#most of the time it doesn’t which is another way we all get ripped off

[halfricanloveyou]

i live in america. there are no other brands besides corporate brands and brands that are owned by corporate. there are not local alternatives in most stores. i have never in my life seen a locally made soda. i’ve only seen a locally made alcohol and it is only available in a restaurant.

local alternatives also cost more. if you go to a walmart, the most affordable grocery stores, they do not have any local products. if you go to a more expensive grocery store they do! there are 2 local products. they are jam and salsa. there are 5 varieties of jam and 5 of the salsa. it is all only from one local seller. it costs 3 times as much as the other products in the same aisle, which already cost more than they would at a different store.

instead you could buy an off brand soda. it will be cheaper but it will taste bad and it is made by the Walmart corporation which also underpays it’s workers and at some locations treats them horribly.

we can’t buy what is not available and accessible to us. in america we don’t have any other options than what is produced by corporations. spending more on locally made speciality goods weekly is not realistic.

*You should recognize bad practices AND not voluntarily support companies through conducting business (i.e. purchasing luxury products).

[kingkat12]

pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink," 

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here. 

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with. 

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either. 

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality. 

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table. 

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected. 

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room. 

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation. 

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms. 

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude. 

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this.  "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat. 

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. 

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters. 

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra. 

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what. 

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes. 

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss. 

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on. 

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time," 

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

[whatifitis]

♡ Only Us - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando does a little fuck up and you're stubborn but you love him anyway. Feat. Max F being annoyed with a lack of dining utensils in an airbnb

Author's Note: this was based off this request! sorry for taking so long to write something. I hope this lives up to the request <3

WC: 1633

CW: Lando being a little shit, fluff, max f cussing

“I can’t believe this expensive air bnb doesn’t have utensils.” Max says, feeling a bit frustrated as you’d all gone shopping earlier for some groceries for your time in the air bnb. However, none of you thought to get some silverware as well, “it’s an air bnb, not a fucking hotel. There should be silverware in here. For fucks sake. We’re gonna have to eat with our hands like barbarians.”

“Max, relax. We can just get some pizza or something. No need for utensils.” Pietra says, walking up to him and hugging him from behind. You were starving so you hope a consensus can be made quickly. You hadn’t eaten all day due to having to rush from one place to another and somehow, every place that you had passed and that served food had a long wait. 

You and Lando watched the scene unfold from the couch as Max tried to argue that utensils will be needed at some point and you can’t just eat pizza the whole trip. After some debates, Max clapped his hands together, “All right. We’re getting chinese because we can ask for utensils and use them for most of the trip.” 

Everyone seemed pleased with Max’s idea and so you all gathered around to list everything that was needed before someone made the call and actually placed the order. 

In true Lando fashion, the man ordered nearly 40 spring rolls… that’s your man…

The whole group gathered in the living area and played some card games while everyone waited for the food to arrive. There was a lot of betting and wins and losses. Lando somehow was the only one to be down to his underwear after losing quite a few rounds of poker. Only Lando would find himself in that predicament. 

“If the food doesn’t arrive soon, I’m gonna call and ask where the fuck it is. It’s been ages. Where the fuck is it? The guy is probably having a fat shit and the foods getting fucking cold.”

“Max, it’s been 30 minutes and it was a pretty big order. It will be fine, just sit down and have some crisps.”

“No, P I’ve got the shakes look.” Max says whilst purposefully shaking his hands in an exaggerated manner, to which Pietra rolled her eyes. 

After some time, the doorbell rang and Max just about ran to the door, tripping over the leg of a chair in the process. Once Max is back with the bags of food, he places them on the table and begins to unpack them. As he unpacks everything, his eyebrows begin to furrow with each item he takes out, “No, no, no ,no! No fucking way.”

“Mate, what’s going on?” Lando walked behind Max. 

“There’s no utensils! They forgot the fucking utensils. Oh my fuck.” Max says in defeat, throwing his hands in the air and plopping onto the seat behind him. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. You feel bad for the man, but the scene was just too funny. 

“Yeah, keep laughing as you eat your fried rice with your bare hands. I hope your fucking rice is cold as well, fucks sake.” Max threatens. The man may be small, but when he’s upset, he doesn’t hold back with the threats. 

“Max, it’s okay. We can just make some makeshift utensils.” you offer. 

“Now how are we gonna do that, Y/n.”

“Simple. Someone can use this pen, we can roll this piece of paper into a cone and someone can shovel food into their mouth-”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous… Let’s do it before I rip someone's head off.”

So now the scene is painted, everyone is sitting around the coffee table and chowing on their food with the strangest objects. Pietra was using two makeup brushes as some makeshift chopsticks whilst Max opted to use the cone shaped paper, literally shoveling food into his mouth. Lando had decided to use a pen to try and shove food into his mouth and you ended up using a lens that popped out of your glasses when Lando sat on them earlier. 

When it happened, you wanted to be upset with Lando because they were your favorite glasses and they were the only ones you had brought on this trip. But Lando quickly apologized and immediately bought you a new pair. You also couldn’t be mad because once Lando saw how upset you were, he’d said “Just because my ass is fat, doesn't mean my feelings are tough.”

“I’m so hungry, I was about to go mental.” you said as you had taken your first few bites. 

“Same.” Max said, causing you all to side eye him, “what?”

“Babe, you were already going mental.” Pietra had told him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was calm, cool, and collected.”

After everyone openly judged Max, you all carried on eating and talking. Lando decided it was a good idea to play around and when he did, he was bumping into you. You were still eating so you asked him to calm down so you could finish eating but he didn’t. He ended up knocking your lens out of your hand and it got thrown across the room, shattering onto the floor. 

You just simply sat and stared at the shattered lens. You guys were limited on things you could use to eat so now all you could do was eat with your hands. But now you were too pissed off to eat. You’d lost your appetite. You simply stood up, threw your plate out and went to bed. 

Lando followed after you and you quickly glanced at him before turning your back to him. He looked truly regretful of his actions, “Baby, I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you. You hadn’t eaten all day and I fully messed up. You can use the pen I was using. You didn’t eat much.” 

“Not now, Lan. I’m tired and I don’t wanna yell at you.”

He understood his faults and didn’t want to make everything worse. He knew you needed the space so that night, he didn’t come to bed. He decided it was probably best to spend the night on the couch and let you have the bed to yourself. 

You tossed and turned all night, missing Lando’s warm body being next to yours. He did make you upset today but it didn’t mean you wanted him to sleep on the couch. But you were too stubborn so he spent the whole night on the couch. 

In the morning, everyone was set to wake up and get ready to ski and snowboard. You decided to sleep a little longer due to the fact that you slept so little during the night. But your sleep was cut even shorter when you were startled awake from the slamming of a door. Lando had accidentally hit the bedroom door so hard, it slammed into the wall. 

As soon as Lando had realized his mistake, he, once again, looked at you apologetically and mouthed the words ‘i’m so sorry’ but you were already pissed off yet again. You decided to just get up and get ready for the day, not paying much mind to Lando as you didn’t want to explode at him. 

The whole day, you spent time with the girls and just tried to enjoy your day. When it was starting to get dark, the whole group agreed to meet at the bottom of the hill near the cafes. You made your way down on your snowboard and when you spotted Lando standing alone at the bottom, you decided to have a little payback. 

Once you were close enough, you turned your snowboard to stop and spray Lando with snow. 

“I deserved that.” Lando had said as he tried to brush off some snow.

“You did.” was all you said before you made your way to the rest of the group. 

Once everyone was back in the cabin, you all started shedding your layers and began to unwind. You were walking around the house, just tidying a bit out of boredom when you stumbled upon some mistletoe that was hanging in one of the doorways. “You know we need to kiss now because that's the rule.” you heard Lando say from behind you. He had his classic smirk plastered on his face. 

You decided to give him a quick peck, resulting in him being smiley and thinking everything was okay now. 

“Nope. Still mad.” you said as you turned to walk away. But before you could walk away, Lando had wrapped himself around you. 

“No! I’m not letting you go til you love me again.”

“Lan, let me go.”

“No”

“Lan”

“Nope”

This continued as you tried to wrestle him off but he kept his hold on you and he ended up climbing onto your back but you weren’t prepared so the two of you fell into a mess of intertwined limbs and laughter. 

After the two of you caught your breath, Lando asked “Are we okay?” with a serious look on his face. You knew he could be insecure at times in the relationship, even after little arguments and disagreements. 

“Yes, baby. We’re okay. I was just tired, I’m sorry for making you think otherwise.” 

“‘S okay. I know I kinda fucked up.”

“Yeah. But no matter the fight, I will still love you and want you. What we’ve got going is good.” you move your hand to gently tap his temple, “We can try to quiet the noises in your head.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “I never thought there’d be someone like you who could want me. But here you are. It’s you and me and that’s all that I need it to be.”

“Only us.”

“Only us.”

[cornerstoreclown]

Mornings with Art? I think it’s a cute scene to imagine Art eating while reader comes in (all sleepy and groggy and out of it cause they just woke up), wordlessly kisses him on the cheek, and makes her breakfast

Writing this before bed. So if there’s errors, I’ll get ‘em tomorrow. For now here’s some domestic shit. I did add dialogue though, I hope that’s okay! I was trying to think of how to go about it without words but then I just went wherever my head led me.

F!Reader x Art

———————————

Ever since he’d come home one particularly bad night due to a victim that just so happened to be carrying a firearm, he’d been taking it easy on himself. A few bullet wounds here and there, which you helped him patch up with the standard bandages and gauze, but for the most part he took his injuries in stride, opting to lay low and keep indoors for however long he decided. Dying was hard when you were a supernatural force, which you knew he very well was. You let him borrow the spare room to work on whatever gadgets and gizmos he wanted to create for his next escapade–for whatever that might actually entail.

As long as you’re not at the end of his knife, gun, mace–whatever weapon he decides to use, you’re fine with it. Though you know one day you might end up with one of those weapons lodged in your back or in your skull, you pray that it never happens. The first mistake would be to get comfortable around this man and let your guard down, which you never did.

However, it’s moments like this, when he’s sitting at the kitchen table when you head downstairs for breakfast that really make you want to do otherwise. Especially right now.

Art was sitting right at the kitchen table, eating frozen pizza from last nights dinner, and he’s doing it rather politely, you note. One slice on a paper plate, napkin nearby, and another slice being daintily held with both hands as he quietly and gently chews each bite he takes.

You have to remind yourself he killed someone last month and ate a rat last week. But it doesn’t stop you from tiredly smiling as you watch him through your unkempt hair that obscures part of your vision.

He merely regards you with a look, still munching away.

Fatigue whispers in your ear and urges you back to your warm and comfy bed. But whether you’re burdened by school, work, or both, there’s no rest to be had.

“Hey,” You yawn tiredly, walking your way to the coffee machine. It was either that or tea this morning. Art was a tea kind of guy, so you put on the electric kettle for him.

He resumes eating, almost finishing his first slice. He’s now got one leg crossed over the other as he assesses you in your oversized t-shirt, munching away on the crust. He has an aura of sassiness to him this morning with that body language.

“Yeah, yeah, I look rough, I know. Not all of us are divas when we wake up,” You lean against the counter, folding your arms across your chest. “And pizza? For breakfast? Come on.”

Art just responds in kind with fluffing up his imaginary hair and then flipping it over his shoulder. Bad hair day? Couldn’t be him!

“You got any plans for today, or are you just gonna go back to crafting shit in my spare room?”

Art shrugs his shoulders as he reaches for the second pizza slice, this time ripping off parts of the cold sauced and cheesed up flatbread to pop in his mouth in a very prim manner. He’s been very into letting his whims lead his decisions as of late.

“Gotcha.” You remark, not sure where to continue the conversation immediately, but you don’t need to worry about that as your coffee has finished brewing and the electric kettle has heat up the water. You sweeten your coffee to taste, as well as Art’s tea in a timely manner. He liked his drinks sweet. Anything bitter was an immediate no. With the remaining hot water in the kettle, you use it to make yourself instant oatmeal.

You plant a kiss to his cheek which he allows as you put his drink down near him. You take your seat on the other side of the table where your oatmeal waits, coffee mug in hand, watching him eat. Silence passes between the two of you until you finally voice what you’ve been thinking for the past few minutes.

“Can you rip me off a piece?”

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

OCT. 1 — KINKTOBER ‘23

PUBLIC SEX & SEX POLLEN WITH DICK GRAYSON

ktober m.list

tags: fem reader, breeding, noncon photography

it wasn’t unusual for dick to go on patrol in the early hours of the evening. after all, being the oldest son in his family, the man was given—and took—the tasks and times in which his siblings didn’t want

8PM was the time when you saw your boyfriend on the news, snapshots and lives videos being taken through windows of the vigilante nightwing successfully placing poison ivy under arrest. handcuffs were placed on her wrists that rested against her back, defeat filling her face as nightwing was quick to make his escape before police had flooded the area.

9:30PM was the time you were supposed to meet your boyfriend at the wine bar you chose. thirty minutes after he finished patrol, giving him just enough time to freshen up and put on a nice outfit for you. though; he had arrived exactly one minute prior, walking in with furrowed eyebrows and a tight lip—contrast to the soft smile you were putting on display for him.

"hi baby," you greeted once he was in audible distance. without a beat to acknowledge your words, a single greeting upon you, he’s placing his hand on your arm."let’s go," he says, standing beside your form that’s sat at a high top.

your brows furrow as you watch dick, the way his face held close to no emotion, the way his aura felt as if a cloud was hanging over it, he felt so dark.

"what..? we made reservations here for tonight," you remind the man, this date planned earlier in the day. planned around dick’s schedule most of all. but, dick doesn’t care as only one thing is occupying his mind.

his hand takes hold of yours, pulling it enough for it to fall off the table and enough for you to know he wasn’t joking. enough to know that, despite protests, you weren’t staying long enough to finish the glass of wine that had your lip stains on it.

without another word, you’re following dick out the door and down the sidewalk. but, he’s quick to turn a corner down an alleyway that’s eerily dark and empty.

"i’m not-" you start knowingly when his form is pushing you against the rough brick wall. his lips attached to your neck without another thought.

"please, fucking dammit, just listen," he pulls his wet lips off your skin to say, his voice rough until he’s looking at your widened eyes. "i’m fucking you here, you already made me wait enough. was gonna make that pussy mine in the bathroom of wherever the fuck, but you didn’t wanna," his words fall as sweet as honey despite that vulgar tone to it. despite the way his hand falls against your throat, pushing more and more with every words he says.

"i’m fucking you here whether you like it or not, yeah baby?" he leans into your ear, "gonna have you walking home with cum dripping out your pretty pussy. lick it all up when we get home," dick breathes out a laugh, both hands moving under your thighs to press you up against the wall.

he’s glad you decided on a dress tonight, because he didn’t feel like ripping fabric off of your skin at the moment.

and you’re glad that your boyfriend is a vigilante that knows every alley and every dimly lit street in gotham. while you had no idea where you were, you knew that dick had the awareness of his surroundings… and if he didn’t, he was still a vigilante.

one hand remains under your thighs while the other goes down to his pants, taking the button off and ripping his zipper down. his movements are quick, but you don’t have the capacity to think about why dick is this fucking horny.

while dick’s usually great with before care, despite how many times the two of you have fucked and made love, you’re biting into his neck in attempt to conceal the scream leaving your throat as his full length thrusts into you in one go.

it would’ve helped if dick had told you he’d dealt with ivy tonight, telling you more than what the news had. would’ve helped to know that the pollen in which she extinguished through vines and flowers had gone straight to dick’s bloodstream. straight to his cock, the only thing he was capable of thinking with as he found you where the two of you were supposed to meet.

but, dick hadn’t of even had the occurrence. only knowing that he wanted to stuff your pussy full, and blamed it on his own sexual frustrations of not getting enough of you the past week.

"fucking-slow, dick," you say loudly, but the man who was pulling out only to slam back in couldn’t give a fuck. couldn’t care if you screamed, because nobody was coming down here, and his movements were allowing him some sense of relief.

shouldn’t you be grateful that you’re stuffed with cock? the one that’s molded your cunt perfectly to the size of it?

the pain begins to subside, and instead an overwhelming pleasure that you’re usually eased into, comes rushing all at once. your body burning despite the autumn breeze that swept through the air, the sweater that adorned your arms falling to the ground. it doesn’t matter, dick’ll buy you another.

the groans that escape your throat start turning into moans, and you can feel the cocky smirk that your boyfriend pulls against your skin. "oh, now you want it, huh? now you wanna be all pretty-fuck- on my cock?"

his words are deep as he growls them out, nothing in comparison to the pretty moans and whimpers you attempt to conceal. but dick is shameless, fucking you without a care in the world that there’s passerby’s on the street that are definitely looking in the alleyway you both are.

your face turns red as you realize the fact. realize that, if there was an actual light in your vicinity, paparazzi would have a field day, and your naked pussy would be all over the gotham times the very next day! instead, the silhouette of two connected bodies and a symphony of nasty sounds is the only thing that everyone else gets a peak at.

it turns dick on that much more, watching the way your eyes widen when you look at everyone else.

"what, don’t want everyone knowin’ how much of a slut you are?" dick questions, fucking you enough to put you in a daze. fucking you enough that, you can’t make out quite exactly what he’s saying, but when you hear the name he’s called you, you’re clenching around his length. "fuckin’ whore," he starts, "felt that pretty pussy squeezing me… c’mon, ya better cum all around this cock."

it’s sinister, the darkness in his eyes, the black hairs that are sticking to his forehead, the beads of sweat that are falling from the tip of his nose onto your flushed skin. "’m close, fuck, ‘m really close. please, wanna cum," a chant leaves your lips, and dick’s hands squeeze the flesh underneath your thighs.

his own flexing at an alarming rate. you’re not quite sure how his stamina is working hand in hand with his movements, but, he works harder to fill you with his milky cum, surprised he hasn’t finished yet.

but, maybe he has without realizing it. wanting to stuff you ‘till he’s dripping out of you for the nth time.

"that’s right, keep squeezing me, baby," dick groans, lips finding the skin where your neck meets your shoulder. sucking and biting on the skin that he’s positive is red and puffy by now. a pretty bruise taking the place of his teeth by the morning.

as the word leaves dick’s lips, you’re squeezing enough to have cum filling you, the mixture of yours and dick’s dripping down your thighs and making a ring at the base of the member which just abused you.

but, dick stops thrusting while leaving himself inside of you, allowing you to catch your breathe before he breaks away and is the reason you’re feeling empty.

you whimper once’s he is pulling out, one hand allowing you to find the ground gracefully, while the other moves between your legs, tapping the swollen entrance that’s slicked and filled with a mixture of him and yourself.

"better hold it all in," dick warns, because that was simply round one of the night. that was simply the start to the long evening that—the thought of—was already making the man painfully hard when taking your hand on the walk home.

☆

you swore you didn’t see a single camera flash! swore that you didn’t see anybody recognize either of your faces! but when you’re collecting the mail the very next day, your stomach drops as you read the headline.

‘playboy dick grayson goes all out in public with his housewife!’

🏷️: @petriquors @harleycao @idyllcy @aviixol

happy kinky season u freaks

[nicromancytarot]

HOW CAN YOU ENHANCE YOUR SEXUALITY (18+)

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. Channeled by me and my guides, using pictures.

I am a feminist before I am human, and I keep seeing people calling women “bop’s” all over the media, which is just another derogatory term to start off a pathetic attempt to suppress women’s sexuality, so let’s see how you can enhance yours, shall we?

(Minors, please don’t interact with this one xoxo)

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides how you could enhance your sexuality to better your experience and express your sensuality, pick a pile to see what they had to say!

PILE 1

Blood on the snow by Hozier came on, so you guys could honestly benefit from having sex, or doing some type of sexual “ritual” when on your period, even if it just be a form of self pleasure. I’m hearing that some of you could have your period in cycle with the full moons, it could be a good idea to try your hand at giving yourself a release when the moon is bright and full.

I’m seeing that you guys have an innocent way of expressing your sexuality, I’m getting that you may have been sexualised at a young age, or you feel very infantilised now. Due to this, I feel like it could be good for you to reclaim the thing that people make you feel bad for, wear those frilly clothes, and put that bow in your hair, allow yourself to have your hair beautifully done in some pigtails, however do not allow someone to rip your innocence away from you, just because they see it differently does not mean that they have the right to make that your problem.

Your sex life could be nothing, or very inconsistent, you may be scared of hookups, or need deep emotional attachment in order to have sex with someone, I would recommend building those foundations for safe sexual encounters if that’s what you desire, or allowing yourself to let go of the need for control all the time. Hooking up, or having sex spontaneously does not make you disgusting or easy going, sex is fun and beautiful, it’s the one time that someone sees you at your most vulnerable state, your body undone and intertwined with theirs, but it can also be experimental and exciting, you get to learn new things about your body and figure out what you do and don’t like, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I’m literally getting “smoke a joint” lmao, you may feel like you’re too stressed to have fun with sex, maybe you’re scared of trying new things with your body, some of you could even shy away from masterbation out fear of judgment, or just feeling gross. You need to relax, sex is such a natural thing, and I’m sorry that yours has been so frowned upon from a young age, but you deserve to have fun, to explore your body, and all the possibilities that come with it.

Try a rose toy, possibly a pretty pink dildo, who knows.

PILE 2

I’m feeling that you guys haven’t had sex since a breakup, you’re possibly shying away from being openly sexual since this ending, and it’s hurting you a lot. A number of you feel as though your emotions are expressed through sex, so you’re really finding it hard at the moment to show people how you feel, and now blow up in their face, you’re like a bottle that’s spilling over.

You guys need to loosen up, you either turn to self pleasure a lot or not at all, no in between. You need to find yourself some way of expressing those emotions beside the sex, I’m feeling that your “shadows” don’t come out until night, which I believe was normally when you would partake in these two people sexual activities, which was why it was so easy for you to express yourself during these sexual encounters.

I feel like you need to have someone you trust in order to express your feelings, and for that I would recommend hanging around with your friends late at night, a possible sleepover, so then you’ll tell them exactly as you feel.

Now back to the sex, I feel my shoulders and back tensing up, and I just consciously unclenched my jaw, so I’m feeling that you need to utilise sex in order to relax. With the full moon, you guys might be feeling a tad more stressed than normal, I feel the need to tell you that will pass.

I heard “Italian” so I went to search up Italian sex toys incase that would help you, however I did manage to find a Reddit post that mentions a public vending machine selling dildos for €20, so for that, I am feeling that you need to be more open and willing to try new things, things that are unexpected but exciting, you could benefit from a hookup, preferably not your ex.

Throw them panties aside and enjoy yourself, loosen up, let yourself feel that pleasure that you are clearly so desperately seeking. Have fun, and do it unapologetically.

You could benefit from a bullet vibrator, or a clitoral pump.

PILE 3

You guys struggle to go with the flow, you let things happen, but they happen in a stylish way, you are the type to have a bed rocking time, and then complain about your favourite blanket getting dirty, before getting up and grabbing yourself something to eat. You ride the tide, and possibly something else. I think you like to be in control, but you struggle to get attached. You may have quite a few hookups, maybe you forgot about self pleasure and rely on other people to do that for you.

What would happen if you laid in bed by yourself, cracking open a pomegranate, letting the juice paint your chest like you’re its canvas, would that help you lose control? I’m seeing a need for mess, your body becoming covered in the red tint of the pomegranate, or maybe you’re eating a peach and letting the juice run down your chin, do you like fruit?

I’m getting a natural vibe to things, I think you need things to be natural, rather than so controlled. After having sex you’re going ahead and making yourself a bowl of nachos, how long does that take you? You have the add the nachos, then the cheese, some sauce, chillies, you putting guacamole on there too? It’s all too controlled.

Grab yourself a tub of ice cream and let someone go down on you, or give yourself a vibrator for that same effect.

Just lose the control.

This is random, but honestly probably a great exercise for you, I want you to put on some makeup, tons of mascara, lots of lipstick, or gloss. And then I want you to smudge it, stare at yourself in the mirror as you ruin your makeup, don’t try and redo it, don’t get upset or angry, don’t even hesitate, watch yourself as you allow your mind to let go of the need for perfection, the need for control.

Hell, drink a cup of coffee at night, just do something that will stop you being so authoritative when it comes to sex, also, stop being on top, just for a little, let your sexual partners take the lead this time.

You don’t need to be in control.

you could benefit from a rotating or thrusting dildo, or a travel/pocket vibrator.

[fatalhoon]

and again. » ljn

genre | angst with fluffy ending, jeno x reader, college au

word count | 2.7k

summary | you hadn’t seen jeno since you had broken up, but a new year’s party brings you back together again, physically and emotionally

warnings | argument, small mention of past relationship issues and insecurity, light swearing, teeniest alcohol mention, flashback where jeno is a dick to reader, one female pet name (pretty girl) but i think its pretty gn aside from that

tonight marks roughly one year.

it’s been an entire twelve months since the big fight that had ultimately caused the downfall of one of the most fawned over relationships on campus. in one year, you’d surprisingly- impressively, even- managed to avoid talking to him or seeing him in person at all.

which really, was your biggest motive for desperately wanting to skip out on the party tonight. you knew jeno would be there, despite the numerous attempts by all of your friends of trying to convince you otherwise. but you knew that you couldn’t bail on everyone who hadn’t seen you since you arrived back from visiting home. not to mention, everyone was going to be there. it’s new years eve, and no one misses the new years party. so you just had to swallow your pride and attend.

the fact that it was the very same party that drove you apart the year prior, however, is another major reason you’d rather just stay home.

even as you sat in your best friend’s car, you weighed your options.

“do we really have to go?”

“are you really asking me that when we’re already half way there?” ningning asks, but its less of a question and more of a statement. “i can drop you off on the street if you really want me to,” she jabs.

you groan, your head falling against the headrest and your hands sliding down your face.

“who’s to say he’s even gonna be there anyway?” karina asks from the backseat.

“stop giving me hope, everyone is going to be there.” you sulk, crossing your arms and sinking down in the passenger seat.

“then what are the chances you'll even run into him? more people more distractions, right?” giselle consoles. she had a valid point, but even the slimmest chance made you want to rip your hair out.

ningning parallel parks her car on the side of the residential road, and the house party practically lights up the entire night sky. your girlfriends chatter excitedly as their heels clack on the sidewalk, all the while you’re hoping, praying that karina and giselle are right.

but as fate would have it, not even three footsteps in the door, you spot him. and unfortunately, your presence doesn’t go unnoticed either.

jeno is stood by the fireplace, deep in conversation, but sees you almost immediately upon your arrival, like the universe was on a timer, counting down to the exact second that your eyes would meet again, not a moment too soon or too late. his lips are parted like he stopped mid sentence, and you stand dumbfounded in the doorway, staring stupidly at him as people shove past you to enter.

renjun taps jeno’s shoulder from beside him, most likely trying to bring his attention back, but jeno’s eyes never leave yours, and you see him mouth your name in response to his confused friend, making your heart flip. renjun follows his eyes, adding to the unwanted attention that’s been placed on you. jeno then suddenly takes a few steps toward you, squeezing through the dense crowd, but before you think it through, you scurry off in the other direction.

“y/n, will you stop pouting about it already?”

you enter your apartment with jeno trailing behind you, your mood extremely sour as you open the door and let it slam against the wall.

“i’m not pouting, jeno. i’m upset, do you not get that?”

“you’re so dramatic,” jeno scoffs. he kicks off his shoes and drops his jacket over the back of your couch, so nonchalant about the whole situation that it makes you even angrier.

“she was all over you!” you cry out in desperation. you’ve repeated this what seemed like a hundred times already, but no matter what you said jeno wouldn’t even attempt to understand.

or maybe, he just didn't care.

“you couldn't even bother to just tell her to stop!”

jeno rolls his eyes. “i told you, y/n, i did tell her to stop. she wouldn’t listen.”

“then that's when you walk away, jeno. push her off of you, ignore her, anything! actions speak louder than words.” your arms flail wildly as you speak. “why do i even have to explain something like this to you? i’ve told you about what’s happened to me before and-“

he’s not even looking at you.

“are you listening?! do you even give a shit about how i feel right now?”

“not when you’re acting like this, y/n.” he drones, tapping away at his phone screen. “maybe if you’d just calm down and acted a little less crazy i’d be more inclined.”

all you feel is red. red from the sting of tears muddling your line of vision. red from the prick of your nails digging into your palms as they grip into fists at your sides. red for the old wound he’s just slashed open.

your voice is low and calm when you speak again.

“get the fuck out of here, jeno.”

only then does he decide to look at you.

“babe-” the smallest hint of guilt crosses his eyes, but he’s burned the bridge already. he reaches a hand out toward you, but you step back as if he’s venomous.

“get out!” you screech, not even caring that it rattles the walls. jeno flinches back. with a huff, he grabs his things and stomps out the door, slamming it behind him.

against all odds, everywhere you look, he’s there.

you see him when you’re seated by the tv watching a tipsy group of freshman struggle to get through a round of a dancing game; he’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, laughing when they stumble.

and again, when you’re outside soaking in the fresh air; he’s got the attention of everyone lounging in the hot tub, telling them stories behind the constellations visible from the deck.

and again, when you’re reaching into the fridge for another drink; he’s pouring shots for swooning girls at the kitchen island.

always suspiciously close, yet just far enough away.

you initially thought it to be just an unfortunate coincidence, but the house was much too big and had too many other places to be. he’s attracting way too much attention to himself in such ways that it’s impossible for him not to be pining for yours in particular.

enough is enough. you decide that if jeno wants a show, you’ll give him a show.

the basement is the one place left in the house where you hadn’t seen him. its a cozy little space, with sports banners and posters of swimsuit clad models cluttering the walls, and along with the pair of couches there's a large pool table. you watch as your friend jaemin stands beside it, twirling his pool cue in his hands, laughing at something haechan had said. you swirl the liquid around in your red solo cup, an idea brewing in your mind.

right on time, you see jeno descend the staircase. you stand, walking over to jaemin.

“help me with something,” you whisper into his ear. he gives you a curious look, but when your eyes flick over to jeno, jaemin understands immediately and gives you a subtle nod.

it’s no secret to you- or to anyone, really- that jeno is watching you. you can feel his eyes on you, burning your skin as you grab the cue from jaemin’s hand and lean over the bright green table to shoot a striped ball into a pocket. jaemin gives you a charming smile, complimenting your technique. his bubblegum hair reminds you of the color jeno’s was before the breakup. it’s never bothered you before, but your heart involuntarily twists at the thought.

you hum, rounding the table to stand right beside your pink haired friend, scanning for the right ball to shoot in next. you lift your cue to point at the number ten ball, turning to jaemin, tilting your head.

“i don’t think i can get this one on my own, do you mind helping me out?” you ask smoothly, dragging your fingers up his arm. your friend picks up quickly, smirking down at your innocently pouty expression.

“sure thing, pretty,” jaemin hums with faux flirtation. he does a flawless job of dragging his hands along all of the parts your body that were jeno’s favorites, and you can almost feel his stare burn hotter. you not-so-subtly bite down a grin as jaemin leans over you, breathing heavily down your neck as he guides the cue through your arms, shooting the ball directly into a pocket.

after watching from the corner for a while, jeno begins to make his way towards you, telling you that he’s had enough of staying arms length away.

“you’re not subtle,” jeno says bluntly. its directed at you, but he’s glaring at jaemin.

you scowl, casually chalking up the tip of the cue you hold. “a bit narcissistic to think this is about you, don’t you think?” you hadn't expected those to be the first words you’d spoken to him in a year.

“do you mind?” jaemin interjects, his hand resting on your hip. “we’re in the middle of something.”

the tension in the room rises.

“well, whenever you’re finished,” jeno spits through his teeth. he shifts his eyes down toward you then, his gaze just a little bit softer. “i’d be really grateful if you’d meet me outside. i wanna talk to you, if you’ll let me.” and with that he’s gone.

after serious contemplation, you do decide meet him outside, despite a very sensible voice in your head telling you not to. as soon as you slide open the glass door and step out onto the grass, he’s leaning against the side of the house, closer to you than he’s been all night- all year. this close up view of him makes your heart flutter more than you’d ever be willing to admit in the moment. his hair is a shade of brown you’ve never seen on him, but his eyes glimmer just the same as they always have when he looks at you.

“long time no see, baby,” he greets you, the corner of his mouth tipped up in a small somber looking smile.

“that’s not my name.”

“it used to be,” he replies. you roll your eyes.

“what do you want, jeno?” it’s harder to say his name out loud than you thought it would be.

“i know you’ve been thinking about it, too,” he says softly, a very sharp contrast from the vibe he’s been presenting to other partygoers the entire night. the bass thumping upstairs is synched with your heartbeat. you still can’t bring yourself to look directly at him. “there’s no other reason you’d pull a stunt like that. jaemin is handsome, sure, but he’s not your type.” you fold your arms, slumping a bit. you hate that he’s right; that you haven’t changed enough during the time that’s passed and he can still read you like an open book.

“doesn’t feel so good, does it?”

jeno swallows, his head bowing forward to fix his eyes on his feet.

“i wanted to say i’m sorry.”

you turn to look at him then, your brows raised. “isn’t it a little late for that?”

“you blocked my number,” he says; you’d almost forgotten you had, in fact, blocked him on just about everything. “i couldn’t get a hold of you in person, either.

but i didn’t know what to say even if i could. there’s no excuse for what i said to you, and an ‘i’m sorry’ doesnt cut it.”

the look jeno is giving you is so genuine that its hard to breathe. all of a sudden your facade begins to crumble. “i can’t- i’m not doing this, not right now,” you tell him dolefully, turning around to slip back into the house, but he catches your elbow; his grip is soft, unthreatening, unmalicious.

“please, please just listen to me, i’m begging you.” when you turn around he’s on his knees, looking up at you with a pleading look on his face and your hand is clasped between both of his own. you despise how he looks so beautiful in the dim moonlight.

“jeno.” you blink your tears away. “don’t beg for me, please.”

he tugs lightly on your wrist, and reluctantly you sink down to kneel in front of him on the grass.

“i haven’t had a full night’s sleep in a year. every time i dream, its about you. believe me y/n i've tried so hard to let it go but the things i said to you still haunt me.”

his eyes flicker across yours, glistening with tears of his own, searching for something he can grab onto. the floodgates holding your emotions in begin to crack at a rate that’s too quick for you to keep up with. “you, you knew how i felt, about things like that,” your voice stutters, your lip quivers. “you knew, and, and you still-“ you choke on a sob.

“i know. y/n i’m so sorry,” he gingerly lifts a hand to your face, pausing for a moment, but when you don’t lean away or swat at him, his thumb brushes your cheek to wipe a tear away that’s just fallen from your lashes, tenderly tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “thinking about how i made you feel that night makes me so disgusted with myself. i never ever wanted to hurt you, but the fact is that i did and i can’t forgive myself for that.”

a moment of quiet passes between you. you wipe at your face with the sleeve of your sweater over and over but your tears don’t stop and the runaway drops fall onto your bare knees.

“do you remember when we won king and queen of prom court in high school?”

his sudden question puzzles you. you look up at him, and you see the real jeno. your jeno, soft and simple and so full of love.

“we went out for ice cream after the dance. it was the first night i told you i loved you.

and again, when we went to your sister's wedding together. you accidentally spilled red wine on my favorite white dress shirt. you were trying so hard not to cry, but i told you it didn’t matter, because i loved you.

and again, when we took your little brother and his friends out to that laser tag place for his birthday. we played one on one, and when you asked me why i let you win, i told you it was because i loved you.

and again, when you broke your wrist falling off the old tire swing in your front yard. you asked me why i came over every night to feed you dinner, even though you didn’t need the help, and i told you it’s because i loved you.”

“what are you doing?” you cut him off before he can continue any further, your voice small and trembling.

“i’m telling you that i still love you.”

he scoots forward on the ground, his body now so close to yours that you can feel his warmth. “i know i don’t deserve it, but all i’m asking for is another chance to love you right, the way you deserve to be loved.” his fingers cling tightly to your hand he still holds as he speaks.

“i don't know where you stand, so you’ve got all the power in your hands right now. stay here with me, and i’ll know we’re on the same page. turn around, and i’ll leave you alone, and you won’t see me again. it’s your choice, and i won’t judge you either way. your word is the final word.”

you feel heavy. his sweet words and the smell of his familiar cologne are intoxicating, but you do know you have the ability to get up and walk away right now if you want to.

but… do you want to?

the painful racing of your heart reminds you that no matter what, no matter how long you’ve been apart, you love jeno. you always have you and always will.

you raise a hesitant arm, placing your shaking hand lightly on his shoulder, and he draws in a breath. your fingers dance upward, contemplating, lips parted slightly with hazy breaths. cupping his jaw, you lean upward, brushing your lips against his in the lightest kiss, testing the waters.

you ignite. suddenly you’re full of such a serene feeling of home, a feeling you hadn’t realized had been absent from your life from the second you pushed him out of it. all the memories you’d tried so hard to keep at bay come rushing back with the image of a soft and smiley jeno; one who’s never had anything but love for you. jeno sees your eyes light up, and he smiles dreamily at you. in an instant, you’ve never been more sure of anything.

you press yourself up against him, pulling him down into your lips, and he wraps you up in his arms. even though the house is filled with the sounds and heat of other people, it’s only you and jeno in the entire world. you pull away when you can’t control your cries anymore, burying your face in his neck instead.

“i’m sorry,” your voice wobbles as you let out the words, but jeno sweetly hushes you, rocking you back and forth in time with the rhythm of the muffled music.

“no apologies from you, pretty girl. none of this is your fault.” you feel the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders. he presses a gentle kiss to your temple, resting his chin on top of your head.

“i love you,” he reassures you. and he does again, and again, and again.

[unfinishedslurs]

RIP Mike Wheeler’s heterosexuality

“Is being gay contagious?”

Steve stares at his phone groggily before putting it back against his ear. “…Mike?”

“Is it?”

“It’s three in the fuckin’ morning is what it is.” He rubs his nose, Mike’s words finally catching up to his brain. “Seriously, Mike? No it’s not fucking contagious, you’re not gonna get the gay disease or whatever from me. I promise you’ll keep liking girls.”

He’s a little hurt, even though he knows the question is innocent. They’ve been asking a lot of questions, like the inquisitive little assholes they are, but none of them had seemed like they weren’t okay with it. Until now.

“…that’s not what I meant,” Mike says. Steve realizes that his voice sounds shaky, even over the phone.

“Then what—“ he cuts himself off, realizing halfway through his bitching that there was only one reason Mike would call about this. “Oh.”

“Can you pick me up?”

“It’s three in the morning,” he repeats, even as he starts wondering where he left his keys. “Your mom…”

“Steve,” Mike pleads. “Please?”

He sighs. “I’m on my way.”

Mike is sitting on his doorstep when he pulls up, head in his hands. Steve doesn’t have to get out of the car, he stalks to the passenger door with all the vitriol of a boy with too many emotions to hold in, and wrenches the door open hard enough that Steve worries he’s going to break it.

“Watch it, noodle arms,” he says, trying to pretend this is normal. Maybe if he acts like it’s not well past midnight, Mike will relax.

It doesn’t work. Mike slumps in his seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. “Can you just drive?”

Steve drives. Doesn’t really know where they’re going, but it doesn’t matter. Just away seems to suffice.

He eventually pulls into a side road

“I’m scared to even touch another guy now! Because apparently hugging is gay when you’re older, and so is sleeping in the same bed, and telling your friends you love them, and…and I’m fucking scared all the time, ‘cause what if they’re right? How do they know? How can they tell by just fucking looking at me? It’s bullshit!”

“Shit, kid,” Steve says, heartbroken. “Shit. C’mere.”

He pulls him close, and Mike turns his face into the crook of his neck, shaking. His shirt collar starts to get damp.

“I don’t know what to do,” he cries. “I thought it was normal, I thought everyone was just…so scared all the time, and we just didn’t talk about it. But then you said that thing about being afraid and pushing it down, and I didn’t— I tried to ignore it. I tried so hard not to think about it, Steve, I swear I tried.”

“I know you did,” he says quietly. It hits him that he might be the only one who really gets it. Eddie gave up denying it long ago, deciding to evolve into something else for them to focus on. Robin’s a girl. Which doesn’t mean jack shit in most cases, because being a lesbian fucking sucks in a town like Hawkins, but girls aren’t as obsessive about it. Sometimes when they compare notes, Robin will just stare at him.

Mike shakes his head. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” he mumbles tearfully into his shoulder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve says with a surprising amount of vehemence. He grabs Mike by his scrawny little shoulders, pulls him away so he can look directly into his bloodshot eyes. “Not a damn thing, do you hear me? There is nothing wrong with you, and anyone who tells you otherwise deserves a swift kick in the balls. Got it?”

Mike responds by bursting into loud, messy sobs.

Steve just keeps holding him, running a hand through his hair and soothing him gently, like he wishes someone had done for him or Robin or Eddie when they were young. Finally Mike pulls away, embarrassment starting to set in.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Steve asks instead of a meaningless platitude he knows Mike wouldn’t accept.

Mike gives him a suspicious look. “I guess.”

“I’m scared too. All the time.”

“No you’re not,” Mike snorts. “You don’t need to make me feel better just because I’m a pussy.”

“I’m not joking,” he says. “Why do you think I dated girls? Why do you think I went through so many lengths to hide it? It’s fucking terrifying, man. But you know what makes it less scary?”

“Dating girls? Marrying a woman?”

“No.” He pokes Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “People. Friends who love and accept you. Friends who know what you’re going through, even.”

“Do you…” Mike chews his lip. “Do you think Nancy would be okay with it? With me?”

“Absolutely I do. She was okay with me, wasn’t she? And I was her boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but it’s different when it’s your family, right? Sometimes people don’t care if someone is… people don’t care until it affects them. Do you think Nancy is like that?”

He knows Nancy isn’t like that, but that's a talk they’re going to have to have themselves. “I really don’t,” he encourages. “I think she’d be really glad to know this part of you, actually. She loves you.”

“…I know,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t… we made this dumb no secrets pact the first time the Upside-Down happened, I don’t know why. It’s stupid. But…I don’t want to keep secrets from her anymore.”

[alexthetrashyracoon]

CW// Smut (It’s probably real bad and sucks) Age Gap (Price is 40, Reader is 25-30) Cheating (Readers’s partner is an asshole and deserves it) MDNI 18+

Price who is hearing you having a fight with your partner about him barely having time for you and probably sleeping with his secretary which they doesn’t actually deny.

So when he hears your scream that they should never come back again, followed by the banging of a door, Price knows, it’s time to make a move, even if it was wrong.

The heart wants what the heart wants.

He knocks, three quick rasps against your front door and a second later, as if you were waiting for someone, probably that loser you call your partner, you rip the door almost out of its hinges. When you see him instead of someone else, you’re visibly disappointed.

“Brought wine and a shoulder to cry on, luv.” He grinned and held the bottle up. You chuckle and step aside. “Thanks, John.”

You sit down on your worn couch, you talk most of the time, Price listens. And he looks, he looks how your lips move with every word you say, how your nose crinkles when you get angry. Or how the disappointment in your eyes was bigger than ever since he met you.

“I could make you forget all about them, luv. Can make you think about nothing else but me for a while or forever, however you like.” Price said and squeezes your thigh.

You both know you shouldn’t go down that way, because Price knows, despite your partner being an asshole with an ego the size of Mars, you’re loyal. But also desperate to be treated like you deserved it.

It’s not long after that he has you riding his cock on the worn couch, Price had worked his way into your pants, gentle touches to your shoulder down to your chest over the swell of your belly and to the waistband of your pants. He has a hand in them the second you nod and give him permission to move on, hand slipping in and playing your most sensitive parts, rubbing, tugging, everything to make you a sensitive mess in his arms.

But Price isn’t a cruel lover, far from it, he makes sure you cum at least twice before he thinks about himself and his pleasure and removes his hard, straining cock from his pants and boxers, strokes it a few times before nudging its red, leaking cock against you winking entrance, Price makes you feel every inch of heated meat he pushes into you, your walls clenching around him, making it hard to move, while he sucks and licks around your pebbled nipples, playing with them until even the smallest hit of cold air makes your eyes turn inwards.

Price will definitely remember all the special spots that make you scream for more, for the next time you and him are together, he’s a simple man who loves to hear more of your sexy noises.

“Shit, so good, taking my cock so well…” He grunts into your ear while plunging into your hole, short cut nails digging into the fat of your thighs, pulling you down at the same time to make it even more delicious for the both of you.

He grins when he feels you clenching around his thick meaty dick a third time, another orgasm building, squeezing harder than before, making it almost impossible for him to keep control. You moan and whine, nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, biting his skin as if to lay claim and Price can’t say he’s against it. “God, I’m close…” He says, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise, not that you mind.

You cum before him. A choked up, broken moan spilling your lips before he crashes his against yours to swallow every single sound you make while pounding even faster into your hole and seconds later spilling himself inside you.

“Fuck…” You pant when the adrenaline starts to wear off.

“That we did indeed.” Price grins and squeezes your hips, bucking his hips to drive the point home with his softening cock still inside you.

He helps you clean yourself, a real gentleman this one, wiping away the sweat that gathered on your body, massaging your calves and thighs until you’re groaning again, but no (maybe a small amount) sexual tension between them right now.

“Thanks.” You smile, dressed in your oversized sweater, voice still a bit hoarse from your previous activities.

“What for, dear? Fucking you so well or for listening to you?” He asks while sipping his wine.

“Both I guess… I needed that. Think I picked my self-worth back up again thanks to you.” You sound much better now, voice still slightly wrecked but less sad about this loser you call a partner.

Ex-Partner, John thinks to himself.

“Mhm, glad I could help, sweets. Now, let me take you out on a real date, so I’ve got an excuse to fuck you again.” Price grins before catching your lips in another kiss, swallowing your giggles before glancing over to the open apartment door, hiding the grin in that kiss. Price was glad he made you forget about that dick of a partner and he was even gladder to make your partner see how well Price could treat you.

[iliketangerines]

Ok so my friend sent in a request where it’s reader but they’re like winter soldier from marvel- and the other day she was talking to me about it and I got to thinking about it.

So like what if the male reader ((who is of course like Bucky)) is taller than the boys but is a switch leaning more to bottom. Like I imagine reader is being careless when fighting and is like “I don’t care what happens to me!” And it angers the boys into like intense praise sex

we care about you

a/n: i'm gonna be honest...i have no idea which request you're referencing. it's been a really long time

pairing: johnny cage x amab!reader x kenshi takahashi

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), blowjobs, double penetration, overstimulation, praise kink

you walk stiffly as Johnny and Kenshi drag you to the infirmary to get your wounds bandaged up, and Raiden and Kung Lao stay behind to debrief with Liu Kang

Kenshi’s grip on your hand is almost painful, and Johnny pushes you from behind to discourage you from just disappearing to your room and taking care of your own wounds

you feel uncomfortable as you stand in front of the infirmary, and Johnny basically pushes you in while Kenshi gathers the necessary materials to bandage you up

Johnny raises an eyebrow at you, looking uncharacteristically serious, and you scowl and pull off your ripped uniform, blood-soaked and dirty

the actor sucks in a breath as his eyes travel over your chest and your stomach, grimacing at the sight of blood staining every bit of your skin and deep cuts sliced into your muscle

your skin is also mottled with dark bruises, and you’re sure you’ve cracked a rib, but you don’t mention it as Johnny assesses the damage and tells Kenshi what he sees

the blood hides your scars for them, but you know they see them as Johnny wipes at your skin with a clean wet cloth to get rid of the dirty and dried-up blood

it’s the first time you’ve ever gone shirtless in front of them, and you usually wouldn’t have even entertained their request to see you shirtless

but you’re tired and exhausted and wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of them pinning you down and treating your wounds

and so Johnny just grits his teeth, letting out an angry puffs of air from his nose, and Kenshi can’t see the scars but as always he knows that something is wrong

you try to make a joke and say that most of the blood isn’t yours, but both Kenshi and Johnny send you a stern look before Kenshi hands over the materials to Johnny

they work in tandem, Kenshi telling Johnny how to apply the medicine and bandages, unable to with his limited vision from Sento, and Johnny follows every order exactly

when you lift your hand to help, Kenshi slaps it down and tells you to stay still for them both, and you growl but listen to him as Johnny finishes up your bandages

almost immediately you go to stand up, but Johnny and Kenshi push you right back down and tell you to sit the fuck down and take a break

Johnny keeps a careful watch of you, making sure you don’t even move an inch or even breathe the wrong way, while Kenshi disappears to go and make some tea

you shift in the cot, trying to get more comfortable, but you wince as your cracked rib aches and place a hand over the bruise

immediately, the actor is all over you, asking if you were okay, what hurt, what was wrong, and you try to wave him off and say that it’s nothing

he gives you a disapproving glare and asks you again in an angered voice what was wrong

you roll your eyes, mouth in a grimace and lips tightly sealed, but then the pain flares up and you can’t help it as a small groan leaves your lips

Johnny takes a note of your hand over your ribs and asks if they’re broken, and you turn your head to the side and let out a tsking sound

there’s another sound of anger that crawls out of his throat, and you know that he wants to snap at you, ask you why you had put yourself in direct danger

but then, he doesn’t and stays silent, and Kenshi returns with a steaming cup of tea and nearly shoves it into your hands as he tells you to drink every last drop

it smells bitter, disgusting, and you wrinkle your nose and glare at the swordsman

his glare is just as intense behind the blindfold as he crosses his thick arms and waits for you to drink it, sword still by his side

you bring the drink up to your mouth and close your eyes, ignoring the smell, and down it all in one gulp, putting the cup on the table next to the cot you sit on

for a second, neither of them say anything, just giving each other looks, and you figure that they’re talking telepathically again

you growl out that you’re right there, that you know they’re talking about you, and on cue, the both of them turn their heads to you, brows furrowed and frowns etched into their face

you return their grimace, baring your teeth at him like a cornered animal, and Kenshi sighs and shifts on his feet before saying that you’re on strict bed rest for at least a month

a month? what? that wouldn’t fly, you had to train, to get better, to fight and claw and beg for your survival, you would not rest for a whole month

you open your mouth to protest, but Johnny adds on that there will be no argument, that Liu Kang had already agreed and someone will be watching you at all times to make sure you stick to resting

there’s anger bristling inside of you, sharp and prickly, and you let out a hissing sound as you clench your fists and glare at them both

and then Johnny snaps at you and says that you wouldn’t have to be on bed rest if you had just been more careful on the battlefield

you argue back that being careful would’ve meant that the mission would take longer, and you managed to shorten the mission time by a whole week because of your actions

Kenshi cuts in saying that that wasn’t the point, that you deliberately put yourself in danger knowing you would be hurt and possibly killed and that action wasn’t okay

you mutter out what was the point, you always came back so why did it matter if you put yourself in danger, and Kenshi and Johnny give each other a look before turning their attention back to you

Johnny says that you shouldn’t have to put yourself in direct danger without caring about what would happen to you, that you can’t just do that, you have to worry about your own health

Kenshi adds on, saying that he knows what it’s like to not care about hurting yourself during a mission, but that there’s people out there who care about you and putting yourself in danger and possibly killing yourself would hurt them as well

his comment makes you bite your tongue, your retort dying in your mouth and making it feel dry as it clicks in your brain that someone could possibly care about you

and not just as a weapon

Johnny sits down on the cot and grabs onto your hand, squeezing it gently, and he says that they both care about you and that you jumping directly into enemy territory had scared the living daylights out of them

he continues, saying that they know something happened to you in the past, but that they want you to know that they care about you as a person, as a friend, as a lover

you turn your head, pursing your lips to stop them from trembling, and you mutter out an okay

it makes Johnny beam, and Kenshi sigh in relief before patting Johnny’s back and saying that they should leave you to rest and heal

he repeats one more time to not do anything strenuous and call them for help if you need anything, and you nod before they disappear to debrief with Liu Kang

the room is silent as you cry, falling from your cheeks onto your bandaged wounds, but your heart is warm and you fall asleep quickly, knowing you were loved

the both of them watch you carefully for the next month, making sure you weren’t doing anything too strenuous or stressful, and that your body was healing properly

you haven’t felt this well-rested and cared for in…well, forever, and you truly appreciate their efforts as they dote on you

your wounds heal faster than they have ever before, and a month passes by quickly as you focus on yourself and some old hobbies from a different life

you sit in your room, reading a book with an empty cup next to you when your door slides open and reveals Kenshi and Johnny laughing together

they glance over to you, and Johnny goes over first, tilting your head up and kissing you deeply, his hand snaking up to cradle the back of your head and pull you into him

you sigh into the kiss, closing your eyes and enjoying the taste of something minty on his breath, and Johnny pulls away when you feel your lungs burn with the need to breathe

he’s gentle with you, sitting down in your lap and telling you all about his day with the usual dramatic flair, and you rest your hands on his hips, squeezing them

Kenshi undresses himself, placing his shoes down neatly by the door and stripping off his jacket to reveal his body covered in a slight sheen of sweat

the swordsman hums and nods in agreement to whatever Johnny is saying, and Johnny strips himself down as well, throwing his jacket to the floor as he also tries to cool down from the hot day

you only have on a pair of boxers and tshirt, but by the time they’re done stripping down to their bare skin, you feel more naked than them

Johnny’s words finally ebb as he rests his hands on your shoulders, and he smiles down at you and asks how your day was

you start, repeating the actions of your rather mundane but relaxing day, but then you let out a choked sound as Johnny grinds down on your cock

he smirks down at you, telling you to continue, and there’s a pause before you stutter along, trying to keep your cool as he continues to grind down on you

by the end, your sentences barely make any sense, and your fingers are gripping onto his hips desperately as your own buck into his as you search for more friction

he leans in close to you, breath warming your ear as he says that they’ve both missed you, missed hearing your needy whines for them to fuck you

then he pulls away and sighs, watching your chest heave up and down and how your eyes glaze over in need as you stifle a whimper

Johnny just gets up off of you, and your lap suddenly feels a lot colder without his warmth on you

but he pulls on your hand and tugs you to your shaky legs, and then Johnny pushes you to sit in between Kenshi’s spread legs

you do so readily and let out a breath of air as you feel Kenshi’s hard cock press into your back, hot and heavy with need

Johnny settles down between your legs on his knees, and he pulls off your boxers, letting your cock spring free and bob in the air

Kenshi hums and kisses the side of your neck, using his hands to hook your legs over his knees so that you can’t escape Johnny’s attention on you

Johnny wraps his hand around your cock, pumping it torturously slow, and he says quietly that neither him nor Kenshi could forget what you said a month ago

you stutter out a what, mind too heavy and fuzzy to recall what you had said a month ago, and Johnny smiles at your reaction, licking a strip from the base of your cock to the tip and listening to your slight whimper

he places his lips over the tip and presses his tongue into the slit just lightly, making you gasp and buck your hips uselessly at the pleasure

Kenshi continues his sentence, saying that they want to show you how much they care about you, how much they want you and need you to be safe

the memory finally fades back in as you remember how you basically said it didn’t matter if you got hurt, and you just let out a small confused what, unable to respond properly when Johnny’s plush lips are pressed into your cock

Kenshi hums, his stubble slightly scratching you as he kisses your neck, and he tells you to relax and let them take care of you for today, to just sit still and be pretty

you nod and then let out a little whine when Johnny takes you deeper into his throat, tongue pressing against the underside of your cock

it’s hot and wet, and you can’t help it as your hands fly down to grip onto Johnny’s hair and tug on it, sensitive from not having touched yourself for a month

Kenshi feels you move and his hands travel from your thighs up your side, making you shiver, and his rough hands grab onto your arms and take them away from Johnny’s hair

his voice is teasing as he asks you about what he just said a second ago, and you try to respond but then Johnny sinks even further, his nose burying themselves in the curls at the base

your brain is nothing more than mush as Johnny bobs his head up and down, the tip of your cock hitting the back of his throat, and there’s a strangled sound that comes out of your throat as his hand comes up to massage your balls

Kenshi licks and bites at the skin of your neck, leaving his marks on you, and you turn your head to him, lips parted in a silent question for him

he seems to know what you want, and he presses his lips to yours, humming at the taste of your mouth and pushing his tongue into yours

you can’t help but groan into his mouth as Johnny hums around your cock, sending vibrations through your body and fraying your nerves with pleasure

your hips rock forward slightly, and you want to cum so badly, need to cum

Johnny seems to know what you want, your cock twitching in his mouth, and he bobs his head up and down faster, using his hand to pump at what his mouth doesn’t cover

it’s too much, and your back arches of Kenshi’s stomach as you cum in Johnny’s warm mouth, whimpering and gasping against the swordsman’s mouth

Kenshi hums, hands rubbing your thighs, as Johnny pumps you through the rest of your orgasm and swallows your cum

you soften in his mouth and whimper when he finally pops off and licks his lips, saying that you taste just as good as he remembers

parting from your lip to let you breathe and head fall back onto his shoulder, he tells you you’re doing amazing, so good for them, so pretty for them

a soft thank you comes from your mouth, and Kenshi just chuckles and mumbles out an of course before he moves you slightly to scoot your body forward

Johnny stands up from his position, and you can see the way his cock slaps against his stomach, your mouth drools and you reach your hand forward

Kenshi tsks at you and uses his hand to splay over your chest and pull you back, saying perhaps another day

you whimper but listen and just sit in Kenshi’s lap and wait as you hear Johnny get lube out of your drawer and get back in front of you

Johnny squirts lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together to slightly warm it, before he reaches his fingers underneath you and traces his finger over your asshole

you try not to squirm and seem impatient, and Johnny rewards you for your patience, pressing in a thick finger and telling you good job

 you let out a pant and then a whimper of please for more, and Kenshi just smiles against your skin as he sucks another hickey into your skin

Johnny hums and presses another finger into you, pumping them in and out of you slowly and curling them right into your prostate with practiced fingers

it makes you squirm and gasp, and you can feel blood rushing down, filling your oversensitive cock back to hardness, although not quite as big as before

the swordsman chuckles at your whines, one of his hands trailing up and down your body, squeezing at the flesh before wrapping his hand around your half-hard cock

it makes pleasure shoot through your body, and a loud gasp leave your throat as your hips buck into him

Johnny just pushes his fingers in deeper as a response, adding a third finger to stretch you out further, and you let out a debauched moan, nerves being pulled in every direction

it’s overwhelming, and you’re already so close to the edge, legs twitching in overstimulation and hands gripping whenever you can

Kenshi seems to know and fists the base of your cock, preventing you from cumming and you make a sound that sounds like a choked sob and whimper

he tells you to have patience, and Johnny says that you won’t have to wait long as he retracts his fingers from your needy hole

you yelp as Kenshi suddenly hooks his hands underneath your thighs and stands up with you spread in his arms

Johnny brings an arm underneath one of your thighs to help support you, and your hands fly to Johnny’s shoulders in front of you for balance

Kenshi slightly lowers you, and you feel Johnny line himself up with you, lowering you even further to push into you

it makes you whine and gasp in pleasure as he finally bottoms out, and you dig your fingers into his shoulder as you struggle to adjust

your breathing calms down after a minute, and you squeeze around him, trying to keep your cool

but then you feel Kenshi prodding along your hole, the tip of his cock pressing in, and you whine that it’s too much, you can’t

Kenshi murmurs that you can, and he pushes in slow and steady, making you sob and gasp and tears well up in your eyes

fat tears roll down your face but Johnny kisses them away as Kenshi groans and bottoms out inside of you

neither of them move until you’ve stopped sobbing and have only been reduced to soft sniffles and whimper, and then Johnny finally moves his hips a little bit

you let out a whimper and moan, and they both take it as a good sign to start moving in tandem, knocking the breath out of you

the pleasure is all-consuming and mixes with the stinging pain, and you can’t help the wanton moans that leave your mouth as they fuck you on their cocks

they praise you as they bounce you up and down, calling you so pretty, that you’re so beautiful, that you’re doing so well, and that they love you so much

their mouth are relentless as they kiss and suck at your skin everywhere, mouthing over every scar that you have, and it’s all too much as you cum, pathetic spurts of cum spraying over Johnny’s chest

they groan at the feeling of you clenching down on him, and Kenshi cums first inside of you, hot ropes of his seed warming you, his voice deep and rough as he tells you that you’re taking them so well

Johnny quickly follows soon after and cums inside of you as well, panting into your neck and moaning your name loudly

neither of them move for a moment, their cocks still buried deep inside of you, but Johnny is the first one to move and slide out

Kenshi slides out after Johnny, and they move to lay your boneless body on the bed, praising you and telling you did so amazing

your ears are buzzing, mind still heavy with pleasure, and you just reach out for them, hand grabbing onto Kenshi’s

he hums and gets into bed with you, cuddling you close, and you whimper for Johnny as well

Johnny listens and gets into bed with you, telling you take a quick nap first then and then they’ll get you cleaned up

you just hum in contentment and drift off to sleep with the two of them holding you close and dearly

[jolalibrary]

iii - just say that you need me

javier peña x f!reader | chapter three of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. an: the amount of people who look forward to tuesday's makes me grin. for those who are new, i don't have a tag list. wordcount: 2.6k.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

You should say yes more. 

to you or to my pop 

To your pop. I know you wouldn’t say no to me. 

you sure about that 

I’d bet my next paycheck on it. 

for you I’ll say yes to him once

Good. Now we have that out the way answer what the worst date you’ve ever been on was

shit. going with the hard hitting questions today

Just getting you to share, open up

probably when I first came back from colombia someone from my town where I live

They a bad host, bad dinner guest? Gimme more Javi cmon. You said you’d entertain me.

baby, im trying to entertain you but you told me to stop

I said stop flirting while I’m eating and answer the question

she wouldn’t stop asking me for details on escobar

Ah. Yeah I can see how discussing that would be a mood killer.

yeah didn’t wanna go in the first place either

So if we ever meet, do not ask about your Colombian experience. Got it. 

you can ask, doesn’t mean I’d tell you 

Ha! Good to know. I wouldn’t though. If you wanna tell me, I think you will. 

thanks, what’s yours?

Well I was stood up when we first began texting. Think that’s pretty bad, enough.  

he’s an idiot because only an idiot would stand you up 

You haven’t seen me, remember 

statement still stands 

Stop being so charming.

you still eating

No.

then I can flirt

Most of the time, he ignores the mail. 

Lets it pile up on the entryway dresser until his pop makes another reference to it. Unlike his pop, he is never in a rush to open them, knowing no good comes from the contents inside.

The same people contact him. The bureau being one. Sipping his coffee as he glares at the usual federal sign on the envelope, wondering how many more times they’ll try asking him to come in for a chat.

This afternoon, though, the envelope isn’t brilliant white, but rather off-cream. 

Peeling a bit, thumb digging in as he drags it across, the ripping sound filling the small space. It’s only as he opens it does he realise who it’s from. 

His eyes stare at the letter, taking in the number—the one in triple digits with his phone provider logo in the top corner. The number which is making him feel sick, the more he stares at it over and over again. 

“Fuck.” 

Folding it, he swallows. 

Shit.

Motherfucker.

He stuffs it away, tucks it under magazines and other leaflets, as though by keeping it out of sight, it’ll go away.

But it's there.

The edge of it sticking out. He even blinks, and the number is there, tattooed on the back of his eyes. Taunting him—the price of speaking to you. 

It's not that Javi can't afford it. He’s had a chunk of money sitting, gaining dust, in his account since he came home. Only able to force portions on his pop as and when he felt he could get away with it. 

But this was a lot. More than he’d bargained on, more than he even knew he could spend simply by replying to someone. 

There's a chance your day won't be done just yet—his day beginning far earlier than yours even began—but he pulls his phone out, fingers pressing into the keys.

so apparently talking to you is costly  Oh, you've had your bill. I feel I should ask whether I'm worth it? 

It’s instant—the way you make the nauseous feeling vanish. How you force it to slide back to where it came from, and in its place, warmth spreads. All accompanied by a smile on his lips. 

He doesn’t want to show his hand too much. Better at concealing, playing the long game when standing face to face.

This requires a skill he hasn't yet gained. Simply focusing on not sounding ridiculous, or over the top. Unnecessary. Like some of the desperate men, he's happened to arrest over the years.

Even if his chest flutters and his mind screams, of course. Wants to ask, isn't it obvious? But he chooses something easier, uncomplicated.  

yes just didn’t expect it  I had my phone bill the other day. I get it.  did your heart fall out your ass No. But I will be eating ramen for the next month.  We can stop texting so much though, if it’s costing too much.  would rather my bill be double than stop talking to you  You’re such a flirt. 

He drains the rest of his mug, leaning back in the chair—hearing the sound of approaching boots from his Pop’s side of the house. Fingers typing, all hurried and determined 

Don’t forget I’m out for drinks and a movie.  I remember don’t worry 

He remembers as soon as you remind him.

Realising it's the reason you're able to reply right now. You’d been telling him almost every night for the past week. All worried, as though hating the idea of breaking the nightly tradition the two of you have concocted. 

In a way, Javi should have assumed the bill would be high with the number of texts the two of you have been sending. How frequent it’s been—how nice it’s been. 

Nice things do usually come with a tag. 

you decided on sweet or salty  Verdict is still out. You sure about waiting to do the crossword?  if we don’t do it tonight, we’ll do two the next day  You sure? more than sure have a great time 

“Y’sure you don’t fancy coming with me, Jav?”

He thinks of it, tapping his phone against his palm as he thinks of your text the other night. The one about him trying to say yes—something curling in his chest as he realises he’ll be alone, alone if he doesn’t. 

A sentiment he didn’t mind on paper, but now confronted with, rather despised. 

 “Alright, yeah. Can—can I get changed?” 

Mid-grabbing his own jacket, his Pop turns, surprise knitted into his wiry brows. “Y-yeah, sure, I’ll….”

“I’ll meet you at the truck?” 

And he does. All without complaint. Plaid shirt on, a smile being forced as soon as the truck pulls off the drive. He doesn't even complain about the radio choice or the fact his Pop always takes the main roads when he could cut down the dusty roads. 

When he arrives, he doesn’t mind how many hands he shakes, one after the next. He tries not to grit his teeth as each person says the usual things, they’re proud, he’s grown, when is he settling down? Each time he laughs it off. Spanish rolling from his tongue as he smiles and winks. 

It’s performative. 

The old version of him coming out from a hidden place. 

Always there, ready, as his hand shakes another person's hand—one he’s already forgotten the name of. Someone he’s sure he’s met before, too. 

It always happens. The small-town boy who took down drug cartels has become somewhat of a celebrity tale. A thing to gawk at when he visits the store. Chucho's boy who ran away to Colombia and now hides away on the ranch.

For the amount of time it's been, he'd foolishly expected it to die down—but it hasn't. Not enough, anyway. 

After enough time, he excuses himself, sneaking down the corridor near the bathroom. Leaning against the wall, fingers trying to rub out a knot that hasn’t yet appeared in his skull. The one pulsing, threatening to build behind his eye.

He’s unsure what he wants to do, what he needs. Retrieving his phone, just clicking around, before finding himself on your texts—feeling better for it.

Reading them back, smirking at some, smiling wide at others. A shape forming in his head, little details he’d amassed to make up you. A person he was pretty sure meant more to him than evening company, but it seemed tricky to delve too far into it. 

That is until his phone vibrated. 

Just wanted to tell you I miss you. Even if that’s weird. 

His fingers hover over the keys, a retort quick—there in his touch.

Slowly he presses it out, hearing the click even over the bar’s music as he double and triple taps each button he wants, until it forms what it is he thought:

not weird, you drunk I’m tipsy, not drunk. Still mean it. good cause i miss you too

you never said how the movie was

As someone who flies a lot, I shouldn’t have watched it.

that bad

Will probably have to hold the hand of my seat mate the next time work makes me fly. 

I’m sure they won’t mind 

Depends on the length of my nails I guess. 

some people don’t mind nails clawing in certain situations

You trying to tell me you like nails down your back, Javi? 

if the situation is right, yes 

What about in your hair?

now who’s being a tease 

I’m learning so much tonight. 

and your putting images in my head 

I’d love to know what I look like in it, since you haven’t seen me.

beautiful, you look beautiful 

My face is burning. 

your day been ok

Yeah, was fine. Work has been rough. 

you want to talk about it

Not really, it’s stupid anyway. Plus, would rather do the crosswords and hang with you.

you do have two to make up to me

Best get giving me the clues then, Javi. 

four letters, begins with f 

Is this a Javi crossword or a real crossword 

baby, cmon 

Fuck?

fork 

someone’s in a dirty mood

You’re such a dick. Give me a real clue. 

There's not a point in time where he can track how his thoughts went from nothing to you. But, he thinks about you all the time.

Has been doing so constantly for the last two days, at least—the occasional vibrations from his phone making his lips twitch and his mind wander. Javi’s brain exploding with wonder at what your reply could say. 

Sometimes, he tries not to check immediately. Test—see—how long he can go before he does. It’s not been going well.

An excitement dashing through his veins that fills his chest, warms his neck and makes a ridiculous grin appear (one he’s caught accidentally in the mirror).

The back and forth has been quicker—for as costly as it was—outside of routines and work. His fingers have even improved in the speed of tapping the same key to get one single letter.

Each text makes him feel like he learns a new nugget about you, gathering a new piece of the puzzle—an idea of you forming in front of his eyes. One he likes—craves more of—wishing for other tidbits similar to how you like coffee after breakfast, not before. 

That you don’t care for birthday cake, but love cookies. 

morning hermosa hope you managed to grab the coffee

He doesn’t expect to hear from you.

Remembering that your time management in the morning isn’t to be admired. You are someone who is either awake too early or too late—never in the middle.

But, when he finishes. Sweat clinging to every muscle, he’s surprised to find nothing.

Even a little disappointed.

finished up for the day, unsure whether to lounge around on the porch or push the boat out and lounge in the barn

You’ve become such a part of his day, his shoulders sink when he steps out of the shower to see nothing.

His heart slips down inside his chest, resting unsteadily on his ribs as he checks and checks. His fingers fluff his hair as he runs his fingers through it before finding a strand, twisting, and twisting.

I’m probably worrying about nothing but just let me know you’re ok

A part of him had worried this would happen.

That he would allow the attachment to grow—ropes and threads wrapping around him—and it would be taken from under his feet.

He has a history of becoming hooked—usually combining itself with his need to help, to make someone’s day better, easier.

And on paper, he knew it was odd. To care for someone he hadn’t ever even met. But he cares all the same.

Copious amounts, in fact.

Far past an, ‘I miss you’—something else entirely, not that he’d admit as much.

hermosa I’m really getting worried now

He doesn’t want to call.

Doesn’t want to invade your privacy, your space. But it’s knotting inside of him. The things he’s seen, rushing to the surface, pecking away, making him overthink.

His mind conjures ideas that you’re hurt, wounded. That you’re crying, alone. Each flash of his past has the curated blob-of-a-face he’s created for you, written over it.

His fingers twitch, hand moving to his pocket before remembering there are no cigarettes to be found there. He quit. Ages ago. Felt better for it—for the most part—until now.

Now when all he wants is to focus on the taste, the way smoke swirls with the warm Texas air—

Hey, I'm so sorry, I had a bad day. Just didn’t check my phone.  shit hermosa, you scared me.  almost called you.  Really? yeah  Would you? what call you Yeah?

[Dialing number…]

you declined  I did

His heart sinks, crashes, and plummets. 

Then a new vibration, one that travels down his fingers to his wrist, suddenly staring at an instruction: Give me your landline number, be cheaper. For both of us. 

Glancing into the living room, he taps the number in for you. Hating each precious second he wastes by having to delete a letter that should be a number.

Pushing the chair back, hearing it screech as he hovers. Nervousness thumps through him, making him shake, vibrate. 

Staring, willing the phone to ring.

Even as he tries to collect himself, his mind has already begun running away from him. Hearing his pulse thump in his ear, thump, thump—

And then it’s ringing—you’re ringing. 

His voice shouts out he’ll get it as he picks up the phone from the hook. 

“Javi… that you?”

Grinning, he laughs, light and airy. “Hi. Yeah, it’s me.” 

Silence blankets his ears and the air, thumb circling a knot in his forehead. 

Smiling, he changes the phone to his other ear. “Knew you’d sound pretty. You have a nice voice.” 

“Shut up, Javi. I’ve said three words.”

“And a few more.”

He hears you suck in a breath as heat rushes to his ears, feeling the edges of his lips curl into a smile.

“You wanna talk about it or talk about something else?” 

He hears you take a breath another breath. Different this time, all accompanied by a shuffling sound from your end.

“Something else. If that… that’s okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Alright, lemme… lemme think for a second—“

You clear your throat, “You have a nice voice, too, by the way.”

Pausing, he bites the inside of his cheek. “Like you imagined?”

“Better, honestly.”

“I could have called you. I have this additional thing on our plan—so my Pop could call. When I was away.” 

“From when you were in Colombia?”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he nodded. “Yeah…” 

“Well, if this conversation goes well, you may get a new number to add to your phone book.” 

“That so? Who’s flirting now.”

You laugh, sweet—fluttering its gorgeous wings down the phone to his ear as he readjusts the phone.

Dropping his voice, he turns more to the walls. “So, what you wearing, baby?”

“Oh my god, Javi.”

He doesn’t even mute his laughter, just lets it flow from him—rushing through the house. Not even caring if his Pop can hear him in the next room.

"I'm wearing nothing."

"Hermosa, you tease."

You laugh, and it's different. It's rich, and makes the room glow around him, without you even being here.

"I'm not really, I'm in a baggy t-shirt."

"Not as sexy, but I'm sure I can work with it."

You snort, "Javi, stop."

He wonders if your cheeks are warm. He hopes they are.

Leaning against the wall, he smirks, if only to himself. "I like how you say my name, Hermosa."

an: thank you so much for all being wonderful, i heart you

[readerstories]

In Rain and Mud - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/4

Saw the movie in theaters finally, brainworm ofc came in strong. (Part 2) (Part 3) (AO3)

Warnings/tags: male reader, eventual canon-typical violence, blood, eventual smut

Wordcount: 996

Summary: Your cabin lays far away from anything and everything. And with the rainstorm currently battering the woods this night you don’t expect to see or hear another human being until you leave for town. So when there’s banging on your door, you switch your book with your shotgun from its place on a sidetable, loading it as you approach your door.

Your cabin lays far away from anything and everything. 

It’s how you want it, how you want to live most of the time.

Leaves you with peace to read your book in front of the roaring fire keeping the chill out, lounging in grey sweatpants and a loose green t-shirt.

And with the rainstorm currently battering the woods this night you don’t expect to see or hear another human being until you leave for town.

So when there’s banging on your door, you switch your book with your shotgun from its place on a sidetable, loading it as you approach your door.

You stop right in front of it, hand on the handle as you sniff, trying to smell and hear whoever is there on the other side.

“Come on! Let us in, drowning in the storm or blowing away would be a really sucky way to die!” Hearing the man is not difficult as he yells to be heard over the howling winds, all you can smell is the rain and your own cabin. You open the door just little more than a crack, keeping your shotgun hidden behind the door for the moment. Two men stands on your porch, bathed in your porch light, the darkness behind them filled with the swoosh of wind, moving trees, and rain,

“Who the fuck are you?” You look at the man in the red and black suit that was banging on your door just seconds ago, briefly glancing from his masked face to his frowning companion behind him, that guy in a yellow and blue suit. 

“Oh thought you would never ask!” Red reaches behind him and yanks Yellow next to him, an arm over Yellow’s shoulder, which gets him a grunt and a fist in his side from Yellow, though Red doesn’t visibly react to the punch.

“I’m Deadpool, but you can call me Wade for short.” Deadpool splays a hand on his own chest as he presents himself. “And this handsome frowny face,” He grabs Yellow’s chin, “This is Wolverine, or Logan if you want less of a mouthful.” Wade winks, Logan batting away Wade’s hand from his face. 

You look them up and down, fully taking in what looks like costumes, that are ripped and bloody in places. Deadpool, or Wade, is sporting two kantanas, two guns in thigh holsters, one knife in a leg holster, and a utility belt. Logan has no visible weapons, though you note the grey slits between the knuckles on his gloves.

“You some kind of heroes? Villains?”

“Merchanaries actually!” Wade voice is surprisingly chipper for someone that is soaked to the bone in ripped clothes. “At least for now while we make ends meet.” Logan pushes Wade’s arm off his shoulder, taking a step to the side as you look at them both.

You grunt.

“Leave the weapons outside.”

“Don’t trust us sweetcheeks?”

“Who the fuck would? Leave em or you can wash away with the rain for all I care.” Wade shrugs, taking off his weapons and putting them on the porch. As he does so, you look at Logan.

“You got any?”

“No.” You catch a whiff of the tangy stench of a lie on that one gruff word, but don’t bother pushing it. You can’t see any right now, not much he could have hidden in the suit, and it’s not like you can’t defend yourself without being armed or prepared.

Without weapons, you let them inside, shutting out the storm once more.

“Take off your shoes, mud.” You order as you unload your shotgun, putting the shells in your pocket, leaning the gun next to the door.

“Hate to ask hot stuff, you got any spare clothes? Would hate, hate, hate to track water and blood all over this rustic but so, so chic wooden floors.

“Yeah.” You walk off to your bedroom to check your closet.

“Ohhhh a man of few words, you and Logan match! I think we’ll get along great cuddling up here together.” There’s a sound that sounds like a punch followed by an “ouf” from Wade. You snort.

Rifling through your dresser, you grab one black hoodie, one blue hoodie, two black sweatpants, two pairs of socks, and two boxers,

You return to the living room with the clothes, where Wade has already started stripping off clothes, leaving him in just pants while Logan is still fully dressed in his soaked suit. You ignore the scars covering all the skin you can see on the almost nude Wade, handing him the bundle with the blue hoodie, while Logan gets the black one.

“So you get the sexy grey pants while we are stuck with boring black? Is this that kinda porn?” You imagine if Wade had any eyebrows they would be wiggling. You ignore his comment.

“Towels under the sink,” You point towards the door of your bathroom, “Food is the kitchen corner, liquor in the cabinet in the corner, the spare bedroom has one bed. Share it or take the couch, don’t care, just don’t fuck on either.” Logan scowls at you, Wade laughs.

“Look pookie, I’m not the only one that thinks we have unsolved sexual tension, the writer thinks so too!” This time you see the punch, this time it topples Wade over, sending him to the floor with a bang. You roll your eyes.

“I’m going to bed, help yourselves, and we’ll see if the weather has cleared up in the morning so you can leave without drowning.” With that, you leave them their own devices, grabbing your book, and for good measure and show, your shotgun on your way to the bedroom.

As soon as the door closes behind you, you hear Wade start talking again with the occasional grunt from Logan in response, though trough the wall and with the howling storm it is easy enough to tune out the sounds of two other people in your space so you can fall asleep.

[cyberl33ch]

Excuse Me, Miss? Chapter 3

masterlist, part one, part two, part four

summary: abby saying she would be late to the gallery she invited you to…classic. thinking it was all in your head you say what hell and start to mingle. abby shows up and sees you flirting openly with another? hell no.

word count: 1.5k

tw: angst, eventual smut, conflict of interest, alcohol consumption, & more hopeless feeling.

pairing: Neighbor/BusinessPartner!Abby x NepoBaby!Reader

While on the drive to the gallery you get a phone call from Abby, clicking the phone button on your steering wheel. “Hii, I’m on my way there.” You say answering the call raising your voice higher than you would like. “That’s great, I was just calling to let you know I might be a little late, I got caught up with some extra work.” She says letting out an audible sigh, hearing how upset she is almost makes you…frown?

“Oh, that’s not a problem, take as much time as you need.” You say reassuringly. You’ve always been a people pleaser, even with knowing your true feelings you’ve always bottled them up. “Thank you…it’s refreshing to have someone not care about inconveniences in my schedule” Abby says exhaling you can hear her smirk through the phone. 

Ending the phone call you continue to drive to the gallery, stepping out of your car in the parking garage you feel the rush of adrenaline hit you. Since you’re pretty much antisocial and this is an entirely unknown setting you feel slightly anxious. As you inch closer and closer to the opening door gripping you subconsciously purse on your shoulder tighter and tighter. It’s almost making your skin crawl not knowing what’s on the other side of the door.

An hour ago you definitely did not see yourself swept up in a conversation, let alone not in a corner but with a wine glass in hand. You ran into a couple of Abby's friends which tells you that she talks about you (simping). But one of Abby’s friends Ellie seemed to really take an interest in you the moment she locked eyes with you. 

But you couldn’t really get a good read on Ellie. She was most definitely aware of the conversation but she was taking you in?? Either way you couldn’t really tell what her point was of coming up to you. Not to mention the conversation with her was butter smooth, honestly it just flowed no awkward silences or anything. However that traction was forced into a complete stop when you felt a warm hand on your mid back, looking back to realize it was Abby. 

As soon as you meet her gaze you can smell her expensive cologne, taking in her well fitted suit. God Bless Custom Fitted Suits. “You look stunning.” Abby finally mutters before ripping her eyes off your curves before she moves her gaze where it’s not welcomed. “Ells, how are you?” She says quickly facing Ellie and shaking her hand as if she wasn’t just eye-fucking you a minute ago. 

As Abby and Ellie’s conversation picks up, you slip away to the less crowded side of the gallery. It feels nice to be alone, but not for long as Abby stands beside you gazing at the large painting on the wall. “And how has your night been darling?” Abby says not blessing you with her gaze yet. “It’s been nice…your friend is very attractive.” You say admittingly keeping your eyes on the painting. 

You feel her eyes hit you like daggers as she shakes off the feeling that a compliment came out of your mouth and it wasn’t about her. Abby knew she usually doesn’t care about these things, they usually seem so shallow and useless. But knowing herself well she knows she has thick skin and the sting that came with the compliment seemed to dissolve quickly.

“I’ve known Ells since my childhood.” She finally lets out, seeming to snap back into reality. Bringing your eyes up to meet hers before you spit more viper into the-what was supposed to be a short conversation. “Yeah she told me, we talked quite a bit before you arrived.” You almost mumble the last part noting that for some reason Abby’s face looked slightly uncomfortable. 

“You did huh…” Abby says, guiding you gently by your waist to the next painting. “This one is more my style.” You say slowly taking in the painting before looking down at the nameplates. Oh? They have nameplates of the artists, you squint and see Ellie’s name at the bottom. Slowly turning your head to the side to peek at the artist name of the last painting to see it said “Abby Anderson” in gold engraved letters. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the grating sound of a mic followed by deep apologies from the host gathering the cord of the mic, Abby told you her name was Dina. “Thank you all so much for coming today, but the gallery closes in 25 minutes.” Dina says before handing the mic to someone and continuing to mingle with whoever. 

“That’s code for get the fuck out.” Abby says, whispering in your ear. Hearing Abby’s low baritone voice is something you didn’t know you needed and not to mention how close she is to your neck right now. “Oh by the way Abs do you mind if I catch a ride with El?” You say reading her expression. And you could tell she was definitely pissed for some reason, you almost didn’t catch it from how quickly she changed her face.

“But how will I know if you get home safe?” Abby almost looks…wait. Is she fake worried?? Unknowingly you let your neutral expression slip into a “wtf is wrong with you” one, Abby picks up on it faster than you can fix your face. Thankful that you didn’t consume any alcohol the words in your head would’ve made a beeline for your mouth. Either way you felt like Abby was about to let you have it, well that was before Ellie walked over thankfully swooping you out of that conversation.

“Looked like someone needed saving.” She says smirking her arm dangerously low on your lower back. “Thank you…your art is beautiful by the way.” You thank her slipping in a compliment, completely missing the fact she was shoving a scotch your way. As you stare at the venom in the glass wondering how to navigate this awkward situation.

“I’ll be right back Els.” You say unhooking her arm from your lower back. “Gotta powder your nose?” Ellie says cheekily shooting you a wink before you slip off in the direction of the overhead bathroom sign. God do these people know how to decorate and spend money while doing it, however you were preaching to the choir. 

Staring at your unlocked phone the reality hits you that a normal person would call their best friend or sibling to give you clarity on what you should do in this situation. Slowly eyeballing the drink on the counter, you subconsciously reconsider that time your father offered a therapist. Scoffing at your reflection in the mirror. “Suck it up, it’s just one drink.” You whisper lowly to yourself before downing the entire glass in one go. 

Walking back out to find Abby in the nearest corner leaning onto the wall cupping a quite full wine glass. You haven’t known Abby for a long time so you kind of took her as a social person, especially considering her job. Swiping the nearest champagne off a waiter's tray you guzzle half the glass approaching Abby. “What’s up, dream girl.” You say cringing immediately from your words. Abby taking it unseriously and laughing at your buzzed state. “Buzzed?” She says, noting the half full glass in your hand. 

Downing the rest of the champagne followed with an exhale. “Working towards a great nap.” Abby takes the empty glass from you, fixing the loose strands of hair in your face and the slightly smudged lipstick on your bottom lip. “And towards a great hangover.” As Abby drinks in your features fully she feels like it’s just you two for once. Not that she has been letting her ever so slight possession over you show. 

Abigail has been very dominant with her past partners and she wants to change that side of her to show a more submissive side. To show that she can be vulnerable other than her financial advisor. That’s why she’s trying to take it slow with you, this whole night has been her reminding herself that it’s like bending her will (which makes you all the more attractive). That’s right bending my will, like a bendy pencil.

It’s just the constant lusting over her friend who quite frankly isn’t all that, I mean she loves Els of course but the adoration in your voice when you address Ell isn’t something she wants to get used to. So when she snaps back into reality and sees you and Ellie a little too close for comfort but when she sees Ellie get closer and closer to your neck. Snap.  Pushing past whoever is in the crowd she takes you by the elbow, stomping out of the venue into the valet area. “Abigail, what is happening with you right now?” You say worriedly but mostly full of curiosity. Full first name? Is what is going through her mind right now, which might be why she isn’t blessing you with eye contact.

What does Abby have in store for you at wherever she's taking you?

my masterlist

(tell me in my ask my anything's if you have a request!)

(divider by @gigittamic)

[skzimagines]

Characters: Lee know x Female reader.

Genre: Boxer!Leeknow

Warning: fighting, slight angst, smut, mentions of blood.

Summary: Having a boxer as a boyfriend has its advantages, but the disadvantages are higher.

—————————————————————————————

“Minho.. you can’t fight, again!” I say, following him down the hallway to his changing room. “Y/n, I’ll be fine. Last night wasn’t even that bad.” He says, wrapping his hands with tape, making his way to the fighting ring. “Are you kidding me? You blacked out after the last hit Minho. He nearly put you in the hospital.” Minho chuckles. He turns around a engulfs me in a hug. I fall into his arms, wrapping my arms around him. I take in his musky, cologne smell one last time before he pulls away. “Everything will be alright sweetheart.” He says, kissing my forehead.

Minho makes his way out of the hallway, entering the stadium. People’s cheers grow louder as he makes his presence known. My heart rate increases the closer he gets to the ring. He’s been doing this for years, he knows what he’s doing. But this guy he’s about to fight, is way bigger than him and has won many more matches. I wait for Minho to reach the ring before I walk out with his team to take our seats at the front of the ring.

We all sit down and our seats. My leg nervously bouncing up and down. I’ve been with Minho since the start of his career, but when it comes to his matches, the anxiety of it all never goes away. I worry about him, to be honest… it scared me most times. I tell him it does, but it doesn’t faze him. “It’s our source of income, we need the money.” He always tells me. Of course I tell him there’s other ways of bringing in income, but he doesn’t budge. He lives for the thrill of all of this.

He takes off his shirt, throwing it to the side of the stage, he turns around and gives me a reassuring smile. He mouthes the words “I love you.” Before he climbs over the ledge, squeezing through the ropes. His coach helps put his gloves on, making sure they’re tight enough for the match. He slaps his fists together, the sound of his gloves smacking together rings through my ears.

The bell dings, sounding off the match to begin. Minho moves closer to the other guy, holding his arms in front of his face. The first guy throws a punch, missing Minho as he quickly dodges it. As soon as the guy misses, Minho takes his change to throw a punch, hitting the guy square in the nose. The guy stumbles back a little bit, but quickly catches himself and throws another punch at Minho. He hits him this time, in the forehead. The plastic from his glove causes a cut to form on Minhos temple, blood leaking out of it.

About 10 minutes passes, more than a few hits later. Minho finally kicks the guys leg, sending him to his knees and Minho lands a punch to the guys face. The guy lands on to the stage with a big thud and the referee stands beside them. “One.. two.. three..” he starts counting. The counting sounds out as Minho turns around to look at his coach. I finally see his face clearly, his lip is busted, his temple is swollen, a black bruise is forming under his eye and his nose is bleeding.

“Ten!” The referee yells. Everyone starts cheering again. Minho won. A second referee hands Minho his belt, to which he holds up in the air, causing everyone to cheer louder. Minho rips off his gloves and hands them to his team once he makes his way off of the ring. I look back to the ring, seeing the other guy being put onto a stretcher by the one duty paramedics. I swallow a lump in my throat, thinking about how that could have been Minho if things went south. How I have nightmares about that day happening.

“We’ll meet him back stage y/n.” One of his team members says into my ear. We all make our way to the back of the building, meeting Minho in his dressing room. He’s sat in a chair while a paramedic team tries their best to examine his face. I quickly walk over to him, not caring that I push the paramedics out of the way. “Hey baby.” He smiles. I freeze, noticing the bruise under his eye has doubled in the last three minutes. The blood is still leaking through the dried blood on his forehead and his lip is going to definitely need a stitch.

“Hey.. I’m going to be okay.” He says, giving me that famous ‘it’s going to be okay’ smile. I shake my head, ignoring his statement. I grab the gauze laying next to him on the table and dip it in the alcohol sitting next to them, bringing it up to his face and start to wipe away the blood under and around his lip. He winces when I touch it, causing me to jump the tiniest bit. “You always say you’re going to be okay Minho, but this keeps getting worse.” I whisper. I throw the bloody gauze into the trash and grab the ice pack also laying on the table and gently press it against the lump on his temple.

“Y/n I’m not quitting.” He says sternly. “I can’t. So just give it up.” I let out a huff and throw the ice pack onto the table. “Fine Minho, I give up.” I stand up and grab my purse. Leaving the room, making sure to slam the door on my way out. I make my way to the lobby, calling myself a cab. It arrives not long after.

I make it home, unlocking the door and settling in. I throw my purse and keys onto the entryway table, sliding my shoes off and heading to Minho and i’s bedroom. I strip out of my clothes, feeling dirty from being in that grimy sweat filled place, and start the shower. I get in and try my best to wash everything away. After rinsing my hair the rest of the way, I turn the water off and head to our closet. I find the baggiest shirt Minho owns and slide in over my head, taking in his scent, my body relaxes at the smell.

Having no idea when he’ll be home, I tuck myself into bed. He’ll probably go out for a few drinks with the team, to celebrate his win. ‘Good job Minho, for fucking up your perfect beautiful face.’ I think to myself. Not that it’s actually fucked up. He would always be beautiful, he was just born that way. I quickly feel my eyes growing heavy, and before I know it I drift to sleep.

It’s 3:14am when I hear the front door slam shut. I sit up and turn the bed side lamp on. Minho walks in to the room, he walks into our on sweet bathroom and turns on the shower, stripping himself of all his clothes. Throwing them into a pile in the corner. He leans against the door frame of the bathroom and looks at me. “What?” I ask. He smiles, and starts walking toward me. “You’re so feisty sometimes, you know that?” He asks with a chuckle. He grabs my chin with his thumb and index finger, making me look up at him. “Well, I kind of have to be when my boyfriend is one of the best boxers in the world.” I answer him.

He smiles down at me, before leaning down for a kiss. “Do you want to join me?” He asks, tilting his head towards the shower. “I already showered.” I say. He lets out a dramatic gasp, holding his hand to his chest. “Without me!” He says. I laugh at his dramatic outburst. “Well maybe if you weren’t out celebrating getting your face reconstructed, you would have been here to join me instead.” I say, laying back down and covering up again.

“Excuse me, but my face didn’t get reconstructed, okay? My face is still as perfect as it was before.” He sarcastically says. “Aahhh… I see, well I am so lucky to have you as my boyfriend.” I say with a laugh. “You better be.” He smiles, before heading into the shower.

After about thirty minutes, he returns back into the room. His face looks better cleaned up. The bruises are still bad though. He has a towel wrapped around his waist. Which he drops to the floor once he makes his way into our closet. I watch him as he slides boxers on. His perfectly toned abs contort as he moves, his biceps flex unintentionally as he moves around. He is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I am the luckiest woman in the world to be able to call him mine. Staying mad at him was never an option for me. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to put a smile on my face, even when I’m mad at him.

He crawls into bed, making himself comfortable under the covers. “Come here.” He says, holding out his arms. I roll over and climb into them, laying my head against his chest. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?” He chuckles. I lift my head, pressing a long kiss against his lips. He brings his hand up, setting it on the back of my head. He deepens the kiss by tapping his tongue against my bottom lip until I let him slide it in against my own. The kiss quickly turns head. He rolls me over so I’m on my back and he climbs on top of me. He slowly starts kissing down my neck, before sliding his shirt I’m wearing, up and over my head, throwing it on to the floor. “You are so beautiful sweetheart.” He whispers, running his hands from my neck all the way to my stomach. Causing goosebumps to form on my entire body. He starts kissing down my stomach, heading straight to where I want him the most. He kisses the inside of both my thighs before sliding my panties to the side. He kisses the top of my heat before looking up at me one more time. “Oh and by the way, I wasn’t out celebrating. I was busy talking to my team…. I quit.” He says. “You wha-” I start to say, but he cuts me off by wrapping his lips around my sensitive clit. Sucking as hard as he can while sliding his middle finger inside of me. “Min-Minho.” I moan. He hums against my pussy, sending a vibration throughout it. I throw my head back letting out moan after moan. Feeling my high reach closer each time he sucks and thrusts his finger back in.

He suddenly stop sucking, sitting up and laying on top of me. Lining his tip up to my heat, sliding it through my soaked folds. “Mmm baby, you feel so good.” He groans, before sliding his member all of the way in to me. I let out a loud moan when he fills me up all of the way. “Feels s-so good Minho!” I moan. He kisses my jawline, before wrapping his dainty, long and beautiful fingers around my throat. “Cum for me baby.” He demands.

His words send me over the edge, I hit my high. My head shooting back and my hands grasp the sheets as I cum around him. His name leaves my mouth more times than I can count. His thrust become sloppy once I cum, I know he’s close. My wet heat tightening around him, as he shoots his load in to me. He lets out a low grunt as he thrusts into me for the last time, collapsing on top of me.

We lay here like this for a while as I run my hand through his long hair. “Did you really quit?” I hesitate to ask, but eventually doing so anyway. “Yes I did.” He says, looking up at me. “You mean more to me than getting money from something my girlfriend hates.” He whispers. “You’ll always be my number one priority y/n.” He says with a soft smile. He kisses the top of my head, before we both drift to sleep.

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Mary Earps x Reader

Flatmates & Handshakes

Part of the Beth McCarthy mini song series

Friendship Bracelet

I'm not bitter

I'm happy you're happy, it's just

I loved you first

And it's not like it was easy

But we had each other

Now you have another

And I hate it, I hate it

So go ahead and burn my friendship bracelet

Your eyes were locked in, eyebrows furrowed and squinting slightly to assert dominance as you sauntered up to the penalty spot opposite Mary. She had that dirty smirk on her face that she does when she’s trying to intimidate people but that doesn’t work on you - she knew that so you wondered why she’s even trying! You’d been friends for years and became roommates after you both joined Man U but since moving to Barcelona, you’re now on the opposite side of the field. As the ref tried to sort out a ruckus between the players behind, you cemented the spot as yours. Nobody knows you like Mary.. but nobody knows Mary like you either. Endless days of practicing penalties against her probably makes her think she can read you like a book. But you know her tactics too; how she reads body language and positioning, studies every member of a team before a game and has player stats on her water bottle. You noticed she didn’t check it for you though, clearly thinking she had this one in the bag. Since leaving the country for Spain you hadn’t kept in contact at all, she’d unfollowed you on social media and blocked your number. It’s sad but it’s not your fault, she’s the one that ruined the friendship.

From teenagers you’d grown into women together, spending nights holding each other’s hair back over a toilet is where your friendship blossomed after your under 19 games. She was a liability but she was your liability and equally you were hers - always taking it in turns to be the sensible one. As you grew up, both of you realised you wanted to take football more seriously and those nights became few and far between… probably for the best really! Your late nights turned into bleary eyed car rides and sitting on the boot analysing the stars. Sometimes you would catch yourself missing it when you were driving home in the dark by yourself, wondering if she looks at the stars and thinks of you too. Those were the days when days were simple. You had plans to grow old together in the same care home causing havoc everyday but moving in together you soon realised you weren’t compatible as roommates. Well.. it wasn’t Mary that was the problem, she was your platonic soulmate, it was her boyfriend that caused the breakdown in your friendship. Mary’s boyfriend took great offence to the different people you bought home most weekends, he didn’t want Mary around that and for someone who never had a problem with it, she soon took his side over yours. You were young and single, what else was there to do? She used to be like that too until she wanted something better.

You’re not bitter, you just hate the way things were left. It was a huge row fuelled by her boyfriend being home one night when you bought yet another person back to the flat. He lit the spark, making one simple comment then sat back and watched Mary implode; throwing you out along with all of your belongings in the middle of the night. Ripping her friendship bracelet off like you would a wedding ring and throwing it as she slammed the door in your face. Luckily, that’s when Barca approached and just in time to get you out of the WSL and out of the country.

Unfortunately for you though Man U had qualified for the Champion’s League this season which meant playing them and her in the quarter final. There’s nothing you would have loved more than to be benched for this game but you’d really come on leaps and bounds since being at Barca. They’d developed your game into something you could have only dreamed about when you were little and was now a firm starter on the team. Unluckily for Mary, you were their star penalty taker too.

After one misplaced and badly timed tackle caused Geyse to fall to the floor inside the box, a penalty was immediately awarded. The score was currently 1-1 and with not a lot of time left on the clock, this was your time to shine. Mary had the longest clean sheet streak in the WSL and was only a few games away from making women’s football history. You know how much keeping her clean sheet means to her which meant you had to break it. There’s nothing you want more than to rip her streak away from her and rub that smug look off of her face.

You knew she would never expect you to shoot with your left foot, but that’s just one skill you’d picked up in Spain that she didn’t know about yet. Yeah, it’s your weaker foot but it’s your highest chance of getting it past the best goalie in the world - as much as you hated her winning that award, you knew she deserved it. The ref’s whistle hurtled through your ears as you started your run up. Making sure you didn’t give her any inkling of what way you were going until the last possible second. Watching her dive left as you shot right -

GOOOOOAAAAALLLLL!!!!!

Not waiting for the ball to hit the back of the net you ran to the fans, knee sliding into the corner as you were bundled from behind by your teammates. One by one the bodies plucked themselves from you just as they were replaying the goal on the big screen. Looking up to see Mary’s pissed off face projected onto it made you the happiest you’d been in ages, revenge certainly feels sweet!

Confidently taking your time strolling to the middle of the pitch to restart, nothing could wipe the happy little smirk off your face. Touching the ball a few times before the final whistle blew and cementing your team into the championship final. Shaking hands with your old teammates who passed you and chatting to the few who stopped to catch up, you didn’t see Mary approach from behind. Gloved hands grabbed your shoulders and turned your body around to face her, “when did you learn to shoot with your left foot?” her voice sounding annoyed and a little impressed at the same time. “Few months ago, been saving it for a special occasion” you shrugged, not knowing what the reaction would be to your response. “Oh and you thought ruining my streak was a special occasion aih?” her voice animated as she nudged your ribs. “It was the only way I’d get it past the best goalie in the world” a hint of sarcasm in your sentence raised a small one sided smile from your ex best friend. “If anyone was going to ruin it, I’m glad it was you” taking your hand in hers and pulling your chests into each other. Disentangling your limbs you sensed a slight glimmer in both your eyes, wondering if the other remembered your old handshake. A few seconds passed as the situation was assessed by both of you before bursting into amateur dramatics and performing the handshake that was created on your 17th birthday.

Laughing together in the middle of the pitch you stopped suddenly, tilting your head to one side and sighing. “I’ve missed you” taking the first step of admitting the truth about the estranged friendship. Throwing her arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the dugouts, “me too, we’ve got lots to catch up on” Mary smiled disappearing up the tunnel together, loud giggling echoing off the metal walls.

[forwhump]

a/n; sorry !!!!!!!!!!!!! (either for the delay or the fact that I’m posting again depending on how you feel about me)(I’m from mountains, canada and I drove to prairies, canada & at one point completely out of nowhere my friend was like “you could hide a military base out here so easy” I was like 👀)(silas could literally be in flatlands, manitoba we don’t even know)

anyway LOL this is for the anon that asked for more outside pov !! I was actually looking for smth hal ‘cause I have a lot more lighthearted stuff & sort of caretaking healing things from hal’s pov BUT !!! I felt partway through june needed more screen time & I went back and wrote a lot of early stuff from her pov & this is some of that & it is TOO GOOD not to post !! more wren backstory 😏 but nothing good has happened to wren in his life so y’know

tw/cw: sexual violence, rape, noncon, transphobia, misgendering, graphic depictions of violence, serious bodily harm, forced imprisonment, captivity, mentions of kidnapping, sexual slavery, medical torture

outside pov, military whump, mentions of super soldiers

June has been in the unit for about two years — she thinks — when Point comes to escort her from the common room, and it isn’t unusual. Not at first.

She safely assumes it’s for combat or field training, which are two of the only three things she ever gets escorted from the unit for. The third is medical. She’s never seen anything else, she’s never been taken to any other part of the district, and the hair on the back of her neck starts to rise as Point leads her deeper and deeper into the labyrinth, farther and farther from familiarity.

“Sir?” She tries, and he doesn’t even look at her.

He leads her to a door at the end of a long, empty hallway. He stands with his back to it, finally looking at June. Something in his jaw twitches. “Against my better judgment,” he says, and has to stop, to calm himself, closing his eyes, breathing in slowly through his nose. When he opens his eyes again, he looks at her and says, “if I had another choice, you would not be here. You are about to become privy to information only my most trusted men have been entitled to. It is contraband. If, for any reason, my superiors find out, and she is taken from me, I will not be happy. And if I’m not happy, your employment with me will be terminated by means of your life. Do I make myself clear?”

June had never seen any farther into the district than the arenas, even further underground. This is a single, armoured door, at the end of a long, empty hallway, at the junction of more long, empty hallways. “She?” June asks.

“Do I make myself clear?” Point repeats, and June’s body nods with no help from her brain.

“Sir,” she says.

Point clicks his tongue, irritated, before he unlocks and unarms the door.

It opens to the worst thing June has ever seen in her life.

“Fuck!” She says, and she doesn’t mean to, taking a quick step back. She can see Point watching her, blank, from the corner of her eye, but she can’t look at him. She doesn’t want to look anymore but she can’t pull her eyes off the body laid flat on its back on the concrete.

The costume dress is ripped and stained, tulle and gingham soaked through with blood. The body is so emaciated that June can clearly make out every bone in its leg beneath its waxy, bruised skin.

She fixates on the long, white hair. Robin has the same hair.

“Oh my fucking god,” she says.

Robin speaks of him, still, but he hasn’t been the same since this place got to him. None of them are. He isn’t frantic in the same way, but he still talks about him. When Robin talks, it’s most of what he talks about.

When he’d been taken, escorted here, his brother had been with him. The artist. They’d taken him, too. The soldiers all staunchly denied him ever even having a brother with him, so June had always assumed he’d been killed at the scene. Robin had insisted as long as he’d been there — they’d taken his brother, too. He was here somewhere.

He was right.

June feels cold all over.

“I think her pelvis is broken,” Point explains, and she has never experienced the rush of emotion she feels now, wet and hot, like a tide that breaks in her chest.

“You think her —“ she starts, and it almost makes her gag. She has to take a long breath in through her nose. She still can’t look away. “You think his pelvis is broken?”

“No,” Point admits. “Her pelvis is definitely broken.”

“Oh my fucking god,” June says again, and her voice sounds really far away. Robin’s brother has been real this whole time and Point’s been keeping him as a pet. “Oh my fucking god. You raped him to death.”

“She’s still alive,” Point says, and he says it like she’s dumb. He steps closer to nudge him in the side with the toe of his boot and Robin’s brother makes a quiet, wet sound June has only ever heard from dying men.

She reacts without thinking, shoving Point away from him. He moves, but he sneers as he looks down at her. “Stand down, January.”

“Get the fuck away from him!”

One of his eyebrows lifts, menacing. She doesn’t like Point, and she’s never liked Point, but one of the things she’s growing to loathe is his almost cartoonish villany. His mood swings are goofy and violent and it sets her teeth on edge. “I own her,” he says, low and dangerous. He leans in close. June is a big girl — Point is a massive fucking man. She doesn’t want to be intimidated by him but he speaks like a threat and his breath is hot against her face. “I can do whatever I want to her. That’s not why I brought you here.”

June would be shivering if she let herself, which is interesting because she’s actually as hot as if she’s running a fever. The sweat is cold as it trickles down her spine. “Why did you bring me here?”

Point looks down at the blood dried on the concrete, at Robin’s bleeding, broken brother, and says, “I don’t know what to do.” He looks at June slowly and his face is completely void of any emotion that June knows or recognizes.

“What?” She says.

He looks down again, back up, and she still can’t read his face at all. “I don’t want her to die,” he finally admits.

“Oh my fucking god,” June says, and she doesn’t mean to. She doesn’t know what else to say. She knew Point was a mean bastard but she never would’ve thought he would’ve been capable of this. “You should’ve thought about that before you raped him to death.”

“She doesn’t have to die,” he says.

“What do you want me to do?” June cries.

He looks at her like she’s a little stupid, which is just mind blowing, and motions to Robin’s brother with one arm. The other is held at his back, at ease.

Wren.

The name comes to her out of nowhere.

Robin’s brother is Wren.

“You’re also female,” Point explains, and kind of tilts his head, “I think.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” June says. “So?”

He motions at Wren again.

June looks at him, too, and it’s so much more horrible now that he has a name. He’d had family before, loved ones, somebody who was worried about him, and that was bad enough, but now this small, bleeding thing, broken down the middle, has a name.

Wren.

What was their last name? Some other kind of bird, wasn’t it? Was it Heron?

“I don’t know why you think I can help him,” June says.

Point’s eyebrows lift. “I figured you would’ve dealt with your share of female hysteria.”

“Female hysteria?” June repeats. “He was raped to death!”

“She isn’t fuckin’ dead!” Point snaps.

“He’s dying right now!” June cries. “You know that or you wouldn’t have come for help. What the fuck do you expect me to do? Really?”

Rage simmers in Point’s face for only a second. It’s gone just as quickly, replaced by something shier, almost more bashful. “Word is,” he says tightly, “you were a big…female advocate during your time. I thought you might’ve —“ and he cuts himself, exhaling sharply. “I thought you might’ve known somebody who’d been…hurt like her before. I thought you might know what to do.”

“They died,” June says.

“No,” Point says.

“Yes,” June corrects. “I worked around a lot of men like you. They were always civilians, always young, and they always died. Always.”

“You just let them die?” Point says, like he’s horrified by that.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” June says. “He needs a doctor. Have Medic —“

“No.” When he’s not speaking with too much emotion, Point doesn’t speak with a lot. Still, this is the flattest June’s ever heard his voice.

“Oh my god,” she says. “I know what to do and that’s what I know. If those girls in the field had been allowed access to a doctor they might not have died. They would’ve had a fucking chance, at least. What do you think is —“

“No,” he says.

“You’re really just gonna let him die here?” She protests.

“She’s contraband,” Point says, flat. “I thought I made myself clear.”

“So?”

Point looks her up and down once, lip curling disdainfully. “On paper,” he says, “she was terminated on site.”

Something shivers in June’s chest and makes her breath rattle. “Oh my god.”

“She is an unsanctioned pet,” Point says, “and —“

“Oh my fucking god,” she says. She takes a step away from him and she isn’t sure when she had gotten so deep into this room. She doesn’t like it, but she’s standing between Point and Wren and she can’t bring herself to stand anywhere else.

He kind of rolls his eyes at her. “And —“

“So he was always going to die here!” June cries, and the spike of hysteria in her voice surprises even her but this is fucking unbelievable. This is unreal. This place was a hellscape when these men were just working guard detail at a fucked up mad science program making super soldiers.

She should’ve known better. She was in the military, and she knew what those men were like. Point was right, kind of; she didn’t really work as an advocate, she just got a nickname. She used to fight, physically fight stationed doctors to try and get them to help the girls the soldiers always left behind. But they were always locals, civilians; the military’s doctors weren’t authorized to help them.

She should’ve known they’d never just be working guard detail.

She just never would’ve thought they’d be keeping a fucking sex slave in the basement.

What the fuck?

“What the fuck!”

Point exhales through his nose. “Yes,” he agrees.

June puts a hand to her chest and her heartbeat is like gunfire. Robin had been so hysterical about his brother when he’d gotten here, but he’d been going through withdrawals. June had never doubted that he was real, like Hal had, but she really thought they’d killed him, and that Robin had probably just blocked it out. That he’d completely forgotten it after the lobotomy, or whatever the hell they did to him.

He’d been real this whole time and Point had been keeping him as a pet.

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I don’t want her to die,” Point admits again, and June can feel it under her hand, the way that makes her chest constrict.

“At this point it’s probably the least you can do,” she spits, and her head is spinning.

“No,” Point says, and she hates that she agrees with him, but he’s right.

She can’t let him die down here. Not like this. “He needs a doctor,” she says.

“No.”

“That’s all you can do!” she protests. “There’s no other way to help him! You broke his fucking pelvis. He probably needed a doctor six months ago but if he doesn’t get one now he’s going to die. If you don’t want him to, tell Medic.”

“They’ll take her from me,” Point says.

June throws her arms up. “Then he’ll just be dead!”

Point looks down at her for a long time and she looks right back. She thinks he’s probably trying to intimidate some hidden medical prowess out of her, but she’s serious, and at some point he sees it in her face. His lip curls back from his teeth and he leaves. Without a word, he leaves, and he locks the armoured door behind him.

“Fuck,” June says out loud, and she doesn’t mean to. Her voice breaks.

But they’re alone. At least they’re alone.

Slowly, she turns to Wren, and slowly, she sits beside him. “Hi, Wren,” she whispers. He doesn’t respond and she doesn’t really expect him to. Slowly, she reaches out to him, brushing bits of crusted hair out of his face. He looks like he’s probably really beautiful, and he looks young. He looks so young that it makes June nauseous and she has to do everything in her power to keep her voice soft and calm and sweet. She wants to scream for him. She wants to cry.

She starts to push his hair out of his face and his eyes don’t open but he flinches with his whole body. “It’s okay,” June whispers. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. My name’s June. I’m a friend of your brother.”

It stirs something in him. His head turns slowly against the concrete and his hair is so white the parts dried with blood look like they’re rusting. Blinking open his eyes, he looks up at her, and he has eyes so much darker than June was expecting. He has really, really dark, really wide eyes, bloodshot and bruised underneath, and he looks up at June from beneath wet eyelashes and it makes him look even younger and she cries with him, then. She can’t help herself.

“Robin?” He asks, but just barely. His voice is really small, but when June strains to hear it, she can hear Robin’s accent, softer and sweeter. “He’s alive?”

“Yeah,” June agrees, smiling wetly, “and he’s clean. He’s all big now, looks like a real cowboy. They fixed his teeth, too. He’s got a great smile.”

He chokes out a wet sound that June only realizes is a sob when a tear clears a track in the grime on his face.

“I know,” she agrees softly. “Really seems like you got the shitty end of the deal here.”

He makes another choked sound and June likes to imagine that in another life, he got to laugh towards the end. “I’m gonna die,” he says, and June can hear it in how thin, how wet his voice is, that yeah, he probably is, “aren’t I?”

“I think so,” June whispers. “I hope not.”

He chokes out another sound, another sob. “I think I want to,” he whispers, and his brittle voice breaks. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

“I know,” she agrees. “I think I would, too.” He moves his head, tips his face up towards the ceiling, and strips of flesh have been peeled from the side of his throat. She takes his hand so carefully, and she doesn’t look at the bruising around his wrist or every one of his broken fingernails. “I don’t think I’d want to be alone,” she explains.

He makes a choked sort of sound. “I’m never alone.”

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “Do you want to be alone now?” His fingers tighten around June’s, almost frantic, and she says, “it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” She squeezes his fingers as much as she’s comfortable, which is just barely. “Couldn’t get very far if I wanted to.”

She’s crying, but that feels rude. What does she have to cry about? She tries to wipe her eyes with the back of her other hand and says, “I’m really sorry this happened to you.”

He doesn’t say anything but his fingers are still shaking so June knows he’s still alive. He’s so cold she thinks it would be hard to tell, otherwise. She doesn’t think she’d let go of his hand either way.

They sit there for such a long time that June thinks that Point’s left them both to die. She holds Wren’s hand and cries for him when he isn’t conscious to hear it. When the door is finally opened again, she jumps so hard it feels like it throws something out in her back.

Jumping to her feet, she keeps Wren safely behind her as Point filters back in, face blank. Close at his back is Medic and June sobs out loud.

She would go as far as to say she likes Medic. A trauma surgeon, Medic is a good doctor and he’s kind to them. He’s a prisoner, too. He doesn’t want to be there, either. Him and the entire rest of his team are fitted with collars, flickering at all times with dangerous red light. Insubordination will lead to electrocution which will lead to death.

Medic is a prisoner and he’s one of if not the only person down here with any sort of humanity left. He reacts to Wren like any normal person would — with horror.

He recoils so hard it makes him take a step back, and he bumps into June. Neither of them acknowledge it. “What the fuck?”

Point opens his arms, dismissive. “Fix her.”

“Who is this?”

“Who cares?” Point says. “Can you fix her?”

“What the fuck?” Medic repeats, ragged. “What did you do to her? Who is this?”

“Robin’s brother,” June says, and Medic looks at her with eyes blown wide with horror.

They blow even wider with realization. He looks at Point slowly. “What the fuck?”

“You’re wasting time,” Point says. “She’s dying.”

“His pelvis is broken,” June tells him quietly, and Medic sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck me,” he says. He rubs his face slowly, but if there’s one thing June likes best about Medic, it’s that she respects him. When he lowers his hands, he looks at Point. He says, “get the fuck out. Take June back to the unit, and stay the fuck away. If you try to see him at any point while he’s in my care, I will fucking kill you. You understand?”

Point’s lip curls back from his teeth. “You’re in no position to tell me what to do, doc.”

“Then maybe we’ll have Weaver come down here and take a look at him instead,” Medic says.

Point snarls, actually snarls, like some kind of fucked up beast, and the way the sound reverberates through the room is deeply unsettling. But he takes June by the arm, and he turns.

June turns to look over her shoulder, but Medic closes the door between them. As she turns back around, she sees it’s because Point tried to look back, too.

She doesn’t say anything to Robin. Maybe that’s the wrong choice, she isn’t sure. What would the right choice be? Would she wanna know, if it was her? What if she’d been lobotomized?

She doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t see Medic for months. When she does she’s sitting in a bed in the medical bay, trying to peer around for any sign of him. The medical bay, unfortunately, was designed for privacy; the size of a large airplane hanger, there are enough beds for a small army but spaced out far enough that June can’t peer end to end.

When the door is pushed open and Medic lifts the corner of his mouth at her, she has a bullet in her arm but she forgets that it hurts and blurts, “is he okay?”

Medic smiles a little more properly and the relief that crests in June’s chest almost makes her start crying out of nowhere. “No,” he says, “but he’s getting there. He’s alive.”

“Oh my fucking god,” she says, and he laughs. “Can I see him?”

“Let’s get this bullet out of you,” he says, “and we’ll see.”

A few months after that, somebody new is introduced to their unit. Like every other time, they don’t know until the guards show up with them. The new guy, this time, has long white hair, the same colour as Robin’s.

June cries pretty uncontrollably.

Robin doesn’t cry — can’t, maybe? — but June cries enough for him, too.