanded. 

“Emma told us,” said Snow, smiling proudly. “She figured it out.” 

“Oh yeah? And where’s Emma now?”

“Dealing with the witch, we hope,” said Charming with a scowl. “Look, why don’t you all come inside and we’ll tell you everything we know.”

~

The magic snapped through the air, almost snarling in its growing fury. Emma focused her attention on it, clearing her mind as she concentrated on it, on feeling it and reaching out to it. Its jagged shards sliced at her, and though she knew the pain she felt wasn’t physical that didn't stop her feeling it. The others felt it too, she reminded herself, less acutely than she did but it still hurt them. She needed to get this magic gone before it could cause any real damage. 

Closing her eyes, she stretched her senses as far as they could go, feeling for the magic as it spread through Storybrooke, catching it and gathering it together, weaving it securely into a shape that could easily be sent to Regina. It was not unlike trying to wrestle angry cats into a sack and though her attention was entirely focused on her task she was grateful for Killian’s calming presence, close beside her with his hand rubbing circles on her back. She reached out blindly and gripped his hook, clutching it to keep herself grounded as she pulled the last bits of the magic together. 

“Okay,” she gasped. “I’ve got it.” 

Killian handed her the mirror and she pressed her thumb against it. Seconds later it buzzed as the magic that linked it to its twin formed a connection. Not an especially strong one—a bit like two tin cans joined by a string—but strong enough tho show her where to send the magic. She pointed it in the right direction and then with a mental heave she flung it away, imagining the sack of angry cats sailing through the air towards Regina and becoming her problem. 

She could feel the moment Regina took control of the curse magic and when she was certain it was not going to get loose again she let it go, stumbling a bit at the release of her burden and leaning into Killian’s arms when he caught her. He hugged her tight and stroked her hair as she breathed a heavy sigh into his shoulder. 

“Is it done then, love?” he asked, his voice low in her ear. 

She nodded. “It’s up to Regina now.” 

~

Regina and Robin stood in Storybrooke’s woods, one on each side of the portal’s slender arc, waiting. 

Robin had his bow in hand, not fully drawn but with an arrow nocked and at the ready. A gust of wind rose up, sending leaves swirling around them and he tensed, his eyes sharp on the path before them.  

“You think arrows are going to help against magic?” sneered Regina, then immediately wished she hadn’t. The snarky attitude she wore like a cloak had become simple habit, born of anxiety and the need to appear strong, but she didn’t truly wish to be so nasty. Not to him.  

“I’m sorry,” she said, and suppressed a smirk at his look of surprise. “I’m worried, and that makes me snappish. But I shouldn’t take my feelings out on you.” 

“You have nothing to worry about,” he replied, with such earnestness she gaped at him. He smiled. “You forget I’ve seen your magic firsthand, Your Majesty,” he said. “I have no doubt you can perform this task with ease.” 

His simple faith in her despite the hesitancy and uncertain tension that still hung between them warmed Regina to her very depths and made her wish that she were better at feelings. “Robin, I—” she began, and then felt the mirror in her pocket grow hot. “I—I think it’s time.” 

She removed the mirror and pressed her thumb against it to answer Emma’s call. The mirror buzzed faintly in her hand as it linked with its counterpart and a moment later Regina saw the curse magic winding its way towards them from the direction of Storybrooke, woven into a tight and impressively tidy rope. Oisín had clearly met with more success in teaching Emma how to use magic than she herself had, Regina thought. 

She reached out with her own magic, stable tendrils of it pulled through the portal from the Enchanted Forest, and took control of the rope. There was a moment of tension when both she and Emma held it at once, then Emma released her end and Regina stumbled at the abrupt shift. Instantly Robin was there, catching her before she could fall and keeping a steady hand on her arm as she wrestled the snapping and writhing magic through the portal. 

As soon as the tail end of the rope had gone she released it from her hold and followed it, slipping cautiously through the narrow opening with Robin keeping a secure grip on her had from the other side, and watched anxiously to see how the magic would react to its new surroundings. For the space of several heartbeats nothing happened, but then slowly, almost cautiously, the rope began to unravel. It uncoiled itself, picking up speed when it met with no resistance, spreading out as far as it could, all the disparate magics skittering away from each other and dissipating into the atmosphere. 

Regina exhaled in relief then drew a deep breath, full of the familiar scents of her homeland, and felt a tiny twinge of melancholy. Someday she should probably go back to the Enchanted Forest again, she thought, to fix the ravages her curse—and likely now Zelena’s curse—had wrought upon it. But not today. 

She stepped back through the portal and wove a protection spell around it, to prevent anyone from stumbling through it by accident as Robin had. 

If it had truly been an accident. Regina had some theories on that subject. 

She turned to Robin, who was smiling softly. “Well done,” he said. “I knew you could do it.” 

She felt herself flush under his praise. “I had help,” she replied with a small shrug, surprised to realise that the modesty was genuine. She would never have managed to defeat Zelena or break the curse all on her own. Without Emma and Henry, and perhaps most of all Killian—she would have been trapped forever in the special hell her sister had made for her. More surprising still was the realisation that working with them had been... nice. Nice to have people on her side, sharing her burdens, nice not to have to handle everything alone. Nice to have friends.   

She shook her head at the foolish thought. They were far from calling each other friends, she and Emma and Killian—it was a long path to friendship from ‘reluctant allies,’ after all—and yet Regina had a stirring of a suspicion, a tiny fragile bud of a feeling, that someday this might actually become a reality. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a real friend. 

“Speaking of which, we should get back to the station and make sure they’re all okay,” she said, taking up her magic again. “Are you ready?” 

Robin nodded. “Always.” 

~

@katie-dub​​​​​​ @kmomof4​​​​​​ @teamhook​​​​ @stahlop​​​​​​ @mariakov81​​​​​​ @snowbellewells​ @thejollyroger-writer​​​ @jennjenn615​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​ @lfh1226-linda​​​​ @winterbaby89​​​ @ultraluckycatnd​​​​ @resident-of-storybrooke​

[elitespacefreak]

PART ONE OF WHO KNOWS | What’s up, it’s ya horny girl Fetty Whap. Your response to last night’s thot made me so happy hehe. How was your day? I have three days off from work now and I’m SO HYPED FOR CHRISTMAS. Christmas as an adult feels different, but it’s still enjoyable. TONIGHT’S THOT OF THE NIGHT IS: Zim worshiping you uwu. Zim likes being worshipped. Obvi. But Zim is never opposed to worshipping you. You’re not only his loyal lover, you’re also his right hand.

PART TWO OF WHO KNOWS FROM FETTY WHAP | you’re also his right hand. Zim flies you up to the highest point of the town where the sky is clear and the city is so far out, the light pollution doesn’t cover the stars. Zim starts your lesson with the constellations and major stars and planets you can see from Earth. He’ll need your help one day, so you should get a head start. You of course find it endearing and properly listen to all of his lessons.

PART THREE OF WHO KNOWS | After some time, he notices your cold, and he offers you a blanket. He likes how it makes you genuinely happy. He leads you back inside the ship. The sky is so clear and visibly through the stressed glass screen. You two sit in the pilot’s chair, cuddling one another. You enjoy the feeling of Zim’s face tucked into your neck, his content purring and small kisses keeping you at ease. He kisses down your neck, to your chest, and eventually he goes lower. ;)))

PART FOUR (maybe it's five i lost count OOPS) OF WHO KNOWS FROM FETTY WHAP | He kneels between your legs and helps you to shimmy out of your shorts. He grins up at you when you get flustered just at the sight of him between your thighs. He presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh before licking a long, agonizingly slow strip up your cunt. You’re mewling and trembling just as he plays with your pussy. He leaves kisses and licks all over your core before he attaches his lips to your clit

FINAL PART | He sucks at the little pearl and between the little suckles, he speaks such dirty praises. His tongue eventually stops licking little circles into the crevices of your clit. He slowly lets his tongue enter you, circling up inside of you. His nails would dig into your thighs as he pushes you into the seat, urging you to keep still as he has his way with you. WHOOOOO I wish I was YN right now LOL.🌞

— — — — —

YYOOOOOOOOO OH MY GOD OKAY IM VERY AWAKE NOW asjdkahfhsjfhshfks I had a lovely day yesterday!! Got to celebrate my roommates birthday and we went rolling skating and I fell on top of my skate wheels so now there’s a huge bruise on my butt where I sit but IM OKAY and also we went axe throwing and that was dope af, and then a big dinner at a fancy steampunk chocolate factory~ ALSO IT IS ALMOST CHRISTMAS I mean yeah the holidays kinda suck as an adult sometimes and here in the subtropics we don’t have seasons so it’s a lot of extra work to get into the spirit of things. BUT IM JOLLY ANYWAY DAMMIT.

This was a biggin’ so I’m tagging this as a long post lmao I have lots of thoughts~ First of all, YES TO BEING HIS RIGHT HAND I’ve actually been thinking about this so much in the last week, like obviously while in a relationship he’d learn a lot about being domestic and stuff. But I think you would learn a lot about Irken engineering and taking care of the base and being able to work on simple things just so he had more time to do the hard or dangerous things.

I mean not to totally feed into my want to be a service sub for him, but I think that would be like your end of the bargain per se. Zim does a lot for you; he protects you, makes sure you’re well taken care of, looks out for you, lavishes you with affection, probably cooks for you, and overall handles the responsibility of being in charge. So what do you do? Make sure things are running smoothly. He’s a stickler for making sure things are done a very certain way, which makes it easy to learn exactly how to do things around the base, and once he really trusts you, you take the initiative to make your rounds and complete any of the small tasks he’s had to set aside because he was busy.

And I mean stuff like changing filters and power cores, updating system functions, cleaning out the storage rooms, maybe gathering supplies for a big project. He’s not gonna like let you clean his weapons or anything or do any real maintenance. But there’s always something to do, and I just really love the idea of doing those tasks as an act of service~

BUT YES OF COURSE HE ALSO TAKES YOU OUT IN THE VOOT TO LOOK AT STARS AND TEACH YOU ABOUT SPACE THINGS BECAUSE HE FUCKING ADORES HOW ENAMORED YOU ARE WITH IT. Like any time something cool is happening like an eclipse or an equinox or just the planets are doing something neat, he flies you out to look and gives you a few lessons on whatever is happening and he just fucking loves how you pay such close attention to him he gets so soft for you over that shit I can’t hes so cute.

But yeah it’s cold up there and he always has blankets to cuddle you in and covers your face and neck in kisses because it makes you blush and he knows you get warm when you blush so technically it’s helping. And he continues that logic because he’s a fucking horn dog and will spend at least an hour eating you out, smiling every time you moan or whimper and try to hide behind the blanket he gave you until he’s too desperate to wait and sits you on his cock while he snuggles you for warmth and purrs the whole time he fucks into you because you feel so good and he just loves you so much he can hardly stand it.

And then by the time you get back you’re asleep and he gets to be all paternal and tuck you into bed.

[teabooksandsweets]

Fandom: All Creatures Great and Small (because you are one of the few bloggers I know who shares my love of it!)

Oooh! Cool! Thank you so, so much!!!

Favorite character: Oh, that’s already difficult. Mrs Pumphrey, Mrs Hall or Siegfried Farnon.

Least Favorite character: Oh, dear. None of the main cast, but that one woman who wanted her cat put down because she had two after one running away and coming back.

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): James/Helen, Siegfried/Caroline, Grenville/Zoe, Ewan/Ginny, Tristan/Alice

Character I find most attractive: Siegfried!

Character I would marry: Siegfried Farnon, naturally.

Character I would be best friends with: The entire Skeldale family! And I think I’d get along really well with Deirdre.

a random thought: Oh, I have many. Today I thought about Siegfried, after watching Hampered (and I noticed similar behaviour earlier in the later seasons) and once again found that he can’t properly adjust to Caroline and his children being away, and instead tries to “project” himself into his old life and the pre-war Skeldale time, which then fails. I actually think Donald Sinclair’s attachement to his family and his fear of seperation is beautifully and subtly portrayed in the series, also shown in a different manner whenever Siegfried thinks someone leaves him, getting mad at James/Tristan/Calum about it, etc.

An unpopular opinion: I don't know. I really like Lynda Bellingham has the older Helen. Otherwise, I would have to go a bit deeper about some overly specific details of the series, especially regarding the Farnons/Sinclairs, that some people perceive to be inaccurate but, given some background info, actually make it even better and more accurate.

My Canon OTP: Either James and Helen or Siegfried and Caroline.

My Non-canon OTP: I don’t like shipping real people and fictional characters, but I loved the scenes Siegfried and Margery had.

Most Badass Character: Helen, in a way.

Most Epic Villain: Not in Darrowby. Except... Biggins. Biggins actually continues being... Like That throughout seven seasons, and successfully so!

Pairing I am not a fan of: Canon? I love them all! Otherwise, Farnoncest should not exist.

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): Nobody, but I am glad that Robert Hardy did his work to “save” Siegfried from some of the later authors’ ideas.

Favourite Friendship: The Skeldale Boys !!! And also Helen with both Farnons, lovely.

Character I most identify with: I honestly don’t know. Or at least, I couldn’t precisely pick one without further explainations. It’s difficult.

Character I wish I could be: It’s just too closely knit with actual real history to say such a thing. Although I really wouldn’t mind to dive in for a short period of time.

[lockdownuk]

Lockdown Diary Part 9

A personal account during the lockdown in the UK due to the Covid-19 outbreak.

23/03/2020 8:30pm Boris Johnson, UK Prime Minister, gives a live address to the nation to, effectively, put the country on lockdown to stem the spread of the deadly coronavirus strain, Covid-19.

Many of us have been self-isolating for days but this latest development within the UK in reaction to the pandemic feels very serious and very scary. I decided to keep a simple diary and where better but online.

Day 241: Shit day at work. To cut a long story short, I could complete a task Sueanne gave to me and then I got it in the ear, including a snotty email ay 5:40pm. Pissed off.

Day 242: Had a meeting with Sueanne (our weekly 1-2-1 actually) and she was alright. I feel much better tonight. Last night I didn’t even have an appetitie - unheard of! Going to make up for that tonight, pie and loads of veg! A much better day. Ridiculously, I believe yesterday was all my own fault - I take work for granted sometimes and I let myself down by ignoring the urgency of a task just because it was Sueanne asking me to do it and she was a peer. She is now my boss, and I should respect that.

Day 243: So-so day at work. It’s strange how used to work I am after over six months on furlough. It’s been less than two months back but all the highs and lows amd frustrations are commonplace. Most importantly, it being Thursday, I cannot wait for tomorrow eveninga dn to kick back, drink and smoke. Spoke to dad this morning, he’s same as...that’s always good to know. Sugar levels have been a fucking roller coaster today, and it has really fucked me off! No salad at lunch due to them being so fucking high when I got back from my walk. It ended up being my tea. Sarted watching The Undoing...it’s OK. 

Day 244: Glad it is Friday. Just cooking a (very hot) chicken madras, cracked open my first beer. Gonna eat, drink, smoke and watch a good film.

Day 245: Gold was the film I watched last night, with Matthew McConaughey and it was a good choice. I then watch a Kevin Hart stand up show on Netflix...very Eddie Murphy, very funny. I did a 12 km walk today...fucking felt it in my legs. Walked the footpath from Stoke Doyle road to Benefield road for the first time. I liked it and it comes out between Lytham Park and Wakerley Close....I posted on FB about the fact that when I move to Oundle, Clifton Drive was the last street heading out of town. Saw Becks on the walk down Benefield road, She mentioned she’s tired of lockdown. I replied that I’m tired of the virus!

Day 246: Up at 1pm, nice long walk, ordered new slippers and waterproof jacket (my Craghopper is bust again).

Day 247: I screwed up at work today, went for a (ridiculously) late lunch right when I was meant to be at an online meeting that Sueanne had reminded me about in the morning. There’s mitigation but, when push comes to shove, I fucked up and now Sueanne’s on the warpath - one more slip up and it’ll be an offical disciplinary matter. 

Day 248: Suzanne wants me to troubleshoot a ticket she has in her queue, some database request for a Cork guy. It’s a test and it’s fucking me off.

I did testing for a network change tonight...8 till 11:15pm.

Elliot and Aaron cleaned the windows today. It was nice to see them.

Rita sent a couple of emails recently. Dad’s ear is all clear but Paul has got testicular cancer.

Day 249: New waterproof jacket arrived today. It’s very nice, bargain for £25 odd. Also picked up slippers from M&S food hall in Corby so, while over their, did a shop at Tesco’s...£109 mainly booze.

By the time I was back, I ended up doing my evening walk at 9.30pm!

Day 250: Leigh from Oundle Chronicle has got back to me. She (he?) has selected the photos that are going to be in the article and wants me to write a sentence on each - where they were taken and what inspited me to do so. Whether that means the stuff I wrote before is not going to be used, or not, I dunno! New slippers are OK and the new jacket is still impressing me.

Day 251: Typing on Day 252. Usual Friday, beers, meatballs, pizza, long chat with Fog. I should mention that, as we approach the end of Lockdown2 in England, Boris and his government have laid out a three tier structure for how the second lockdown will be eased. It’s caused confusion and consternation across the board. None of it affects me, still isolating like I was on day 1. Day 252: Totally forgot about my diary entry yesterday! Up at 1pm, nice long walk, nipped rong Elliots to pay for my windows, had a chat with him, Artron and Camilla - it’s so nice to socialise! Gonna make fish pie and supp a few ales. Day 253: The weekend is over way too quickly. It’s 7.30pm on Sunday as I type and I wish it wasn’t. I wish it was 7.30pm on Friday. Day 254: In a meeting, a working Zoom, with Andy Ashler in the US re: qfiniti, which Sueanne pissed me off about earlier in te day (RCI diary updated), but the meeting went well. I am desparately trying to buy an iPad on Black Monday. As usual with tech, I cannot make my mind up which to buy! Day 255: I haven’t bought an iPad....I’ll wait for the 10.2″ iPad to come down in price. I had more involvement with Andy Ashler and in the US with the Qfiniti project at work. I’m really enjoying it, it’s very technical...although I didn’t finish ‘til 6pm because of it. The Oundle Chronicle is out and an article about me and my pics is on the back page. Leigh, the editor, sent it to me electronically. It’s good. I am chuffed!  Day 256: I booked some holidays today, making sure that I didn’t include any days off in the week December 14-18 (SB’s off). So, this coming Friday (4th Dec), Next Weds-Fri and Monday 21st. I know I have only been back from Furlough a couple of months but I am more than ready for some kick-back time.  1-2-1 with SB today, it was a relaxed affair, most espcially becaus eof my success thus far with the Qfiniti project - that being said, I got pretty much nowhere with it today.  Ordered a couple of long sleeved Ts and a fleeced hoody from a shop called Doubletwo today, well cheap in the sale. I saw half a dozen joggers on the Milton Road blind bend tonight, oblivious to any other potential path user. I posted about it (in my own, sarcastic way) on the Oundle Chatter FB group. It was met how I’d expected plus some direct digs so I deleted it. Cowardly but, I figure, I don’t get my point across, the vast majority of joggers really don’t think they are doing anything wrong by bulldozing there way around town and, lastly, I couldn’t be bothered with the flak, and its tennis like back-and-forth!

Day 257: Got tomorrow off so worked late tying up loose ends, including the qfiniti project - fucking nuts really, making sure no one asks any questions of SB or the team, in terms of my work load, for just one day off! Still, just had tea, cracked open a beer and am watching Shaun of the Dead. Nice.

Day 258: The main thing I did today is walk. It was about 12km but felt much longer ‘cos it was wintry, pissing down, windy and slippery as fuck. And I really enjoyed it! Badge messaged me today to ask how I am and, in replying, I mentioned that I think I am becoming addicted to walking...it wasn’t a throwaway comment. Just cooked up a chilli (which I think I have ruined with a Knorr beef stock pot), and will tuck in with beers, smokes and telly. While it’s been a day off, this Friday evening will be as all others are at the moment, late, drunken and solitary fun - no doubt.

Day 259: Typing on day 260. That chilli last night was actually OK. Plus I ‘invented’ a meatball wrap - moving on from the TikTok ham and cheese wrap you fold into the toaster, I tried the same with meatballs but no fucking way could I fold it into the toaster slot (pissed up kitchen shenanigans), so I wrapped it in tin foil and heated it in the oven, Fucking delicious. I watched Shaun of the Dead. I think it’s the first time since its release and I couldn’t help thinking “zombies just aren’t like that [in real life]” Wtf?

Day 260: I was quite sensible (for a Saturday) last night, in bed by 2am, up at my alarm this morning, 10:30am. Nice long walk, taking in a new path up by Biggin Grange and took plenty of pics that turned out really good. Btw, posh lost yesterday at Portsmouth (with 2000 fans there) and they lost midweek and last weekend in the FA Cup to Chorley, at home. 

Day 261: It’s freezing today...actually 0 degrees. This house is so fucking cold, even with the heating on.

Day 262: Typing on day 263. Last day of work for 5 days. Beers are in order. And a sausage casserole. Day 263: I completely forgot to do a diary entry yesterday....concentrating on starting my work break off on the right foot, which I did. As a result, I didn’t get up until 1pm. So, to stop that sort of day wasting, no beers tonight. Just got back from a shop (£90 in Tesco’s), trying to sort out Romiley’s Christmas present, then something to eat (more sausage casserole) and a early, sober night.

Day 264: So, after abstinence last night, I was up before 11am and did a walk that included the track from Benefield Road to Monson Way past Park Wood. It was fucking hard work due to mud. I have lost coumd the amount of times I nearly slipped right over. Throw into that a hypo, the 12-13km walk was tough. Sorted out Romiley’s present (guitar stand, music stand and guitar exercises book). Took soime nice photos today as well which I’ve prepared and shared. No booze today/tonight either. Some break, a younger me would say!

Day 265: Friday, and I am typing with a beer, balti on the hob and I am just gonna choose a film and roll a single skinner. I am knackered. Up at 10am, cleaned the hall and stairs after a 10km walk. Also, I spoke with dad who is, as always, fine.

Time to make up for the last two sober nights.

Day 266: I am typing this on day 267. So drunk last night I left nearll a full can of beer and went to bed in my jogging bottoms and t-shirt. I have had a day off from any exercise at all which felt very odd. A few beers and watched Snatch. Day 267: While I was nowhere near drunk last night, due to sleeping in late (2pm) I was up ‘til 3am watching TikTok so today I struggled out of bed at just before 1pm. Watch the start of the season’s final GP (Verstappen won from pole and it was boring af), back on the exercising including a 9km walk. Back to work tomorrow which I feel totally conflicted about! Posh won yesterday at home to Rochdale (with the allowed 2000 fans) 4-1 including a 17 minute first half hatrick from Jonson Clarke-Harris.

Day 268: Back to work - Sueanne’s off and it’s the first day I’ve been at work with Jon in charge which involves a daily ‘SUMO’ (whatever that acronym stands for?) at 9.30am every day. I am still involved with te qfiniti upgrade project which seems to have taken a step backwards in the 3 days I had off, so I was working until gone 9.30pm! I have decided to do a quiz, hopefully for Christmas, whereby I don’t want the actual answers (to 25 particular questions, all with a common theme in the answer), merely an omitted question!  

Day 269: Stand Up Meeting Online. SUMO. Ian Bird told me. I might struggle with double Y for my quiz. Work was OK, more Qfiniti stuff. Posh drew away to MK 1-1. Posh were 0-1 up but Lincs lost at home. I can’t undertsand why that pleases me so....oh, yeah I can Steve Dee.

Day 270: Struggling to order Dad and Rita booze for Christmas without it being a Morrison’s delivery that I can do through Amazon Prime. That would be OK but it’s just a bit clinical! Meanwhile, now I am paying for Prime, and they are showing some Premiership games (for example, tonight I watched Liverpool v. Spurs (2-1), I really have to contact Sky - I am paying £71pm atm! Sam posted pic of her Christmas tree but mentioned how she’s finding it hard to get in the spirit - Paul has testicular cancer and the outlook is bleak - fuck know’s what she’s going through with all that, trying to shield Romiley from the worst without lying!

[almondharry]

you look so good : three

you look so good [10.8k]

“Don’t do it, M.”

“Do what?” Her voice was all too innocent. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Part three: Neumann’s Game Theory 

Neumann’s Game Theory

July 5, 2003

Genevieve’s forearms were gripped in an iron tight hold. Her mother’s long and bony fingers wrapped around like medieval vine; they curled and held Genevieve in place. With lips set in a thin line, her mother’s perfectly plucked brows were drawn in a scolding glare. The strength behind it could cut diamond.

“How did this happen?”

“I… I don’t know,” Genevieve mumbled. “I was playing and running really fast and I didn’t see the rock.” Her chin met the center of her collarbone. Loose pieces of gravel rolled under her shoe, the crunch calmed her. It was her favoured alternative over maintaining the heavy eye contact that glared from above. A drop of red splattered onto the pavement.    

“Oh, Genevieve.” The defeated sigh that slipped from her mother’s lips had less to do with mourning the dress, but more to do with the innocence that framed her rose tinted glasses. “Darling, there is only one thing I ask of you.”

Genevieve was no foreigner to her tone. It was laced with a classic sweetness, one that teachers liked to lay on thick when explaining instructions to kindergarteners.

Genevieve waited. She poked a finger in the horizontal slit of fabric that hovered above her knee. The broken threads were an easy fix; she had seen her mother tackle far worse from her work. She hypothesized it would take her six minutes at her sewing machine to restore the misalignment. It wasn’t those fancy new electric ones that had ten different settings. It was fashioned mechanically and had a joint foot pedal that Genevieve pretended was its best friend. It was humble and did all the required stitching.

“Yes, Mama?” Thin red streaks slid down the sides of her leg, tiny rivers went their separate ways. They darkened the navy blue of her dress.

Her mother’s eyes skimmed over Genevieve’s features in desperation. They took in her sweaty hairline, scratched cheek, and pouty lips.

Her tone dropped to a hush. It was a secret meant to be sealed between only them. “Never chase a boy, Genevieve. Don’t do it.”

***

October 31, 2019

Genevieve wasn’t used to the stop and go. It was something she never thought twice about when she was younger and needed to get across town, but now it was painfully obvious. A middle aged man in a green tie and second hand suit sat across the aisle from her. His ankle crossed over his knee and a newspaper open in his lap. At the front, three seats folded up and made room for a teenage girl in a wheelchair. She untangled the cord of her white headphones. A mother attempted to calm down her shrieking toddler. The boy, red faced and wet with tears, stomped his feet and waved his arms impatiently.

Genevieve didn’t mind the ruckus. Between being trapped in a self-imposed exile at a still library or the solitude of her apartment, the hustle of the city gave her much needed normalcy. Her head pressed against the window, she regretted her decision when the driver hit the brakes suddenly. The potholes on the concrete made her bang her forehead several times, but she kept it there because she liked to see her breath fog up the glass with each little puff. The cloudiness stained the window for a second before it disappeared. She enjoyed counting her exhales to pass time.

She was at a prime number, sixty-one, when the buzzing of her phone interrupted her recording.

Incoming Call. Meena.

Her thumb slid across the screen and she brought the receiver closer to her head. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Where are you?”

“Right now? Just by King Street. Shouldn’t be any much longer. Maybe twenty minutes tops.”

“Well, hit the gas, you’ve been requested.”

Genevieve mentally went over the list of people who beckoned her. She had already texted Liam and informed him that she was running slightly behind schedule. That only left Niall.

“Niall?” She laughed. ”Tell him I can’t give him a ride tonight, my car is at the shop.”

“No, not Niall— wait, how are you getting here?”

“The bus.”

“Ooh,” she hummed in realization. The toddler was now invested in a juicebox, his nose sniffled and palm wiped at his eyes for dried tears. There was still honking on the street and Genevieve nodded along to the soft music from the car radio beside them. “Those things are never on time, no wonder you’re so far away.”

“Sixteen minutes now.”

“I could’ve given you a ride if I had known.”

“It’s alright, I’ll be there soon anyway.” Green Tie flipped the page, Genevieve briefly glanced at the stock market numbers. “What’s going on there? Have they got on yet?”

“Nope it’s some poetry thing right now, they won’t be up until later. Liza said something about two more people on the set list.”

The invitation for Liam and Genevieve had stretched out to a few more familiar faces. It was Halloween night, that meant The Cabinet had colourful drinks, orange and yellow streamers on the walls, and faux cobwebs lining the bar tops. Usually Ted wouldn’t have put much thought to it, but when he noticed the direct correlation in risen sales, he made it a full blown out theme. There was a popular promotion; if you came in with a costume you get a small percentage off your drinks.

“Liam just popped into the loo to fix his face paint. There’s a guy here with a very detailed Ironman getup. Niall has taken a liking to a brunette in a lingerie set. I think she’s supposed to be a bunny, or a hamster. My drink is making my lips blue.”

“Riveting.”

“I think so too. It makes me a more believable zombie while getting me buzzed. Talk about a two for one special—” There was shuffling, ice cubes clinking against glass—“oh shit, I think… I think I see Professor Biggins.”

Genevieve groaned. He had become a common topic of conversation with Meena. She would mostly drag his name through dirt for giving her a mark that she strongly argued she didn’t deserve. He was the type of professor that had a God complex. To do above and beyond in his class—the only thing that Meena allowed herself to do—you had to fight through the trenches with your own bare hands. “Don’t do it, M.”

“Do what?” Her voice was all too innocent.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“It’s a perfectly casual setting. I’ll just buy him a drink and ask him to give me his thoughts on my rough draft,” she said. “I have a copy on my phone.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“Okay, well it isn’t a rough draft.” She let out a disgruntled huff. “It’s actually my final that I worked my arse off for the past week. But I’m not gonna let him know that, of course. Knowing him, he will rip it to shreds and make it seem like a mess of jot notes instead of well developed arguments.” Genevieve heard a gulp over the line when Meena threw back her drink. “You know I saw Lucy Wallace leaving his office hours in tears. Lucy Wallace! Can you believe it? I’ve never seen that girl with less than a four point oh, and he broke her, Gen.”

“Oh my God, leave him alone, he’s probably there to relax and not be bothered by students.”

She scoffed. “Relax? If I can’t sleep because of this bloody essay then neither should he. It’s only fair.” Genevieve could picture Meena squirming off her bar stool. “And if he really didn’t want to run into his students, he should’ve thought of that before choosing a pub on campus.”

“You’re walking towards him, aren’t you?”

“Yup, ten steps away,” she said, without an ounce of shame. “I hope he recognizes me behind this makeup. For being such a young prof, you’d expect him to be somewhat lenient and not have a stick up his arse. I swear to you Gen, this man hasn’t a clue what mercy means.”

“I’m sure you’ll give him a proper schooling on it then. With the whole definition and everything.”

“And nothing less,” Meena agreed. “Text me when you get in, yeah?”

“Take it easy on him.”

“Not a chance, see you soon.”

***

Genevieve spotted Liam instantly. His Captain America shield, leaned against the wooden peg of the table, really gave him away. A simple light fixture dangled above them and spilled a dull orange hue. Across from him, Angie sipped a pink drink and Liza was in the middle of telling a story with expressive hand gestures. A witch hat contained her curls and matched the long black maxi dress that she had on. Genevieve grimaced at the dried beer on the floor; the soles of her shoes grew tacky with every step towards the table.

“—She was a complete psycho! Had too many screws loose!” Liza exclaimed with brows at her hairline. “I had a feeling from the start, Liam! But it seems like anything I say falls on deaf ears!”

Angie rolled her eyes with a bored expression. The jewelled bracelets that covered her wrist hit against the neck of her glass as she brought the rim to her lips. “She wasn’t that bad.”

“She wouldn’t let you come out with us.”

“That was a... misunderstanding.”

“She refused to get along with any of us for more than twenty minutes.”

“Some people like to keep to themselves. Introversion and all.”

“She threw your clothes off the balcony and almost started a fire.”

Angie hissed at the painful memory, her face crumpled as she swallowed her drink. It was easy to mistake her reaction as a liquor burn. “Okay, yeah, maybe that bit was a little too much.”

“Wait a second, she threw your clothes? From the balcony? Don’t you live on the twenty second floor?” Liam’s eyes could drop out of their sockets and roll on the table like a pair of dice.

“Lived. And it was the whole suitcase, unzipped, the whole shabang. Quite the show.” Genevieve’s eyes wrinkled with amusement when Angie waved her hands in a jazz like theatre fashion, a sarcastic smile pulled at her painted black lips. “I was just happy that my clothes broke the fall for my laptop. But she did manage to crack my camera lens.”

“She sounds delightful,” Genevieve said at last when she approached close enough to the group. Her teeth caged her bottom lip to bite a smile. Liam’s head whipped around and he stood up to grab an empty stool to join the table.

“Gen, don’t get her started, please,” Liza scoffed. She leaned forward and wrapped an arm around Genevieve’s neck to pull her in for a quick hug. Despite being taken aback by the immediate friendliness, Genevieve relaxed into her embrace. “We prefer not to have a reenactment of her many grieving nights. Thank you for making it.”

“Of course! Liam wouldn’t let me miss it. When do you guys go on?” Genevieve balanced herself on the stool after her jacket was shrugged off on a nearby hook. She shot Liam a nod in thanks.

He raised his glass of beer. The foam rested well below the halfway level. He pointed his index finger at it and his brows curled in question. Genevieve’s lips mouthed ‘sure’. He threw back what was remaining of his drink down his throat before he headed towards the bar. He slid at the empty spot beside Niall, who didn’t pay any attention, too engrossed in the brunette in front of him. He was given a twisted pinch on his side, he jumped and yelped in his seat and Liam snickered as the brunette walked away.

Liza’s eyes snapped to the inside of her wrist, they doubled in size when she analyzed the hour and minute hand. “Shit, in about fifteen. I should get going.”

The Cabinet was far from a fancy establishment. Genevieve recognized a few people from her course littered around the space, everyone had a drink in hand. There was a modest platform that served as a makeshift stage. Amps, mics, and a keyboard was plugged in and the thick black wires resembled withering snakes.

Liza’s block heels sounded against the floor as she hurried towards the side of the stage where a crouched down Zayn fiddled with a specific setting on the amp, dressed in all black. His neck arched towards her when she was close enough. He had a guitar pick between his teeth like a toothpick, it made his smile crooked. He plucked it out and  gave it to her in exchange for the microphone in her hand.  Beside him, another girl turned the knobs on a bass, probably giving it some last minute tuning.

“If I remember correctly, you must be Gen. Liam and Liza mentioned you a bit.”

“I am. All good things, I hope?” She laughed.

Genevieve was impressed by Angie’s outfit. Her shirt’s bell sleeves were wide and the length of her skirt stopped at two inches below the knee. Layered necklaces and rings glinted under the light. A scarf tied across her forehead held back her hair, but it peeked out slightly. It was the crystals on the table and a deck of cards that founded her hypothesis. “Let me take a guess… you’re a fortune teller?”

“Close, try again.”

“A gypsy?” Her voice squeaked in a higher pitch.

“I’m Angie, the tarot reader.”

“I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know the difference at all.” All the trinkets that laid on the table overwhelmed her. There were crystals in all shapes and sizes and charms that sat in a green bowl.

“Don’t worry, most people don’t. Here, do you want to give it a try? My great aunt swears by this deck.” Angie raised a brow. “She said something about how she had it spelled by a Sufi in India. Just between us, I think she’s ripping off the storyline of The Monkey’s Paw. But with her, who knows? Or maybe it’s the retirement home rotting her brain.”

“What is this exactly? How does is work?” It piqued an interest. Genevieve watched closely as Angie scooped the deck of cards to shuffle with expertise.

People tended to be a bit wary about myths, legends, and the ‘other world’. Genevieve understood the fascination that came along with it, but her belief regarding the supernatural was as weak as a packed public library’s wifi signal. Her belief stayed with something she could see and understand. For her, this was the existence of concrete numbers. If anything, a deck of cards was just another application of game theory. It was all permutations and combinations that were behind seeing the past or forecasting the future, not magic.

“There are two types of reading. You can do a question based or more of an open reading,” Angie said. “We’re gonna do an open one because that was the only one my aunt was willing to teach an eight-year-old on a snow day.”

“Sounds good, how do I start?”

“After the deck is shuffled, I’m going to lay out four piles of three cards each. All you have to do is tell me which pile you gravitate towards and we can go ahead with your reading.”

Genevieve nodded.

Angie’s fingers tapped the edges to align the corners; soon, the pile was neatly ordered. She gripped the two ends of the deck and bent them in a concave curve. One of her thumbs let go and the tension released, the cards slapped against one another in a harmonic way. After the shuffling, she distributed the cards on the table, her fingers looked like they were snapping at a poetry show except no sound came out, the card between her thumb and index prevented it. The cards were faced upside down, the intricate swirly blue pattern was identical on each card.

“You know what to do,” Angie hummed after she finished with the deck. She took a generous sip of her drink while waiting for Genevieve’s response.

She rapped her fingers on the table. There wasn’t a specific reason as to why her fingers drifted to tap the second pile to her right. Maybe because Genevieve’s hand was already propped on the table and it was the nearest deck her fingers could reach. Or maybe it was the Indian Sufi controlling her actions. Whatever it was, Genevieve hoped for the best.

Angie flipped the three cards over to reveal their faces. The blue pattern was replaced with three distinct images.

“Wow,” Angie said sharply under her breath. A whistle blew from her lips as she scanned the cards to interpret their meaning. On the first card, three women stood over flowers and fruit, all holding identical cups in the air. The second card had a skeleton in black armor riding atop the back of a horse. In his hand was a black flag. The last card had a royal figure behind a veil, a well-built pillar at each of her sides. “Three of cups, death, and the high priestess. Now that’s a complicated combination.”

“How so?”

“Well the three of cups means friendship which goes against the death card. And not to mention the high priestess means new knowledge. Which is a bit off. I think this has more to do with—”

Genevieve smelled his cologne before she saw him.

She felt heat lift off his skin from his close proximity. The space was packed, leaving him no option but to step into her bubble. His presence made Genevieve’s spine solid as a metal rod. The little hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Threatening scavengers wheeled hungrily above their table.

A glass full to the top was slid in front of her, the frothy foam almost dribbled over the rim.

“Don’t listen to her, this is all rubbish,” a voice to her left sounded, his breath hitting the shell of her ear. Genevieve wiggled on her stool at the jet of warmth that shot down her arm.

“Harry, you twat! Not on the cards! You know I have to give them back!” Angie lurched forward to swipe the cards nearest the drink. She began to collect all the spread out cards into her deck with a scowl. Genevieve could’ve sworn she felt a shy lingering palm hover over the small of her back, but Harry wasn’t brave enough to actually do it.

“It’s best you put them away before you give away another false reading. Wouldn’t be the first time, right Ang?” His voice was light and airy. It gave Genvieve the impression that Angie was the easiest to pick on in their group. From jokes about scorned exes to innocent jabs here and there, she took the brunt of it all.

As if it was even possible, Harry leaned further towards Genevieve, she was half a centimeter away from falling off her stool. He tapped the wood beside the glass with his pointer finger. “Liam sent this over by the way.” Genevieve nodded, without turning in her seat. Her throat was too dry to give a response, she gulped down her drink like it was water.

“Oh piss off,” Angie brushed off. Her eyes scanned Harry’s outfit and her mouth dropped open in offence. “What happened to the pirate get up? Wait, hold on a minute, do you guys know each other?” Her curious eyes bounced back between the two. Was the Indian Sufi working overtime?

Genevieve downed a large gulp to refrain from spitting her drink out. “What? No! Why do you ask that?” Genevieve coughed before Harry could answer.

Angie shrugged. “Looks like you coordinated outfits.”

Genevieve’s eyes snapped to green ones before they flickered down to his chest. The print was a carbon copy of the fabric that hung off her shoulders except for the number in the dead centre of the shirt. Thing 1. Thing 2.

Genevieve rolled her lips as she tried to think fast on her feet. Harry saw it in her eyes, the acute sense of panic. The answer being a simple yes prompted too many questions. Genevieve didn’t want to get into the how’s and the why's. It would be like untangling knotted necklaces that had very thin chains.

Sure, they did know each other at a different time. Now, years apart, the answer failed to uphold any truth. It was the same as admitting they didn’t know the other at all. Something passed between the two of them—a mutual understanding, a silent conversation.

Harry cleared his throat, his attention gravitated back to an expectant Angie. “By coordination, you mean picking the most common shirt as an excuse for an outfit, then yes, of course, we coordinated. Along with whoever is wearing a size small in this halfway across the world.”

“Forget it, I need another drink.” Angie’s curiosity went as quickly as it came. She slid off her stool and marched towards the bar. Her necklaces and rings jingled together like windchimes with every step.

And then there were two.

Harry pretended not to notice Genevieve wrap a broken fray of her jeans around her pointer finger. It was one of her many ticks. She picked at her clothing before an important presentation, a tricky exam, confrontation. She gave the thread a hard tug and it ripped off. She had one leg crossed over the other tightly on her stool. Her thumb caged the first knuckle of her ring finger.

Harry attempted to make eye contact, and she met his gaze for the length of a heartbeat.  

Harry watched as Genevieve released a relieved breath. Her tongue ran over her lips. “Thank you,” she sighed.

Neither of them knew if it was for bringing her drink over or keeping the veil on their past.

Before Harry could respond, there were two taps into a microphone. The electric shrill came to a stop; heads turned towards the stage.

“Having a good night everyone?” The small crowd gathered near the stage grew slowly as Liza adjusted her mic stand. It was like the beginnings of the holy mecca. An incoherent response was given in a cheer. “We’re The Red Day, thank you for having us! Our first song is one I’m sure will sound somewhat familiar. Here is Nine Hearts!”

Niall and Liam whooped and hollered from their new position closer to the stage. Encouraging claps and cheers were shouted. Angie raised her drink in support. Meena abandoned her professor for their set.

At the first few chords of Liza’s guitar and Zayn’s keys, Harry’s head turned to catch a glimpse of Genevieve’s reaction. He didn’t know if her music taste differed from what it was. Was she still into the same bands? Did she still hate karaoke? Somehow he thought his questions will be answered with a hopeful glance. Then his chin met his shoulder, a frown pulled at his lips. The stool beside him was vacant. She left a wet ring of water on the table, the only proof of her presence.

Genevieve was no longer there.

***

Sweat coated the back of Genevieve’s neck and the high points of her face. Drinks sloshed over rims and a couple drops misted her skin. The small space began to feel like a furnace, the dial set at the highest setting. Energy vibrated with ease through the huddle of strangers she found herself among. Her lack of height and the dim lighting did little to aide her view of the stage. Genevieve elbowed towards the flash of blond that caught her eye.

The song switched when Genevieve stumbled beside her friends.

“There you are!” Niall screamed, but his voice was muffled. He trapped her neck in the crook of his elbow, pressing a messy kiss to her matted hairline. “Haven’t seen you all night!”

“You have me now!” Genevieve knocked elbows with a boy who rushed to the bar. Her index finger and thumb squished Niall’s cheek. Even with the facepaint, his skin was flushed a certain shade of red he only got when was buzzed or severely sunburnt. “What’s this?”

“I’m a mime!” His costume only registered to Genevieve when her eyes landed on the black and white striped shirt. Her mouth parted in a drawn out Oh.

He pushed his drink into her hands before his raised to spread in front of him, an invisible glass barrier became apparent.

“You’re the loudest person I know, whose brilliant idea was this?” She snorted when his face contorted into extreme expressions. “Could’ve mistaken you for a clown. It’s more fitting.”

That prompted a deep chuckle from Liam. He was an arms length away. A blue drink in hand. With closed eyes, he nodded his head to the mellow beat of the music. A few lighters were in the air.

“Two costumes in one, I am going above and beyond! For the people, you know?”

“So generous.” Genevieve helped herself to his drink. It would be something that Niall would snatch from her if he was sober. Instead he swayed with the rhythm and mouthed the lyrics obnoxiously all while he clutching his heart.

Genevieve could only imagine the heat of the potted stage lights aimed at Zayn, Liza, and the unnamed girl. Sweat beaded their temples. She hadn’t been lucky enough to familiarize herself with their sound. As Genevieve concentrated on the music, a stubborn knot in her shoulder dissolved.

Liza was the frontwomen, a guitar strap slung around her neck and red lips kissed the mic. Zayn was a natural behind black and white keys, practiced fingers knew their placements as if he was recalling the alphabet. No-name controlled the bass with expertise, the sound traveled through floorboards and made toes curl. They were skilled at holding down a beat. The tempo and chord arrangements went together effortlessly. It testified to the hours spent at their craft.

Liza’s voice was deep and rough and settled in your bones. Zayn occasionally leaned forward into his mic to add light harmonies that complimented her voice. The contrast between them made for a balanced sound. The amps thundered as they progressed into the pre-chorus. The crowd became rowdy with anticipation. It was an electric, needy, callous disorder.

“I need to pee,” Liam winced, his eyes pinched in pain. He was in the middle of a funny dance. He adjusted his bulge and shoved his unfinished drink into Genevieve’s hand.

Genevieve’s protest didn’t make it out in time because Liam was gone in a flash. Her mouth hung open. His figure drowned in a sea of people.

The song neared an end. A roar flooded the bar, the praise and claps were deafening. It was obvious as daylight, they were pocketing hearts away with every strum of a guitar. Liza’s chest heaved to catch her breath. Her hair bounced as she crouched down, the mouth of a plastic bottle met her lips. While she hydrated, to keep the momentum up Zayn pressed closer to his mic.

“Evening everyone—”

Niall cupped his palms around his mouth in a makeshift megaphone. “Yeah, Baby!”

Zayn closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath before he gave an acknowledging nod. “And Niall.”

“Woo!” Niall—an embarrassing soccer mom on the sidelines—didn’t quite know when to stop with the positive reinforcement. A couple heads turned towards Niall and by association, Genevieve. Zayn began to thank the crowd and plugged the student radio that he had started with Liza as another place to find their music.

Genevieve’s elbow dug in the soft pillow of Niall’s side. “You know him?” She raised a brow and pointed her chin towards the stage.

“Who? Zayn?” Genevieve nodded in confirmation. “Top lad. I smoke with him at the back after every gig. You should come. He has the best stuff.”

Genevieve’s jaw hung open in mock offence. “He’s your pot buddy now?”

“That’s what you get for abandoning me.” Niall shrugged. “I move on fast, you know?”

Genevieve recalled the last time Niall had reached out to give his invite. It was one of those weeks where too many things piled right after the other. Where days blurred into one because professors couldn’t grasp the concept of strategically placing due dates, despite having fancy doctorate degrees. “It was finals week!”

“More the reason to do it, if you ask me.” He wiggled his brows. He sighed when she pouted. “Don’t be jealous, there’s still enough of me to go around.”

Genevieve rolled her eyes freely and took a swig of the amber liquid, it slid down her throat with ease. The chords of the last song floated into the air and Genevieve didn’t bother to fix the strands of hair that stuck to her face. Her feet swayed with Niall’s, featherlight and carefree. Their arms pretzeled each other’s shoulders as they lost themselves in the music. It was a mix of knocking knees and withholding the other’s weight. Their drunken stumbles didn’t hinder their experience, if anything, it amplified it.

Liam and Meena nursed their drinks on the other side of the bar. Attempts at reclaiming their spots proved futile as the crowd grew more relentless and chaotic. All hopes of a good view died at once, like an annoying house fly under a swatter.

Meena caught Genevieve’s glazed eyes. They held eye contact, it was something they did at parties or pubs. Touching base to make sure all things are in order. Are you okay? Do you want to leave?

Genevieve shot her a thumbs up with a bubbling smile to dismiss Meena’s worries.

Meena narrowed her eyes on Genevieve’s shoulder. Her own fingers came to pinch at her top. Don’t you sleep in that?

And?

It’s wrinkled.

Genevieve spotted Meena’s professor over her shoulder. He laid some bills down on the table and folded his wallet. He then made his way slowly approaching Meena. Of course, he wasn’t in her peripheral so she had no idea. Genevieve raised her pointer finger and pointed behind her. After half a second of confusion, she turned around and plastered on the fakest smile for Professor Biggins; a perfect enactment of a comedy and tragedy masks. And so the conversation of her shirt was dropped.

Liza and Zayn wrapped up the last song, coming to a graceful end. They said their goodbyes and were off the stage in no time. Zayn proficiently folded the stand of his keyboard. Liza made sure her guitar was snug as a bug in its case.

It was a blur. Niall shoved around the group of people which were taking too long to dissipate. Genevieve squeaked when a harsh tug trapped her wrist. Niall lead her towards the door of the back exit where Zayn and Liza helped themselves to a few water bottles. Their equipment leaned against the wall.

Niall threw his arms around Zayn instantly, the sudden force caused him to stumble back. Zayn recovered easily from his falter, then beamed at Niall with a wide smile.  

“You lot killed it! Insane! Absolutely smashed it!”

Genevieve nodded at Niall’s words. “It was amazing to watch, I’ll be sure to catch the next set.”

“We will definitely let you know when we get it lined up.” Liza glowed with post stage euphoria. You could reach out and practically touch the energy still buzzing around her. “Oh, Zayn! This is Gen!”

The quick introduction was met with a kind smile and nod.

“Ah, yes! Liam mentioned you.” Zayn’s thumb struck towards the iron gate. A red exit sign was fixated on hinges above. “We’re going out for a quick smoke. You’re welcome to join.”

It was a common theme, Genevieved noted. There was no awkwardness or tough exterior that needed to be cracked to befriend Zayn, Liza, and Angie. No deadbolts or fastened chains, instead a welcome mat situated boldly outside their door. Genevieve found herself taking a step in.

“Liz, you coming?” Zayn inquired when he spotted Liza shuffling towards the opposite direction.

“Gonna grab some drinks first. Rum and Coke good for you?”

“Yeah, hurry back.” Zayn pushed open the door and they stumbled outside one by one.

The cool breeze made it seem like they just exited a sauna, the heavenly contrast stretched a wide dopey smile on Genevieve’s lips. It was a narrow alley of two red brick walls. Flies circled the lined dumpsters, but they were far enough that the smell wasn’t unbearable. She had been here on many occasions. She once held back Meena’s hair as she vomited in the corner, then again when Niall needed a place to quietly cry after his first breakup, and once more when Liam became insanely paranoid after a happy pill.

Zayn and Genevieve bounced back the typical introduction. He studied life sciences, had three younger brothers, and was doing research with a professor Genevieve once had. Alongside his work at the radio, he proctored exams and did part-time hours at a record store down the block. He smiled with his tongue flattened behind the row of his top teeth. He had buzzed his hair to purposefully display the tattoo behind his ear.

Niall and Zayn got talking about the upcoming game. They made light conversation until the door flung open, abruptly. It slammed against the wall with great force.

“Fuck.”

The ugly screech of metal against brick didn’t falter Genevieve. The sight the door revealed did. Zayn grabbed the swinging door just before it had the opportunity to collide again.

“Jesus, H, you’re gonna have to pay a fortune if that falls off its hinges,” Zayn warned.

“All I have is ten quid.” The self deprecation was laid on thick, a nonchalant shrug tacked on the end of his sentence. In his hands were tall glasses, the pad of his fingers turned slightly white from their hold. “—And your drink.”

“Where’s Liz?” Zayn asked holding his drink to his lip as he looked over the rim.

“She popped into the loo for a bit,” said Harry. She is thankful for the few drinks circling her veins because it helped lessen the intensity of his gaze when he noticed her standing there. “She’ll be out with Angie in a minute.”

It feels like she’s in elementary school and in trouble. Her previous departure was still fresh in his head, it flared an insecurity in him that he thought was long put to bed.

Lately, Genevieve made him feel one prominent emotion. Her quick dismissals made him invisible, like a little boy in red shorts at a gym class line up that everyone knew would be picked last. He was a blackened steel pot pushed to the backburner. However, the difference between that boy and Harry was the years that separated them. He has learned the art of confrontation. He won’t hide in bathroom stalls during lunch, he will not cower from her rejection. He is here, whether she likes it or not.

Genevieve avoided him by taking an interest in the sky above with her fingers braided behind her back. She expected him to hand the drink and turn around, but like always—she is proven wrong about him.

Genevieve doesn’t realize how tight the ally was until Harry’s shoulders brushed the crest of her collarbone to take the vacant spot beside Zayn. She had instinctively pressed her back to the rough brick wall to create as much distance as possible. The back of her sneakers squished old cigarette butts lodged in the cracks of the pavement. She held her breath for a moment and deflated when the only thing left of him was a gust of wind.

“Perfect.” Zayn dipped his fingers to the back pocket of his jeans.

They were pre-rolled. The white of the paper is less transparent at one end and more opaque on the opposite. The two joints are rolled into a twist in a way that doesn’t make the length lopsided and uneven.

Genevieve wasn’t an habitual or chain smoker. In fact, she hated the smell of reminiscent smoke. She indulged herself every once in a while. Especially when the pace of everything increased to uncontrollable speed, when deadlines weighed down on certain pressure points and occasionally, when Niall begged her to. It was effective to take the heaviness off her, the feeling of carrying extra body weight would evaporate.

Zayn and Niall picked up their conversation, Harry adding his two cents here and there.

You can hear stumbling drunks coming out from the front doors of The Cabinet. A pair of heels dangled from a girl’s grip as she made a run to cross the street with a friend. It was nearing the time where tabs were closed out and cab rides would be split.

“Fuck,” Zayn groaned with one spliff trapped between his lips and the other one behind his ear. He patted his front and back pockets like he was looking for his car keys or wallet. His brows frowned as he repeats it again. “I think I dropped my lighter.”

“Oh, that’s no problem.” Niall waved. “Gen, you always keep one on you, yeah?”

It’s humiliating.

The simple question among different company wouldn’t be much of a concern. It was innocent and didn’t hold much significance in a stranger’s eye. But Harry’s ears perked up and brows jumped at the little piece of information. The way his eyes fixated on her added a double meaning, it was enough to make something crawl under her skin.

Tiny centipede legs stomped all over her. The scales of a snake slithered itself around her neck, gradually suffocating her airways. Her mouth filled with live cockroaches.

Genevieve’s stomach churned.

“Gen?” Niall elbowed her side, breaking her out of her trance.

“Yeah?”

“Lighter?”

“‘Course.”

It was a weak fumble, her fingers trembled as she plucked it out from her back pocket. It was the most mundane looking thing on the planet. The white colour was chipped at the sides. The sparkwheel was dulled, but worked just fine. The flint spring was probably a bit beaten down.

With the back of her nail, Genevieve flicked the guard off. Her thumb pushed down and her free hand cupped around the igniting spark. It took two tries before the fork gave away and released the gas from the valve. A candle light heat absorbed into her skin. She brought the flame towards Zayn. His face was a soft yellow, and the tip of the spliff glowed a burnt orange. The flame died when it was no longer needed. His hollow cheeks inhaled a drag. Lips curled and he hummed in content. When he exhaled, a pungent smell of cannabis floated through the air.

Zayn handed it to Niall before swapping it out with the unlit blunt. Genevieve repeated her motions once more.

“Shit,” Niall sighed in bliss. “This one’s a good one.”

He handed the joint to Genevieve. Her thumb and index finger pressed the rolled paper to her lips. The smoke was smooth and Genevieve held it in her lungs for a moment. White smoke puffed out and Genevieve wishes it was thick enough to block Harry’s intentive peering. Zayn offers him a hit, but he declined by raising his drink to his mouth.

Genevieve takes another drag and taps off the ashes before passing it back to Niall.

It goes on like that for a bit. A calming silence fluttered between them. It took about twenty minutes for the high to settle in. There is an upward buoyancy in oil which is greater than the downward force of its gravity. That is why oil floats when mixed with water. Genevieve’s insides feel like someone stirred a spoon in the mixture; uneven bubbles of separated oil danced towards the surface freely.

She noticed her reactions weren’t as sharp when she laughed a beat after Zayn’s joke. It was easier to smile; two invisible strings pulled at the corners of her lips like she was a puppet in a grand show.

One side of her face was warmer than the other. The alcohol and weed blurred the edges of her view, but she felt his eyes on her. She stamped her eyes shut and threw her head back, soft giggles broke through. Everything was funnier when you were stoned. Her knuckle collected an escaped tear from her glassy eyes.

If Genevieve was sober, Harry would’ve looked away when she caught him. There was something charged in the air. He hadn’t seen her like this much before. She anticipated him to blink away when Genevieve locked her eyes on his. But he was shameless, and as usual, she held his stare for a moment too long.

Her fingers swiped the blunt from Niall. She took another hit in hopes of deluding herself into thinking that the tension between them was imaginary.

She inhaled too quickly. The smoke trapped in her windpipe and she spluttered a few coughs. Her eyes stung and fresh tears surfaced. Genevieve passed the spliff back to Niall and tipped her head back. The wall behind her propped her weight as she took a minute to calm her breathing.

In her compromised state, she could only think one thing clearly. She had to get out of here.

“I’m gonna grab some water.”

She didn’t wait to hear their response. She pushed herself off the wall. The door pulled open under her grip and Zayn and Niall said something she couldn’t make out. Her eyes squinted to focus under the soft yellow lighting. She made a beeline towards her jacket. It was easier to navigate the premises since a large amount of people had filtered out. Genevieve took out her phone and typed away.

Going hooome. -Gen

A bing sounded from her phone. The name of the group chat lit up as she wrestled an arm into her jacket.

If you wait half an hour, I’ll take you. Need to sober up first. -Meena

Gen whyyyy, stay for a bit longer! -Liam

I’m so stoned. I’m gonna go home and stuff my face with food. Or sleep. -Gen

Don’t worry, M! I’m already out! Where are you btw, didn’t see you? -Gen

Washrooms! There is a huge line :( -Meena

A girl is wearing a nice skirt, should I ask her where she got it from? -Meena

Munchies? -Niall

You know it -Gen

Eat a bag of chips for me -Niall

Maybe two -Niall

Ask her about the skirt. I have my money on H&M -Niall

Text when you get home safe -Liam

Genevieve walked for five minutes. The door of The Cabinet was far enough to be a miniature entrance of a dollhouse. She had missed the last departure time of the bus and decided the crisp night air would make for a sobering walk. Her reflexes were still a bit delayed. The traffic lights glowed on the sidewalk pavement until she harshly blinked to steady the blurred image. Everything was sluggish, her vision muddled and a few green and red circles floated about.

She recalled the corner shop from her childhood house, it sold cheap DVDs. The sleazy man at the counter never denied burning them illegally. The image quality was broken and poor. Her hands were a clump of squared pixels that took a minute to buffer.

The last button of her jacket was secured when loud footsteps mirrored hers from behind. She gripped the metal chain link of the bag sat on her shoulder tightly.

It was dark. Especially now that she passed the strip of convenience shops, no open signs lit up the streets.

She inhaled a shaky breath through her nose and a jagged puff came from her parted lips. The sweat from her palms caused her grip on the bag to slide down.

It could be nothing. Maybe she was hearing things. She didn’t want to assume the risk of turning around. Instead, she counted her steps from each lamp post to the next. They weren’t consistent. The range was from ten to sixteen. The mean would lie around twelve. The mode was eleven.

Before she began to compute the median, she choked on a sharp intake of air as the footsteps neared closer than ever.

Her neck stretched and examined her surroundings. You were intentionally supposed to put yourself in a very visible place or somewhere where a witness could be found, something she once read in an article online. Genevieve made note of the houses that still had their lights on.

“Are you avoiding me?” An exhausted voice huffed out. Impatient with a hint of naked hurt. “You are, aren’t you?”

Fear clenched her jaw. Her brain waved tiny red flags, the ones that topped cupcakes. The familiarity of the voice shot a clear fishing line and sank its hook in the flesh of her shoulder. The reel was being taken in and slowly she turned around. The crunch of gravel distracted her from the erratic thump thump thump of her pulse.  

“Harry?” She wheezed. She expected his name to roll off easily, but she stuttered and added another syllable. His name sat on her tongue with the weight of a rounded pellet.

“‘Course, who else would it be?”

“Holy fuck.” Stress alleviated only when he stood under the light of a lamp post. Her shoulders eased as the impending horror diluted. “Don’t you know not to creep up on someone who is walking the street alone? I thought you were a murderer!”

“Oh–shit, I didn’t think of that,” he confessed with a sheepish smile. A wave of humility flooded his features and he glanced towards the sky. With his fists deep in his jean pockets and head thrown back, he never looked more youthful. “Well if it’s any reassurance, I’m not.”

“Lovely.”

He spluttered a laugh at her impassive tone. “Is that a new thing of yours? Not answering questions?”

“What gives you the impression I’m avoiding you?”

“You ran out of there like a bat straight out of hell.”

“I have an 8 a.m tomorrow.” She didn’t. “Nothing personal, don’t be so sensitive.”

Harry uttered a string of words under his breath so incoherent they never made it to Genevieve’s ears. His boot kicked a pebble off the sidewalk to the empty street. Genevieve and Harry watched it skip twice before it laid in an anticipated still.

His boots resumed their trek towards the direction she had previously set her path to. It was a line of residential houses. Each one had identical roofs, a sharp triangular hat. He passed four houses before it dawned on him. He didn’t feel another presence trail after his shadow. Long legs halted in an abrupt stop. He peered to his left before he turned around fully, arms raised in question. “Well, come on then! What are you waiting for?”

“What are you doing?”

“Walking you home.”

Genevieve snorted. “That is the last thing I need”

“Oh, come off it. You’re out of your mind, literally. And you yourself said that there are actual murderers on the street.”

The prolonged silence didn’t falter for a moment. Crickets chirped and a frog groaned from the nearby pond. Genevieve held his stare without remorse. He needed to offer a compelling reason as to why walking her home was his concern. It hadn’t been for the past three years. She was far from a little girl who needed her hand held to cross the street.

It took a moment, but he finally caved.

“I’m headed in that direction anyway.”

Genevieve didn’t throw him a bone right away. His proposition molded into a clay-like fixture and took shape in Genevieve’s mind. The newfound tangibility allowed her to rotate it on an xyz plane to analyze from every which way.

Her weak inhibitions, admittedly the reason behind her decision, coupled with a lack of energy to put up a fight contributed to possible human error. She dragged her feet towards him, a ball and chain clasped snug around her ankle. Her mother’s words vanished into thin air.

The moon, a clipped toenail, played a game of hide and seek with surrounding clouds. It would peek out every other second—a shy toddler that clung to their mother’s calf. Thin overgrown grass blades swayed with the wind and became italicized, upright, then italicized again. A steady and delicate whoosh sounded between them rhythmically, their own personal metronome.

It was alien to walk side by side him. Short legs worked twice as hard for every step he took. To her memory, it was never this demanding. Her breaths, once even, began to puff out in quick jabs after a few steps. It blemished the silence and perked Harry’s ears. In an instant, his pace was adjusted and Genevieve was no longer the victim to his strides.

Harry’s index fingernail scratched above his top lip. It was his attempt to hide a budding smile. “You smell like maple.”

Harry had a tendency to short circuit, there were times he blurted out a phrase or thought meant to be kept in the space between his ears. He had explained it to her as an involuntary muscle spasm, he could control the twitch at times but he would slip up once in a while. His statement was full of surety, an irrefutable fact. For a second, she ignored it.

He turned to her with a boyish grin, it coined a painfully deep dimple to his left cheek. It conveyed that this was no slip up, it was deliberate.

“What?” Her laugh was dry and perplexed under his observation.

“And weed, but mostly maple—like the syrup. Is it a new perfume?”

Genevieve pressed the neck of her shirt to her nose and sniffed the cotton. She only smelled the weed. “I think you’ve finally lost it. Haven’t you?” Harry grinned to the floor, bashful and content. His hair flopped on his face. “Along with a couple of inches. Finally figured out where the barber is located?”

“You don’t like it?” He feigned offence.  

“Doesn’t matter what I like, I don’t think I’ve ever seen your ears. It’s different, that’s for sure.”

“Good different? Bad different?” He prodded. “You gotta give me something to work with here.”

“Neither… I guess? It’s just changed, is all.” The pathway curved into a right turn. They passed by a low shrill of a heater attached below a window. “People change, it’s expected.”

“Not as much as we like to think, no,” he countered, his fingers threaded his hair back. “You are a prime example, haven’t changed a bit.”

Genevieve was unaware if he had taken to being the devil’s advocate as a part time hobby, but regardless she took his bait. They still had quite the trek to cover. “What makes you think that?”

“Well for starters, you still run a bit late.” A snicker fell from his lips, adolescent yet collected. A thumb jutted out from his closed fist.

“Well, it is better than not coming at all.”

“You only drink Stellas.” His index finger appeared. She felt like he put her smack dab in the middle of a boxing ring. He was red gloved offence which left her to fulfill the defence vacancy.

“—A classic. Can never go wrong with it.”

“Can’t smoke without coughing.”

“Hey. Happens to everyone. Mild error.”

“And carry that lighter.” The slow ringing in her ear ascended in volume like a train arriving at a platform. Tight sheets of saran wrap roped around her face. “One that’s not yours.”

Ah, there it was.

Her lungs were empty, winded as though he had delivered a suckerpunch to her gut rather of a small observation. Out of the four fingers, his middle one had a metal band. An ornate rose— bloomed, its petals laid vulnerably wide open. Would it leave a scar? Her bottom lip cushioned the front row of her teeth as she sorted her brain for something, anything.

“It’s a very useful tool. Comes in handy multiple times, more than you can imagine.”

He had a good eye, perfect vision, and an even better insight to see right through her.

Harry pursed his lips. “I’m sure it has.”

The shift in the atmosphere right before it begins to pour mesmerized Genevieve. The air would be stale and thick. It held a suffocating weight and the unbearable humidity made it harder to draw a breath; each inhale came through the narrow valley of a plastic straw. That’s how it felt standing beside Harry. She had forgotten about it for years, but now it mocked her head on.

“But these—” the pad of his index finger tapped his temple twice—“These are new, right?” He expertly switched topics when her head bowed down and an ashamed stare fixed on the pavement for a moment too long.

The reply wasn’t immediate and Harry kicked himself for bringing it up in the first place. He disrupted the natural current of the conversation and it was achingly obvious. He should’ve kept his mouth shut, probably even locked it and tossed the key down the gutter. They don’t talk about it, it’s something they don’t do.

A punishing silence dragged on for an eternity. She forgot how to string together a sentence. Time was needed to collect the pieces of her scattered brain.

Eventually, she gave out a long defeated hum. “They are, how do they look?”

The glasses sat on the bridge of her nose were wide framed. If you looked closely they had a tortoise pattern, the colour of toffee. When she smiled, the apples of her cheeks pressed to the underside of the plastic.

“So good.” He didn’t miss a beat.

She smiled, halfheartedly.

Good. Nothing had felt good for a long time. Genevieve didn’t realize it for a while. Denial was a wicked witch that masked what lay in front with a dozen spells. The days continued to come one after the other. Consecutive and strict. Then Mondays got confused with Thursdays. Months came and went. And suddenly it was years later. Everything was gone. He was gone, until he wasn’t.

“Enough about me.” She cleared her throat before it knotted in on itself. “How’s Esther?”

“Annoying as ever.” He rolled his eyes, words dipped in fond admiration. It was love, gentle and timid. “She doing great. We’re talking more now.”

“That’s good,” she sighed. That was the bitterest pill of them all. Harry was good. So good.

“She wanted to meet you.”

Her head shot up, she brought her hand to her chest. “Me?”

“Yeah, she asks about you a lot.” Genevieve gulped at the piece of information. She assumed Harry would have avoided bringing her up to others. The only way Genevieve could see herself in his current life is as an abandoned cardboard box, shoved in the back of his closet. Only opened to reminisce about what was. “Didn’t know how to tell her you won’t pick up my calls.”

“I got a new number. Dropped my phone in the toilet.”

“‘Course you did.” Her building came into view and Harry feels like someone flipped an hourglass. Each grain fell too quickly. Harry’s vision darts around his surroundings as if he is in search for a lost valuable. He doesn’t look for an item in particular, but he hopes to find another topic of conversation to prolong the definite departure. His hands tremble. No matter how tight his fist clenched, the grains slipped.

He began his sentence without knowing how it will end. “You should… you should come over for dinner.”

The helplessness in his plea made Genevieve question his invite. “Dinner?”

Shaky fingers combed his hair back. He gripped the crown of his head in tepid frustration. “Yeah, or I don’t know, lunch? Breakfast? Brunch?—”

Genevieve saw the anxiousness grow in his eyes, a beast slowly rising from its slumber. If he had all the time in the world, he would spend it on completing his list. They would be there all night.

She knew better than to make promises she couldn’t keep. Committing to dinner with a non-existing appetite wasn’t at the top of her list, priority wise.

“—This is me,” Genevieve stated to put him out of his misery. A yawn escaped her. She wanted nothing more for her pillow to bear the weight of her head, which felt like a million pounds and more.

“I know.”

She coughed in her fist, a flush crept up her neck. Of course he knew. She busied herself with plucking the bundle of keys from her bag. “How far off are you?”

“Oh not by much.” His unclear answer made Gen tilt her head. A question mark hung in the air. “Just that way,” he added. A thumb pushed towards the street on the left. It didn’t even have a name plate on it.

It was one of the things about him that made Genevieve red in the face on multiple occasions. It was never a linear answer with him. He danced around to an nth degree. What do you want to eat? Anything. What time can you come around by? I don’t know, maybe seven. Where will you be at Tuesday? Can’t tell. Can you do this for me? I’ll try. At times, Genevieve wanted to dump a can of grey paint on him because that is the only colour he knew.

“Where do you live, Harry?”

“Are you inviting yourself over?” He was all cheek and wit. A tactic Genevieve saw him pick up from the master himself.

“Just answer the question.”

Genevieve doesn’t know why his living accommodation takes an interest. She conditioned herself to stop caring for his well-being and whereabouts ages ago. That’s something they don’t tell you about broken friendships. You can never resort to a hundred percent erasure of someone. There is no backspace or delete button.

Maybe a part of her wanted to know if he was actually safe, secure and stable, or if it was a front. She wanted a person to compare herself with. Sometimes Genevieve pictured them as two athletes on a track field sprinting towards the finish line. The white line signified growth, healing, and closure. Genevieve was always behind him.

“Edison and Fourth, apartment nine,” he clarified. His weight shifted from his heels to his toes. “It’s decent, but has a slight mice problem. Zayn has set up traps.”

Genevieve blinked robotically when she mapped the intersection in her brain. She frowned when the red pin dropped on the map. “That’s like a thirty minute walk in the opposite direction.”

“I’ll manage, I think I saw a bus stop not far away.”

It would’ve been a much shorter and efficient route straight from The Cabinet. Instead, his insisted pit stop tacked many more steps than needed.

“You really didn’t have to go out of your way to walk me.”

“Yes I did,” his firm tone didn’t waver. The next words flowed like ripples do in a river. “I always will.”

Genevieve slipped her fingers into her back pocket and retrieved her phone. It was warm from her body heat. Her thumb hovered over the screen until it lit her home screen, the bottom half of her face illuminated with a fluorescent light. Her thumb tapped over an application before she typed in the address previously given as the desired destination. A bubble popped up with a potential driver and route. “I’m calling you an uber.”

“No you aren’t. It’s a waste of money.”

She looked up with a bewildered expression. “Don’t be crazy.”

“Cancel it.”

She hadn’t confirmed it, her credit card information covered the screen, but she wasn’t going to let him be privy to that. “No.”

It was unexpected, to say the least.

He jolted towards her in a way that blinded her eyesight to only the colour of his shirt. Red. Red. Red. Her nose brushed against cotton over his shoulder, lint rubbed against her nostrils. His smell reminded her of the grocery store aisle with all the detergents and softeners.

The lack of distance distracted her for a moment. “What are you—hey give that back.”

His fingers brushed against hers were like hot coal. The device was swiped away as if he had the hands of a practiced kleptomaniac.

“I said I am fine as is.”

Maybe it was the effects of alcohol and weed that set something off in Genevieve. It flicked a switch that she had no idea existed, his fingers crawled deep in her chest and pushed the lever up. Anger bubbled and frustration swelled in her. The simmering volcano rose.

“Can you just stop! All of it!” The pads of her fingers dug into his shoulder as she gave a hard push. He staggered back two steps from her force. When space was created between them, Genevieve exited a narrow tunnel, seeing the whole picture and not just some biased misrepresentation. “Showing up everywhere, giving me drinks, walking me home.”

Harry’s face crumpled like a ball of paper being thrown in the nearest trash can. His posture slumped, shoulders caved in on themselves.

“That’s a bit harsh, no?” When Genevieve didn’t reply to him he bit his lower lip. His unsure steps neared her, his voice dropped to a different modulation. Tender and watchful. “Genny...”

“—No, no.” Her words broke by a parched laughter that bordered hysteria. She backed away cautiously when his eyes glimmered with something. He was doing it again. The signature pleading glaze enticed its prey. It got him many things in life: assignment extensions, a bed, with a blonde if he was lucky. “I’m not doing this with you, not again.”

“Can you just hear me out?”

Genevieve’s expression was frozen in a revengeful scowl. She compressed her lips together, an attempt to not spew out nasty words. The skin around her lips turned a shade of white from the lack of blood flow to the vessels. There was only so much self control one could contain. She reserved her ration for a particularly complex problem or when Jonah was getting on her last nerve. Genevieve hadn’t penciled in a portion to give to Harry in such a long time.

“What’s there left to hear, Harry?” She exploded and his shoulders dropped immediately. A yellow light turned on behind a window pane in the building above her from the sudden raise in volume. She inhaled a slow breath in order to contain herself. Her fingers knotted in her hair and she inadvertently felt her throbbing pulse. Her hands motioned in the space that divided them. “This, us? Whatever you’re trying to find again, is not there. You’ve got an amazing life, even better friends. Hell, they’re probably a thousand times better than I ever was.”

“Not true, don’t do that—”

“You don't get it, do you?” Her voice croaked. Genevieve trained herself to not break composure near Harry. She memorized the floorboard to such a detail that she could navigate the house blindly, but now her weight gave away on a loose piece of hardwood and it creaked. “You’re making me think about it all again and it won’t be long until I go weeks without sleeping. I need you to...” Her nostrils flared to inhale a breath, she held it in her lungs as if it delayed the inevitable. But the silence spoke.

I need you to leave me alone. I need you to go away.

He shook his head rapidly. Stern determination fixed in his every word, “I’m not doing that. Not again.”

“Why the hell not?” She spat. Her nails pressed stinging half moons into her palm. Her words, rather vindictive and eroded, were rightfully just. “You were so quick to do it before.”

She looked into his eyes, they were level headed and cool; a complete juxtaposition when compared to hers. Harry wondered when her face became gaunt and the darkness of eyebags took up a permanent living.

“Genny.”

She wasn’t five years old anymore, but a horizontal sting settled above her knee. Her skin ripped open, red splattered all over the floor. He wore red. She saw red. She spilled red.

“I’m tired, Harry.” Admitting this made Genevieve feel small. She closed her eyes and waved her white flag.

Being around Harry was gruesome. Genevieve could only compare it to a drained battery. She didn’t have enough fuel to do this with him. The cogs were rusted from not being used in ages. He brought the rim of a metal container to her lips. His fingers clamped on the back of her neck to keep her in place as he tilted the container up. He poured battery acid down her throat. Concentrated sulfuric acid blackened her insides and poisoned her with every sip.

“I’m so tired.”

***

“On Hallowe'en the old ghosts come about us, and they speak to some; to others they are dumb.” - Hallowe'en by Eleanor Farjeon

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