#removing it tonight was a BITCH but the remnants of it around my eyes was KINDA A LOOK TBH

[dyketectivecomics]

Got to fit zombie AND just a girl tonight as Jason 👏👏👏

[thismaydestroyme]

Denver: Love on Tour

i didn’t have any idea what i wanted to name this blurb. this shit wiped me out, and i don’t know if this is any good. i can’t bring myself to reread this over. it’s currently 2 in the morning, and i’m about to hit the hay. i hope you find this somewhat tolerable.

warning: that’s a loaded question 

word count: 3084

That fucking little teasing dance Harry did while he was performing ‘Woman” will forever be ingrained in your head. 

That fucking cheeky bastard.

Harry is so loved on stage and he was feeling himself the entire night, that’s why he did that cheeky dance because he knew his beautiful girlfriend, Y/N would go in a frenzy and that’s what he wanted. Of course he had to throw something in for Y/N, what kind of boyfriend would he be?

When Harry was finished with his show, he ran backstage to find Y/N, but he had to stop and appreciate everyone’s remark when they were throwing gratitude and compliments his way by his performance tonight. We could all say Denver won this round compared to the Las Vegas show. 

“Harry, you ate that!”

“You whore!”

“That was amazing”

“You deserve to have your ass eaten out.”

Harry immediately turned around to find who said that last part, because deep down he knew. Y/N pushed some people out of her way while she was trudging her way to Harry. Y/N is wearing her infamous white booties so when she walks you can hear her coming from all directions. When Y/N enters the room, all eyes are all on you because you own every room you’re graced in. When you finally get to Harry he’s already giving you a smirk which you gave right back. 

“Oh no…. Not this again.” Couple of people behind you said that while they start packing up their gears so you guys can leave and head to your next location and that’s San Antonio. 

“Hello puppet. I see that you’re in your dom headspace. I can see it in your eyes.” Harry said while he brought his hand to rub your cheeks. You give him a glare and push his hand away and you start walking back to the table which is covered by random shit- which you have to pack and clean. You hate the idea of leaving things a mess, so when you guys leave, people here won’t have to clean up all the mess you guys left behind. 

You can be a bitch, but you’re not disrespectful.

After a couple of minutes has passed where you put things back in the duffle bags that you brought and wipe down the vanities and tables with Lysol. Making sure things are squeaky clean.

You feel a presence behind you, but you don’t have to wonder who because you can spot that Tobacco Vanille fragrance anywhere. You turn around and you see Harry looking down at you, his eyes burning onto yours. 

“Why are you being like this?” Harry asked.

“I’m not being like anything, you’re…”

“I’m what?” 

“I just didn’t like you doing that ‘little’ dance. Flaunting your hips around and toying with your nipples while you were performing, Women.” You said annoyingly. You try to turn around, but Harry grabs your hand to make you stand right in front of him. 

“Are you jealous?” Harry said all knowling with that fucking grin on his damn face. You try to look over him because you don’t want to have this conversion, but he grabs your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. His green eyes are so blown out, you can hardly see any green. 

“I’m not-”

“Pet. Stop it right now. Answer my question.”

“Yes. I was jealous” You mumbled hoping he’ll drop it. 

“Awe, baby. That’s adorable.” He giggled.

“It’s not funny nor adorable.” You push his hands away to storm off but he still is holding onto you. 

Harry looks around and you’re not sure what he wanted because this room is already packed up and no one else is here beside you too. Then you realize there's a couch in this room and before you know it Harry is trudging you along to the couch. He plops down and you’re still standing between his legs that he purposely did on purpose because he loves it when you’re between his legs. His arms are stretched out, hanging loosely on the back of the couch. He’s staring right at you. Fuck, this man right here with his red pants on, with his blue and white strip button up shirt with his red spenders on. Like you said… this outfit beats the Las Vegas show.

“What you want, baby, you want to punish me?” He said while wiggling his eyebrows, which you taught him to do. It took him a year to master it.

You cross your arms which have your boobs stand out more. 

“Puppet, stop it, m’okay? Come to daddy.” 

You turn your head around because you’re just annoyed with the fact he turns himself on so easily and the fans witnessed it. You’re happy and glad Harry is finally at this point in his life where he’s able to live his authentic life and he’s able to express himself in the most beautiful way, but when it comes to his horny meter, you want to be the only one to see it. 

“C’mon darling, I will be a good boy for mommy. I want to be a good boy to mommy.” He said in the wine. 

Fuck.

You try to ignore his neediness, but it’s so hard to because he knows how much hearing him whine will send you into an overdrive. You try to ignore your needs, but you feel his hand on your waist, trancing his name on your waist. Due to the low rise jean you’re currently wearing, his name is on display. His hands started to work his way up to your stomach which he stopped at your belly button so he could play with your belly ring. 

His hands are so gentle and soft. It feels like Harry is doing figure skating motion on your stomach. It flows in the wind. You start to completely forget why you’re even mad at him. Your eyes flutter close. Everything just feels heightened.

You jolt because you feel Harry’s lips on your stomach and his hands are roaming your back and inching it way to your ass, but before he could even reach it he brings his hands back up. Harry is pampering you in kisses. It’s like his way of apologizing. Your hand finds its way to the back of his hair to tossle it up a bit. You feel so good and it feels so right. 

“Mommy?” Harry whispered which broke you out of your trance. You open your eyes and you see Harry looking at you with admiration. 

“Yes, baby?” You said in a gentle tone still twirling his hair in your hands. 

“I’m so sorry. I went overboard on stage. I just want you to know that.” He slowly gave you a kiss on your blushy stomach which resulted in you moaning.

“It’s okay baby. I’m not mad, I’m just sad I wasn’t the one to get you turned on.” You lean down to kiss the top of his head, so he knows that you’re not angry with him. 

“NO! The reason I did that was because I was thinking about you when I was singing Woman.” He rushed out his words. 

You bring your hand to his chin so he could look at you, “is that true, my pretty boy?”

“Yes! I want to be a good boy. That’s all I want. Please.” He rambled and immediately started kissing your stomach over and over again. Not missing any skin. 

“Fuck… you’re such a good boy to mommy. Mmmhh.” Harry starts sucking your skin. You toss your head back letting this feeling consume you. 

“H. I think we need to stop. We have to leave.” Your words were so broken up.

There was a plop sound due to Harry letting go of your extra skin that was in his mouth just a second ago. 

“Don’t worry about that. I told them to leave. We’ll just order an uber when they’re at their resting stop.” Harry went back to your stomach and his hands are roaming freely. You don’t want to argue with him how that’s unprofessional, but at this moment… fuck it.

“Okay baby.” You said to him. People wouldn’t think having someone making out with your stomach wouldn’t be considered sexy or whatnot but this moment is so intimate and so perfect for the both of you. 

While you have Harry praising you, you couldn’t help but think what he did on stage toying with his nipples. Just that sight almost had you cuming, but you had to control yourself, but now you don’t have to. 

You pushed Harry’s face away from your stomach and you could tell there was a hint of defiance in his eyes, so you had to stop it before he actually got in trouble. 

“That’s not a good boy behavior. Sit back.” Harry let out an annoyance huff, but you stopped it by glaring at him. He obeyed and he moved himself back on the couch. 

“Happy now?” Harry lifts his arms up so he can let it land on his thighs. He’s being a brat now. 

“Bad boys don’t get treats. So if I was you, I would stop this shenanigan right now.” You glared at him. He softened his eyes. 

“Good boy.” 

You walked little more up to him so it would be easier for you sit on his lap facing him. You lower yourself onto him. His hands found it’s way to your waist. When you're completely on his lap you feel a nice bulge forming, you couldn’t help but to smile. You raise your eyebrows which he responded by pulling you closer to him. 

“I didn’t realize how needy my superstar is.” You taunted him. You start moving your hips into a small circle which results in a moan getting stuck at the back of his throat.

“Awe, my baby is all choked up. Do you need mommy to help you?” You whispered to him leaning over to toy with his earlobe with your tongue. Slowly flicking it. Harry goes into a frenzy when you play around with his earlobes. 

“I- I’m- MOMMY!”

You bite on his earlobe the way he likes it. You suck on his earlobe to bring him back and help with the sharp bite. 

“Don’t worry, I got you darling.” You whispered. You change position and start licking his neck to collect the remnant of his sweat. It’s so salty, but so tasty. You start sucking him kissing and leaving wet kisses to soothe the pain. The way Harry is holding onto your waist you know when you wake up there will be bruises which you don’t mind because you love seeing the marks he left you to remember him by. You’re still swaying your hips, but it’s getting hard to do due to how Harry cemented his hands onto your waist. 

You’re suctioning your mouth on his neck but you can feel his veins in your mouth due how turned on he is. You couldn't tell he’s holding himself back, which you don’t like. So you remove your mouth from his neck which resulted with him whining. 

Your eyes connected with his and omg, you wished your phone wasn’t at the far end of the room because you would want to take a picture of his beautiful face. 

“Don’t hold back. If you do I will walk away.” Before he could say anything your lips landed on his and shit, that kiss is wet, messy, and a lot of fucking tongue. His tongue immidently found yours and you began to suck on the tip of his tongue. He had to open his mouth more so you can have enough room to suck his tongue. The mix of yours and Harry saliva are all over you guys. You pull Harry’s hair so his head is more lean back so you could do something you guys both shared a common interest in and that is spit play. 

You roughly spit in his mouth and the sound he made was so delicious. He closed his mouth to form his own spit and before you knew it, it landed on your face. All over your face. His salvia landed on your eyelids, your mouth, and  your forehead. 

You grab his cheeks and kiss him with so much force. The room is filled with pronographic sounds that’s both making you guys get so turned on because you guys both love hearing the sound you too make together. You remove your lips from his and you push yourself off from Harry so you can be right next to him. Before he could say anything you grab his face so he can turn to you and go back to feverishly kissing him all over. 

The image of him on stage with him swaying his hips and giving his nipple attention is something that’s not leaving you anytime soon. Both of your lips separated and Harry breathing is all over the place, if you didn’t see him taking his inhaler after he got off the stage you would’ve immediately gotten up and fetched his inhaler. 

“Stop teasing me.” He said groggily. 

“I’m not teasing anymore, baby.” You gave him a peck on his lips. You pushed him back so his back hit the back of the cushion. You’re eyeing him up and down, trying to figure out what you want to do to him, after a couple of seconds you have an idea. 

“Take off your shirt.” You said. 

Harry immediately did what you asked him to do. Snapping off his suspenders and unbuttoning his blouse. His whole stomach, his butterfly, and the bird tattoos are finally on display. Before you knew it your lips were on one of his four nipples. You suck on his nipple, but make sure you pay attention to the other three. You’re twirling your tongue around while sucking it because you love it when Harry does it to you. 

“Fuck baby. Omg.” Harry moaned out. His hand is at the back of your head playing with your hair. You move on to the next but instead of toying with his nipples with that one hand that isn’t be preoccupied you bring that hand to his covered bulge.

Harry landed a nice smack to your ass. You made eye contact with him. You let go of his nipple and you dribble spit over that nipple you were just sucking. He look at you like you were going to eat him alive. You gave him a smirk and went back to paying attention to his nipples. You keep palming his crotch while twirling your tongue, on his nipples. Keeping track of three nipples while you’re sucking on one is hard, but hey, whatever your pretty boy wants, he gets. 

“Mommy, I’m feeling weird.” Harry whined. You immediately stopped what you were doing because the last you wanted to do is make him feel uncomfortable. 

“I stop, I stop. Are you okay? What did I do? I’m sor-” 

“No, everything is fine, more than fine… amazing I might add. Just, you’re sucking on my nipples and palming my dick which is so simple, but that simplicity makes me feel I might cum any minute.” Harry whispered feeling lost how such a small act of you has him feeling like he could cum, just by this. 

“So I didn’t do anything wrong?” You asked Harry, making sure you’re not misinterpreting any of this. 

“No, absolutely not.” 

“Well…. If you want, I would like to make you cum just by doing that, if you don’t mind?” 

“Yes, mommy. Do whatever you like to do with me.” Harry rambled. You let out a toothy grin how excited and new how all of this is for him. 

You lean over to give him a quick peck on his lip, “good boy.” You said while giving him his last peck.

Your wet mouth went back to his nipples and your hand went back giving his cock attention. His cock is settled on his left thigh due to how hard he is. Just the image of him cuming on himself is something you were so destined to achieve. 

You lap your tongue around his areola. Just the sound of it all has you feeling something running down your inner legs, you know you have to take care of it, but not right now. Not at this moment. 

You tighten your grip on his cock to hopefully create a nice friction which rewards you having to listen to Harry’s moans. Harry’s hands are on your head trying to compose himself, but you knew the second he made that sound you knew he would cum any second. 

You remove your mouth from his nipples and went down to the other one that was below the one you just previously sucked. You guess this nipple holds a lot of sensitivity because Harry buckled himself out and let out a horrific sound you weren’t expecting to come down. So you decided the pace you were going at, will have him cuming, pretty fucking soon. 

“Baby, just like that. I’m going to cum. Can I take my cock out?” He whined. He can’t help himself to stay still due to the overload his body is feeling. This is pretty much all new to him. 

You exchange positions so your mouth is next to his ear, so he knows that isn’t going to happen. “No baby, I want you to cum just the way you are. I want the world to see how filthy you are by cuming in your trousers. Be a good boy and cum for me.” 

“Baby- Fuck” You start speeding your pace and you attach your lips to his to swallow every drop of his moan. After a couple of minutes of passionately kissing and letting him use your mouth as a soundproof room to let his moans and rubbing him off inside his pants, he finally came undone. 

“Fuck, Fuck, Yes!” You feel something warm coming out of him. You start massaging his swollen cock to bring him down your high and for him to come back to you. You start whispering sweetnothings to his ear to help him come back. 

His head fell onto your shoulder and you started soothing his hair pampering him with praises and love. Your baby boy deserves the world, and just wait and see what you have planned for him for the next couple of months.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Desire

A/N: SMUT ON THE BRAIN, I REPEAT SMUT ON THE BRAIN. 

Angel Reyes x Reader

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 1705k

Language: Smut, mention of blow-job, language, SMUT

*****************************************************************

Y/N leaned dangerously lower finding herself eye level with none other than Angel and the guys. She smirked; “You have five minutes to meet me in the storage closet Angel Reyes or I’m starting without you.” Y/N whispered licking the shell of his ear seductively. “And I don’t like waiting…” 

Her converse shoes squeaked ever so slightly against the wood floors beneath them as he ogled her ass swaying farther from his reach. Her form fitting shirt was leaving little to his active imagination. Her denim cutoffs taunted him with the simple sway of her luscious hips. She was a fucking deity and Y/N knew he was eating out of the palm of her enticing hand.

Under his breath, Angel finally exhaled the compressed air lodged in his chest; “Fuck.” Popping the ‘k’ overtly. It wasn’t until Coco coughed attempting to clear away any residual sexual tension that Angel peeled his stare from Y/N looking around the table innocently.

“Yo, I say this with mad love but if you don’t leave this table to fuck her, I will homie.” Gilly and Riz laughed wholeheartedly alongside Coco. The fire in Angel’s orbs blared to life, anger gripping ahold of him. His fist clenched ripping one of his cards clean down the middle trying to refocus his pent-up frustration.

“I’d watch that mouth of yours, man. Anyone who dares to touch Y/N nonetheless solicit my girl will definitely be meeting me in the fucking ring. Got it, hermano?”

Coco cheeks blushingly glowed chuckling at his best friend. They were in the middle of a poker game and Y/N knew to not bother him during these times. But, looks like Y/N didn’t want to play fair tonight and he’d have to remind of the rules. Angel licked his wet lips as saliva pooled within him.  

“I only do it because you’re so easy to get a reaction out of…probably why Y/N loves seeing that pissed look on your face. Bitch knows how to play the damn game; I’ll give her that.”

He threw his cards down to the table signaling his defeat; “Boys, I gotta girl that needs tendin to. Don’t come searching for us.” Angel raised his left eyebrow wiggling it to the best of his ability. His boots scuttled as the chair legs screeched backwards. Angel leisurely rose from his seat chugging the rest of his whiskey. The liquor was bitter, malty, and burned in all the right places. With his nerves afire and his belly ablaze, Angel sought out the one thing that could calm and simultaneously bait him.

The rumblings of his brothers didn’t jog past him as he walked towards the empty storage room. The soft voice of Gilly made its way to him; “Fucking Reyes and Y/N. How the hell did he score her again?” Coco chimed in; “Cabrón con suerte.”

Ez watched from the bar top inspecting his brother’s hungry glare scouring the room for Y/N. To say he was jealous wouldn’t be his choice of words but there was something about his best friend and brother boning that provided a weird energy of comfort.  

“Avert your gaze, Prospect. That’s an order.” Angel raised his hand saluting him breaking into a fit of laughter. Ez merely nodded focusing his attention back to demeaning cleaning chores and collecting miscellaneous bottles. The older Reyes walked through the door in search of the hidden room approaching on his left. He so enjoyed these games especially when it included Y/N.

“Oh sweetheart, where ya hiding? Papi is getting impatient.” His questioning tone vibrated off the bare walls as Angel observed the nooks and crannies surrounding him.

“Querida, you’re being a damn tease…”

Out of the blue, Angel heard the teasing tone of his girlfriend; “Marco….”

“So, you want to play games, Y/N? Bring it on darling. Polo.”

His ears perked up as his arm hairs stood straight looking for identifiable clues. Angel whipped around hearing a broom clash against the cold concrete. Y/N shuffled covering her mouth in hopes of keeping her laughs muffled. Her heart was practically beating outside of her rib cage as his signature cologne invaded her nostrils. Ever so quietly, Angel instinctively sauntered obscenely silent towards a corner of the abandoned room.

Angel was swift on his feet jumping around the corner scaring the living shit out of Y/N; “Gotcha!”

Y/N jumped as Angel watched her eyes bulge in momentary fear; “Shit, Angel! Well, looks like you found me. Now time to claim your prize?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, baby.” Angel’s grip on her smooth hips tightened gluing her between the wall and his frame. Y/N huffed pressing her breasts firmly against him in retaliation.

“Well now that I’ve got you exactly where I want you…what are you gonna do with me?” Angel nipped at her exposed cleavage moaning loudly.

“Jesus Angel. You’re driving me crazy.” With little vigor, Y/N’s hands shoved him giving her a sliver of distance. Grabbing by the collar of his pristine shirt, she pressed him into her former place. Immediately, Y/N reached for the bulky belt buckle currently blockading her path, pulling hard admiring it slipped through the loops. She kept one hand securely on his chest as the other dropped the offensive item to the ground.

“You’ve been very naughty Angel. I’m here to deliver your penance.” Her flirtatious manner was beginning to get the best of her, her patience was truly being tested. She sunk down to her knees staring up at his bashful brown eyes and quivering Adam’s apple. Contemplating every sinful thought riddling his thoughts Angel tried to find the words garbled in his throat. 

Her hands moved faster than his brain undoing the button of his jeans before Angel was graced with the delicious sound of a zipper lowering. A minor tug of his pants revealed his striped boxers as Y/N slipped beneath the pesky layer. Her doe eyes gawked towards him in a demanding yet submissive approach.

“Looks like you’re in for a treat, Reyes…Of course if you’re not interested, I bet I could find---”

“No more fucking around baby.” Y/N bobbed in innocent agreement; “As you wish.”

She enveloped his hard cock stroking him the entire length, squeezing just enough at the tip as a groan slipped from him. “I can’t wait to taste you. I’ve missed you.”

Y/N continued her perfected movements fondling his dick faster causing his breath to hitch.

“Damnit, baby! What’re you doin—?”

Before he could finish his sentence, Angel was engulfed in her heat, the warmth of her flawless mouth. Y/N sucked harder compelling Angel’s head knocking the white wall holding him.

“You are too good at that. Too fucking good.”

Drool oozed from the corner of her salacious mouth as Y/N hummed forcing the vibrations to take Angel to the next level of pleasure. She sucked him off like her life depended on it. He was a half second away from losing it when she deep throated him to her limit. The suction noise was enough to turn him on enormously, but watching his girl go full force was about to make him lose his load. Pre-cum leaked down her chin before Y/N made quick work of licking it away, tidying up her mess.

She proceeded to remove herself, popping her lips loudly in effect; “Mm hmm, two minutes and you’re a goner.”

Angel was stunned into submission at the attractive girl on her knees and it turned him on to no surmountable end. He guided her back to where he craved her most cleverly placing his hand on the back of her head. He hated controlling her mannerisms but strictly stayed in place for future guidance. Angel added the smallest of pressure as more of his length guided down her throat. So warm and welcoming, Angel had to think of literally anything else to stop himself from cumming. The lustful look, her hands locked behind his buttocks, it was all too much for a simple Mayan to take in.

“Ahh, ahh shit. If you get doin that, I’m gonna explode.”

So, Y/N kicked into overdrive taking him as deep as her body would allow. She loved watching his eyes roll into the back of his head and the part of his lips waiting to cry out. So close, Y/N knew he was teetering on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm so she initiated into full force.

The squelching noises coming from Y/N sent Angel overboard. Y/N sloppily slurped vying with every energetic thrust. The ache within him involuntarily released driving Angel to cum ferociously into Y/N’s sweet, hot mouth. Ribbons of cum filtrated the back of her throat welcomingly.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck’ was the only explicit word in Angel’s mind as lustful chaos stormed throughout his body. Hot cum simmered down her throat as she so freely swallowed every gulp with dignified pleasure. She moaned around his length allowing his orgasm to linger. Angel lovingly held her in place as she sucked every last drop from the tip of his cock.

“God damn. God damn woman.”

Y/N’s fingers edged along the corners making sure to clean up any remnants remaining surveying Angel candidly. Y/N removed herself from the floor tucking him gently back into the folds of his boxers as his body turned to gelatin.

“You taste sweet. A hint of strawberry and pineapple?” Her devious tone enticed him wanting to bend her over and make her scream. But they’d been preoccupied for longer than anticipated. Angel knew he couldn’t fuck her quite yet but the night was young and the devilish grin on Y/N’s face told him he was in for a night of fucking and love making.

“Babe, that was fucking mind-blowing.” Angel cupped her cheeks kissing her excitedly. His cock twitched wishing to be buried inside Y/N but he knew better.

“Damnit, one hour and we’re out of here. Got it?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, Reyes. I’m in dire need of an orgasm or two especially with my sexy as fuck Mayan to ride reverse cowgirl.”

“You have to idea what you’re askin for….”

Winking in Angel’s direction, Y/N knew precisely what she desired; “One hour or I’m starting without you.”

~~~~~~

Tags: @twistnet​ @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl89 @carlaangel86 @imagineredwood @gemini0410 @mayans-mc @reaperwalking @prospectfandom @emmaveale123 @peaky-marvel @kind-wolf @scorpio4dayzzz @starrynite7114 @penny4yourthot @breanime @whyisgmora @thegirlwhowritesfics @star017 @threeminutesoflife @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass @blessedboo @lady-pswrld

[bubblyani]

Back for Good

(Jim Davis x Reader)

A Jim Davis One Shot

Movie: Harsh Times (2005) by David Ayer

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Alcohol use, Swearing,  Violence and Sexual Content

Word Count: 9k+

Summary: Your spirits are lifted when your older boyfriend Jim Davis returns from the Army for good. As the lovers passionately reunite, you begin to reminisce the first encounter, and the unforgettable event that sealed your fate with Jim, possibly forever.

Author’s Note: One of the fantastic Balehead Accounts on Instagram once posted a photo of Jim Davis with a caption more so along the lines of “…Older boyfriend Jim visiting you at College…”. It was too irresistible to ignore. So this story was born. @tammykelly You are an angel to even show some enthusiasm towards this, even before I started, Thank you for the encouragement ! Hope y’all enjoy!

P.S: If anyone want to be tagged in specific Bale! Character fics please do let me know. And if you wanna be removed from anything NOT BATMAN, please feel free to let me know. I understand completely. 

Three.

It costed three people. Merely three for this nightmare scenario to enter reality.

A tall young man panted fast, his right hand assuming full responsibility for the broken bottle, not to mention the intense bleeding that resulted from it. All the while he stared down at his finished product: a much younger man. He watched the figure groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; as a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head as well, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement. Only in that moment, realization and bitter reality coupled up to surprise the standing man, with a sucker punch.

Which was transparent enough for the young woman beside them, the witness. Violence, Danger, her trembling heart sensed it all. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, never did she flinch. Never did her heart consider retracting from him. On the contrary, she was compelled to trust him even further.

Especially when she sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

 (Present)      

The dusky skies appeared just as serene over South Central Los Angeles as anywhere else in the country, filtering over the streets and the neighborhoods. Cruising through in favorable speed, Mike Alonzo finally took his eyes off the road, permitting them to land on the tall, young man sitting beside him on the passenger seat: his best friend, Jim Davis.

His downcast expression was evident, with his tall frame sunken into the seat. He stared right ahead, while he sipped his bottle of beer in his suit. This posture was nothing short of a surprise for Mike to glance upon. If he had squinted his eyes, he swore he could imagine Jim as the rebellious teenager he once was. Only with a new buzz cut. Otherwise, it seemed that nothing had really changed.

Except it had. Older and forced to be responsible, they were facing times considered very harsh. And Jim just had a taste of it.

“Sorry, dude”

Mike began, looking back at the road. Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim sat up in slow motion as his teeth began to grind.

“Man! Fuck…this...shit!!”

Jim drawled with disappointment, enunciating every word whilst holding up a piece of paper, “I’m so done with this cop hate bullshit!” He added, taking another sip of alcohol. Mike nodded:

“Yeah, dawg. Forget about that! ” He smiled, smacking his friend on his shoulder in a playful demeanor, “Hey, Syl is cooking tonight…You wanna join us, bro?”

The possibility of his girlfriend Sylvia agreeing to this, was at an all time low. Mike was well aware. Yet, he was certain it was a question worth posing to his friend in need.

“Nah, man! I got plans”

Hitting the brakes in front of the stop lights, Mike looked at his friend again with surprise, “Yeah?” He inquired, looking quite pleased. Finally flashing a proud smile, Jim nodded:

“Yep! Gonna go see my woman soon…” he answered. Eyes widening seemed appropriate for Mike at that very moment.

“Yo, No shit!” Mike cried out with excitement, finally stepping on the gas, “The chick from UCLA*? You…you still with her?” He inquired.

“Yeah, Homie! ”

“Dawg!…” laughing with sheer amazement, Mike looked at Jim, “I’m impressed…really” he added, proceeding to chuckle, “Look ‘atchu…my boi Jim....going steady with the fine ass college chick…”

“Whoo!” With his soul finally returning to his body,  Jim howled, “Finer than fine, dawg!”

“Hell yeah!”

Given the state of hyped energy that erupted in the car between the two young men, it would be nearly impossible to guess how sombre it was just before. “So…so…” Mike continued, holding on to the wheel as they kept driving, “… where you gon’meet?”

“Well…actually…” Jim looked at him, licking his lips, “….it’s a surprise” he added with a playful smirk. To which Mike could not help but laugh, “What?” Mike paused, “You didn’t tell her you’re back for good?”

Seeing his friend shake his head like a naughty schoolboy forced him to laugh harder, “Ohohoho!! this is gon be one hell of a reunion, dawg” He added with sheer enthusiasm, “But seriously though, she’s a real good one too, bro…” Mike opinionated, as soon as his laughter died down, “ I mean, even Syl liked her”

“Shit! For real?”

“Yeah yeah yeah…” Mike answered immediately,  “And you know Syl, she ain’t easy to please”

Gulping down the remnants of the bottle, Jim exhaled and stared out through the window, “Shit man!” He exclaimed, “I’m really gonna see her again, huh?”

With his tone growing deeper, his eyes began to burn with a flame that could only be categorized as lustful. Sensing the vibe that did not seem so new, Mike chuckled:

“Oh yeah! My homie’s gonna get it tonight! Salud*”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The buzz, the chatter of young adults was consistent in the hallway outside. It served as background noise when the door of the toilet cubicle burst wide open, spitting a rather young woman out of it with haste. Only then did the mirror managed to identify her: You.

With your hand clutching on to a bra, you let out a relieved sigh. For within a few seconds, your body experienced a new form of liberation. And you managed to savor it on your own in a public ladies washroom. Wearing a soft smile that was easily reflected in the mirror, you stuffed the piece of lingerie into your shoulder handbag.

“Seriously?”

You jumped with a yelp. Being so wrapped around in your own thoughts, you did not even notice Yara, your friend standing there. With her arms folded and eyebrows raised, it was clear that her face was rife with judgement.

“What?” You inquired breathlessly, “Auntie Flo* is about to visit…and the twins were just swelling to …get some parole time” you added with a playful smirk, pointing at your chest with no shame. The curves of your now-freed bosom seemed more visible through your cardigan top, “And fuck! it feels so good” you exclaimed, as you washed your hands. Yara however, scoffed with amusement:

“So you’re saying you were squirming in your seat the whole time to let the puppies out?”

“What? I had to pee too!”

“Well, You could have just left right then!” She insisted with a seeming annoyance, as you grabbed a tissue.

“…and miss Mr. Linney’s Final Notes? Uh uh! No way, bitch!” You waved your index finger with disapproval as you both exited. Students had flooded the hallway by then. Evening lectures at UCLA finally had drawn to a close, and Friday night was about to make its entrance. Youth in all shapes and colors, gathered in bunches all over the campus area, even beside the beautifully lit Royce Hall. Suffice to say, all were relieved to have some time off in the weekend.

“So…you coming, right?”

You looked at Yara upon her casual inquiry with confusion, “For what?”. Scoffing again, this time in disbelief, Yara's eyes widened looking at you: “Dinner?…tonight?”

She stressed, taking a step out of the campus building, “Last week you promised you’ll join me and Chase” with her arms folded and foot tapping on the ground in pure restlessness, she was a clear visual of a loanshark. However, that impatience left her system the moment her eyes fell behind you,“…and speaking of Chase…Baby!”

With her face lit up, her tone grew affectionate as Chase, her boyfriend rushed over to her.

“ ‘sup babe!” The tall, young blonde greeted, pulling his ebony goddess of a girlfriend for a passionate kiss.

Folding your arms, you could not help but avert your eyes. All the while you drew circles with your foot on the ground. Chase and Yara’s relationship certainly was a refreshing one to glimpse upon in the campus premises. You approved of it with sincerity, even when you looked away in awkwardness. It was not on spite. Truthfully, PDA was nothing you disapproved of. You were certainly not envious of the joy they possessed as their lips played with one another, quite similarly to a steamy MTV music video. You merely looked away, for any display of affection was a sheer reminder of him.

It had been months since you last saw him, possibly 6. And constant communication was not exactly convenient for him. Not in his situation. Was he alive and happy? The sheer reminder of gunshots and helicopter whirring forced your heart to race, which was nothing short of new. Granted, you had learnt to ‘compartmentalize’, a term you recently came to knowledge in your psych minor class. Yet, you were young and only human to have those concerns return to haunt you even for a few seconds. The sound of Yara and Chase’s lips smacking urged you to look up. Finally, you thought.

“So?” Yara inquired, casually wiping the smudged lipstick off her face, “You coming?”

Carefree, yet extremely inconsiderate, that was what she exuded. A knot of anxiety formed in your stomach. For oddly enough, the sight of the happy couple managed to drain your energy out tonight. You longed to run away.

“Honestly…” you began with a sigh, “I don’t really feel so good tonigh-”

“¿Qué pasa, guapa?”

   What’s up, gorgeous?  

That voice. That deep, spine tingling tone was a reminder of your mere existence. The tone that tempted every hair in your body to stand at attention. Turning around in a flash, you covered your mouth, shocked to find the person you prayed to see all this time.

“JIM??” You cried out in a muffled tone, “Oh my GOD!!-”

Squealing in pure joy, you sprinted towards Jim Davis before jumping into his arms. Seemingly extremely pleased, Jim let out a hearty laughter. Suddenly the energy you were drained had returned in the form of a shot of adrenaline when he picked you up and spun you around, kissing you without hesitation. And you swore the feel of his lips on yours added a couple of years into your life.

“Wait, you didn’t tell me you were coming back so soon” Breathless, you pointed out when he finally put you down.

“Well, I’m back for good, baby” Jim replied, extending his arms outward with pride. Your eyes widened: “What? You serious?”

“Yep…” he grinned nodding, “Honorably discharged…and all yours”

You sensed his tone morph into a low purr the moment he pulled you close to him. And you would be lying if that did not fill your stomach with butterflies. After ages.

“Umm….”

Yara’s voice emerged. You and Jim turned back, to find her and Chase appearing the most confused, “…you mind telling us who this is…?” She inquired with raised eyebrows.

Finally in realization, you chuckled. For introductions were in order.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The aromatic scent crept into your nostrils, only to soon disappear out of the lack of attention provided. All the while an uptempo Latin Pop track playing in the background mingled with Yara and Chase’ voices, but unfortunately faded away into mere mumbles. For none of that seemed to be the key focus for you tonight. Not when Jim Davis was around.

Even seated at a crowded Mexican Restaurant, he mattered the most to you. Even when platefuls of delectable Taquitos* were served to the table, your eyes did not leave his irresistible side profile. And when his sense of expertise noticed and his eyes caught your gaze, you were breathless. You wondered if it was the romantic in you surfacing, for all seemed to appear in slow motion. His eyes remained seductive, washing all over you that it was certain your panties might melt and diminish into thin air. Those eyes were truly sorcerous, that your eyes suddenly had lives of their own to the point you could sense their figurative cheeks heat up with heavy blushes. For his eyes, they were proficient in the dirty talk as much as his mouth was. Breathing in his cheap cologne with depth, you suddenly grew aware of his touch, and the fact he had his arm wrapped around your shoulder all this time. Being lost in his eyes was definitely an out-of-body experience.

“Hey!”

Your soul reunited with your frame upon Yara’s call.

“Mmm?” Looking over at the couple sitting across the table, you and Jim were unfazed.

“Aren’t you two gonna eat?” Yara inquired with raised eyebrows while Chase had began to gobble. Her gaze questioned both your sanity. To which you and Jim could not help but chuckle in response. Shaking her head, Yara scoffed:

“It’s so weird…” she began, “…seeing you like this”. Wiping the crumbs off his mouth, Chase joined in with confidence, “Yeah! How did you guys even meet anyways? I mean, no offense but…we never thought she’d be the one…” he stressed, pointing at you, “… to have an older boyfriend who’s a Marine-”

“-Army Ranger” Jim corrected. His gaze and tone was dominant, enough for Chase to wither with intimidation.

“Yeah…” Chase nodded with a gulp, “…what you said…”. You would be lying if you admit you did not enjoy that sight.

“Actually…” you finally began, “We met a year ago” turning to face your boyfriend, “ He was back in LA during his break. We met at a bar”

“Hold up! ” Raising her hand, Yara was wide eyed, “How come I didn’t know about this?”

“Cause this happened a year ago, hun. Calm down” you chuckled, “Actually, this was even before Cin transferred. Hah! you didn’t miss much…Don’t worry” you assured upon seeing Yara’s pout, “It was a small bar, but I loved the Pistos*-I mean…” you paused with a smile, “….the beer there…” Your pause caused Jim to chuckle alongside once again. Safe to say it was a chuckle that encompassed a shared memory. A sweet reminder of your first ever meeting.

“And?…that’s it?” Chase inquired with amusement, with both hands resting on the wooden table, “You both meet at a bar one night and…” he whistled, “…then sparks flew?”

Looking at them both, you could sense the suspicion in their eyes. You longed to answer, however it was not so easy to do so. Pausing, you struggled with a response.

“Absolutely!”

Jim answered for you with nonchalance, while his grip on you tightened. For a split second you both exchanged a gaze of reassurance. And you had never been more relieved. The secret was safe.

“So…”, Turning towards the couple, Jim began, “How did you lovebirds meet then?”

Hesitation was certainly not in Yara’s vocabulary when she offered to speak. Leaving her sight, your eyes darted towards the the chilled beer that Jim placed on the table. You smiled to yourself. They were certainly filled with memories.

Reminiscing your first meeting with Jim Davis, never failed to be exciting every single time. Before Yara ended up in your life, there was Cindy. Noticing your evident sadness due to her surprise transfer to USC*, Cindy was hell bent in comforting you, thus suggesting you join her and her boyfriend Ray for a night out in South Central. You agreed, being desperate enough to spend the final few days with your roommate. Situated at the suburbs, this bar was small, intimate and seemingly inhabited by those who knew Ray, which resulted in a welcoming atmosphere upon arrival. Though the place was mostly filled with gangsters, you did not care for the slightest, when especially you found yourself falling for the unexpected; The beer.

Chilled to perfection, the beer there was unlike any that you had tasted before. And it was certainly a surprise, given they were the usual brands. You could not fathom the refreshing sensation that trickled down your throat with the first sip. That sensation tempted your hips to sway, urged your feet to move in rhythm. All in syncopation with the music that played in the jukebox under the dim lights. Until finally bumping into a man woke you from your intoxication. A man you were fascinated with in an instant:

Jim Luther Davis.

Such a pity that Yara’s gusto-filled story barely reached your ears. For reliving a memory simply seemed sweeter for you. Thus, you continued to do so.

Fortunately, Jim Davis did not end up being a handsome stranger that you simply bumped into, for coincidence had other plans. Especially, when he and Mike Alonzo turned out to be Ray’s mutual older drinking buddies. You were ecstatic. Internally, of course.

With the entire group packed together in the booth table, it was one loud but engaging hangout. Except for you. Somehow you preferred to sit right next to Cindy in silence, being distracted by two things: Beer, and Jim.

Blame the chemicals embedded in your system, for you simply found yourself drawn to him. Truthfully, it did not seem so difficult to begin with. Not when he turned out to be your type in appearance. You found yourself watching him. The manner in which he listened to others with swagger and confidence, the manner in which he held himself ; They all brought a certain air to him. Your attention had pierced through all manner of secrecy that he would occasionally end up catching your gaze. And then you would look away, quick and embarrassed. Though you must admit, it was a game you thoroughly enjoyed playing. But at the same time, you felt idiotic and childish.

“Cat got yo tongue, baby?”

You blinked, looking up. Fabio, one of Ray’s friends threw the query over to your direction, all of the sudden. And with that, the table grew quiet. All the eyes landed on you, except for Jim’s. A surge of embarrassment rushed towards you when awkward silence filled the booth. For you were definitely distracted to the point you did not follow the conversation. With you struggling to form an answer, Fabio snickered:

“Yo Cindy, What’s up with yo friend? She deaf or somethin’?”

“Easy, homie”

Before Cindy could respond, Jim’s quick reply arose. And you swore your eyes caught the sight of his hand ball into a fist as his eyes had grown dark. Oddly enough, that was the comfort you needed right then.

“Don’t mind me, Fabio…” you shrugged with confidence, “I’m just a girl hooked on her Pistos” you said, enunciating the Spanish word before taking another sip. You may have smiled at him, but you knew how much you feigned it. Awkward silence remained intact. But Ray managed to save the night, by changing the topic of conversation. Slightly embarrassed, Fabio shot you a look. All before he leaned towards his friends, muttering some words in Spanish.

“You speak Spanish?”

Jim’s low query made you turn to him.

“N-No…” you answered with nervousness.

“Well…” he began, “…you should” Though his tone was of seriousness, he did not fail to flash you a soft smile that comforted you even further.

Thus, the evening progressed. And you began to notice Jim in much detail. The more you did, you discovered a warmth that seemed to trickle down your heart. For you realized, you would not be able to stop yourself from falling for him. Hard.

You smiled to yourself, relieved Yara still did not know you were drifting away in your head, stuck in a memory.

Unable to stop obsessing over him since that first night, you remembered how you found yourself returning to the same bar the following night, alone.

Stepping into the venue, you suddenly were aware how unprepared you were. Even while placing an order at the bar counter, you remembered covering your mouth with embarrassment. Was this a mistake?

“Hey Baby! ”

Jumping in your barstool, you sighed with annoyance when you realized it was Fabio sneaking up on you.

“Just…” you feigned a chuckle, “Don’t call me baby, okay?”. Evidently ignorant, Fabio seemed to have chosen to stay. To your dismay. Sporting gold chains on his neck and wrists, Fabio was on a dire attempt to emulate a thriving gangster, when he actually was just another college kid like Ray.

“So, whatcha doing all by yourself, baby? Don’t tell me…you’re here to see yo boi Fabio?”

Keep telling yourself that, you thought. Exhaling in frustration, you maintained a tight smile, “I uh…just waiting for someone” you struggled. Flashing a mischievous smile, Fabio leaned in closer. You prayed he would not notice how your nose scrunched up by his heavy cologne with disgust. And how your body tightened when his eyes scanned you from top to bottom, licking his lips by the sight of your choker and your red, floral short dress.

“Who are we kidding?” He sniggered, “You wanna piece of this, huh? Come o-” “No!” You cut him off, “I’m really…” feigning a chuckle once again, “…waiting for someone…Thanks” you said, extending your hands in defense. Given the reaction of those around you, it may have been a louder response than expected. For Fabio turned red, making it his queue to slither away. You sighed deep. Luck did not seem to get on with you from the moment you stepped in here. Was this a mistake? When you felt a finger tap you on your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and turned around. For you were ready to give Fabio a piece of your mind.

Except, it was not Fabio.

“Hey…”

Jim greeted you, his deep tone announcing his arrival. Standing at an appropriate distance, he stood tall with a hint of swagger. Your body began to finally relax by the sight, especially when your eyes were refreshed by the open plaid shirt worn along with his white vest and baggy pants.

“Hey…” breathless, you began, “Hey!” Confidence finally became you as you repeated with a smile. The bartender caught your attention the moment he placed a chilled bottle of beer on the counter before you.

“Make it two, Hermano* ” Jim said, handing the man some cash. All the sudden, guilt washed over you as you gasped: “Oh I-”

“I got this…” Jim assured, seeing you reach into your bag. Grateful, you nodded, “So…” he began, “Can seem to get enough of them Pistos, hmm?” An inquiry left his lips the moment he received his own bottle. Smiling shyly, you bit the side of your lower lip. The manner in which that word rolled out his tongue caused excitement. Besides, his mouth suddenly seemed more delectable. Oh, his mouth.

“Yeah…” you admitted, “Can’t get enough…and I hope I never will”

You added, gazing directly into his hazel orbs. It simply was a mistake to do so, given how those eyes burnt with curiousity, urging you to blush in return, “And er…” pausing, you looked down, “ I was kinda hoping I’d catch you around” you said, looking up again.

“Yeah?” Jim inquired, genuinely surprised, “Why?”

That was when you froze. He was right, what exactly was your intention of seeing him tonight? Unfathomable on how you gathered courage to blurt that silly line in the first place. What if you dragged yourself all the way here to be rejected? What if there never was a form of enthusiasm from his corner as you hoped? What if this ends up being the story of a silly sophomore college girl, having delusions over an older man?

You chuckled with a nervous tone, “Well I-…” you paused, as your pulse began to grow loud within you, “Sorry…” you muttered, sliding off the stool, “This was just a stupid idea. I should go-”

“Wait!”

You turned upon Jim’s call. Showing his bottle, he shrugged:

“These Pistos aren’t gonna get finished themselves, hmm?” He dared to pose that inquiry with a playful grin. Smiling back involuntarily, you knew you had no comeback for that.

You remembered the chill outside the bar that night. The breeze that caressed your exposed skin of your legs were still fresh in your memory. Gazing at whatever stars your eyes could make out amidst the city lights, you and Jim sipped on the chilled alcohol from the porch. Given the fact there were little to none outside, the evening was unexpectedly intimate.

“Your uh…” clearing your throat, you finally broke the surprisingly comfortable silence, “Your friend not with you tonight?”

“Mike?” Jim inquired, to which you nodded, “Nah! he’s got his hands full” he answered with a smile.

“You guys close?”

“Hell yeah…He’s my homeboy, ya know? Since we were kids”

“Sweet. Must be nice.” You smiled in return, looking back at the sky, “I uh…remember that you serve. Iraq, huh?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Fallujah* ” Jim answered with a nod, looking at you.

“Whoa…” you breathed in wonder. Silence took over once again while your tongue  savored the beverage.

“And you?…UCLA?” Jim spoke before wiping his mouth, “Man! That’s some fancy ass shit right there”

“Yeah well… it ain’t a walk in the park…” you contradicted in a shy tone, forcing him to shoot you a look of concern. To which you chuckled, “I’m on scholarship, I mean…” you added, helping him come to realization, “Hehe yeah…I had to nerd my way into that gig” moving side to side, you could not help but take another sip,“But, I know…what a good thing I got going on. And I know… if I screw it up, then I’m FUCKED” you enunciated the end, which drove him to laughter. You adored how it soothed you somehow.

“Well…” he began, “…whatever fucking takes, right?”

You nodded, “Hell yeah…Here’s to…uh…positive shit! Hah!” You laughed as you both clinked the bottles together. The more alcohol that chose to settle in your system, the bolder you became:

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

You fully turned to him, “Being out there…in Iraq…” you continued, “I mean…I’m guessing you’ve seen some shit…” you inhaled, “you know…shit you can’t forget, right? I mean, shit like that…” you scoffed, “….that shit can fuck…you…up…” at that moment you could not help but find yourself lost in thought.

But Jim’s surprised expression made you pause. You chuckled in embarrassment.

“I’m just…guessing…” you muttered, sipping once again. Perhaps you went a tad bit too far with the blabbering. For your cheeks began to heat up with worry. Until Jim spoke:

“Well…Shit or no shit…Follow orders, that’s what we do” Instead of a frown, Jim replied, taking a huge gulp from his bottle.

“Yeah…I get it” you nodded in a fast pace. Robust, and straightforward, his attitude was to be admired. Funny you found yourself staring at his side profile long enough, his face could easily be compared to that of a statue. Perfect in proportion, your mouth began to dry out. You were attracted to him, shamelessly so.

“I-”, You paused, suppressing a grin, “…never mind”

“What? What is it?” He asked, looking at you. To which you shook your head frantically.

“Nah, it’s really silly…”

“Come on!…tell me” Fully turning, Jim insisted with a smile. His voice had its way of being persuasive. And his voice had its way of tearing your defenses down, or so it seemed. Taking a deep breath, you began:

“I kept thinking about this but…” you paused, “Last night, you said I should learn some Spanish… Why?”

Desperate for more interaction, that was your excuse. Jim responded with a shy chuckle. Certainly was worth it.

“I mean, we just met and you barely knew me…” you continued with a smile, “So…why?” As your question grew more confident, your inner desperation grew strong. Taking his last sip from the bottle, Jim surprised you by taking a step towards you:

“You really wanna know the truth?”

“Try me” , You replied, quickly finishing your own bottle, all without breaking away from his gaze.

And thank goodness you finished it. For you would have surely dropped it. Especially when Jim stood dangerously close to you, causing you to be immediately aware of the muscles between your thighs contracting. Even more so, when his irresistible eyes traveled from your very own all the way to your alcohol stained lips.

“Cause…” he purred, “…you have no fucking clue how sexy you sound”

You both may have chuckled to his line, but that did not mean your pulse did not quicken. Which increased in speed the moment his eyes took hold on yours once again. Seduction, he certainly was proficient in it. And you, were a witness. A witness who suffered from internal combustion of frustration.

You inhaled deep, “Really?” “Yeah…” he breathed in a sultry manner.

Just when you thought no force on earth could break this eye contact, the door burst open. Some men exited. Breaking away, you looked at your watch watch in an instant. You sighed. Real Life was calling you.

“I…I gotta go…” downcast, you muttered with guilt, “Class tomorrow…” adding extra guilt, you knew that excuse certainly did not put you in a good light.

“Lemme drop you then…”

Jim’s nonchalant and nonjudgmental reply urged you to look up with relief. Smiling in agreement, you watched him enter the bar with the empty bottles. And in that very moment, a tingling sensation filled with thrill washed over you, leaving no inch unattended. Butterflies returned to your stomach, fluttering harder than ever before in your life. Were you being hopeful? Could Jim Davis be desiring the same? Goosebumps traveled through you when that tingling sensation returned with much detail. Too much detail to be specific.

Until you realized it was real. And Jim’s hand was directly at fault here.

Blinking back to the present reality, your eyes caught the sight of Jim’s chilled fingers on your leg. They ran over over your inner exposed thigh in circular motion, thus, inciting the tingling sensation. Of course, no wonder the detail was accurate.

Yara and Chase were oblivious to all this, for they were caught up in their own love story as she kept yapping. But that was only the fact Jim kept on such a convincing focused face. He may be ‘listening’ to your friend, but his hand was evidently not. The longer his fingers lingered on your skin, the more you were reminded of him. And the more you began to tingle and sweat in the most unexpected places.

You were young, and unapologetically shameless. 6 months. It was exactly 6 whole months since you were last physically intimate with your boyfriend. And with studies piling up along with the expectation of a scholarship holding sophomore, ‘getting yourself off’ was never an option. Not with a roommate around.

The tingling sensation grew even stronger. And you began to hear your own quickening breath. Jim Davis’ elongated fingers, they spoke of pride. You longed for them to travel to locations far more adventurous and private than your thighs. Especially when they were rife with experience. Truthfully, it was a fact that his hands and his delicious lips and tongue were fluent in your body than your own self. Being pleasure deprived for too long, the mere thought of him ravishing you, aroused you even more. Aroused, and certainly very starved. The kind that food simply could not satisfy.

“...and under the stars…” Yara continued, holding on to Chase with lovestruck eyes, “…he told me he loved m-”

“Excuse me!”

Cutting her off, you cried out as you stood up in an instant.

“What’s up with you?” Chase inquired, whilst Yara looked offended.

“Just I gotta…pee…” you lied, eyes landing on Jim, “…now”

“Okay…” you heard Chase mutter in kind as you left the table, “…TMI, but whatever”

In all fairness, being judged was the least of your concerns. With every speedy step you took, the faster your heart began to beat. Storming into the empty ladies room, you found yourself staring at a mirror once again, with a heaving chest and noticeably flushed cheeks. It was plain to see, you were engulfed in the flames of pure arousal, and the fire needed to be put out.

And when the bathroom door opened up once again, you turned to find the fireman enter. Wearing a serious expression, it was slightly difficult to decipher his thoughts.

“I…” you struggled as Jim strode towards you, “I didn’t know what else to do-” Except he knew. When he attacked you with a passionate kiss.

Jumping into him was reflexive. Wrapping your legs around his waist seemed almost choreographed. Finally resting on the washroom sink, it was quite safe to admit how both of you were very much relieved to be the only occupants in the room. For there was no intention of holding back. Your denim skirt hiked high up, revealing your thighs in completion under the white fluorescent lights as Jim stood between your legs. And they were much cared for, as his hands gingerly rubbed them back and forth while his lips indulged yours with hunger.

“You think they know I lied?”

Breathless, you inquired with innocence. Except you did not receive an instant reply. Not when you found yourself gasping when he pulled your head back by your hair with a growl. With liberated access to your bare neck, Jim celebrated by placing equally starving kisses all over, resulting in your surprising moans.

“You think I fuckin’ care?” He chuckled into your skin, to which you could not help but chuckle back:

“Oh no, you bad boy” you purred in tease.

“Oh yeah, baby girl …” purring back, his reply incited a giggle out of you before he kissed you once again.

“Ay Papi*!” You breathed into his lips before he snatched up yours for good. Surroundings were simply irrelevant the moment the kiss turned intense, as his tongue crashed in like the rude boy he was, and grabbed onto your own tongue in a passionate embrace. They clashed against one another in frenzy, him claiming you as his. As the kiss grew deeper, your moans grew louder. When he pulled away all the sudden, whimpers left your lips with desperation. Teasing you so, Jim took a good look at you:

“¿Como esta tu Español?” He breathed low. And you were pleased that you actually understood.

   How’s your Spanish?  

Pressing himself against you, he began to slowly grind. You grew excited. Listening to Jim Davis speak Spanish was simply erotic in the first place. And since you have been studying it on your own for past few months, you were certainly impatient to show him.

“Yo…” you began, finding the words “…estudio pala-sorry…” with a nervous chuckle, you looked down, “..I know I suck-”

“No no…keep going” Jim insisted with a smile, bringing your chin up for a reassuring kiss, “Now say it again…” he added, maintaining eye contact with ferocity. Taking a deep breath, all the words clearly appeared in your head. Thus, you flashed a mischievous grin:

“…estudiando palabras…muy importantes”

   I am studying…very important words.  

Gasping was all you could do when Jim picked you up, carrying you into the nearest toilet booth. Thankfully with this restaurant being surprisingly hygienic, you did not mind. Life barely was embedded in your legs the moment he put you down, locking the door behind you to push you against it.

“Oh yeah?” He inquired, panting, “¿Cómo cuál?”

   Like what?  

Panting alongside him, you stood up straight, “Por ejemplo…”

   For example…  

Amidst his pants and his impressed expression, you grabbed his hands, placing them over your buttocks. All the while you looked at him with eyes, heavy with lust:

“¡Haz lo que quieras!”

You could not believe how confident you sounded. Smiling with equal lust in his eyes, Jim kissed you in approval, definitely pleased with what he just heard:

   (Do) whatever you want!  

Growling with effect, his animalistic nature was exuded as his hands gripped onto your buttocks with passion. His big, generous hands felt through every cheek with familiarity, as if they just reunited with a long lost friend. But that did not mean he forgot about all the other friends, the rest of your frame that had missed him as well. Moaning with pleasure, you began to unbutton his white shirt during in haste.

You simply adored his hands, for they were as passionate as his Spanish was. As he proceeded to hold on to your hips, your own hands roamed over his torso over his white vest. Except you froze the second his hands landed on your chest. Shaky breaths exited your lips as you shivered by his touch, for your breasts were at its most sensitivity even through your thin cardigan top. Palming them generously, Jim groaned into your lips:

“Fuck! I missed you, Guapa”

“I missed you more, Papi”

Confessing in return, you kissed him once more. Moans of desperation mixed into your kisses the moment his hands dipped inside your cardigan crop top, only to make direct contact with your untethered bosom. You winced involuntarily, even from his touch so gentle. Jim chuckled with seeming victory. And you were not afraid to admit, how you were simply in the palm of his hand.

Usually, during the peak pre-menstruation, you dared not let anyone come close to you, let alone touch you. But when it was Jim Davis, those rules halt by the door. He was a man who could maneuver his touch. However, he certainly was no good boy. Proceeding with his sweet torture during kisses, you were relieved to have a door to keep you balanced. For his long fingers, they flicked, encircled and pulled your now-sensitive nipples, keeping them fully erect and thoroughly visible even through the clothes.

Gripping his vest even tighter, you pressed your thighs together, for intense levels of pleasure and sensitivity crashed within you, akin to an avalanche. In truth, it simply was an overdose, and you could not handle. You were a mere animal trapped in this cage of frustration. But like an animal, you managed to set yourself free. You pushed Jim back with such force, that he ended up sitting on the closed toilet seat behind him. A surprised expression adorned his face when you straddled him in the process. Peeling your cardigan off your torso, you hinted your need for him. Which immediately was motivation for him to unbuckle his pants. However, his eyes did not fail to leave your sight while he did. For his eyes revealed nothing but pure amazement and hunger. He inhaled deep:

“Fuck!” He uttered, while his hand dipped into his hardened manhood.

“Yeah, that’s right Papi…” you breathed, maintaining the ironclad gaze. All the while you permitted his hand to feel the intense dampness of your opening, “Fuck me!”

And thus, public decency went flying out the window the moment the lovers fully united. The manner in which his hands rested on your bare back; whilst you moved upwards and downwards in syncopation to his thrusts, it drove you wild. The manner in which his generous and erect shaft felt so familiar inside of your tight walls, was too intoxicating as always. His mutual desperation and hunger translated well, as his lips savored on your swollen and sensitive bosom as if they were treasured food rations. Tingles were divided into million branches, impacting every form of stimuli in your system. But even in the midst of these endless waves of pleasure, that certain question from Chase yet lingered in your mind:

  “And?…that’s it? You both meet at a bar one night and…then sparks flew?” “Absolutely!”  

For in truth, it was not just a night of drinking and playful flirting that caused this relationship to blossom. And just like that, You could not help but recall further.

And peek into the moment that remained stored in the deepest corner of your mind. In the form of a secret.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With arms folded, you kept on waiting. Long enough for the chill outside to grow stronger. Long enough for you to begin pacing nervously. Even long enough for several men to exit the bar during. Given its cabin exterior, it became more and more evident that this was more of an old fashioned bar. You sighed. Jim was certainly taking a little bit too long inside.

Paranoia knocked on your heart’s door, forcing you to welcome it inside with reluctance. Thus, several questions began to occupy your thinking space. Was there trouble inside? A possible Bar Fight? You shook your head, for you were surely being delusional. Or worse, was this a part of his plan all along? The player type to ditch you for someone else? Perhaps with someone better looking that he just met. Envy formed in your heart towards a woman that possibly may not even exist. Your stomach turned in a merciless fashion. When the door opened again, a surge of hope grew in you. Could it finally be Jim?

Except it was not.

“Baby! You still around huh?”

Fabio said, in a pleased tone, exiting the bar. Clicking your tongue in an involuntary fashion, you turned away with frustration. For he was the last person you hoped to lay eyes upon.

“Hey-Wha-What’s the matter?” Fabio cried, “Can’t look at a friend?” Whilst he tapped you on the shoulder repeatedly. Alcohol was strong in his presence. And the fact he stood uncomfortably close certainly turned your stomach even more.

“Well, technically you’re not my friend” With a forced smile, you turned to him, “You’re Ray’s friend, OKAY? ” a snappy tone exited your lips. And for a split second, there was genuine offense painted in Fabio’s face.

“Just tryna be nice, jeez!” He muttered low, with arms lifted. Coming one’s senses, you finally drew in deep breath while letting your arms loose.

“I…I’m sorry, dude”  you said, in a soft tone, staring the droopy eyed young man. Being Cindy’s friend, your last intention was to cause friction Ray and his friends. Your tone seemed to have been convincing enough, for Fabio flashed a soft smile in return:

“It’s okay…” he replied, to which you were relieved.

But that relief was short lived. Especially when Fabio leaned forward with puckered up lips in an instant, forcing you to gasp.

“What the hell, man?” You inquired, pushing him back with aggression.

“Ah come on, baby…” he drawled, chuckling in a playful manner, “Just one kiss…I mean, look at you! You still waiting out here. For who? I know… you really came here for me” with open arms, he went in for an embrace. Scoffing, you pushed him back again. That was when your pulse quickened again. To the point you hoped to flee.

“That’s it! I’m leaving! ”

You snapped, darting away from the entrance. The concern of leaving Jim behind or finding a cab did not seem problematic anymore, for all you needed was to get away. However, a painful cry left your lips when you felt your hair being pulled back. Your eyes widened. It was an angry Fabio.

“Ugh! Why you being such a Puta* right now, huh?” He said through gritted teeth, pulling you closer “Oh wait I forgot…” he snickered, “….you don’t understand Spanish, right bitch?” turning you to him. The alcohol had certainly rendered him more maniacal than ever.

“Don’t’ be a jerk, Fabio…” You cried, as you began to swing desperate punches towards his direction. But your defenses were lowered and moot, the moment he grabbed you tight by the wrists. You gasped, “..let… me… go! HELP! ”.

However, despite your cries, no one came to your aid.

This feeling, certainly was the ‘stuff of nightmares’. This feeling, had haunted you every now and again in imagination. To have it form into reality, was worse. No matter the force you exerted to free yourself, it seemed moot. For Fabio had the upper hand with his strength. And you were overpowered with intimidation. With the heartbeat increased in record speed, your heart was on the verge of exploding with fear. For the first time, you feared for your life. You despised the fact there was no one around, the fact this bar was on the outskirts. Almost close to tears, You heavily despised the fact you may be getting hurt in more ways than one tonight.

Until you heard a bottle shatter. Loud.

Glass fragments dripped from Fabio’s head as he cried out with immense pain. His grip on you loosened before he dropped down to the ground. Only for you to find Jim Davis standing behind him, with with a bottle broken in hand, and sheer rage in his eyes.

Rolling over, Fabio caught the sight of the man, “Jim??” He groaned, “What the hell, man? Why you helping this bitch-ARGH!”

A kick in the stomach was Jim’s choice in response, which incited more cries from the fool.

“THE FUCK YOU TOUCH HER FOR, HUH?” Jim yelled, his loud voice piercing through the tension like high pressured flames. However, the question seemed rhetoric, when he continued to kick Fabio, aggression growing more and more evident, “FUCKING…ASS…HOLE!” With tightened fists, he enunciated with each kick, “MOTHERFUCKE-”

“JIM!!!!”

You cried in an instant. And that very moment was when he finally froze. That fateful moment, you watched his face change, for his expression was clear as day. As if a wave of realization washed over him. As if bitter reality surprised him with a sucker punch.

All the while he stared down at his finished product: Fabio. He watched the the young man groan for his dear life, laying defeated and thoroughly bruised; all the while a weak stream of blood appeared prominent from his head and his mouth, adding a splash of bright color to the dark and dusty pavement.

Which was transparent enough for you, the witness.

You regretted being frozen with shock. If it only was for you to control. Thankfully a shred of it reached when you finally mustered the strength to call for him out from a potential murder. Violence, Danger, your trembling heart sensed it all. All from Jim. For that was what his strong aura emitted. However, despite your shock, never did you flinch. Never did your heart consider retracting from him or running away.

On the contrary, you were compelled to trust him even further. Especially when you sensed complete safety in him, above all others.

“Let’s go…”

You found yourself uttering those words, as you took his hand in urgency. Pulling him with haste, you both fled from the scene. Adrenaline coursing through the veins whilst running away, leaving a wounded man laying in his own mess before anyone could find out.

You remembered how Jim drove. Quiet, but focused. He drove and drove, until the bar disappeared from your sight. He drove to the point you both found yourselves ending up at a remote beach. And finally, time had returned to its normal pace once again.

Calming sounds of the ocean waves filled your ears, while the sight of the foamy waters barely were visible in the darkness. You watched Jim slowly take his hands from the wheel, rubbing his face. Your eyes widened, when you noticed his hand bleeding slightly. Perhaps from the broken bottle. You longed to speak, however no voice was present. Pushing the seat back, Jim slowly crawled over to the back of the car. Silence overpowered for too long, which urged you to clear your throat and speak:

“A…Are you ok-”

“You’re right, you know…”

You paused, upon hearing Jim’s interruption. Looking back from the front passenger seat, you found light finally shining on his face. Much to your sadness, cracks formed in your heart by the sight of his expression. Especially when silent tears streamed down his chiseled face. As if his mask of bravery was stripped away. Or even melted.

“You’re right…shit’s been crazy over there…” he chuckled with sadness, “…worse, shit’s crazy over here too…” he said, pointing at his own head.

Joining him in the backseat, you took the bandana off your head without hesitation.

“The thing’s I’ve seen…” he continued in mid-whisper, “The shit I had to do. The shit I wanted to do. It’s fucked up…so fucked up”.

It was unfathomable. Witnessing emotions of Jim Davis on variant scale in one single night, including him unveiling his vulnerability, you did not know where to begin processing. Simultaneously, those cracks in your heart, they could not help but form deeper to the point you ached inside. For a second, you were filled with an overwhelming desire for this misery in his heart to disappear. You longed for him to smile again. You froze. Were you tasting a slice of pure affection? Perhaps even, love? For him?

“It’s too fucked up…I’M fucked up-”

“Hey…hey…”

Your voice cracked when you finally began, leaning towards him, “Shhhh…It’s okay…” you said in comfort, while rubbing his forearm, “…its okay…I’m here” you said, as you occupied yourself with tending to his bleeding hand as a coping mechanism. The bleeding that he did not even notice.

With his hand on yours, the heart did feel heavier in comparison. As if his hand was magnetically powerful enough to keep you nearby. Thus, forming an attraction. Not the type that stirred the loins, but merely the kind that longed for you to wail on behalf of him. The kind to carry the pain for him. As if you did not wish to carry on another minute of your life, without knowing he would be well. And you would be lying if you did not want to show him that.

Your trembling hand reached out for his surprised face, turning it towards you with patience. The deep breath you took, it occupied your lungs in completion. Butterflies exploded in your stomach , causing a riot before you moved close. Close enough to feel his breath on your face. And close enough to press your lips on both his cheeks.

You tasted his salty tears, that stained his face. Pressing your own lips together, you hoped you could share his pain this way. Your eyes were smart, urging your voice to take a breather, whilst they gazed at his lips. Those lips that turned you greedy the moment you saw first laid eyes on them. And his trembling breaths of despair were enough for you to finally dispose of any form of hesitation.

For you finally moved to kiss him ever so gently on the lips.

With your kiss, you were there for him, in spite of it all. In spite of the violence and the tears. And the moment you instantly felt Jim kiss you back, you knew you were hopelessly his.

All the sudden, a dose of sweetness was infused with the salty kisses, weakening the flavor of the beer that lingered in his mouth. Selfishly, the need for comfort vanished. For all you needed was him. In every possible manner. Safe to say, Jim wholeheartedly agreed.

A sudden injection of passion entered your systems, setting your bodies in its entirety, in flames. Which also included the loins. Powerful enough for you to straddle him, powerful enough for Jim to flip you down to hover over you. And certainly powerful enough for the both of you to make love.

You treasured it all. The manner in which his fingers were precise, hooking on to your panties to gingerly peel them out of your frame. The manner in which his eyes gazed upon your own, then traveling all the way south to take in the sight of your now exposed opening, that dripped with wetness, blushing in its own means and begging him to explore it. Thus, it was to be expected, when you welcomed him inside you effortlessly. As if it had waited for him all your life.

Even for the first time, Jim was fast, and was rough. Yet surprisingly, you did not care. You knew where it originated. And it seemed most apt.

While he moved in body, he fled in heart. Away from the horrors, away from the pain. This resulted from his need for a distraction. Amidst the syncopated moans that filled the car, you cupped his face. Looking right into his hazel orbs, you witnessed his need. His need for a distraction. And at the peak of climax, you witnessed his desperation. His desperation, that urged you to never him go.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

         (Present)      

“I failed the test…”

Jim uttered low, capturing your attention. With your face buried in his neck, you heard it louder than ever. Tilting your head, you sat up straight to face him, confusion taking over. After reaching climax following a session of passionate and exciting love-making in a restaurant toilet booth, there you both were in recovery. Never did you expect him to break the silence with a statement such as this.

“What do you mean?” You inquired in a half whisper.

“The Psych test…” Jim elaborated, while you proceeded to put your cardigan top back on,  “…for the LAPD gig” sighing, he was downcast “I failed that shit…”

“No….” You breathed. The disappoint that was rife in his tone, somehow pierced through your heart. Thus, ushering in a wave of sadness that came crashing in, “Baby, I’m so sorry…” you said as you embraced him tight. To your surprise, Jim held you tightly in his arms in return. For when he buried his face on the crook of your neck and remained in silence for a mere few seconds, it was evident that was what he was required of. A rush of butteries attacked as you gently cupped his face.  You loved this man, and your heart was the witness.

“Fuck the cops if the they can’t relate” you said through gritted teeth, before kissing both his cheeks, “Fuck ‘em! Cause something better is comin’ ” you added with a soft smile, while your thumb ran over his upper lip, “We just gotta ...keep our heads straight”

To your relief, Jim seemed amused, “Speaking from experience?”

You smiled with pride, “You could say that…”

Both of you chuckled. “The point is…” you continued with a deep sigh, and huge smile, “I’m glad you’re back for good, baby”

Except for his own smile, it vanished right then. And in turn, his eyes watered and they shone, reflecting nothing but desperation and vulnerability. You took pride in being the one to witness it, just as you did that fateful night a few months back. Stroking your head with both hands, his forehead gently touched yours:

“¡Eres mia!” He breathed deep.

   You’re mine!  

How dare he? Expanding with immense warmth and impatience, it did not take long for your heart to gain rapid pace, as it was your very first time.

“¡Si, para siempre!”  You answered with confidence. For it was simply the truth.

   Yes, Forever! 

——————————————————

Index

UCLA : The University of California, Los Angeles Salud: Spanish term for “Cheers!” Guapa: Spanish term for Beautiful, Gorgeous Taquitos: A Mexican Food Dish Pisto: Mexican slang. A general term for an alcoholic beverage (usually beer) USC: University of Southern California Fallujah: A city in Iraq Papi: Spanish Term for Daddy Puta: Derogatory Spanish term for bitch, whore

Tagged: @tammykelly​ @ladyerina​ @kittenlittle24 @everyday-imfangirling​​ @lucy-roo​​ @works-of-fanfiction​​ @bale-is-a-babe @badsext​​  @maddistyles17 @truly-insatiable @gooseyhouse​​ @artsymaddie​​ @quarterback-5 @mamooska8 @jensen-impala​​ @lilyofthesword​​ @woodencupcake​​ @fonduebitches @soullesstaco​​ @spicybellinger​​ @marvel-lously​​ @glitterypinkkitty​​ @danceyreagan​​ @barikawho​​  @lostgirl0020 @diogodxlot​​ @xxdearlybeloved​​ @shewearsprada​​ @lexiespeaks​

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[bird-in-a-cage]

18 or 45! 💖

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me a while to get back to you but I’m sure this will more than make up for it. Also two in one day? Look at me go!

My ask box is always open if anyone wants to drop a prompt from the list or just spout an idea off the dome!

I’ll get around to doing both. But here’s one just for now.

#18: “This is… exactly what it looks like”

Sailor Boy

Billy knew Steve’s routine as if it were his own, written all over his arm in permanent ink. He knew Monday was inventory day, Tuesday was delivery day. Wednesday and Thursday were Steve’s days off. Friday and Saturday Scoops Ahoy stayed open late, to coincide with the mall’s longer opening hours due to the movie theatre on the top floor, owners of the nautical based ice cream franchise clearly hoping that maybe movie goers would want to sneak in a cone or a tub mid flick.

Friday was when Billy finished early. His last swim class was at three. He could easily be done by five, shower just enough of the chlorine smell off his skin, change and be parked at the mall by six. He had taken the same route so many times now he could do it with his eyes closed, knew every stop sign, the rhythm of the traffic lights. How the cops liked to hide behind that low billboard on Maple to catch potential speeders heading out of town.

Even if he’d spent all of Thursday with Steve, rolling around his parents fucking mansion like the both owned the place, Friday was Billy’s favourite day. Friday he got to see his little sailor boy at work. Steve hated his uniform, he wasn’t shy about ever saying so. Hated the dumb hat, hated the dumb shirt that got itchy after two days of wear if it didn’t get washed in between, hated the socks he had to wear up to just below his knees that would constantly fall down, hated the fact his whole uniform felt wipe clean even though it wasn’t in the slightest. The one thing Steve hated and complained about most though, were the shorts. They were long and baggy and unshapely.

“It’s like wearing a sown up trash bag man, honestly!”

Billy loved those shorts. He loved the deep but not navy blue of their colour, he loved the white stripe that ran along the bottom of each cuff, he loved the deep pockets than ran much further down Steve’s thighs than they had any right too, he wasn’t carrying all that much around with him day to day, but most of all Billy loved the elasticated waistband. Always hidden almost halfway up Steve’s stomach the shorts were so big on his skinny frame.

Well, not skinny. Just skinnier than Billy. Steve still had plenty of muscle definition even if he was eating spoons of ice cream all day now, stealing maraschino cherries straight from the jar and rolling them with their juice in little cups of chocolate sprinkles, swearing blind he’d invented the greatest semi-healthy snack of all time just because at one point it had been a fruit.

Billy also knew that 6:15 was when Steve’s little work friend, that smart mouthed girl with too much eyeliner, went on her final break even though the store shut at eight. He knew to time it so good that sometimes he’d stroll in and Steve would still be talking like it was still her.

This day wasn’t one of those days. He strolled through the big open doors, that stupidly cheery music playing on a constant loop that must have driven Steve completely mad sometimes, to find him scooping up ice cream to display on their tubs. The place was dead. It always was. No one ever left the movie theatre mid picture to come down two floors just for ice cream, when the concessions were right outside. He kept scooping and piling even though Billy knew he had seen him. The corners of his lips twitched just a little then damped back down. Hiding a grin. Billy could play this game. He leant over the counter, pressing his chest up to the glass, knowing it would smudge just a little. No longer perfectly clear. Streaked with the last stubborn remnants of suntan lotion a crappy public shower couldn’t remove. Steve raised his head after a few long minutes into their stalemate and was still trying not to smile.

“Sir,” Oh he had on his customer service voice too, Billy loved that, it made the game more fun and he couldn’t hide the grin it caused to grow on his face. “Can I help you with anything?”

“That depends,” he pushed himself off the counter and slowly started spinning around the container of rainbow sprinkles, unscrewing the cap. “I’m looking for something specific.” He sucked on the tip of his finger and rolled it in the first layer of sprinkles until his fingertip was completely coated. Billy knew Steve hated when he did that. Both hated and loved it. Hated it because it was kind of disgusting, but loved it, cause, well, Steve was kind of disgusting. Under all the rich daddy’s boy front he was willing to try some kinky shit and Billy just drank up every last drop he could squeeze out. Billy wiggled his sprinkle coated finger around, watching Steve’s eyes follow it around like fish to bait, growing darker by the second.

“Well, I think I can be of some assistance….” he spoke calmly, and walked around more to the side of the counter. Billy matched his steps. He wasn’t quite over the invisible ‘employees only’ line just yet.  They locked eyes and Steve’s were nearly black with desire. He took Billy’s hand in his cold ones, they had just been in a freezer after all, and he pulled gently. He popped Billy’s sprinkle covered finger into his mouth and let his eyes get hooded, in the way he knew drove Billy crazy, especially when that perfect wide tongue started cleaning up the sugar speckled digit and with his pretty boy pout sucking further down to the second knuckle, then the third with clear intent, firm muscle sweeping back and forth and around Billy’s rougher skin, rendering his brain fucking mush every time.

Steve let the finger go with a wet, but soft, pop, letting his eyes open again. Billy glanced a look down and there was a definite tent in those hated shorts. They both crashed together at the same time, kissing feverishly as Billy pushed and Steve pulled, both of them stumbling through the swinging door and up against the wall next to the always empty notice board. Billy pinned Steve up to it, knocking the cap off his head in the process as they kissed deeper, licking into each other’s mouths and sharing the taste of chemically coloured sugar. Steve’s needy hands found Billy’s hips easily and pulled, hard, letting out the sweetest little desperate moan as Billy’s thicker thigh found its way between his own. Billy let Steve’s lips go, kissing over his jaw heavily, and moved his leg higher, tighter, to ring out more delicious sounds. 

His little sailor was always so cute trying to be quiet, especially at work, but Billy knew him inside out. Had made it his job to know every button Steve Harrington had, how and when to push them, which threads to pull at to watch him completely unravel. One of the first things they ever did, out in the quarry in the back of Billy’s camaro, Steve had humped his thigh like a bitch in heat. Steve loved his thighs. He was never shy in showing so. They were one of the big flashing buttons to push, to the point of Steve couldn’t come to the pool if Billy was on shift or risk popping a semi then and there just seeing a flash of red covering not very much leg.

Like this though, pressed up against the wall, Billy had all the control. Steve was pliant, warming his cold hands on Billy’s sun soaked stomach under his shirt, going over his abs with needy thumbs. Billy worked his thigh harder. Steve groaned biting his lip so not to let it all come streaming out loud and hot. He started grinding his hips at long last, all the layers of fabric between skin doing nothing but adding deliciously painful friction, as Billy nibbled his earlobe. 

Yeah, Harrington had a lot of buttons. And god if they weren’t fun to press.

Deep down Billy wanted to ruin Steve for good. Even if what they had, whatever it was, wasn’t a long term plan and just a way to blow off steam for the long hot summer months, Billy was determined that no one would ever rock his little sailor’s boat like he could. No one would ever make Harrington come like he could, no one would ever make him cry out in the middle of the night with his peachy ass burning with hand marks like he could, no one would make him choke on a cock behind the arcade in broad daylight where they could be seen at any moment and still have those swollen come shiny lips beg for more like an angel’s prayer like he could.

Whether he knew it or not, Steve was going to be ruined for the rest of his days.

Billy growled next to his ear possessively. His sailor melted and ground his hips harder, starting to get desperate so soon. God if that didn’t make Billy’s dick kick something horrific in his jeans.

“Needy tonight huh baby?” Billy grunted roughly in his deepest voice, the one he knew that if Harrington had a pussy, it would make him gush buckets and ruin those shorts. “Did I not do a good job filling you up yesterday?” Billy pulled Steve’s hips off the wall to get his hands on that perfect peach, where he knew it must have been difficult to sit down all day, what with how red and sore it looked the night previous. He felt Steve’s hips stutter for just a moment, hissing around a moan as his body wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or pain or both it wanted to express. Billy wanted to laugh. He did keep singing harder god please harder so had no one but himself to blame for the mess he was in.

“Too good,” Steve sighed out as Billy worked his hands down the back of that elasticated waist, past his own briefs Steve had stolen that morning, grabbing handfuls of tenderized meat and squeezing rough. The noise Steve made was exquisite, his hips starting to rock again faster and stronger, pushing forward and pushing back in equal measure with no set rhythm. Billy loved when he was like this, his little plaything, teetering on the edge of no return.

“Let me see baby,” he muttered, dripping with heat and desire. “Don’t wanna get your uniform all messy. Captain will be mad.”

Steve scrambled to push his shorts and briefs down just enough for the thick, gleaming head to pop free but the rest still be trapped and untouched, pushing his shirt up over his stomach, fingers trembling and lips quivering around a sound that couldn’t be kept quiet as Billy’s sucked on but now dry digit found his sailor’s well used hole. His cock throbbed visibly between them, pushing out more shiny clear liquid that threatened to stain Billy’s pale denim jeans. God it made Billy’s mouth water. And if he wasn’t rock hard before he definitely was now.

But later. That was for later. They were running out of time.

Billy worked his thigh harder still, trying to keep up with Steve’s erratic hips which was no easy job, drinking down his noises of pure ecstasy, until his whole body stuttered and tensed and he came with a cry that couldn’t be contained, creamy white come splashing up his torso and staining his already pale skin. Billy smirked like the devil, kissing Steve deeply as he tried to pant coming down, taking his hands out of his boy’s shorts, only just managing to tuck him away and let his shirt fall over the mess when the door swung open and there was eyeliner girl, right on time. As always.

Steve had the dignity and had regained just enough mental function to look embarrassed, even if he was still panting like a mutt trying to speak with Billy all up in his space, greedy for it all. No one laid eyes on his sailor boy.

“It’s… fuck… I’m sorry Rob…” 

She stared back blankly at the two of them, setting a Burger King milkshake, if Billy had to hazard a guess it would be strawberry flavoured, on the counter they had back here, simply saying “You’re scraping the freezer tonight,” before going back through the door from where she’d came.

Billy didn’t let Steve stand back up straight away, even as he knew the messy spatter of come was starting to dry and cause the uniform to stick to his slender body. He cupped Steve’s cheek and kissed him, rough but sweet. As sweet as Billy did really. Steve melted for it each time. Another button. Another step of ruining.

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, getting Steve solid on his feet before letting go and walking away like he wasn’t painfully hard. The girl scowled at him blankly out front, especially when he took a cherry from the jar and grinned with it between his teeth while holding the stem, walking backwards out of the store and giving her a two finger salute from his forehead.

“Captain...”

Billy walked with purpose back to his car out front, having parked in his usual spot near the back where it wasn’t under one of the tall lights that illuminated most of the area, getting straight in to sit on his backseat and wait. He checked the time on his watch and lit up a well needed cigarette.

He had 45 minutes to wait for his little sailor to pull into harbour. 

[spaceskam]

small examples of mistakes i made and stupid things i did

for @saadiestuff ❤️️

ao3

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Literally, why would you say that? That’s what people say before the worst happens.”

Michael shrugged haphazardly as if none of it mattered. Which is quite on par with the way he was feeling lately. Liz’s tests were becoming more out of fun than necessity and he’d jumped right on board. He liked being the test subject to see what would happen and he was throwing caution to the wind. Two weeks prior, they’d discovered something similar to extra-strength alien speed which kept him up for over 24 hours and required a babysitter. Two weeks before that, they’d found alien sleeping meds.

“You’re getting so fucking reckless,” Liz said, not even trying to hide the giddy tone in her voice. 

Kyle stood in the corner with crossed arms and irritation on his face. They’d agreed about two months ago that they should always have another person with them when the dose was administered because they didn’t want a repeat of the time that she’d given him something that made him ridiculously angry. Bad times.

“Alright, hit me with it,” Michael urged, slapping his arm.

Liz cleaned the space with alcohol and tied a tourniquet around his arm before injecting the purplish serum. Then they waited. And waited. And waited.

“Are you even feeling anything?” Liz asked, frowning as she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. He shook his head and she frowned a little deeper.

“Nothing.”

“That’s so weird,” she said. Kyle pushed himself off the wall and walked a little closer.

“What were you expecting it to do?” Kyle wondered. Liz traveled back to her notes and double-checked she’d given him the right thing.

“Well, it was only a tweaked version of the alien Adderal mix, so it should be closer to like an over the counter caffeine pill,” Liz said, her frown turning into a pout, “You seriously don’t feel anything?” 

“Nope,” Michael confirmed, but he wasn’t too concerned about anything. Sometimes it took a while for things to kick in. They’d just gotten too used to automatic results. “I’ll just give it some time and I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Okay,” she said. Michael pulled the tourniquet off and hopped down, feeling slightly woozy for a minute to the point that he had to grab the stool for balance. “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing. Once he got himself stable, he didn’t feel any more effects. “I just got lightheaded for a second.”

“We should take his blood pressure,” Kyle said. Liz grimaced a little bit.

“We don’t actually know what normal would be,” she said softly. Kyle gave her that look that was typically directed at Michael and it was weird to see it given so freely to Liz. Maybe he was finally getting over her. A part of Michael was proud of him and that felt even weirder than that time he got doused with an anxiety eraser that removed all sense of inhibitions and he kissed Liz.

“Are you telling me you guys have spent almost six months doing dumb shit when you could’ve been tracking things like, I don’t know, blood pressure?” he demanded. They both smiled tightly. “I hate you both. Guerin, I’ll drive you home just in case it did lower your blood pressure and you get dizzy while driving, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed after being hit with a wave of fatigue. He wasn’t really in the mood to disagree and that had everything to do with the impending lecture from Kyle, Max, and Alex if he got in a wreck when he knew he was dizzy. 

“Liz, I’ll make you a list of important stuff to work on after this is out of his system,” he explained. Liz pouted, but she nodded her head regardless.

They said their goodbyes and started making their way towards the car, Kyle grabbing Michael’s arm every time he stumbled. He was definitely light-headed. 

“So, what, we think it lowered my blood pressure?” Michael asked, ignoring the way his stomach started to ache in the way it did when he was hungover. Kyle pursed his lips and looked at him, pressing his hand to his forehead like Liz had.

“You’re getting colder and you’re dizzy. Are you nauseous? Tired? Struggling the breathe? Feeling dehydrated, maybe?” Kyle listed. Michael relaxed in the seat, his face involuntarily forming a frown at the sick feeling in his stomach continued.

“Tired and nauseous. What does dehydration feel like?” he asked. Kyle didn’t really answer, he just started the car.

“Yeah, I’m thinking it’s low blood pressure. Keep me updated if it gets any worse on the drive. I’ll stop and get you water and then I’ll fill Alex in so he can keep an eye on you tonight. You should be okay as long as it doesn’t get too much worse,” he explained. Michael nodded and closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else so he didn’t throw up. This was probably his least favorite lab rat experiment ever if this feeling was concerned.

The drive was agonizingly slow and his nausea seemed to only get worse. Eventually, he caved and got Kyle to pull over, which led to him just gagging with nothing to show for it until his body was done going through the motions so he could get back in the car. When they stopped to get water, Michael could only take a few sips before he started shivering and Kyle gave him a jacket from his backseat.

“I would lecture you, but I’ll save that for when you’re feeling less pathetic,” Kyle told him. Michael just groaned and huddled into the doctor’s jacket more. It was taking way too long to get to Alex.

Eventually, though, they pulled up to the cabin and Buffy leisurely made her way around from the backyard to see who pulled up. Alex followed with a smile on his face that turned to confusion when he saw it was Kyle’s car and not Michael’s truck.

“Your boyfriend finally got his comeuppance for being Liz’s lab rat,” Kyle said.

“Say that word again and I’ll puke on your shoes,” Michael grumbled, slowly sliding out of the passenger seat. Both men came to his aid. “I’m fine, I just need to sleep it off.”

“Yeah, we think he has low blood pressure, but I can’t be 100% sure because we have no reference point.”

“Liz doesn’t have a reference point? What the hell?”

“That’s what I said!” Kyle scoffed. Michael halfheartedly mocked him before puckering his lips in Alex’s direction. He rolled his eyes, but he pecked his cheek nonetheless. “But basically I just need you to keep an eye on him to make sure his symptoms don’t get worse. Right now, I’m not really sure what we can do but wait.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Alex said, helping him up the steps of the cabin which was a strange role change for them. Still, Kyle and Alex led him to the couch and covered him up with a blanket and shoved the water bottle in his face.

They spoke for a few more minutes as Michael made himself comfy, feeling like shit for an annoyingly prolonged time. Was this how humans felt? Because, if so, he suddenly had an entirely different level of empathy.

After Kyle left, Alex came over the couch and sat on the coffee table. Michael peeked an eye open just enough to see him lifting Buffy onto the couch where she happily snuggled behind his bent knees with her head on his thigh. Then Alex gave him a sweet smile.

“You feel bad, baby?” he cooed, reaching out to comb his fingers through his hair. Michael nodded slightly and Alex gave an exaggerated pout, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll make dinner and then we can go to bed early, how’s that sound?”

“Good,” Michael croaked. Alex just gave another smile and another kiss and left him.

Michael drifted in and out of sleep as Alex cooked for them. Eventually, he came to him with a bowl of soup that was clearly meant for them to share. Alex fed him like he was helpless, carefully giving him spoonfuls. He’d honestly never felt so loved in his entire life.

By the time Alex was finished with the dishes, Michael was feeling a little more steady and he was able to follow Alex to bed without much assistance. Buffy followed them with heavy footsteps and settled in her bed as Michael collapsed in his. Alex gave a low, warm chuckle as he got ready for bed while Michael slowly got out of his jeans.

“Thank you for being nice to me,” Michael said once Alex climbed into bed and turned off the lights.

“Of course I’m taking care of you, I love you,” Alex said. Michael managed a smile.

“Well, thank you for loving me.”

“No problem.”

Going to sleep was easy. Staying asleep, however, was harder than anticipated. Some time during the night, Michael became so overheated that he was sweating through his clothes and he’d kicked the blankets off of himself. He woke up at another point with his heart pounding in his chest to the point he was convinced it was a heart attack, only soothed by Alex’s half-asleep petting and shushing. He eventually passed out for the final time by stripping completely and laying on top of the blankets, heavy-breathing into the dark void of the room.

Still, he woke up the next morning before Alex. He felt better, though, if only a little worn out from his night of bullshit. He dragged himself to the bathroom and then, only then, did he notice it.

He looked in the mirror and he was bald. Fucking bald. With some extra checking, he realized it wasn’t just bald, but he was entirely hairless. No hair on his chest, arms, legs, face, nothing. He couldn’t even find any remnants of peach fuzz. 

“Oh, no,” he whispered, his panic slowly rising the more he realized that he wasn’t hallucinating. This was, in fact, reality. And wasn’t that just a bitch? 

Michael scrambled back to the room and all but vaulted over Alex to get to his phone, his hands shaking as he searched for Liz’s contact information. Alex stirred and Buffy made a low boof from the commotion which just made Alex stir more. Michael froze for a minute. Alex couldn’t see him like this. That was absolutely not even kind of an option.

He ran back to the bathroom and locked the door behind him, sitting on the floor to make sure he didn’t have to look at himself in the mirror again. He didn’t want to see it. But still, he called Liz.

“Mikey?” she said sleepily when she answered, “It’s, like, 6 in the morning. What do you want?”

“What the fuck was in that serum?!” he demanded. She didn’t answer right away. “Well?”

“Michael, you helped me create it. You know what was in it,” she said, a little more awake this time, “Why? What’s going on?”

“I-I-” he said. Michael lifted himself up just a little more to catch sight of his reflection one more time before groaning and falling back to the floor. “All of my hair is gone!” 

“What?” Liz demanded. 

“I look like a hairless fucking cat,” he whined, staying laid on the floor instead of even trying to face his reflection in the mirror. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He couldn’t let anyone actually see him like this.

“Okay, um, I’ll come over, do some tests, see what went wrong. I don’t understand,” Liz said. Michael whined even louder.

“Michael, are you okay? There’s fucking hair all over the floor, did you shave your head or something?” Alex asked suddenly. Michael’s eyes widened and he put his full weight on the locked door so Alex couldn’t come it.

“Hurry and bring something to fix it,” Michael hissed, ending the call before she could speak. Alex knocked against the door.

“Michael? What’s going on? Do I need to call Kyle?” Alex asked sweetly. Michael simply groaned. Why did he have to be nice? And why did he want to call Kyle, the guy with the ridiculously good hair? He already had Liz coming over and she was basically a fucking hair goddess.

“I’m fine,” Michael told him.

“Well, open up,” he urged, “Let me make sure you’re not, like, going hysterical.”

“Trust me, I wish I was hysterical,” Michael answered, throwing his head back against the door. Except it was bare skin again the cold door with no barrier to soften the blow and he couldn’t help but make a disgusted face. When he rubbed the back of his head, the disgust only got worse. Even that time one of his foster families shaved his head didn’t feel as bad as this. 

Alex, however, was being suspiciously quiet for a suspicious amount of time. It wasn’t like him to just fold so easy and Michael put his ear to the door to see what was going on. Which is when the door clicked unlocked and started to push open. Michael pushed on it as hard as he could.

“Michael.” 

“Don’t come in!”

“You’re worrying me, tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m fine! Just-just leave me alone!” Michael told him.

Alex was quiet for a minute before he said in the softest, most ‘I’m only speaking because I’m anxious and my therapist said I need to talk about my feelings when that happens’ voice ever, “I don’t like this.”

Michael groaned, his stomach twisting with his internal battle. He was cold and hairless and gross and he wasn’t really ready for Alex to see him like that. In fact, if he never had Alex see him like that, then he would gladly avoid him. But this was stressing Alex out and that made it hard to stay.

“Promise me you won’t laugh,” he said, “Or think I’m ugly and break up with me.”

“What? Why would I ever think you’re ugly?” Alex asked, “Did you shave your head?”

“Um, not exactly,” he said, reaching with his foot to grab a towel to tie around his hips. This was actually freezing. How did people function with no hair?

Eventually, he managed to get over himself, wrapped the towel around his waist, and let Alex open the door. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see Alex’s initial reaction. If Alex thought he was ugly, then he probably would never be able to get that image out of his head.

“Okay, what happened?” Alex wondered softly. Michael managed to peel his eyes open. Alex stood, leaning heavily on his crutches with his features schooled as if waiting for more information before he showed any type of reaction. 

“I don’t know,” Michael whined, keeping his back to the mirror. He didn’t want to even kind of look at himself. “I just, I got really overheated last night and then I woke up like, like this.” 

“Okay, okay,” Alex said softly, stepping closer, “It’s okay.”

“I look disgusting.”

Alex rolled his eyes, finally showing some reaction. 

“You do not.” Michael glared at him. “Okay, look, it’s a little different, but it’s, not, like horrible.”

“It’s horrible.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I have no body hair. At all. I look like a pre-pubescent boy who stuck his head in Nair,” Michael shot back. Alex grimaced.

“Okay, don’t say that, that makes me feel gross for still finding you attractive.” Michael’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“You still think I’m attractive?” he asked. Alex rolled his eyes again.

“Michael, I love you for you, not for your looks. Sure, it’s an... adjustment, but you aren’t ugly or gross,” he promised, moving closer. He kept both of his crutches in clutch and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Somehow, it still didn’t make him feel any more secure. “Now, I’m gonna go call Liz.”

“I already did, she’s on her way,” Michael said. Alex nodded.

“Good. Now get out of my bathroom, get dressed, and clean up the hair,” he said. Michael nodded and left the bathroom.

Michael avoided the three mirrors that were in the bedroom like the plague as he made his way to the closet to get dressed. Typically, he liked the mirrors. He liked them a lot. Right now, though, he wanted to forget. He put on socks that covered his smooth calves, his only pair of jeans with no holes, a t-shirt, a button up, and topped it off by stealing one of Alex’s beanies that he pulled down to wear his eyebrows used to be.

Then he went to sweep up the hair which hurt him a lot more than he expected. It felt like a special kind of torture knowing that he just had to deal with it. He was mournful and achy about the entire thing. He wanted his hair back. 

Once he got it all in the dust pan and in the trash, he collapsed back in bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so low. Or the last time Alex’s compliments didn’t make him feel better. This was truly his rock bottom.

“You look so sad,” Alex sighed as he came back into the room, sitting at the bench on the foot of the bed to put on his prosthetic. “Do I say I told you so now or later?”

“Never,” Michael grumbled into the pillow. If he stayed there, nothing could get worse. “Please, never.”

He heard Alex stand up and walk to the side of the bed, patting him on the ass as he kissed his hat-covered head. His hairless, hairless head. 

“I’m gonna go let Buffy out and make some coffee and then Liz should be here and we’ll figure it out, okay?” Alex said, still sounding sweet instead of condescending despite the fact that he knew he wanted to say he told him so. Because he had. They all had. It was going to bite him in the ass, they said. He just hadn’t expected it to be so bad.

“Okay,” Michael agreed, still not moving. He didn’t want to.

“You poor, poor baby.”

Michael laid in bed for awhile, trying to distract himself as best he could from the fact he felt like a newborn baby. Or a mannequin. Or both. He groaned and rolled onto Alex’s side of the bed to try and get rid of that horrible feeling in his stomach. He didn’t even let himself think about work in the morning.

Eventually, the smell of coffee came closer with the sound of two pairs of footsteps. With it came the crushing embarrassment of having not one, but two witnesses to the way he looked. And to think, he thought he was done with embarrassment after the fifth time he went to school with bruises back in Albuquerque.

“Tell him he looks fine,” Alex said. Liz snorted slightly.

“Michael, it’s really not that big of a deal. I mean, you didn’t really have eyebrows to begin with and that’s the major thing that makes someone look weird,” Liz explained. He lifted his head just enough to glare at her. She sighed and came closer. “You know, after Rosa died and I left town, I cut all my hair off and I felt really ugly too.”

“That’s not the same thing. You did that on purpose. I didn’t want this,” Michael explained. 

“Yeah, okay, but it’ll be okay. I mean, look, let me check your vitals. If it just made your hair fall out and didn’t effect your hair follicles, it’ll just looked like you shaved it in, like, a week. It’ll grow back, it’s just hair,” Liz told him. He still pouted. “It’ll grow back.”

“I feel naked.”

“Yeah, well, you like being naked,” Alex pointed out. Michael sighed. “Look, it just feels this bad because it’s new. I promise you, you’ll feel better after you get used to it. I did whenever I had to shave my head for basic.”

“You promise?” he said.

“I promise. This is as low as you’ll feel,” he said. Michael reluctantly sat up.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

He let himself be dragged into the kitchen where Alex gave him coffee and doused him in kisses. Liz took his vitals and a blood sample. The little check-up proved that he was basically back to normal, just hairless. But there was no obvious sign that it was going to affect his hair growth in the future which did make him feel a little better.

“So, as far as I can tell, your blood pressure dropped so low that that your body over-corrected by spiking your blood pressure. And, because your alien genes are insane, instead of gradual hair loss, it just all fell out at once. And I’m assuming it’s only because it got so high,” Liz explained. Michael let out a sigh and Alex pressed a kiss to his neck.

“See? I told you, you’re fine,” Alex told him.

“I think this is the most PDA I’ve ever seen you give, Alex,” Liz said with a smile. 

“He’s only doing it to make me feel better,” Michael said. Alex hummed and pressed another kiss to the side of his head.

“You know me so well,” he cooed. Michael rolled his eyes and managed a smile. 

“Right, well, I’ll let you know if anything weird happens when I look at your blood sample and just keep me updated on your hair re-growth. Maybe I can try to make a hair gr—“

“Nope. I’m gonna retire being a lab rat for a little while,” Michael said. He didn’t even have to look at Alex to know he was happy about that choice. “Maybe let’s stick to actually looking for something useful and then we’ll talk?”

“Okay, I can get behind that,” Liz agreed, holding her hand for Michael to shake. 

That night, Michael found himself back in bed and laying on Alex’s chest. It felt weird to feel his breath on his bare scalp, but he did feel a little more comfortable over all. It was slightly easy to forget how he looked as long as he didn’t have to look at it. 

“I am gonna miss playing with your hair, though,” Alex whispered, rubbing his head gently. 

“I’m gonna miss you playing with my hair,” he said. Alex responded by kissing him which was a very weird sensation. Definitely not a bad one, but a weird one. “Maybe I’ll grow back eyebrows this time.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up,” Alex laughed. Michael smiled and turned over, trying his best to get comfortable with his nose pressed into his collarbone. Alex, in turn, grabbed his chin and pulled him into a kiss. The kiss deepened just a little and Alex grabbed the side of his face. “Your ears are so cold.”

“Right?” Michael said, pulling out of the kiss to look at him, “Like, my entire head is fucking freezing since I took your hat off.”

“Aw, my poor baby,” Alex said, his pout slowly slipping into a laugh, “C’mere, I’ll warm you up.”

Michael laughed his way through it as Alex pulled his face into his neck and wrapped his arms around his head. It was warmer, he couldn’t lie. So, he snuggled up to him, feeding off of his body heat for once. 

“Okay, this started as a joke, but I’m actually warm and comfy,” Michael said, his voice muffled against Alex’s skin. Alex gave a soft, tired laugh.

“I’ve got you,” Alex said, “Also I like that your legs are so smooth, is that what it feels like to sleep with a girl?”

“Alex, you’ve slept in the same bed as girls multiple times.”

“I didn’t feel their legs with my foot, that’s weird.”

“You’re doing it do me.”

“You’re my boyfriend, leave me alone.”

“I refuse to leave you alone, I would quite literally glue myself to you before I leave you alone.”

“Fine, get the glue, bro.”

“Did you just call me bro while we’re literally in bed together?”

“Yeah, man, how’s it feel?” 

“You are so mean to me.”

Alex snorted and kissed his forehead softly. “I love you.”

Michael smiled and burrowed in a little closer. “I love you too.”

Truth be told, the best discovery that came with losing his hair was how comforting it was to just huddle up to Alex like a cat all times and using the excuse of being cold. He did it even when he wasn’t cold. He did it even when his hair grew back. He did it even when their new experiments gave him completely new side effects

If that ever annoyed Alex, well, he never said anything. So Michael just never stopped.

[coffeecomicsgalore]

Unveiled Love

@smutember

Ao3

Chapter 19 – Yo-yo and the Baton

“What the fuck.”

That was all Adrien could say when he saw the most up to date news on the Ladyblog. Is the Ladynoir Ship Dead? There it was, a picture of Chat Noir with his arms wrapped around Multimouse and a few pictures of them holding each other and kissing before Marinette pulled away and ran off so he could chase after her. He scrolled throughout the most recent posts, ensuring no one else had photographed the aftermath, and he sighed with relief when he noticed that that was it.

Well, besides the whole, Who is this New Superhero? post, with tons of comments already on it. There were various speculations from a brand new superhero to Ladybug in disguise. When that one comment came up, Adrien’s eyes bugged out of his head, fearing that the connection would blow Marinette’s cover completely. The only other person who would have known Marinette as Multimouse was Ms. Mendelieve, yet, he wasn’t sure how “there” her mental stability was while recovering from the after effects of Hawkmoth’s control.

Then his eyes widened. While she wasn't known for spreading rumors, if Ms. Mendelieve did remember anything from that day, she would have remembered that Marinette was Multimouse, who was now two timing Adrien by making out with a superhero. He had to pray to all powerful beings that his bad luck wouldn't cause that to happen, because if it did, there would be no way to fix this whole thing without someone's reputation in the gutter. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, he thrummed his fingertips against the desk, trying to come up with a fool proof way of pushing this entire thing away. He needed to do something for Marinette. The last two days have been difficult for her with the disgusting rumor of “gold digging whore”, plus the backlash from trying to resolve it. Even Gabriel’s PR department was reluctant to help them, courtesy of his father, no doubt, so they had to do things their own way.

Luckily for them, Alya forgave them completely, but it was not without embarrassing the two of them with all the foolish (and oblivious) moments from the beginning of time. Once the torment was over, Alya sprung into action and prepared a press conference; had applied and approved to conduct a formal interview and photoshoot for this week’s publication of Le Monde, which included the front cover photo of Adrien and Marinette posing under a black veil with the subtitle Unveiled Love: The Secret Romance of Adrien and Marinette; and, started writing up social media posts with their corresponding pictures that would be scheduled to release to the public at perfect increments from both their accounts.

But even with all the help they received from the reporter, the news of Chat and Multimouse together on the blogger’s website was causing another headache to his already tired brain. 

He sighed as he stared at the screen, trying to come up with a way to save face. Suddenly, the door opened, revealing a very disheveled Marinette barging through the door. Adrien shot up from his spot at the desk and turned towards her. Before he could say anything, Marinette raised her hand up with an index finger raised, and Adrien promptly pursed his lips. He watched as she made it to the fridge and opened up the bottle of wine, drinking it straight from the bottle.

“Rough day?” Adrien tried to make a joke, but it came out harsh. Marinette turned as she continued to chug the bottle, glaring daggers into his soul. Going out as Multimouse was Adrien’s idea; guess in hindsight, it wasn’t the best thought out plan.

When Marinette stopped drinking to gasp for air, she lashed out and stated the words on her mind. “I should tie you up to the Eiffel Tower with my yo-yo. Or even better! I should shove your baton up your ass as haul you over the firey pits of hell.”

Adrien placed his arms up in surrender and decided it was best to get a bath ready with calming scents. Marinette was too wound up to deal with anything at this moment, even a simple conversation to ask what she would like for dinner would probably be a bad thing. But he knew that in her current disarray, she would just have a liquid diet of wine, wine, and more wine, and he couldn't allow that to happen, especially if an akuma were to happen while she was drunk.

That would really show how terrible his bad luck is.

He watched as she continued to chug the bottle, removing it from her lips when she was done. She then tipped the bottle over to see if any more liquid would come out, almost willing for more alcohol to just slip out of it somehow. He slipped into the bedroom and sighed as he arrived unscathed, then made his way to their bathroom to turn the faucet on. He slipped in some lavender oils and lit some candles, then walked back out to their bed and sat on the edge. As he waited for the tub to fill, he slipped out his phone and placed an order for delivery pizza. Once that was done, he returned to the bath and turned it off, then slowly peered out the doorway to see where Marinette could be.

His face fell when he noticed the second open bottle of wine sitting on the table, and he could make out how far she had consumed by how tilted the bottle was in her hand. 

“Mari…” He tried to get her to stop, hoping the worry in his words would get her to see the current issue.

Marinette only looked up at him and shot back most of the wine, puckering her lips as the sweet drink surpassed her throat. She hiccuped then giggled, and started to sing out some random song that made Adrien scrunch up his nose.

Marinette tried to grab the bottle to pour the remaining amount out into a glass she had apparently set out, but Adrien quickly ran in and swooped it from her. He lifted it quickly, not realizing how little liquid there was, then shot Marinette a bewildered expression when he realized there was only a glass or two left.

“Two bottles?”

Marinette burped and giggled again. “Actu-lly. One an fourth? or was it a haffff.” Her words were slurred and Adrien could barely make what she was saying.

“You drank almost two bottles of wine in a half hour. How is that possible?”

“Dunno.” Marinette pressed her fingers to the cool table, then placed her forehead down. “I hate you,” she murmured, but there was no conviction in her voice. “Multmouse was with Chat! But Ladybug is with Chat. Chat cheated on Ladybug with Multimouse.” She began to sob. “But I’m Ladybug! I’m Multimouse! I’m screwed if they figure it out! I should have never gone out! I should have just stayed home like the responsible adult-slash-guardian I’m supposed to be and pretend the world is alright even when it’s not!”

Adrien could only watch as she cried on the table, no doubt the news of the “new” superhero making out with Chat Noir when she thought it was a quiet and secluded area without prying eyes.

It was as if the entire world was out to get them this week and Marinette’s resolve was surely destroyed by this point. He hated to see her like this; heck, he had never seen her like this, but even the best people have their breaking points sometimes.

Adrien pursed his lips as he thought of his next move. He walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her body, letting her know he was there and she was safe.

“Hey.” He whispered, prompting her to tilt her head a bit. She was then able to open up one eye and look up at him. “I ordered pizza and I just got the bath started for you. Why don’t you go take a bath and I’ll bring you a slice. We don’t have to talk about anything today. We are just going to relax and destress before we tackle this head on.”

Marinette groaned and closed her eyes again as anger began to bubble in her chest. “Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I’m the worst guardian ever!”

Adrien was about to say something when the akuma alert went off.

“Oh come on!” Marinette yelled out, screaming at the phone beside her. “One fucking night, Hawkmoth. You couldn’t just give me one fucking night to drink until I couldn’t remember my name anymore.” Marinette got up, grabbed the bottle from Adrien’s hand, and chugged the remaining bit of it before she shoved the bottle back in his hands. 

Adrien watched as she wiped the remnants of the wine from her lips. She stumbled as she stood straight up and Adrien could not believe what she was about to do.

“Don’t you dare transform. You are in no condition to go out like that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. Hurry your ass up and get transformed. We have an akuma to get.”

“No.” Adrien spit out. “Not while you’re drunk.”

“Too fucking bad. Hawkmoth is a bitch and we need to capture that stupid butterfly. Tikki, spots on!”

Adrien covered his eyes as the pink flash filled the room. His jaw was slacked, utterly confused over Marinette’s complete disregard of her actions and still going out there mostly drunk. He watched as she jumped out the balcony door, not waiting a second to hear his response over something that she had said. 

Plagg hovered over to his chosen as he watched Ladybug yo-yo half-hazardly across the rooftops. “Kid. Protect her please. She needs it tonight.”

Adrien let out a defeated sigh. “Let’s go. Claws out.”

[beerecordings]

“You think you know what pain is?” Henrik to Anti. ;)

okay… I am proud to report…. I have this done.

Bee why did it take you so long??? CAUSE I WAS OBSESSED WITH IT FOR WEEKS OH MY GOSH I LOVE THIS STORY. look it is unpolished AF alright maybe the most unpolished fic i’ve ever posted but that is okay cause i love it and I’m proud of it and if i want to clean it up later i can! also! you should know it is very long! so buckle up if’n you want to read it!

can you believe i wanted to have this done for schneep week i’m so late… but i loved writing it. thank you for requesting nikkil!!

Warnings for major abuse, blood and torture, pneumonia, and hypnosis with mild sexual themes (Anti kisses, strokes, at one point runs his hand over Jameson’s stomach. That’s the worst of it but no read if it will be too creepy)

Since writing this, I used it to create a story-blog about a variation of these characters (though this scene is not canon to that universe) called @my-brothers-corrupted. Feel free to check it out.

The Missing Piece

Citylights rush like wind across the glass of the window, casting him,intermittently, in gold and in darkness.

Doktorstares down at his feet.

Thedirty silver floor of the bus rattles against his torn up dress shoesas he shuffles uncomfortably, trying not to let his shoulder brushagainst that of the sleeping stranger at his side. Above the smell ofsweat and someone’s heavy magnolia perfume, the smoke of the citycurls around him in a gasoline purr, staining his mouth with thetaste of engines and fast food, dripping down his throat to sit inhis lungs, in his chest, near to his slow-moving heart.

Hewishes he had the strength to be annoyed.

Mosteveryone on the bus is silent, pressed against the backs of theirchairs or the cool, vibrating window panes, worn into quietude bylong days and long journeys. It’s late and everyone would rather beat home, asleep.

Doktorwishes he could sleep. Sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep.Sleep and sleep and not wake up again.

Themissing piece is the only one who seems to have any energy.

Glancingacross the aisle, Doktor’s eyes land on the boy’s black dress shoes,tapping rapidly against the floor. Higher up, he sees his worn handsgripping hard at the thighs of his slacks, clenching and unclenchinghis fists around the soft fabric. There is blood on his whitebutton-up shirt, but it is dark enough that no one has noticed. Smallmercies.

Jamesoncoughs frailly. His head is still but his eyes flicker wildly aroundthe bus, like the rolling pupils of a horse trapped in a house onfire. Henrik supposes he’s looking for help. For comfort. Foranything and anyone to save him.

Poorthing.

Jamesoncoughs again, a little louder. Doktor realizes he is doing it onpurpose, trying to attract attention to himself. Not easy with aguard dog at your side. Doktor shoots him a warning glare and thensits back, trying not to look at him.

Buthis hands are making a small sign, over and over again, shaking butdetermined, stiff but desperate –

“S,”signs Jameson, his mouth quivering. “C. H – ”

Ahand shoots out to snatch his wrist and Jameson jumps hard, curlingback against the seat of the chair, his face losing color in therapid-passing shadows of the city rushing past.

Redsqueezes the missing piece’s wrist so hard Doktor knows it willbruise black. Then he leans in, close enough that his hood brushesagainst Jameson’s downy brown hair, and he whispers – in words onlyheard by his brothers – with a voice so harsh as to cut the ear –

“Youso much as lift a finger and I will deliver your corpse to thedumpster personally.”

Thelight of a nearby casino rushes over the bus. Jameson’s tears areilluminated in gold.

“AmI understood?”

“Yes,”knocks Jameson, biting hard on his lip.

Redlets him go in silence and sits back.

Doktorsits back too.

Theyare just passengers like everyone else.

Amemory flashes across him the same way the lights do, here and thenleft behind in an instant.

Heremembers, with a nauseating effort of the will, a happier day, withJameson perched at his side just the same. His face was full of joyand he was smiling at him, his hands moving in rapid words now lessthan half-remembered. Their train raced past little white sheep inlittle green pastures, and Jameson spent half the trip staring at thewindow, slumping back occasionally to rest against Doktor’s shoulder.He was as warm as an engine against him, healthy, whole, andunharmed. He called him by a name Doktor can no longer recall.

Hecan’t remember where they were going or why. But he seems to rememberthat joy.

Thedarkness swallows him whole again. He closes his eyes and tries toforget.

It’seasier, these days, to obey.

It’seasier not to remember.

Thisis a time of pain.

Steppinginto the reach of the monster is a relief so heavy it is bettercompared to opium than home-coming. Outside Anti’s power there isconfusion, fear, guilt, and doubt above all else. Within it?

Doktorsteps across the thresh-hold of the abandoned house where they havetaken refuge and breathes in deep, shuddering hard as the darknesssteals back inside of him.

Bliss,bliss, bliss, bliss, bliss –

Hewishes he could spend every second of the rest of his life in thevery heart of Anti’s control, mindlessly numb, overwhelminglycontent, but unfortunately there is only so far his master canstretch, and so whenever he is sent away on missions like this one,he does his best to return home quickly.

Jamesonseems less relieved to enter the run-down little house. His wide eyesstare at the room around him, flickering over squirming rats andpatches of white mold patterned along the walls, until at last hisgaze lands on Trickshot, and he stiffens as though impaled.

Trickstares right back.

“Holyshit,” he whispers, and then his mouth breaks into a smile coldenough to re-freeze icebergs. “You found the little mouse. Donerunning, bitch?”

Jamesonflinches, turning his gaze away. Trickshot gets to his feet,approaching easily and grabbing JJ’s chin, lifting his face up to thelight.

“C?”signs Jameson frantically, forgetting his guardian for a moment.“What’s happened to – ”

Redsnatches his hands and yanks him towards his chest, throwing him offbalance and then shoving him hard to the ground, where nails and anundrying moisture found perpetually on the wooden slats of the floorpress against his palms. Jameson, mouth open with pain, gasps andcrawls backwards, clutching at the wounds from the fight –

Trickshotgrabs the boy by the back of his shirt and drags him to his feet.

Punishedfor speaking, Jameson makes good use of his large eyes instead,staring at what was once his brother with an undeniably agonizeddesperation in his eyes, reaching out to cling to the soft fabric ofthe torn grey shirt Trickshot wears.

“Getthe fuck off me,” snaps Trick in a voice so thin he can barely beheard, shoving his hands away. He decides to grip his hair instead ofhis shirt and Jameson scrambles as the pressure on his scalp pullshim onto his tip-toes, his face contorting with pain.

“Poorlittle thing,” purrs Trick in a babying voice, still rasping fromhis purple-bruised throat, using his spare hand to grab Jameson’schin and tilt his head up to what little light comes from theflickering overhead. “You beat him to hell, Hoodie!”

Theirony of this is that Trick is hardly better off himself. For everybruise, broken bone, and cut that Jameson’s body took tonight, thereis at least one match on Trickshot’s skin. His master has not beenkind to him. When it comes to a hierarchy, they all know whereTrickshot falls – the very bottom of the pack.

Tricktries to lift Jameson off his feet, but a sudden bout of coughingforces him to let his brother go. He doubles over, shaking handsclutching at his aching chest, and coughs so deep and so hard that itsounds as though pieces of bone are being shaken off his ribs.

Doktorwatches wearily, a little irritated. One more sickness he’s going tobe expected to fix. Red reaches over to smack the back of his head.“Do something, Deutsch!”

Yelping,Doktor grabs his smarting skull and staggers away, well wary of Red’stemper. “No medicine,” he whispers, scuffing his way towards theother room.

“Oh,that’s your fucking excuse? You’re supposed to be a doctor!”

Doktorhides his face in his hands, cowering against the wall, but all Reddoes is roll his eyes and turn away, shoving Trick to the side. Heheads toward the stairs, his victory only barely soured by hisbrothers’ stupidity. “Master, I found him!” he calls, smiling ashe moves down, down into the darkness of the basement. “I broughthim back for you!”

Removinghis hands from his eyes, Doktor turns to see if Jameson is afraid,but there is nothing in his eyes but worry. He’s helping Trickshot tostay standing, rubbing warmly at his chest. Trick does not have thestrength to push him away.

Andthen the darkness is upon them.

Jamesonwhirls wildly, his fighter’s hands out-stretched. Doktor catchessight of Trickshot staggering away, retreating from Anti’s attention.He knows it would be safer for him to run too, but he needs Antiright now – needs something to extinguish these thoughts in hishead – pity and guilt and concern, all useless remnants of a timewhen Jack was the one who pulled his strings.

Heneeds Anti to make his brain stop asking his mouth to say, Jameson,I’m sorry, run, now, while there’s still time –

“Arzt,”calls Anti’s voice, a whisper that echoes from every side, and Doktorjumps to attention, staring around him. “Bring my new little puppydown here.”

Jamesondoesn’t turn to run fast enough. Doktor’s grip on his wrist is tightas a blood pressure cuff.

“H-E-N-R,”he begs, and Doktor grabs his other hand and begins yanking himtowards the basement, dragging him across cold cement and oldbloodstains.

“Doctor,doctor, doctor,” signs Jamie again and again, using what littlemobility his hands have. He has begun to cry. Doktor will not look athim. Cannot look at him. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me, brother,brother.”

“Child,be silent,” Doktor whispers.

Henever does anything more than whisper these days.

“Youwill only make this harder.”

Hedrags Jameson down to his master.

“Wereyou a good boy?”

“Iwas such a good boy,” Red swears, collapsed against Anti’s chest,his eyes shining with adoration. “I was so, so good. I brought himback to you, right back to you.”

“Yeah,you took good care of me.”

“Itook good care of you, you’ll be safe now. All the threats are gone.”

Red’seyes well with tears and he chokes, so overwhelmed with love that fora moment he cannot breathe at all. He shudders and puts his head downon Anti’s shoulder, stroking a hand through his hair. “I was nevergoing to let anything hurt you,” he promises, a sacred whisper.

“Iknow,” Anti soothes, running the flat edge of his blade alongJackie’s throat. “I know you weren’t, good boy.”

“Littlebrother,” hums Hoodie, daring to plant a kiss on Anti’s cheek.“Little brother. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Iwant to ask you something.”

“Yes,Anti.”

“What’sthe boy’s name?”

“JamesonJackson, Anti.”

“Jackson,do you like that?”

“Um,I don’t know. Do I?”

“Isthere anything you could shorten that to?”

“LikeJack?”

“Yeah,you could shorten it to Jack. Or maybe Jackie, would that be good?”

“Doyou want me to call him Jackie?”

Antigrins, dark and sweet.

Victorytastes like blood.

“No,sweetheart,” he purrs, pinching Red’s cheek. “Just wanted tocheck if that meant anything to you. You did so well today. You canhave something to eat tonight. Alright, time’s up. Get up. Good boy.Go sit with kitty for a minute.”

Simmeringwith pride, Red makes his way to the corner of the room and sits downat Blue’s side. The cat is sleeping, chained tightly to the wall, tooexhausted to wake up even for a newcomer. Red curls up fondly at hisside, playing with a length of his brother’s hair.

“Doc,”calls Anti warmly. “You come here.”

Doktorstartles, turning to look at Anti, adorned in blood on his throne, arotting wood chair in the basement. At his feet, Jameson Jackson isso unconscious Doktor cannot see his chest moving for air.

Antiattacked him like a shark in a frenzy.

Heldhim up in front of Doktor and Red and Blue one at a time and askedhim, mocking, which one of his big brothers would be the one to savehim now.

Promisedhim that it would be only a few days before he, too, was swallowedwhole by Anti’s power, begging like an animal for attention andaffection.

Beathim until his whole face was slicked in blood and bruises.

ButJameson did not beg or cry or complain. He took it with courage.Doktor remembers, very distantly, a time when he was more courageoustoo. Someone was torturing him, he remembers, but he tried so hardnot to give in. The details are slipping away from him.

“Deutsch,”calls Anti, a warning in his voice now. He does not like to wait.

Doktorhurries to his side.

“Howabout you?” he asks, getting up from his throne. He steps overJameson’s fingers. Doktor winces at a cracking sound. “Were you agood boy today?”

Whitewith terror and relief – Doktor does not know how he can besimultaneously so happy and so scared to see someone – he manages asmall nod, trying to smile.

“Youbrought the missing piece back to me, didn’t you?”

Anothernod. He can’t breathe. He wants to drown. With shaking hands, hereaches out, desperate for some comfort.

“Youdid well,” murmurs Anti, and takes him in his arms.

It’slike crashing into a river when you don’t know how to swim. But thewater is warm and he is little more than a corpse in its grip,sliding forward in Anti’s hands, a low groan trembling its way out ofhis mouth.

“Idid well,” he whispers. “I did, I did, I did…”

Henearly trips over Jameson and his eyes flicker down over his body,his poor face shattered into bone and blood, an agony written uponhis silent mouth even in sleep, and he is small and thin and so veryworn, still injured from the battle with Red, which must have hurthim in more ways than one –

“Doktor.”Anti has his mouth close to his ear, holding him tight. “You focuson me. Focus on master, there’s my good boy. You like being here withme?”

Doktorsways in place, swallowed by a wave of dizziness. “Yes, of course.”

Antitakes his chin gently in his hand and lifts up his head. Deutschmeets his gaze and shudders, and then smiles, his eyes glazing over.

Anti’seyes are dark and endless, colder than the stomach of the ocean,deeper than philosophy. Doktor chokes, collapsing against him,gripping at his brother’s shirt.

Theday is slipping away from them. What did he even do all day? Wherewas he?

“Closeyour eyes,” whispers Anti.

Doktorobeys. He always obeys. There is no other way to live. Just drowning.Just drowning. Anti curls his fingers through the hair of his nape ofhis neck. Yanks just hard enough to hurt, but Doktor doesn’t careanymore.

“Oh,I’m so tired,” Doktor whispers.

“Iknow.”

“You’rethe only thing I care about.”

“Iknow, baby.” It tooks him months to perfect this, but it’s done.Doc was his, and then the others, and now – oh, and now, his lastlittle missing piece. Jameson will be his too, soon enough, soonenough. “But listen, I need you to do something for me.”

“Yes,Anti, anything.”

“Red,you listen too.”

Redjoins Doktor at Anti’s side. Jealousy stings through them both, butthey’ll bottle up the anger for later, taking it out on each other inunexpected blows and stitches tugged too tight.

“Ineed time with my new puppy. He has to be broken in. You two willkeep things running while I work. Okay?”

“Yes,Anti,” they promise in sync.

“Red,anyone gets too close or too suspicious, you’re the one who takescare of it, alright? Doc, I want you to clean this little bitch up atthe end of the day when I’m done with him. And get rid of Trickshot’sfucking cough. If I have to hear him wheezing anymore I’ll go chophis head off.”

“Yes,Anti.”

“Good,then. Kitty cat, go with your brothers, you’re boring me.”

Blueopens pained eyes and drags himself to his feet. There is blood inhis hair. Doktor doesn’t remember who attacked him. Red takes hisbrother under his arm and leads him towards the stairs, pausing togive Anti a winning smile.

Hashe always had those scars, scattered like cross-hatching across hisface? Doc doesn’t think so, but he can never remember anymore. He cannever remember anything.

Forjust a second, he sees as though before his eyes Red and Blue inanother life, both smiling like twins, healthy and whole, unscarredand reaching out to him, the third star in their triangulum, a littlefamily, completely whole.

Wasthere a time before Anti?

“Goon, Doc-Doc.”

“Yes,Anti. But are you sure… are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Antilooks up, anger flashing through his eyes. Doktor backs slowlytowards the wall, turning down his gaze.

Hedidn’t mean to question. It’s just that he’s a doctor. He’s supposedto look after his brothers.

AndAnti?

Antilooks exhausted to the core of his being.

Athis feet, blood is leaking from Jameson’s eyes.

“Can’tbelieve this,” grumbles Red, pacing around the room. “Can’tgoddamn believe this.”

“Justgive it to me,” rasps Doktor. “No use complaining.”

Fuming,Red hands over vaporub and cough medicine and stalks away again. Thedull light of the paneless windows cast him in a cold evening light.

“Idon’t feel good,” moans Trickshot, writhing with fever in Doktor’slap. “I don’t feel good, I don’t feel good, I don’t feel – ”

“Hush,”orders Doktor harshly, shaking his shoulders. “Hush, you will annoyAnti.”

Trickwhimpers and falls into silence, but his rough breaths are scratchingtheir painful way up from a chest that is heavy with infection.

“Thisis pathetic,” gripes Red, glaring down at his little brother. “Hecan’t keep getting sick like this. We could have spent that money onfood if he wasn’t such a little bitch.”

“Ican’t handle pneumonia without better equipment. He needs to go tothe hospital,” mumbles Doktor, wetting someone’s spare t-shirt withwhat little water they have and pressing it to his forehead, openingup the chest rub with his free hand.

“Shutthe fuck up,” snaps Red. “You know we can’t do that. Keep himalive.”

Doktorcloses his eyes, rocking gently back and forth over Trickshot’s body.He stopped screaming or weeping or breaking down a long time ago, andnow he just shivers and rocks and hides his face when he needscomfort, understanding that none will come.

Redand Trick tell him he’s losing his mind. But it’s better than livinglike they do, devolving into panic attacks on the daily, so desperatefor Anti’s attention that they can barely function without praise anddirect orders. And meanwhile, Blue…

Redgrits his teeth at the low sound of skin grating against wood. “Blue,cut it out,” he growls, stalking over to drag his brother’s wristsaway from the sharpest piece of rotting wall he can find in thehouse. Blue’s collar jangles as Red pulls him to his feet and moveshim away. “You can’t even kill yourself properly, can you, kitty?Hey, hey, come on, look me in the eyes, you can do it.”

“Don’tmake him,” sighs Doktor, rubbing Trickshot’s chest slowly. Hisbrother stills under his hands, mumbling Anti’s name in what could bedreams or nightmares.

Redsighs and sits down with Blue slumped against his shoulder, strokinghis hair absent-mindedly. Blue doesn’t respond. Blue never respondsanymore.

“Youshould be more concerned about Trickshot,” whispers Doktor, in arare show of defiance. “He’s not well.”

“Don’ttell me what to feel, Deutsch. Ask me, you’re both wastes of fuckingoxygen. Hey, maybe he will die! It could just be me and Blue andAnti… the kid too, I guess…”

Doktorshivers, clutching Trick closer to his chest. Sometimes he’s scaredRed will kill him. Then again, he knows better than anyone where hisweak spots are – the slash in his stomach that JJ gave him in theirfight, the pains in his back they never seem to go away, everytrigger to send him into babbling terror, his eyes blown wide withconfusion and distress, screaming about the memories he’s lost –

Well.He just hopes it doesn’t come to a fight.

Bluebegins coughing low, low in his chest, trembling against Red’sshoulder.

“Oh,not you too,” groans Red, squeezing him close. “Oh, oh, Anti willbe furious if his pet gets sick. Doktor, stop it. My twin…”

“I’mdoing my best with vaporub and cough drops,” growls Doktor, tryingto get some water into Trick’s mouth.

Downstairs,Anti begins shouting. All four of them flinch as one, and Trick’seyes flash open full of panic.

“I’msure he’s going to finish with Jameson soon,” says Red, with bothadoration and terror in his mouth. “Then he’ll be happier. He’sjust doing what’s best for him.”

“Anti,Anti,” cries Trick. Doktor doesn’t know if he’s calling for him orcalling for help. Blue has gone so stiff he could be a corpse,staring dead-eyed at the wall. If he thinks anything on his ownanymore, he doesn’t show it.

Thisis a house of pain.

Doktorstares at the pathway to the basement.

Thisis a house of pain.

Whydoes he stay?

Hisstrings are slipping.

Antigags on a wave of weakness and throws JJ hard to the earth, steppingdown on his throat and turning away, taking deep breaths while thelittle one chokes.

“Glitchbitch,” signs the boy, between useless attempts to shove the footoff his neck. “Bastard, monster, virus, asshole.”

“Stupidlittle puppy,” croons Anti, pressing down on his throat. “Stillacting like you can defy me.”

He’shad Jameson for three days. It’s going well with the missing piece.Everday Jameson slips closer to his control.

Butthe problem is he’s stretching himself too thin. Even the bestpuppet-master can only move so many toys at once. Corruption takespower. It takes energy. Anti is running out. But he just needs tobreak this last little creature, this last little puppet. Just onemore corruption. He will not fail now.

“Iwill defy you,” Jameson promises. Anti finally lets up on histhroat and he draws in huge gasping breaths, slumped against theconcrete.

“Youdo your brothers a disservice,” says Anti. “Don’t you know theysaid the same? And now, what are they? I will make a liar of you too,little doll.”

Thebasement is cold as gravestone. Anti is the heater in the middle ofit, radiating warmth too heavily without any of it transfering to theroom around him. The only way to share his heat is to be touched byhim.

Hetakes a deep breath. For once in his life he needs to keep his calm.He leans down and puts his hands on Jameson’s wrists, falling to hisknees to straddle his hips, pinning him down against the stingingcement.

Jamesonturns his face away but does not protest. He is losing strength witheach day that passes. Anti knows how weak to keep him to stop himfrom using his powers, cutting frequent blood out of his back andstriking his aching head several times a day. He has not slept oreaten and any attempt to change the course of time will destroy him.He’s considering it.

Themoments where Anti tries to drag him under have become warm relief inthe middle of the torture.

“Comehere, baby,” purrs Anti, stroking his knuckles over his cheekbone,running his fingers across his mouth. “Come here, look at master.”

Jamesontries to get his hands together so he can sign the “h” thatbegins the word “hatred.”

Antigrabs a knife and slams it into Jameson’s shoulder. Pain sends hiswhole body into spasms, his body contorting with agony, his eyesrolling back in his head, and he is losing consciousness fast.

“It’sokay,” whispers a soft voice, and he knows it is Anti, but it couldso damn easily be any one of his brothers, torn away from him, couldbe Marvin or Henrik or Jackie or Chase –

Heis crying so hard he cannot breathe. When was the last time anyonetouched him? All he’s done for months is run.

“It’sokay.” Anti is stroking his hair. Stroking his stomach. Strokinghis wrists. He’s been starving to be touched and Anti is wonderfullywarm, even if his nails are overgrown and his teeth are just a littletoo sharp and one of his eyes is venomously black, a single greeniris shining down on Jameson’s smoke-grey face. “I’m sorry, I knowthis is scary. But listen, you’re going to be with your brotherssoon, right? You’ve missed them. Haven’t you?”

Hehas, he has, he’s been so lonely, he nods –

“Iknow,” sighs Anti, putting a firm pressure on Jameson’s shoulders,making his collarbone ache. He smells of blood and sleep. “Iunderstand. I can see every part of you, you know. I understandeveryone and everything. It will be so easy, once you’re mine. I’lltake that pretty clock and tie you up like Marvin and you can be mylittle puppy. No one will ever hurt you again. You won’t have to feelanything but this.”

Andwarmth and joy and relief and love come crashing over Jameson like ahigh, come flowing down the folds of his brain, trickling down histongue and down his throat, and he is melting like a witch in water,sinking down into Anti’s power –

“Openyour eyes,” calls a voice, gentle, gentle. He is held, carried,carressed. “Just open your eyes for me. Be a good boy. It’s alleasy after this. It will feel so wonderful. Open your eyes, Carver.”

That’snot his fucking name.

Justlike Doktor isn’t Henrik’s and Red isn’t Jackie’s and Trickshot isn’tChase’s and Blue isn’t Marvin’s, damn the glitch who stole his familyaway from him!

Hejerks up and slams his elbow into Anti’s nose, sending blood gushingfrom the demon’s nose. Falling back, Anti lets out a horrible screamof rage, the sound that metal makes as it grinds together, and thenhe is up again, coming forward again, holding a knife again, and whatcan Jameson do but cower?

“Iwill teach you pain,” Anti snarls. His teeth are gritted tight andhe no longer looks human. He is warm. He is too warm. He burns. “Iam pain and you will know me better than you know yourself, and then,before this is over, you will be mine, and forget the taste of yourown name, puppet kid.”

Doktordreams of bloodshed and video games.

Heholds a warm little computer mouse, shifting it across a pad on awooden desk. Everything is bright and clear and clean. He feels welland there is coffee next to his hand.

Fromthe speakers, a recorded cough and a splutter. A spray of simulatedblood hits the other side of the screen and Doktor adjusts in hisseat, reaching out to click on a button to order a lung exam for thepatient.

“Don’tworry now,” he narrates to the computer character, smiling at theblinking red eye of a camera near to his head. “The good Doktorwill make everything better, you will see!”

Thecharacter coughs again. Doktor realizes the game has not reacted tohis order. “Gah,” he growls, throwing up a hand and clicking onthe button again. “Come on, dumb machine.”

Still,the game does not respond. The character coughs and then groans,doubling over for a moment, its face still drawn into an unmovingsmile, dead-eyed and cold.

“Gottverdammt,”hisses Doktor, clicking once, twice, thrice. How frustrating, to knowwhat needs to be done and be unable to do it.

“Stopcoughing,” he begs, as the character shivers. “I’m trying to fixit. I will not have you die.”

Thecharacter reaches up to touch its chin and then draws away again.Startled, Doktor recognizes the sign for “please.”

“I’mtrying,” he says. “I am, I’m trying. I’m doing my best. I’m doingwhat’s right. I am, I am.”

Heclicks the button. Clicks, clicks, clicks. Why won’t it goddamn load?

“Stopdying,” he cries, slamming the mouse against the computer. Thetaste of copper is filling up his own mouth. His chest aches. A waveof heat rushes over him like sunlight exploding over the earth in themorning light. “Please, I’m scared, don’t die.”

Heneeds to get out of the whole program – he should get out of thewhole program – but how can he leave his patient behind? The othersare too sick to run with him. He cannot go until he saves them. Hecannot lose them! The memory of joy is sudden and present in hismind, but only for an instant, and then it is swallowed whole againby this terrible pain, pain, pain –

“Please!Let me save him!” he screams, and the character, deaf to his cries,is begging “please, please, please” in return, coughing harderand harder and harder. Blood drizzles down the screen. Doktor reachesout to touch it and his fingers come away red now, perhaps not sosimulated after all. He strikes the side of the computer and shakesit and click, click, clicks, but nothing happens, nothing saves him.There is only the heat of the patient’s fever and the dry heaving ashe chokes on pneumonia, bent over, collapsing, and Doktor lashes outtoo suddenly and spills his coffee, only it is blood that pours downfrom the edge of the mug, filling up the room like a flood –

Hedoes not scream upon awakening. Only gags, and whimpers, and rocks inplace, tears drizzling down his face.

Trickshotis hot at his side, trembling, coughing, conscious. Across the room,Anti’s twins sleep side-by-side, hunger and fatigue making themghostly in the moonlight, Blue touching Red with an out-stretchedhand abandoned on his shoulder.

“Trick?”whispers Doktor, trying to ground himself again, trying to banish thedream. He would call it a nightmare but he’s had far worse. “Trick,why are you awake?”

It’sstill dark out. It often is. Doktor guesses it is around three.

“Whatdid you dream of?” mumbles Trickshot, staring up at him withover-bright eyes. “Something nice?”

Hesmiles a little flicker of a smile, his mouth trembling.

Doktorsighs, calming. Just a bad dream, right? He’s not stuck. He’s notfrozen. He can take care of his patients. “Should not speak of it,”he tells him, pulling him straighter up, to help him breathe.Coughing must be keeping him awake. “You are weak. Go back tosleep.”

“I– I feel very weak,” concedes Trickshot. He sniffles and tearscome running out of his eyes. Doktor presses a hand to his foreheadand finds him burning. “Do you think Anti will let me die? Do youthink he will kill me? Did you dream of something nice?”

“Stop,Trick, stop, stop.” Doktor smooths down a bandage hanging off hischeek from where somebody struck him hard enough to break flesh.“You’re delirious. Don’t upset yourself. Go back to sleep.”

“Something– b-bright and lovely, maybe something where you were happy, didyou dream of – did you dream of something – ”

Hebegins coughing and must clutch at his heart, curling in on himself,agony coursing through his body. “Did you dream of something nice?”he stammers out, wheezing, working himself swiftly towards a completebreakdown. “Did you dream of – ”

“Trick,stop!” snarls Doktor, grabbing him by the throat in a sudden flashof fury. Trick gags and whimpers, collapsing against the floor,shivering in the cold night air.

Doktorreleases his throat, a rare twinge of guilt making itself known inhis stomach. As apology, he reaches out and touches the side ofTrick’s head awkwardly, frowning down at his blueing mouth. “Youreally are so sick,” he whispers, brushing down a strand of hissweaty hair. “Poor thing.”

“Don’tfeel good.”

“Iknow. Why don’t you tell me what you dreamed of, huh? I don’t want totalk about my dreams but you can. Did you dream of something nice?”

Trickshotpauses, biting his lip, and then nods, tears welling again in hisbright blue eyes. “A baby,” he whispers.

“Ababy?”

“Alittle dark-haired baby, so, so warm, so, so beautiful, and I washolding him and I reached out and he wrapped his tiny little handaround my finger and fell asleep in my arms.”

Doktordidn’t mean to make him cry. Trickshot devolves into sobbing againsthis brother’s stomach, shaking with fever and grief alike.

“Quiet,quiet,” begs Doktor, gripping at his shoulder. “Don’t disturbhim, don’t make him angry.”

“Mybaby,” gasps Chase, growing closer to death. “I want my babies, Iwant my baby, where is he, where is he, where is he?”

“Stop,stop, don’t say such things, Anti will kill you.”

“Antiwill not give me my child back,” weeps Chase. “Not even thememory of him, not even his name. I can’t remember my baby.”

“Trick,”says Doktor. “Trick.”

Andthen there is the static warning of their brother’s appearance, andthey both stiffen like scarecrows, curling in on each other as theywait for him to turn shadows into form.

Glitchessplit the air around them and Trickshot pretends to be asleep againstDoktor’s stomach, near to passing out anyway. Cold static ringsthrough the air like a tornado warning.

“Cleanhim up.”

Antiis standing behind him so suddenly that Doktor nearly gasps aloud,rocking faster and faster. “C-clean Trickshot up?”

“No,you stupid little bitch,” snarls Anti. He grabs him by the hair andDoktor gasps hard enough to hurt the back of his throat, staggeringupright. “Jameson. In the room on the other side of the house. Go.Let him die and you cannot imagine the pain I will inflict upon you,am I understood? Darling?”

“Yes,Anti.”

“Go.”

Hereleases him and disappears back into the shadow.

Tricklies at his feet, trying not to cough. Blood stains the corner of hismouth.

Doktorreaches down to touch him – but no, he cannot care for him, notnow. He must go the missing piece.

Panting,he abandons Trick to his coughing and heads towards the spare room.They think it used to be a kitchen once, before the house was halfwaydemolished and then abandoned, but now there is nothing but missingtile and cockroaches and one drawer full of knives in the corner.There certainly isn’t any food.

Jamesonis chained to the porcelain body of what might have been a sink. Heslumps back against the clay, his chin fallen onto his chest. He isbreathing, but only slow, only thin.

Doktorapproaches.

Litteredwith wounds, frail as a broken-wing bird. He coughs. Doktor cleansgashes and stitches them back together, wipes away blood and wraps upbruises, relocates a broken wrist and makes the boy scream, his eyesrolling back in his head as he staggers about between consciousnessand shadow.

Hecoughs.

Doktorreaches out to touch his cheek.

Hecoughs.

Doktorswallows back memories of him.

Bright-eyedbrothers moving like light through a window, clean whole faces andthe steady rising and falling of the breast, a smile on the boy’sunspeaking mouth –

Hecoughs.

Hecoughs.

Hecoughs.

Doktorburies his face in his hands and rocks, rocks, rocks, cries until hecannot breathe either; listens, despairing, to the coughing of hisbrothers, scattered like weapons cast aside through Anti’s house.

Howcan this be worth it?

Howcan this pain be worth it?

Fromthe darkness, Anti is watching.

Doktorwas the first one to lose the fight to his power, and now he is thefirst to feel the strings loosening about his throat. Something mustbe done.

Buthe is too tired to drag Henrik back under.

“Givein.”

“Iwon’t.”

Bloodsplurts from Jameson’s throat. His mouth jerks open in a horriblesilent scream and he writhes in Anti’s grip, tearing at the handsaround his neck.

“Isthat the best you can do?” laughs Anti. He lets Jameson go, his armgrowing tired from holding him up, and the boy collapses like a pileof flesh. “Really, no sound at all? Can’t you wheeze or something?I’m bored.”

“Bitch,”signs Jameson. He rolls back and forth against the ground slightly,trying to work through the pain, trying to stop crying. He doesn’tknow how much more of this he can take.

“I’mabout to cut your hands off if you don’t watch your tongue,” Antiwarns, sitting down beside him and drawing his head into his lap.“Come on, can’t you whine or something?”

Jamesonis bewildered on top of irritated now. “What the fuck do you expectme to do? Regrow my vocal chords? I can’t vocalize.”

“Maybeyou’re not trying hard enough,” grins Anti.

Exhausted,exasperated, pissed, Jameson holds up his middle finger and lets thatspeak for him.

Antihums and leans in close. Jameson shivers as he’s kissed, Anti’s mouthrunning feather-light across the stubble on his jawline.

“Getoff me,” Jameson begs, trying to push him away. “Please.”

“That’sbetter,” murmurs Anti. “Good job, puppy. Hold still and you cango in a minute.”

Hekisses his cheek, beneath his eye. His mouth is hot.

“Getoff me!” cries Jameson. Oh, fuck, suddenly he’s so dizzy. “Getoff, I hate you.”

Antipulls gently at his shirt, exposing his stomach. Jameson squirms,frightened, but with one hand Anti can hold him steady. The otherhand runs over his belly.

Thena knife, cold, cold, cold against his stomach.

Antisighs against the base of his ear.

Andthen he jams his thinnest blade like a key between the perfect slotof his seventh and eighth ribs.

Thenoise that Jameson makes –

Thenoise, a braying little gasp, a broken little screech from somewherein his lungs rather than his vocal chords, a choke combined with themovement that should make a scream, is not a noise that Anti realizedhuman beings could make.

Antiwishes he had recorded it. He could play that on a loop and destroycivilizations with the high it gives him.

He’slaughing so hard it hurts to breathe.

“Doktor!”he calls, shoving Jameson off his throat. The boy shudders againstthe floor, slamming his head against the cement as his body overtakeshis brain, far more conscious than he’d like to be. “You’re goingto have to bandage this up for us, darling.”

Notlong now. Not long.

“Please.”

“Shutup.”

“Please,please, H-E-N - ”

Doktorshoves him hard back against the porcelain sink to which he is onceagain chained. Jameson gags, weeping. “Brother,” he cries,undeterred. “Why won’t you save me?”

“God,please!” Henrik screams. “Stop, stop, I can’t take this!”

“Pleasehelp me, please help me, I’m scared, I’m scared, soon he will make mehis, I can’t take any more, please save me, I love you.”

Henrikscreams and tears at his hair, falling back. He’s been cleaningJameson up every night for a week. They are both reaching breakingpoints.

“Deutsch!”cries a voice from downstairs. Red, he thinks. “Blue can’tbreathe!”

“Sithim upright!” he calls back, trying to raise his voice above arasp. He tries to push himself back up to kneeling and a nail thatonce held floorboard pierces his palm, making him gasp.

“It’snot working!” Red cries. “It’s not enough!”

“Doyou think I’m hiding oxygen up here?” Doktor shrieks. “What doyou want me to do?”

Redis weeping. It’s a new sound for Doktor, but he doesn’t have time tocare. Blue and Trick are just getting sicker, and Carver’s going toget an infection if he doesn’t bandage him up, and he never feelswell anymore, and nothing is right, nothing is right, nothing is –

Jamesoncan only reach his brother’s out-stretched hands. Teary-eyed, whiteas smoke, he grips Doktor’s wrist gently and rubs his thumb up anddown the veins at the heel of his hand.

“Stop,”says Doktor.

Hedoesn’t draw away.

Jamesontugs his hand closer and presses his forehead to it, massaging hispalm, holding him tight.

“Stop,”says Doktor.

Jamesonshivers and clings to each one of his fingers, examining the valleysand ridges of his swirling fingerprints. Brushes against his veinsfrom heel to thumb. Squeezes tight, tight, tight.

Doktorcan’t remember the last time anyway touched him gently.

“Stop,”he begs. “I can take no more.”

“Henrik,”says Jameson, releasing his hand to finally, finally make the namewhole. “Henrik, brother, help me. Let’s go. There’s still time.”

Thestrings are slipping. The strings are slipping. The strings areslipping.

Butthey are still tight enough.

“I’msorry, Jameson,” whispers Henrik.

“No,no,” begs Jamie. He tries to grab his hand again, but Henrik isdrawing away. “I need you to remember who you are.”

“I’msorry,” whispers Doktor. “I am. I’m sorry. But I am also Anti’s.You don’t understand what he would do to us if we tried to escape.There is no running away. He will haunt us for the rest of our days.Better to stay, and be good for him. I am Anti’s.”

Jamesoncurls in on himself like a child, wrapping his arms around himselfand hugging himself tight. He rocks against the sink, sobbing.

He’slost. He’s lost. It’s over.

“Soonyou will be too,” promises Doktor softly. “And then…”

Heknows he should say that things will be better.

Buthe can’t lie.

Thisis a life of pain.

Twilightmakes the floorboards grey and lilac. The air smells of dust, ofblood, of starvation.

Doktorsits slumped over Blue, staring, corpse-like, down at him, bleedingsluggishly from the palm of his hand as he tends to his brothers’illnesses.

“They’regoing to die, aren’t they?” whispers Red.

Inhis weakness, Trick has regained his favor, and both he and Blue areclose at hand, tucked up in the only blanket in the house, shiveringside-by-side, asleep. Trickshot wheezes with every breath.

Doktorcan’t even answer. He washes sweat from their foreheads and massagestheir chests with vaporub. Nothing else to fucking do.

“Ican’t – ” Red breaks off, covering his mouth, squeezing his eyestightly shut. “I can’t watch them die.”

Doktorhums a brief affirmation, staring blankly at Trickshot’s hollowedgrey cheeks. It’s a little too late for Red to start caring.

“Deutsch,”whispers Red. He touches Doktor’s hand.

Henrikjumps hard, turning to him with astonished eyes. Red’s hand is gentleon his own. There are tears in his eyes.

“Whatdo I need to do to save them?”

AndHenrik recognizes, suddenly, a light that he had forgotten evergraced Jackie’s eyes.

Aprotection in his outstretched hands, a courage in his stiffenedmouth, a light in his bright blue eyes.

“Holyshit,” whispers Henrik.

Doubt.Doubt. Rebellion. It sits between them, curled in the heat of theirfevering brothers and the wounds that litter the boy upstairs likeconstellations, in the memories that sift, slow, patient, throughtheir awakening hearts.

“Sauerstoff,”he manages, swallowing hard.

“What?”

“Oxygen,”he rasps.

“Wheredo I get that?”

“Youwill have to steal it. Once you stole computer code from the centerof a secret Ministry of Defense facility just so Anti could eludethem. You will be able to take oxygen from a hospital. Masks too,blankets, and medicine – bring me paper, I will write it all down.”

Whiteand silent with stress, Jackie brings him the torn wrapper of theirlast jug of water, and Henrik scratches names into it, recalling,with the smell of hand sanitizer in his nose, what it was to be areal healer.

“Youmust go quickly,” he murmurs, pressing the wrapper into Jackie’shand.

“Iknow,” Jackie answers, soft. “If I’m not back before Antirealizes I’m gone…”

Hewill kill him. The words stand silent in the air between them.

Henrikcan almost remember his name.

Henrikcan almost, almost remember his name.

“Doktor,”murmurs Jackie.

“Red,”Henrik answers, exhausted.

Hiseyes say go carefully and Jackie’s answer very well, as youwish, we were brothers once and in the memory I have forgotten thehatred he fostered within me.

Jackiesqueezes his hand, kisses both Blue and Trickshot goodbye, and goes.

Heknows he will be killed for the transgression of abandonment.

Buthis pain might be salvation, and the word “hero” rises once againin his mind, like a tattoo uncovered, impossibly forgotten,permanent, chosen, lasting.

Upstairs,Jameson grows weaker.

Thereisn’t much time left.

Antiwakes up.

Thisis unusual for him, having never actually lost consciousness before.His waking thoughts consist largely of what the fuck, what thefuck, what the fuck?

Didhe pass out?

He’sslumped downstairs on his little throne – hardly more than ablood-painted chair, but he loves it like a knife – and he doesn’tremember falling asleep.

He’sweak as a ball of cotton.

Panicrises in him like fire and he tries to get up, without success,panting hard. For a moment his whole body becomes as static, heavyand faraway. His tongue is leaden and stinging in his mouth and hishead collapses back against the wood of his chair, leaving himmotionless and terrified, fainted in his own throne room.

He’snever passed out before, he’s never been weak, he’s never used somuch energy, he didn’t realize he had a breaking point and he needsto stop –

No!screams the rest of his brain. The dizzy spell recedes as a wave fromthe ocean and he staggers to his feet, snarling at the world aroundhim, which continues to defy him. I won’t be stopped now! I’m sovery close. So very close to the perfect victory. Their stupidpersistence can’t stop me. I will hold all five of them at once,puppets from my hands.

Hespares a burst of pure hatred for his creator, who gave him justenough brothers to be a challenge.

Butnot enough to stop him. He will be victorious.

“Doktor!”he screams, dragging himself to the bottom of his staircase. Deutschappears shaking in the light above him, his eyes flashing quicklybetween all corners of the house. Anti can almost taste hisdisloyalty, but it does not matter. He must break his last littlecolt, and then he will reign in all five of his stallions, if ittakes every whip in the world. “Bring my the little brat,” hehisses, sinking back into the darkness. “We end this tonight, onceand for all.”

“Where,”whispers Anti, “Is your resistance now?”

Jamesonlies shivering. Jameson lies shaking.

“Ihave shattered it,” Anti tells him. He reaches down, slow, and runshis knuckles across Jameson’s cheek, scarred and blood-stained.

“Youwere not the one who shattered it,” Jameson answers, closing hiseyes.

Thedemon stands above him like a shadow, pierced by thin beams of lightforcing their way through the tiny windows at the tops of thebasement walls. Blue and green eyes coat Jameson in a unique form oflust, a power-hungry possession, a wolf that has gained a taste forhuman flesh.

“Youlove your brothers very much,” murmurs Anti. “After all they havedone to you.”

Hesits down, criss-cross, at Jameson’s side. Pulls him into his lap.Takes his hands into his own.

“Bemine,” he says. “And they will love you again too.”

“Isthis what you call love?” Jameson manages.

Heis slumping down against Anti’s shoulder, exhausted.

“Youdon’t know the first thing about love.”

“Whata pity,” Anti giggles, grabbing his wrists and pulling him evencloser. “I must be missing so much.”

Blood,blood on Jameson’s face.

“Poordapper darling, pretending to be strong. Your heart is broken andyou’ve been dying for a long time, running from me every day, runningfrom your family. Aren’t you tired?”

Jamesonis hiding against his chest. Tears soak Anti’s shirt.

“Poorthing,” whispers Anti, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I know.It hurts. I know. Poor, poor dapper.”

Careful,he reaches power out. Feels Jameson’s heart, racing with terror, soweak and so vulnerable.

Hewraps a string and breathes through a wave of dizziness.

Jameson’shands tighten on his shirt.

“Thereyou go,” whispers Anti, rubbing from his shoulder to the small ofhis back. “There you go, it’s okay. Stop crying so hard, littleone. Hush, hush. Here I am. Don’t be afraid.”

“Anti,”signs Jameson. Anti does not know what he is begging for and he doesnot care. His sign name is a slit throat ‘A’ and it makes him laugh.“Anti, please.”

“Lookat me,” Anti orders, taking his chin in his hand. “Look at menow.”

Jamesontries to hide, his eyelids fluttering. No, no, no…

“You’reso tired.” Anti’s fingers are soft, warm, loving against his faceand throat and hands. “So, so tired, poor little puppy.”

Andhe is, so, so exhausted, so tired it could kill him. All he wants inthe whole goddamn world is to lose himself in sleep, in power, inAnti…

“Lookat me,” says Anti. He hates him, he craves him, he owns him. “Lookat me, Carver, Dapper, Monochroma. Look at me.”

Jameson’seyes open. Dapper’s eyes meet his own.

Hot,rushing, overwhelming, terrifying, ecstatic, adoring, all-consuming,all-consuming, all-consuming; Carver gasps and sinks down in Anti’shands, reaching up to be held, an agony of possession writhingthrough his body as he collapses like a bird dead in the air andlanguishes in the dark, endless eyes of his older brother.

Antihas him.

Carverblinks, and closes his eyes, and sinks.

Sinkslike a mink sinks in the mouth of an alligator.

Downonto Anti’s lap.

Andwhen his brother traces his hands across his scalp, stroking gentlehis downy brown hair, he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Antihas him.

Joycrackles as a current of electricity through his body and Antismiles, letting himself curl down around Chroma’s body, pulling hisnew little puppet to him, running his hands over his flesh, tastingthe sweet copper taste of an implanted adoration, touching hisfingers to each one of the cuts he has spent the last two weekscutting into Dapper’s skin –

Aword of alarm flickers through his system. Anti sits up, his eyesfixed on the opening to the room.

Thereare footsteps coming towards him.

Hetries to get up, but dizziness pounds through his simulated skull andhe collapses back onto his throne, gripping at Carver’s shirt. Heover-exerted. Used too much power. He’s never been so tired in hislife. He could fall asleep right here, slumped over his littlebrother’s body, holding his new puppet close… his eyes flicker andglitch and he sways, drifting…

“Ican bear this no longer.”

Anti’seyes snap open.

Inthe doorway, Henrik.

NotDoktor.

Henrik.

Antican’t feel his hold over him.

Hetries anyway. “Go back upstairs, Deutsch.”

Dappershivers in his lap. Anti grips a knife warily, staring at Henrik’stwilight silhouette.

“Ican bear this no longer,” whispers Henrik.

“Arzt,”hisses Anti, glaring him down. “Go back upstairs. Now.” Hestrains his energy on the last word, reaching out for Henrik again,wrapping strings around his throat –

“Shutyour fucking mouth,” hisses Henrik.

Andstranger still is the look in his eyes, because, for the first timein his life, Anti doesn’t understand the emotion that he’s looking atin another’s face.

“So,”he drawls, rubbing Dapper’s back, just to mock this rebellious littlepuppet standing before him. “My strings got too loose, huh?”

Henrikmoves forward. His hands tremble.

“Upstairs,two of my brothers are dying,” he says. “Red – no, Jackie –has suffered so much at your hands that for many long months he hasdesired only to be yours, so full of hatred we all bear his marks onour flesh. I myself have hurt for years now because of you. Havenightmared, have scarred over, have shattered like ice into crystal.And this boy you have given me to care for for the past week. Eachtime I saw his face, each time I held him, bleeding in my arms, Ihave regained a little of myself. That is not because of you. That isbecause of me. Your strings are looser, yes. But I am the one whotore them off. And that is because you know nothing. You think youknow what pain is, Anti?”

Hepulls from the pocket of his torn khaki pants a stained scalpel.

“Answerme,” he snarls.

Antiis glaring at him now, teeth bared and drizzling blood. His skin isgreen and his eyes are black. He is not human.

Buthe shares the mortal propensity to fear.

“Yes,”he hisses back, draping himself over Jameson’s body like a wolf witha fresh kill. “And I will teach it to you for months and months andmonths, little one.”

“No!”screams Henrik. “No, you don’t know the first goddamn thing! Notyet, Anti! Not yet!”

Antineeds to get up. He has to get up. He cannot glitch at all; his fleshis so still it is painful, but he must rise nonetheless, he muststand nonetheless, he can still get up, even in his weakened state,surely –

Theweight of Jameson’s sleeping body across his lap is too heavy for himto move. He cannot even put his hands on him. He is losingcorporeality. He can see through his palms. This has never happened.This has never happened. This has never –

Feartastes like copper, copper, copper, blood.

“Painis love turned against you,” groans Henrik. “Brothers made toenemies and left to bleed on the seat of a bus, left to choke todeath in abandoned houses, wearing belled collars and clutching atwounds that will never heal. You think you know what that is?”

“Henrik,get away from me,” hisses Anti. Electrical signals buzz distortedlythrough his brain, making the whole world too bright and tooconfusing. He coughs and blood comes welling up in his mouth.

“Youwill,” promises Henrik.

Hiseyes are consumed by darkness.

“Iwill teach you what it is. Because Anti, Anti, Anti! Pain is weaknessand then, later, strength. I have suffered until the madness came,and arisen from it powerful, powerful, powerful. Be afraid, Anti. Iwill teach you what is pain.”

Anti’scoughing pierces deeper and deeper as his body begins to glitchapart. The more he tries to blacken his eyes and consume Henrik’swill, the more power he loses, and the more he falls apart. He cannotstop coughing. He cannot breathe.

“Youare nothing!” he shrieks, nearly hysteric with mad fervor, with howgoddamn close he is to having everything he’s ever wanted! So manybodies strewn aside, so much corruption and patience, so much time,effort, planning, blood, torment! No, he will not lose now! He willtear this whole world apart if that is what it takes! “I will ripyou apart like tendrils of dog meat!”

ButHenrik is no longer afraid of him. He continues forward, staring intohis black eyes, free of him.

“Iwill turn you against yourself,” he promises. Here is a threat toterrify, and Anti cannot help but shove himself against the back ofhis throne, straining away. “Tear you down into all the things youpromised yourself you would never be. Kill you with your own blade.Oh, I’ve hated you for so long.”

“Oh,no, Doktor,” giggles Anti. At least there is some humor to be foundin that. “No, no, no, you’ve loved me, adored me, prayed in my namefor months now. Even before I used power to make you mine completely,you would beg for a scrap of bread as you starved, for a touch ofcomfort as the pain killed you, for someone to kiss you and wipe upthe tears – ”

Henrikswings with the scalpel.

Anti’sbody finds the strength somewhere to glitch and he goes crashing tothe cement, scrambling away from Henrik, hatred and blood wellingfrom his mouth. He can’t stop coughing. It hurts. “Red!” hescreams. “Red, Blue, come here now!”

“Theytoo have abandoned you,” hisses Henrik. “Their brotherhoodovercomes your own.”

“Impossible,”Anti shrieks. “Impossible.”

“Youare alone,” says Henrik. “As you were always meant to be. I toldJameson you were inescapable, do you know that? Strange. Just daysago, you seemed deathless. But I have been watching your collapse.You have made yourself mortal. Maybe you will haunt us, after all, aghost, a memory. But you will never lay a hand on my family again.”

Anticoughs until he is sprawled against the earth, writhing in blood, inchunks of his own lungs, in hatred. He tries one last time to stopHenrik, and even makes him stagger back, confused, torn – but thislapse in control is enough to make the boy on the throne jerk back toreality, staggering to his feet and coming to stand at Henrik’s side,grabbing his hand and assuring him, comforting him, standing withhim.

Together,they are stronger than he is.

Forall that they have suffered, Jameson and Henrik are stronger thanAnti, stronger than hatred, stronger than blood.

Henrikraises the scalpel, and teaches his tormentor pain.

Teacheshis tormentor weakness.

Jackiereturns with medicine and food and masks and oxygen, filled with herocourage, hero strength, brother love. Marvin and Chase breathe. Antidoes not.

Henrikand Jameson cling to each other.

Nomore running. No more fighting. No more abuse. Just family. Gone isthe darkness. Here is the light, their stars, their brothers, alive.

Andfrom then on, when pain comes and they are haunted, well, the five ofthem face it together, as they did once before, and some day, oneday, soon, health and joy will come like sunlight in the morning,warm as the ashes of a fire proud and bright.

“Yousaved me,” says Jameson, warm against Henrik’s shoulder, trustingagainst his chest. “You saved me.”

“No,” says Henrik. “You, little brother, are the salvation Ihave longed for.”

[illfoandillfie]

23, from the smut list with benny😭😭

23. “Wider, baby. I said wider.”

(This got a little long because I am physically incapable of writing a Ben fic without some sort of fluffy nonsense, but for some reason the read more thing isn’t working so apologies to anyone on mobile!)

Nights out with Ben were never boring. Sober he was a complete sweetheart, looking out for you and always trying to make you laugh, your best friend in the world. But the tipsier he got the flirtier he became. You were sure it was the reason for his high success rate, having spent countless nights watching him flirt his way into other women’s beds, or at the very least a quick handy in the bathroom. Not that you were jealous or anything. Definitely not. Not jealous enough to admit it anyway.

You glanced down the bar to where he was chatting up some other chick, trying to keep your envy in check by downing another shot. Suddenly he was beside you, pulling out a stool and signalling to the bar tender. “Did I tell you how fucking stunning you look tonight?” he asked softly, eyes flicking up and down over you. “Think you got me confused with someone else Ben,” you laughed, pushing aside anything else you might currently be feeling. “Who would I possibly have confused you with Y/N?” “The bird you were just chatting up maybe?” “Nah, I set her loose. Not my type.” He shrugged as he picked up his new drink. “Are you kidding? She’s stunning! Thought for sure you’d leave with her.” “She wasn’t my type,” he repeated glancing at you before quickly looking away. “But what about you? You’re a cute girl in a short skirt, can’t believe none of these guys have tried picking you up yet.” “Oh a fair few of them have tried. I’ve been called a frigid bitch no less than 5 times tonight.” “Wankers. You’re not a bitch.” “No, I was definitely a bitch. More upset about the frigid part actually,” “Well I wouldn’t know anything about that.” Ben’s cheeks seemed a little more flushed than they had been a moment ago and you couldn’t help but notice just how close he was to you. You cleared your throat and leaned away from him. “Need a piss,” He said quickly slipping off his seat. You just nodded trying to slow your heartbeat again.

You chewed your lip as you waited for him to return, trying to keep your eyes away from the bathroom doorway. You couldn’t have been the only one to feel whatever the fuck that was. The energy between you. It had definitely been different to the normal best friend feeling. Just as you were starting to entertain the idea of contemplating thinking about telling Ben how you felt, he returned. “Hey,” he said softly, taking up his spot beside you again, the back of his hand resting against yours. “No pick up line this time?” “That wasn’t a pick up line before,” “I’m teasing Ben, I know you weren’t hitting on me,” “No, I just mean, I wouldn’t bother you with a pick up line, you deserve better than that. And you do look fucking gorgeous.” “Alright charmer, turn it down.” God what is wrong with me? Ben shifted his hand away from you, ordering another round, leaving your skin feeling noticeably colder. You each picked up a shot glass clinking them together before throwing them back. “So,” you said, trying to make everything go back to the way it normally was, “if you’re not hitting on me, and you’ve blown off missy down the bar, who’re you gonna have a crack at next?” “Actually I was thinking of calling it a night.” “Really? How come?” “The girl I was after wasn’t interested,” He was staring at you again, making your chest feel tight and god you could almost believe he meant you. “Her loss, you’re a catch.” “You think so?” he seemed confused, looking like he couldn’t quite believe what you were saying. “Course I thin-” he cut you off with a kiss, chaste and fast like he was afraid you’d push him away. You brought your fingers to your mouth, touching your lips with shaking fingers, “Me?” “You didn’t realise?” “Ben, I’m a fucking dumbass, you know this about me. You need to spell these things out for me,” He laughed, “Sorry, forgot who I was dealing with. I’ll try again,” He pulled you into another kiss, fiercer and deeper than the first. You could taste the remnants of his last drink on his tongue as you melted into him. It felt like you belonged here, like you fit together perfectly, and you wanted more, wanted to know if it’d feel like this all the time. “You wanna get out of here?” You asked when he finally let you up for air, “Come back to mine?” “God you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

After Ben paid for your drinks you left to wave down a cab. His hand was on your back as you climbed into the backseat, giving the driver your address, swiftly moving it to your knee as he leaned back in to you. “Kinda don’t wanna stop kissing you, now that I know I can,” he said softly. “Kinda just wanna get home so we can do a little more than kiss,” you giggled “That so? Didn’t realise I got you so hot,” his hand slipped from your knee towards the inside of your thigh, “open your legs wider for me.” “Ben, the driver,” you whispered, “what if he sees. Hears.” “I’m sure he’s seen it all before, he spends all night driving drunk horny people around. C’mon Y/N, wanna make you feel good.” You let your legs fall open slightly. “Wider, baby,” You bit your lip as you opened your legs a fraction more. “I said, wider,” his voice sent a shiver through you that had you giving in and spreading your legs the way he wanted. “Good girl.” He trailed his hand higher, slipping under the hem of your dress to tease you over your underwear, “Gonna make you cum before we get to yours, you just gotta be quiet.” You held back a whine as he wiggled his fingers into your underpants, coating them in your wetness as they slid along your slit. You leaned back, shifting your hips to give him better access, swallowing hard as he briefly came into contact with your clit. “Want me to do that again, baby?” “Please,” you breathed out. Ben chuckled as he kissed you again, pressing his thumb against your clit until you were whimpering. “As soon as we get to your place, I’m going to fuck you, make you scream my name.” His thumb was relentless on your clit, pulling you closer and closer to the release you craved. The very small part of your brain that wasn’t completely focused on your impending orgasm revelled in how natural this felt, how not awkward it was. “Ben, please don’t stop,” you whispered. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’m not going to.” “Call me baby again,” His eyes met yours as he softly said, “Cum for me baby,” and you fell into your orgasm, shuddering as it rolled over you. Ben’s fingers didn’t leave you, stretching it out, as he kissed along your jaw. As he finally removed his hand from under your dress he made eye contact with you again, brining his fingers up to his mouth and licking them clean. “Jesus Christ Ben,” “Just wanted to know if you taste as delicious as you looked while you came for me.”

As the cab pulled up outside of your house you leaned in to whisper in Ben’s ear, “You’re going to pay the fare and then meet me in my bedroom. Need to be full of your cock in the next ten minutes or I’m going to lose it.” “Good thing I know the way then,” he said with a wink as you got out of the car, practically running to unlock the door.

[themarissaharrisxn]

remnants | self para

“Can you hear me? Marissa! Riss! Move your fingers if you can hear me.”. The voice was distant, quiet. It was a man, he sounded panicked and out of breath. Why couldn’t she move? “Riss, c’mon, what did you do?” Why did he sound like he was fading in and out? Why was it so dark? A light began flashing in the dark, up and down then side to side, really bright then really dull. What was happening? What had she done? 

“What can I say? It must be beginners luck,” Marissa smirked as the dealer dealt the third straight blackjack pair in a row. There were a few grumblings around the table as the dealer rolled over a 20, busting all players but her. She was sure she even heard one of them call her a bitch; how quaint. It was around ten in the evening, and Riss had already sunk a bottle of whiskey and several hundred dollars on the roulette tables. Blackjack was meant to be a game of pure luck, but if you learned enough about the game, there was always a way to beat Lady Luck. Although, tonight, she wasn’t even lying, Luck was just looking out for her.

Marissa saw Hayden come into work, and she couldn’t help but watch him for a while. He seemed different, as if there wasn’t as much weight on his shoulders anymore, but at the same time as if he was worse than ever. She thought back to the last time they spoke to how she threw a glass at him and slammed her door in his face. She had pushed him out of her life again. Why did she keep doing that? Pushing people away? It was like she wanted to be alone... Because if she was alone, she had an excuse. If she was alone, there became a reason to slip back into those delusions. She missed them. Missed her. Today was her birthday... They should have been here celebrating together.

“Are you playing, Ma’am? If not, there’s, um, there’s a queue waiting to join the table so--” The dealer swallowed nervously as he ran his fingers up and down the deck holder. Marissa looked to him then back at Hayden, then at the queue. She inhaled sharply before smiling at the dealer. “Sorry, no, no, I-- I think I’m done. Can only cheat luck for so long, can’t we?” Riss chuckled lightly as she stood up and brushed the wrinkles from her dress. “It’s been a pleasure,” she winked to the particularly attractive man on the other side of the table, picked up her chips, and left. 

Just leave. Stop drinking. Go home. Go to sleep. That’s what she told herself. It’s what she knew was the smart choice. But, hell, when the fuck did Marissa Harrison ever settle for the smart choices in life? She walked over to the bar, dropping her chips down on the counter hard enough to capture his attention. Her heart skipped a beat as he turned around from returning a bottle to the top shelf, her bottle, her whiskey. Her lips parted to speak, but nothing came out. She sighed. She wanted to just hug him, but he was at work, and after last time and by the look on his face, she wasn’t even sure he wanted her to. 

“What are you drinking, Marissa?” He asked, cold as ice as if she were just another customer. As if they didn’t go back years. As if nothing had ever happened between them. 

“W-- Whiskey,” she stuttered, as much of a forced smile as she could manage. “I have a tab here, just--” 

“I know. I’ll put it on the tab.”. He cut her off with a nod as he placed the glass in front of her and served her whiskey. The casino was anything but silent, but the silence between him and her was deafening. Why did she push him away again? Why was he being so cold? What was wrong with her? 

“Thank you,” she smiled, her lips parting once again to speak, but no words finding their way out. How are you? It wasn’t a hard question to ask, just ask it. Her grip around the glass was vice-like, any harder, and it threatened to break. She became lost in the murky brown liquor as she tried to piece together what to say, what to ask him, whether to see if he wanted to come over after he was done. Riss swallowed thickly. “Hay--” she breathed out as she looked up, but he wasn’t there. He was down the other end of the bar, serving another customer with a smile twice as wide as he’d given her. Her eyes welled, and knuckles turned white. Fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck all of this fucking shit, right? She knocked back the drink in one go and pushed the glass off the side of the bar, so it smashed all over his floor, ice, and glass shattering everywhere. Their eyes locked, and she stormed off. 

She’d done nothing wrong. This wasn’t her fault. He was the one that faked his own death. He was the one who caused this. Not her. Fuck him! As she approached the main doors, they were quickly opened for her by the bouncer, and waiting outside was the limo that ferried people from Labyrinth to Plan B. That was a bad idea, but fuck it, right? She was celebrating for two, after all. She got into the back of the car and was relieved to find it empty. “We’re not waiting for more people. Let’s go, Jeremy. Plan B,” Riss practically ordered the driver as she immediately poured herself a glass of champagne. 

The feeling of the moving car felt comforting, the physical reassurance that she was getting away from Hayden, from those problems and those emotions. But, the whole ordeal had sobered her and tonight, especially now, she was aiming for anything but sober. The ride to Plan B was only short, no longer than fifteen minutes in traffic, but in that time, Marissa had finished the bottle and after giving James a kiss on the cheek, walked into the club. 

The bass of the music coming through the speakers matched her heartbeat. Steady. Controlled. A topless dancer passed by her, a flirtatious smirk on her face as her eyes practically fucked her right then and there. Marissa turned and walked backward a few paces so she could watch her walk away, her tongue slowly licking over her bottom lip. Her eyes jumped up and clocked with the bartender, and she winked, mouthing ‘my usual’ before turning around and walking to the executive booth at the front of the main stage. 

The dancer that had been performing slowly walked off the stage, glancing back to Marissa before disappearing behind the curtain. In the few minutes between performances, a glass, a bucket of ice, and a bottle of her whiskey were brought over to her, her first glass poured out. The darkness of the club, the intensity of the music, the show that was being put on for her allowed her to leave her own reality behind, to get lost in everything. Then, out of the curtains came her favorite dancer, Denise. 

The blonde locked eyes with her as silver heels carried her down the runway, the white lingerie beaconing her angelic figure. The woman was everything she was attracted to, and on a day like today, Delilah’s birthday, it was exactly what she needed to get lost in. Marissa let her work the pole, eyes only ever removed from her body to top up her drink. After a while, the distance between them was too much, and so, with a smirk, Riss gave Denise the ‘come here’ gesture, mouthing the words for good measure. 

Denise walked down the stage stairs and up into her booth, hand reaching behind to her back and removing the small amount of fabric she was calling a bra. God, she was beautiful. She had always been so beautiful. She had missed her so much. “You look so good up there tonight, baby, but I know you already know that, don’t you?” Riss murmured as Denise straddled her lap, her eyes telling Marissa everything she wanted to do to her without the need for words. The blonde took Marissa’s hands and guided them over her body, letting out small moans and gasps as she danced for the investor. 

With each drink Riss took, with each dance Denise gave her, Riss lost herself more and more to the night, more and more to her mind. She took a shot, and then returned her attention to the stripper, only it wasn’t the stripper anymore. Riss almost choked on the liquor as it slipped down her throat. “Delilah?” She breathed out, eyes widening then narrowing as she realized how blurry her vision had become. Fuck, how much had she drunk? She looked to the bottle. Empty. She looked back to the blonde who seemed concerned, but not surprised. “D-- George, what--” Riss stuttered as she shook her head and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s okay. It’s okay... Wait, why was she trying to push this away? Why was she trying to stop this? Why was she stopping it? She opened her eyes again. 

She was at home.

“Delilah?!” She called out, hoping that someone would answer, hoping that there was some explanation to how she was suddenly home. Had she blacked out and been brought back by Delilah. Where was she anyway? Riss stood up, instantly became dizzy and fell back down to the couch. Fuck, her head was spinning. She looked around and saw her phone. Thank God, maybe that held answers. Marissa grabbed it, unlocked it and scrolling through her notifications. No taxi calls, no Uber ride, how the fuck did she get back in one piece? There was an unread message though, from Shane. 

Hope you’re doing okay, I know it’s a rough day today... Call me if you need anything. Always here for you, Riss.

It’s a rough day today? Why was today a rough day? “Delilah!” She shouted again with a groan, standing up again, slower this time. “Babe?” Riss called out, taking slow steps around the house. She went in and out of every room, twice. She was alone. Her subconscious must have figured out what was happening because she went to the bedroom again and opened the wardrobe. All that was in there was her own clothes. She went to the other bedside table and opened it. A small bear lay in the drawer. She’d brought it back from New York when she went at Christmas. When she went to visit the grave. Her chest began to rise and fall in a panic, she shook her head and pulled at her hair. “No-- no, no, no...” She muttered to herself, again and again before letting out a piercing scream that echoed off every wall as she fell to the ground. She remembered. Everything came back like a train hitting her. Her heart broke all over again. She had to stop doing this, had to get rid of everything and anything that brought her back, that broke her heart. 

Riss became blind-sighted, running around her apartment, opening every single draw, every compartment, every safe, she threw every last bit of evidence that Delilah had ever died into a trash can and put it in the middle of her living room. She stared at it, all of the letters, all of the pictures, the certificate of death, the jewelry, the old perfume bottles. There was only one way to get rid of it all. She had to get rid of it all. She had to stop doing this, it was getting fucking old. She had to either get on with her life or just lose it completely. She had no idea which it would be, but this wasn’t an option anymore. 

Her hand reached into her pocket and pulled out a Zippo. Her breathing dropped back down, suddenly becoming steady. Her eyes became devoid of emotion, though tears ran down her cheeks. Shaking hands flicked the top, igniting the flame. She took a bottle from the globe-shaped drink cabinet and poured it over the trash can, then took a step back and threw the Zippo. 

A plume of fire exploded into the blackness, the flame rolling outwards like the smoke of a mushroom cloud. The heat was oppressive, but she didn’t run. She didn’t even move. She just stared at the flames, taking in the smell of her old life burning away. The fire was dancing, licking at the edges of the can, demanding more room to grow and more substance to fuel its rage. Black smoke began billowing from the top as the amber refused to be contained and began reaching hungrily for fuel. 

It wasn’t until the fire alarm started blaring that Marissa had realized that it had taken her couch as its own. She looked up to the ceiling in panic, there were supposed to be sprinklers, right? Where were they? She couldn’t even see the ceiling above the black smog which began falling down on her like a curse. What had she done? Riss looked around to grab her phone, to try and call help. The ashy air caught her lungs, causing her to cough and wheeze. She saw her phone become victim to the flames and as she looked around she realized that there was no route out, the only escape was the balcony ten feet away. Her eyes were stinging, barely able to make out anything but orange and yellow and red. 

Every step feels as if it could be the last before she collapses. Her head is light, she wants to scream but she can’t, she can barely breathe. But then she feels glass in front of her and she feels hope. Her fingers fumble with the sliding lock, the last of her strength and energy goes into pushing the door open and she falls out onto the concrete. Darkness takes her.

Hayden had clocked off from the casino and couldn’t stop thinking about Marissa. He felt like a dick for the way he behaved earlier that night, especially when he remembered what day it was. He hated the dynamic between them now, hated that they had become strangers, enemies. She was his best friend and had been for years. He needed to make things right. So, he drove around to her place, but as he turned the corner he was greeted with fire trucks, squad cars, and ambulances. There were forklifts up the side of the building, and flames violently billowing out of the top of the block. Out of the penthouse. Out of Marissa’s apartment. 

“What the fuck happened?!” He asked one of the Police Officers on the cordon. “Let me through please, I live here-- that apartment is my best friend's apartment, let me through!” He only half lied. The cop looked at him, then looked behind him and clearly chose to let someone else deal with keeping him contained because he lifted the yellow tape and Hayden ducked through. He ran over to the fire trucks and to one of the marshals. “Is anyone up there? My friend-- Marissa-- that’s her place, the penthouse, is she up there? Do you have her?” He fired question after question until the marshal placed his hand on Hayden’s shoulder. 

“Calm down, son. We got her, she’s coming down the lift now. She’s alive but-- she’s unconscious, we don’t know how bad yet,” he said, pointing up as the lift was slowly coming down the side of the building. Hayden began to pace, his hands were shaking, in fact, his whole body was shaking. He couldn’t lose her. How hypocritical was that? He faked his own death now he couldn’t lose her. God, why the fuck was the lift taking so long? 

“Can’t that thing go any fucking faster?!” He yelled out, hand covering his mouth straight after. They landed on the ground and Hayden ran over, pushing one of the marshals who had tried to stop him out of the way. They took her off and placed her onto a medical stretcher, and straight into the back of an ambulance. He didn’t leave her side, telling the paramedic that he’d have to knock him out if he didn’t want him getting in the back of the ambulance with them. 

“Can you hear me? Marissa! Riss! Move your fingers if you can hear me,” he said, the panic evident in his voice. “Riss, c’mon, what did you do?” Hayden begged, his hand holding hers as the paramedic used a flashlight to try and get any response from her eyes. They were twitching as the light passed by, which meant she was in there, but she wasn’t squeezing his hand back. “Riss, riss-- please, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I-- I fucked up, I need you, okay? Please... Come back to me...” Hayden cried, his head dropping onto the side of the bed as the paramedic put an oxygen mask over Riss as the ambulance began its high-speed journey to the hospital. 

“She’ll be okay, mate,” said the paramedic in a tone that had clearly comforted too many people already that night. “Just a few lung burns, give her a few hours on oxygen and she’ll be awake, okay? Her stats are normal, just the oxygen is low as expected. She’s okay.”.

Hayden knew that this happening today meant everything other than her being okay. 

She wasn’t okay.

But he was going to be there for her. 

Always.

[myownpersonaldemons]

Ok so hello sinful anon here I did actually mean uf! Grillby but regular grillby also fulfilled my hopes so I it was a nice surprise and I didn’t expect myself to like it so much so a happy mistake was made but yeah plz do underfell grillby to. Please? Thank you if you have to rewrite it then don’t feel the need to rush😌✌️💖

No need to rewrite it cus I saved the underfell one *dabs* I had a feeling that I might’ve misunderstood that whole thing, so I just wanted to keep both just in case.

UF!Grillby/Reader

Again, this is NSFW, so 18+ only people thank you smooches

Grillby didn’t like cold.

He didn’t like it one fucking bit.

So, when the cold snap hit Ebott City,there was one very upset fire elemental who spent his entire night glaring atnew arrivals to his bar who let in a gust of wind, and texting you about hisdispleasure of the events. He’d never admit it, but the only thing he wanted todo was go to your apartment, and curl up with you wherever the hell you wereand bitch about the weather to a sympathetic ear.

But he couldn’t go to your apartmentbecause he had a bar to run.

So, from four pm until 2 am when he finallyclosed the bar, but still, he couldn’t go to see you. Yet, now that it was latehe was just imagining getting to your apartment and being able to cuddle upagainst your sleepy form, feel your cool skin warm up slowly in his embrace.The stupid part? Grillby had to clean his bar. It was a mess as well. Of courseit was.

It took him the better part of an hourbefore he was on his way home- no, to your apartment. Of course, the snow wasfalling so heavy that forced another hour delay, so by the time he pulled intoyour guest parking stall, it was closer to four rather than three.

With a more than angry grumble, he slammedhis car door shut and strode towards the elevator. It was freezing out. Howthe hell did he forget how cold the surface was? He lived in Snowdin for fucks sake and spent every damn day being pissed about thefact that Waterfall separated him from Hotland or he would’ve packed up andmoved. Yet, the surface cold was so much more…fucking annoying.

He pulled out the key to your apartment andquietly unlocked the door. No matter how angry he was at the chill, his stupidpatrons making an awful mess of his bar, or the fact that ten inches of snowhad no right to be on the road, he would never risk scaring you out of sleep byslamming your apartment door. So, he quietly eased the door closed and got towork removing his gloves, scarf, jac-

Grillby froze at a noise from your bedroom.

A breathless moan.

Panting.

A muffled strangled moan.

“G-…hng….Grillbbbbbbyyyy,” your muffledvoice moaned.

Now if that wasn’t the hottest thing he’dheard. Were you touching yourself to the thought of him? He bit back a groan atthe thought and finished taking off his jacket. Another one of your moansquietly swept through the apartment, and he palmed himself through his pants. Agrin stretched over his face, just a few tiny moans from you and he was alreadyrock hard.

He walked at his normal early morning pace,keeping quiet but not trying to mask his noise so that you could hear himcoming.

You would definitely hear him cumminglater.

A very faint buzzing noise hit his earsjust before he got to your door, making his steps falter. You had a toy? Hedidn’t know that…and visions of you fucking yourself on a vibrator filled hishead. His hand rubbed a bit more incessantly at the bulge in his pants,groaning a bit louder before he finally pushed your bedroom door further open.

Oh.

Oh…fuck.

You were sprawled on your back, wearingnothing but one of his shirts. It looked as if you had kicked the blanket half offyou lazily, as it was still half over one leg. One of your hands was beneath itpalming at your breast, while the other was gripping a very purple vibrator and pumping it at a rather fast pace into yourdripping core. Your eyes were screwed shut, and you had the hem of his shirtbetween your teeth in an attempt to muffle the lewd sounds you were making.

“I think I like being welcomed home thisway,” Grillby spoke up finally, voice slightly strained as he reluctantly movedhis hand away from his bulge.

You yelped, grabbed the blanket and whilepulling it over your form, you threw thevibrator at him.

Grillby nimbly dodged it, and looked towhere the toy was now lying on the floor, and then very slowly turned his gazeback over to you. The only noise in the room the quite noisy vibrator rattlingon the floor.

“Holy shit, Grillby!” you blurted out,“Knock!”

“I never fucking knock. That would’vescared you more,” Grillby said, before bending down and picking up yourvibrator before your downstairs neighbours could complain.

“I! Good point! But!” you pulled theblanket closer to yourself, your eyes connected with the vibrator and yourentire face darkened with a blush, “Oh my god.”

“If you wanted to fuck, you could’ve justtold me,” Grillby said waggling the purple thing at you, “I think I’d do a muchbetter job pleasing you than this thing.”

“I didn’t! You weren’t!! I didn’t think youwere coming tonight!” you blurted out, gesturing wildly at him, “And I had adre- I! Nevermind! Can I have that back?” you held out a hand, unable to lookat him. Grillby strode over, grinning like the fucking Cheshire cat as hedropped the vibrator into your lap.

“Good idea, you didn’t look like you werefinished,” Grillby purred, “Mind if I watch?”

Your mouth slackened, and he saw thesurprised disbelief wash over your face, then he saw the very slight shift ofyour legs rubbing together beneath the sheets, and your eyes flickering down tothe bulge in his pants. Grillby smirked at that and watched as you hesitantlyshifted the blanket from your chest. You picked up the vibrator, which wasstill vibrating, and slowly leaned back.

You pushed the blanket a bit further downyou lap and shyly spread your knees.

Grillby sat down on the bed, unbuttoningand unzipping his pants to relieve the pressure. Stars…when he suggested it hedidn’t think you would actually want to. You were so shy even during the mostvanilla of sex…which made this all the hotter.

You slid the toy along your folds, eyesfluttering slightly when it brushed against your clit. Grillby’s own handdelved into his pants and freed his cock as he watched with growing heat as youslid the vibrator back inside. A moan pooled from your lips as you worked itdeeper inside of you, pumping it at a very slooooowww pace. Grillby pumped his cock to match your speed and reached over to run his hand down theinside of your thigh which pulled an enticing gasp from you.

“Gri-Grillby,” you breathed, and your paceincreased much to his delight. He assumed you were already so close when he hadentered your room, and could already see the tell-tale signs of you gettingclose to your release. The thought just spurred him on, working himselfslightly faster because he did not want to let you cum alone. Where was the funin that.

Then, you stopped, and he stilled his ownmovements. You pulled the toy from your core and stared at it almost sadly.“The batteries died…”

Grillby snorted, looking down at you, “Ohno…whatever will you do? It’s not like you don’t have a boyfriend with a rockhard cock right in front of you,” he deadpanned, giving himself a pump. Youblushed and muttered something about ‘oh yeah’ making him shake his headslightly.

However, you did something that surprisedhim completely. You tossed the vibrator aside, and in a fluid movement, hadshifted onto your knees, and in another movement, you were straddling his lap.Grillby’s cock throbbed in desire at that, especially when your hand curledaround his on his cock. He gladly let go so you could guide him to yourentrance, his hands moving so he could lean back and watch.

The delightful blush still decorated yourcheeks as you slowly sank down onto him, and the frustration from the stupidtoy dying was replaced with utter bliss. Grillby normally thought your touch tobe cold, as you could never be as warm as he was…but your dripping pussy wasalways so, so warm and tight. He groaned when you finally fully enveloped hiscock. Your hands rested on his chest as you slowly rocked back and forthcompletely filled soft breathy moans leaving your mouth.

It wasn’t enough for either of you, butGrillby didn’t have to encourage you to move, as you lifted almost completelyoff him before slamming back down. Grillby wasn’t prepared for such boldnessstraight out the gate, and it pulled a loud moan from him, and his hands leftthe bed to grip at your hips, encouraging the sharp hard movements.

You bounced up and down on his cock,moaning and blissfully sighing his name in an almost chant. Grillby’s handstightened on your hips as he felt your walls squeeze around him, spasmingalmost before there was a complete loss of pacing. His hips slammed upagainst you as you rocked against him. Moans erupting from both of you beforehe pulled out just in time to spray his hot liquid magic against both of yourstomachs.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, “You should takecharge more often, babe.”

Your face flushed, hips gently rockingagainst his cock still, as you rode down from the last remnants of your orgasm.“I…do want to try something…but later,” you said, breathlessly, “I have work inthe morning…”

Grillby grinned, “and yet you were up atfour am fucking yourself to the thought of me? Naughty girl…”

You gently smacked at his chest, and helaughed before wrapping his arms around your waist and standing. A softsurprised gasp left your mouth, but it was quickly silenced as Grillby kissedyou. The kiss stole the last traces of breath from you, and only then did hepull away. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

As he carried you to the bathroom, younuzzled his face and asked him how work was.

Honestly? He couldn’t remember anymore. Hehad much more important things to care about now.

[whenimaunicorn]

Nothing Close to What I Need

Fandom: Wynonna Earp Characters: Bobo del Rey x OFC Words: 2875

From the prompt “kiss on a dare” by @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen. Shades of enemies-to-lovers, the OC is a sometime associate of the Earps who finds herself at a bachelorette party held at Shorty’s... while it’s under Bobo’s management. Someone orders body shots and it all goes to hell

Full Text: “I think the new owner is kind of hot.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Really, Delilah?” I was uncomfortable enough that her bachelorette party was still happening at Shorty’s, despite the recent change in management.

“Mm, yeah,” my other friend Joanie replied, sucking down on the straw in her Jack & Coke as she basically eye-fucked Bobo del Rey where he stood behind the bar. “Do we know anything about him?”

The rest of them had moved out of Purgatory after high school; everyone but me. Today they’d flown back in for Delilah’s bachelorette festivities. I still hadn’t understood why they wanted to have the party here. “He looks like bad news to me.” I knew a lot more than that about the revenant that had bought Shorty’s just to spite Wynonna Earp, but I wasn’t going to get into it with these bitches.  I hadn’t even revealed to them that I had started associating with the Earp girls at all. They wouldn’t get it.

Delilah bumped me with her elbow. “I thought you loved a bad boy.”

I twisted my lip, letting my eyes slide off the man with the wild mohawk and crazy smile. “What can I say, I’ve grown a little since high school.”

Delilah’s lips formed an exaggerated pout. “Not tonight, you haven’t. Tonight, we get crazy.”

Joanie made a loud whooping sound that drew more than a few eyes from around the establishment. “Hell yeah! Let’s get this party going. Delilah, I dare you to do a body shot off someone.”

The bachelorette grinned, her eyes already getting that smoldering look that always got the boys wrapped around her little finger. “Fuck yes. Let’s all do them.”

Joanie hopped up from our table and headed to the bar to order the drinks. She came back after only a minute, empty-handed. “He said he’d bring ‘em to us here.”

I hoped like crazy that “him” was the usual bartender, but tonight I had no such luck. Within just a few minutes, Bobo del Rey himself came sauntering over to the table, eyes flashing with mischief over a tray that included saltshakers, lime wedges, and four brimming shots of tequila. “Looks like you ladies are celebrating,” he said with a charming smile for Delilah, eyeing up her hot pink “bachelorette” sash, and crown covered in tiny, almost tasteful phalluses. “I wanted to come over and congratulate you personally. I’m the new owner.”

“So we heard,” Delilah simpered, placing her hand in his palm when he extended his long fingers toward her.

Bobo kissed her knuckles like an old-fashioned gentleman, causing everyone but me to erupt into giggles. I knew the cruelty that lay behind that smile. I knew the only reason he came over here was to fuck with me, personally.

He was standing between Delilah and I, and he passed the shots around so that he got to me last. He caught my eye with a smirk, but said nothing to indicate that he already knew me. There was one tequila shot left on the tray, and he lifted it into the air at the center of the table. “To the wildest night of your lives.”

I didn’t trust his smirk. I suddenly wondered how many of the patrons surrounding us were revenants, too.

Bobo set the glass down in front of himself. “This round is on the house. You ladies don’t mind if I join you for this drink?”

What could I say? Especially when my friends were so dumbly receptive, nodding eagerly at their luck with the free drinks.

Bobo handed a saltshaker to me, and kept the other for himself. I thought I saw him wink before he turned back to the bachelorette. “Now, darling, tell me your name.”

“Delilah.”

Bobo’s eyebrows jumped, but he did not make any of the obvious jokes about her namesake. “Will you be my partner, Delilah?” He wiggled the saltshaker at her, lifting a lime wedge in his other hand.

Delilah held out the bare skin of her arm for him, but he shook his head.

“You can do better than that.”

She bit her lip, playing coy, then tugged the neck of her shirt a little lower, offering him her chest.

Bobo’s eyes lit up, and he popped the rind-side of the lime into her mouth. “Hold that for me.” He leaned over her, but his eyes sought mine, making certain I was watching. He extended his tongue slowly, lasciviously, and licked a line right under her collarbone, looking only at me.

Delilah shivered, and Bobo tucked his arm around her. He tapped salt onto the wet line he had left, and then looked expectantly at the rest of us.

I guess Joanie and I were partners. I was too petrified under Bobo’s devilish stare to take the initiative; I didn’t even look at Joanie when she lifted my arm and licked the inside of my wrist.

I vaguely felt the salt sprinkle on my skin as I watched Bobo smirk. Joanie broke the hypnotism of his eyes when she traced the lime across my bottom lip.

I blinked at her, taken aback by the sensuousness of the gesture. She waggled her brows at me and then I remembered how much she liked to tease the boys with a little girl-on-girl action. Bobo del Rey was about to get way more of a show than I wanted to give him.

I bit my lip, tasting the sour juice.

“How’s that lime?” Joanie asked, her voice dropped seductively low. Before I could answer, she leaned in to taste it herself.

She nipped at my lip softly, and made a show of pulling our bodies closer together. When she drew away I could see she was locking eyes with Bobo, checking to see if that did anything for him.

I decided my best play now was just not to acknowledge him at all.

Joanie pressed the rind of the lime into my mouth so she could go for her grand finale. She licked the salt from my wrist with a sexy little growl, took her shot, and then squeezed juice from the lime between my lips without even removing it.

Delilah emitted a high-pitched little giggle; when I looked over Bobo’s tongue swiping salt off her chest was making her squirm. He knocked back his tequila like a champ and plucked the lime from Delilah’s mouth with a sharp snap of his teeth.

I could hear a nervous edge to my friend’s laughter. She may have said that Bobo was ‘kind of hot,’ but her instincts were kicking in now, weren’t they. Something in her knew that she was in the grasp of a predator. Delilah slid her stool closer to us. “I want some of that hot Joanie action too,” she said with an exaggerated pout. A great excuse to get away from him. I watched her do her body shot off Joanie’s boobs as my stomach quietly sank to the floor. She’d left Bobo del Rey to be my partner now?

“I guess that leaves you and me, sweet thing,” Bobo said. His voice vibrated the air above my ear. I twisted toward him to hide my flinch. Bobo was smirking and lifting the bottom of his black t-shirt.

My swift retort died on my tongue when I caught sight of what he was revealing. His abdomen was chiseled. The smooth, pale skin framed by fur coat and dark fabric was captivating, the bold lines of his hip bones leading my eye straight down to the dusting of hair that showed just above his low-slung belt. Fuck, Bobo del Rey was kind of hot.

He thrust that tempting slice of exposed flesh toward me. “Your move.”

My throat was suddenly dry. Well, the tequila would take care of that. Joanie and Delilah made taunting little “oohs” of encouragement and there was no way out for me but through this experience. At least Bobo was not letting on to them that he already knew me, that we had a history of taking other kinds of shots at each other.

I leaned down toward his offered stomach, holding my breath and the saltshaker at the ready. I saw Bobo’s eyes shift around the bar as I dove in. Fuck, he just wanted to make sure his whole revenant crew was witnessing this: Wynonna Earp’s little buddy bending down over his crotch. My anger threw off my aim; though I had intended to half-ass this, my tongue landed hard against his skin just below his navel, and I licked a rough stripe that seemed much more eager than I had intended.

I salted him like I was warding off an evil spirit, but there was only amusement in Bobo’s hooded eyes as I straightened my back and grabbed my shot glass. Tequila could only make this better, right? I ducked my head back down as Joanie and Delilah whooped, and forgot to hold my breath this time.

The scent of man musk invaded my inhale, rich and enticing. Fuck this motherfucking demonic fucker. I licked as little as I could get away with, the dainty tip of my tongue picking up just a few salty grains, making sure I’d leave him feeling messy and uncomfortable. Then I recoiled and sucked down the sour liquor as gracefully as I could.

I don’t particularly enjoy tequila. It burned worse than I remembered, and my eyes flew open in search of the lime wedge.

Bobo was already holding it for me, perched between two fingers as he wiggled it in front of my face. I lunged for it, and he drew it back at the last minute so my teeth closed in empty air.

My eyes burned at him, as harsh as the liquor in my throat. Bobo teased me with the fruit, acting like he’d let me have it if I would just lean toward him again, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I grabbed my beer off the table instead, chugging the lukewarm remnants of the bottle and glaring.

Bobo grinned cheekily and bit into the lime himself. “You ladies enjoy your night,” he said as he took a step away. “Just holler if you need anything else.”

Delilah and I watched him retreat back behind the bar, flipping his giant coat with a flourish. “He’s cute, but he’s kind of a douche,” Delilah said when he was out of earshot.

Joanie shrugged, and started playing with Delilah’s hair. “He’s just negging us. When guys give you a hard time, it means they think you’re too hot for them. It’s a compliment.”

I rolled my eyes, but Delilah smiled like she agreed, like she liked that idea. “What did he taste like?” She asked me.

I furrowed my brow. When did this night become all about fucking Bobo del Rey? “I don’t know.” She looked skeptical, like I was holding back on the good shit. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Delilah pouted. I was starting to remember why I hadn’t been too broken up when these two moved out of Purgatory. They were fun, but they weren’t the most empathetic sort of friends. “Well then,” she said, a devilish smirk coming into her eye as she bent her head down to look at me through her lashes, “you’ll have to find out. For the next dare, I dare you to go kiss him.”

I blew out a soft exhale. Joanie leaned in against my resistance. “Don’t be a party pooper,” she chided.

“Fine. But not right now. Let me find a good moment.”

The longer I sat there and sipped my next drink, the more it felt like a chat with Bobo was going to be necessary, anyway. I had no idea how many of the bar patrons surrounding us were actually demonic revenants from hell, nor what kind of terrible things they might be thinking about getting up to with me and my attention-grabbing friends here. I could advise that we leave for another bar right now, but who knew if some of them might decide to follow?

I got up when I saw Bobo emerging from a back room, intercepting him on only slightly-shaky legs before he could return behind the bar. He smirked as he saw me coming, and I threw on a winning smile to make the villain curious enough to slow down and talk to me.

The music was loud. I had to put my mouth to his ear if I wanted to be heard; he drew me in close to his body with a hand at the small of my back. “I need you to promise me safe passage. For my friends tonight.” I waited for him to laugh at me, scoff, or something, but when he did not immediately react I kept going. “I know you’ve got a problem with Wynonna, but they’re not connected to any of it. They’re innocents.”

Bobo tipped his head down, getting right up in my face. He let his demon eyes flash. “We love innocents. Especially their screams.”

“Don’t you dare!” I retorted. “My best friend is celebrating her wedding tonight, and nothing is going to ruin that.”

Perhaps it was foolish to speak to our immortal enemy like a mother slapping a child’s hand. But I couldn’t back down on this, and I didn’t have much to bargain with. Bobo cracked a smile, like he enjoyed the unexpected. “I like you.”

“Well that’s good to hear, because… I do need one other thing from you.”

Bobo raised his silver-spotted eyebrow.

I became distinctly aware of the way he was leaning over me, the casual command emanating from his hand at my hip. Two of his fingers were above the line of my jeans, resting on my bare skin. “Don’t worry, it’s not really another favor. I mean you’ll probably like it.”

His face jumped in a bemused expression, and his index finger ran back and forth across my skin. “I'm intrigued.”

I still had to use every bargaining chip I had. “Promise safe passage, first.”

Bobo shook his head, an indulgent smile curving his lips. “Tell me.”

I released a burst of air. Worth a try. “They dared me to kiss you.”

His eyebrows shot up, a smug smile quick to follow as he leaned back and regarded me like a fancy dessert he had just been served. “Did they now.” His hands came to encircle my hips, and he rocked them side to side like he was trying to make me dance as he looked me up and down.

“Yep,” I replied, already feeling defeated as I watched Bobo check to see if Joanie and Delilah were watching.

Bobo’s voice rumbled low. “Then we’d better give them a good show.”

He lifted me up with that same grip on my hips, depositing my ass on the edge of the empty table nearby. He pushed in close, his thighs between my legs, before I could try and keep him at a greater distance.

His hands trapped the sides of my face, rings flashing. And then he paused, staring for a long moment into my eyes like we were lovers. I got a glimpse of depths in that gaze that I never expected Bobo del Rey to have.

“Can we just get this over with?” I blurted into his face. I refused to acknowledge the sudden ache between my thighs. It was only a visceral reaction to a masculine body so close to my own.

I expected him to be rough, or lewd. Instead, Bobo’s hands slid around the base of my skull, cradling my head before he brought it fractionally closer to his own. The contact of his lips was smooth, and his whiskers were softer than they looked.

His gentle fingers coaxed me closer, his lips melting against mine so sweet that I opened my mouth to him without thinking. His tongue teased across the tip of mine.

Tingles ran down my spine before he let me go.

He looked a little dreamy too, pulling back only just far enough to look me in the eye. “You like me too.”

I scrunched up my face, shaking his hands off my face. “No I don’t. It was just a dare.” I turned his head to the girls, who were silently cheering at me.

Bobo recaptured my gaze, looking unimpressed. “Sure you do. Nobody kisses someone they don't like, like that.”

I pushed him away and hopped down off the table, quick as I could. I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing anything else in my eyes.

Bobo extended his arm like a bar as I turned away from him, catching me for one more comment before I could race back to my girls. “I’ll spread the word,” he said above my shoulder, “nobody is hunting tonight. Not at your table. But do us a favor?” I felt him lean in, speaking his next words so close that his beard tickled my ear. “Leave me out of any more of your little dares. Unless you’re ready to finish what you start.” He released his grip across my chest and slapped me hard on the ass, propelling me back toward my table.

[artificialqueens]

Brooke Lynn’s Jealousy (Brooke x Nina) ~Writing West

A/N: I am not new to writing, but I am new to publishing here. This is a story that I debated posting, but that I am super proud of so I decided to go with it. Please give feedback! I apologize for any weird structuring, I am submitting on mobile. If you enjoy this part, I will send in the 2nd part very very soon. Enjoy!

Nina West looks gorgeous tonight. Her blonde wig falls perfectly around her beautifully beat face. Her dress is covered in sequins and multicolored. She has a boa rapped around her that is the same vibrant pink as her high heels. Between the boa and shoes and the multicolor sequins, she is almost as bright as that brilliant smile. Brooke can not help but to stare at her. She is beautiful and always seems to be glowing. Her smile outshines the sun and her laugh is the most beautiful melody. Brooke has to snap herself out of her trance to listen to the conversation.

“Did y’all know each other before Drag Race,” T Rex asked.

“We almost had sex,” She heard Nina say. “Brooke Lynn was trying to win EOY 2010, she thought she’d have sex with me. She’s trying to win RPDR 2019, she’s trying to date Vanjie.”

Brooke has to explain the situation after Nina’s Joke, “We didn’t almost have sex, but we did make out.”

“A lot,” Nina interrupts as Brooke’s hand slides down Nina’s leg.

“Bitch! Get your hand off my man,” Silky says and Brooke starts to feel something that she refuses to admit is jealousy. What the fans don’t know is that her and Vanjie were never actually dating. It was all a ploy that they decided to do for the show. Brooke was really after Nina, but she couldn’t show that to the audience.

After everything is over, Silky, Nina, and Brooke share an Uber on the way back to their hotel. Honey goes home with a guy from the club.

“Your man huh? My man claiming me as his man makes me…. hot” Nina says jokingly.

“You know it,” Silky says leaning in like she’s going to kiss Nina. Nina pecks her on the lips and they laugh.

Brooke can feel her jealousy rising. They pull up at the hotel and she gets out and stomps away without even bothering to try to hide her anger.

“I’ll go check on her, Good night Silk,” she says and goes to Brooke’s room.

“Who is it,” Brooke says opening the door. “Oh.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nina asks following Brooke in and closing the door.

“Why do you care? Isn’t Silky your man? Shouldn’t you be worried about her,” Brooke says, already completely de-dragged and sitting on the bed.

“Brooke Lynn are you jealous,” Nina asks and cant help but giggle.

“Stop giggling. I can’t help being jealous. You flirted with the guy in the audience, flirted with Honey, and then kissed Silky in front of me, and I just- why are you laughing,” Brooke asks getting angrier.

“Brock, How was I supposed to know that you get jealous? I’m your best friend, but you are out of my league. I am older with a dad body and you are younger and so beautiful and it is funny that you could have anyone but you’re jealous that they were flirting with me instead,” Nina said.

“I’m not jealous because you got flirted with, I’m jealous because you flirted and don’t give me the time of day. You’re beautiful, with a huge personality, you’re so hot out of drag, you are so giving, and everyone loves you. You only look at me as a friend. I literally can’t be around you without my heart racing and you can’t touch me without me getting aroused. You do that with everyone else but me. You don’t even look at me,” Brooke says almost crying as she has gotten up and started pacing and Nina has sat down.

“Brock, come here.” Nina says.

“Andrew, I don’t want to talk to you about this anymore, go make out with Silky or something,” Brooke replies and her sadness turns into more jealousy. She walks toward the door.

Nina follows her and grabs her by the arm before she can get out of the door. Nina sits down in the chair at the little table that’s in every hotel room. She pulls Brooke to her and Brooke stands between her legs. Nina grabs her hands in her one and holds them.

“Brock, You are so young, talented, beautiful in drag, and sexy out of drag. You have a personality, no judges saying you don’t can change that. You literally could have anyone in the world and I can’t seem to grasp why it is me that you want. And, I don’t want to make out with Silky,” Nina says pulling Brooke down to her.

“Who do you want to make out with then, Honey?” Brooke asks grinning.

“No. I want to make out with my favorite Canadian,” Nina responds.

“Jamie?” Brooke asks removing her hands from Nina’s and putting them on her cheeks.

“Shut up, Hytes,” Nina says right before connecting her lips to Brooke’s.

There is instant fireworks. Their lips move in synch perfectly and Nina moves her hands to Brooke’s hips. Brooke straddles Nina’s lap and Nina moves one of her hands to the back of Brooke’s neck. Nina separates their lips and Brooke looks confused.

“And you do make my heart race every time you are near. Hell, my heart races when I hear your name. I can’t hear Brooke or Brock without feeling like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. And I definitely look at you, I’ve been looking at you for 9 years,” Nina finishes trying to catch her breath. “And you definitely make me aroused. You have no idea what an impact you have on me and you had the audacity to spread those long beautiful legs and hang all over me,” Nina continues looking Brooke in her eyes.

Brooke connected their lips furiously. She wrapped her arms around Nina’s neck and kissed down her jaw and down her neck. Breathing frantically she pulled away.

“Nina, you are beautiful and you look amazing tonight, but I want to kiss Andrew, not Nina,” Brooke says before she kisses Nina as she takes her wig off for her. Brooke gets off of Nina’s lap and pulls her up. They walk to the bathroom and wipe the remnants of Nina off of both of them.

Nina was completely naked now and she laid on the bed. Brooke walked over to her and instantly climbed onto the bed. She straddled Nina once again and began kissing her. Nina flipped them over and they spent the night validating each other’s feelings.

“Oh so you do like when I call you Daddy,” Brooke says jokingly as her and Nina collapse on the bed.

“Shut up, idiot,” Nina says. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Brooke and Nina snuggle into each other and both fall asleep.

Nina wakes up the next morning and smiles, but soon her smile falls as she turns over and sees that Brooke is nowhere to be found.

[balls-y]

74 : “Are You Challenging Me?” for Jeankasa

words: 1588 (goddang)

AN: @it-sucks-to-be-jean​ This took me so long; I’m so ashamed. Mostly cuz them two bitches named School and Procrastination. But without further ado, here is your request!

Jean hadn’t slept well since he woke up one night to Bertholdt's screaming.

It wasn’t uncommon; some trainees wet their pants, some cried in their sleep, and some, like Bertholdt, screamed. But that certain wail frightened Jean so, he couldn’t close his eyes for fear he’d wake screaming too.

He didn’t wake screaming; he woke mad.

“Kirschtein, are you skipping training again! That’s five laps for you, cadet!”

Jean sprung from the breakfast table, his wooden chair toppling over from the momentum. His heart pounded in his ears, the only feeling he could perceive as he briskly pounded his chest in a salute.

“Sir!” He was so lingering on the divide of consciousness and unconsciousness that his feet took him away from the table and toward the door for his punishment. But the voice echoing in his head was feminine and had no hint of the power that came with authority.

He whipped around to see who had made him a fool, flustered with anger and embarrassment. “The fuck- Mikasa!”

He was about to open his mouth and spill his aching heart and just why he was slumped at the breakfast table when the oriental girl plopped down on the edge and smirked, silencing him.

“Did you have nice dreams?” She rose an eyebrow, her black hair sticking to her cheeks, her face flushed with the heat of outside. He had skipped training after breakfast to take a nap at the breakfast table. Obviously he’d been punked.

“Yes, “ Jean growled, crossing the floorboards to where she sat, looking damn innocent. “Until you shattered my ear drums.”

He folded his arms over his chest, trying his hardest to look stoic despite the prior events and the fluctuation of his voice. He paused, even though his mind was running with the lingering effects of adrenaline, to take a few calming breaths. What a show it would be to spaz on the woman he harbored feelings for.

“Mikasa,” he started after a few moments of him squinting at her, “Why are you here?”

Her hand rose up to fiddle with the dark strands of hair in her eyes. She dropped her arm to her lap before answering after a few moments. “There was no one to spar. I beat everyone willing to duel against me.”

“You beat everyone willing to duel against you.” Jean repeated slowly, not surprised; he’d seen the way she’d thrown Reiner the day before. No doubt she could throw everyone else the same way. He massaged his forehead, the imprinted remnants of his interrupted nap. His heart had slowed to a normal pace, but his thinking was hardly clear.

“Wow - even me?” he offered, barely serious, barely aware.

She lifted her eyes to his, unblinking. She swiped at the hair clinging to her face as she said, slightly playfully, “Even you? Is that a challenge, Jean?”

“Wha- ?” His eyebrows rose in bewilderment as he registered what she’d said. Then he scowled. “Mikasa, you know I can’t- Mikasa, no.”

She slid off the table and walked toward him. “I wouldn’t mind dueling against you, Jean.” Her eyes flashed like fireflies as she stopped in front of him. “Unless you’re scared, of course.”

Jean looked down at her, arms still crossed over his chest. Scoffing, he said, “Naturally, I’m frightened, taking into account what you can do to people.” He leaned in to her, his breath across her nose. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not willing.”

“Then consider it a duel.” One hand was on her hip, the other prodding his chest. She looked like a child. Her eyes narrowed challengingly, dangerously, and he knew he’d made a mistake.

Jean grinned uneasily, stepping back from her as he shrugged off his training jacket. He needed to be light as possible and have every advantage he could muster. This girl was no joke. She could injure him beyond repair if he wasn’t careful. He lifted his fists into a simple boxing stance - the only real fighting stance he knew.

The way Mikasa fought was unnerving. She had no stance and made no prior adjustments. She stood a few meters away from him with her whole body relaxed. He felt like tapping out already.

He knew she was waiting for him to strike first, and this worried him. He didn’t know if he could trust himself to be in full control of his body. But this was Mikasa. Mikasa Ackerman, he reminded himself. Anything he did would mean nothing anyway, so he swallowed his fear and pride and decided to just go with all he had.

He took a strong step forward and hooked the inside of his right elbow toward her, his left hand flying up in unison to rise up under her left shoulder. He could see it in his head: his right hand grabbing his left wrist behind her head; his right foot kicking up her legs as he fell on top of her in headlock. It was a movement he’d seen Annie perform on Eren. It was potentially ravaging - for both parties.

It could work! he thought wildly as he moved.

The image of success quickly shattered in Jean’s mind as Mikasa’s rough hands latched on to his and yanked him forward. He was caught off balance, and his feet scrambled beneath him to find strength to resist her. But he was ignorant to assume that an experienced fighter, such as Mikasa, wouldn’t use their entire body to secure a win. Her knee connected with his gut, his breath catching and head hanging with the impact and sudden pain. He gagged, but still willfully tried to gain a balance between their two bodies using the best of his abilities.

Because one of her legs no longer was touching the floor, he could easily knock her off center if he acted swiftly. He swept the leg opposite to the one in his stomach and moved to latch it behind Mikasa’s sole stationary ankle.

But Jean was sluggish, partly because he had never fought so seriously and partly because he’d been gasping for air. Her leg had come down from his chest to secure her balance and her hands had twisted his forearms in the time it took for Jean attempt an attack at her ankle.

Mikasa’s foot rose between them in the space between heartbeats and the heel of her booted foot connected with his stomach. A thought that he’d have to remove a kidney after this flashed through his brain - though, uneducated on his part, the kidneys were behind the stomach. He coughed and gasped for the second time that day, metal in his throat.

“Damn, Mikasa,” said his ragged voice.

Her leg dropped back to the floorboards with a light thud, and he was left there, drooping his head between his pinned arms. He knew he should think of a counterattack, but seeing as how his others had gone, his nerve was quenched.

Jean’s hands had been free - for a split second - and then they were banging against the floor. She had let go of his hands and then lunged for him, her right arm pressing against his throat as she pinned him to the ground. Her other hand pressed his shoulder to the wooden floor, keeping him below her.

He groaned in pain: His hands ached, his ribs ached, his pelvis ached. “Agh,” he gasped out. He took a few deep breaths to strengthen his will to carry on grappling with her. He wondered if she would even allow him to tap out. Jean thought he could feel her smirk - he knew she would be based on the chain of events. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes. Here goes my last resort. Then he gathered all his might into his upper body to resist the arm against his throat as he swung his head straight toward hers.

Jean had been hoping he could strike her, or that she’d jump back out of preservation, but rather, she used sheer strength to contain him. There goes my last resort. He slumped down beneath her and groaned, her nails digging into his shoulder.

“Mikasa,” he cleared his throat and spoke through his fractured pride. “I can’t match you.”

She grunted lightly as she lifted herself up off him, he heaving himself into sitting position. He looked up at her and her silver eyes crinkled at the edges, her face soft. She offered him a delicate hand and he grabbed it, his smile complicated as she pulled him up.

“Nice spar,” she commented, a good-natured smile on her lips, her hand still holding his. “You were a tough opponent.”

Jean made an articulate sound in his throat: yeah, right, you liar. “You kicked my ass. I think my ribs are bruised.”

“It was better than running five laps, though, wasn’t it?” She remarked, amusement in her voice.

He stared at her for a moment before saying, “We could run them together.” The proposal heated his cheeks, and he crossed the floor as he said it, retrieving his jacket. His back was to her as he slid it on, her replying softly,

“Perhaps.”

Jean turned around and walked toward her, a grin stretching across his lips and red spreading upon his face. He tugged the hem of her sleeve, tilting his head to the door. “Then come on, Mikasa; we don’t want to be missed.”

As they exited the cabin, his fingers still clutching her sleeve, Jean thought that maybe, maybe, he’d be able to sleep better tonight.

This is so bad goddamn it

[tiemeupspidey]

Dog Mom Life- Prank War

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: The Reader and Tom are having a prank war.. let’s just say Tom is in for some trouble.

Warnings: Swearing cause I swear IRL and so does Tom. Cute/ funny

Word Count: 1,500

A/N: I saw Spider-Man Homecoming again tonight :,) Inspired by Tom & Harry’s prank video I saw on Youtube lol.

[Tom’s POV]

“So how’s the prank war going,I heard your wife is in the lead?” The Interviewer asks repositioning himself in the chair.He had a grin on his face waiting for my answer. I knew this question was going to pop up.

“She is… Last week she glues my hand to my script which luckily was just the last page.. as you probably heard she drew a realistic spider on the toilet roll causing me to scream, trip , and fall into our shower…” I admit laughing in embarrassment.

“You actually fell for it even while knowing you’re in a prank war with her?” he laughs shuffling his cards.

“It looked so real! Mate, if you were in my situation and scared of spiders like me you would understand!” The memory of the spider made a shiver run down my spine. My laughter gets cut off by my phone ringing. Apologizing to the staff I answer it holding my phone away from my face. I normally ignore my mom’s calls but it’s my wife and I love her and her beautiful face.

“Hello Darling , how are you?” I smile but internally scared by her angry face in the screen.

“Thomas Stanley Holland… YOU SWITCHED MY OREOS FILLING WITH TOOTHPASTE?!” Her voice making me shrink back in my chair. Fuck. She’s hangry, pregnant and hormonal. I knew this prank was risky.

“You’re not getting anything from me this weekend when you come back home, not even the special thing you like eith- please tell me you didn’t answer this in an interview” I laugh out loud as her cheeks turn pink. The sound of the crew and the interviewers laughter makes her eyes widen.

“Yes love, we were just on the subject of the prank war..”

“Well Thomas you’re going to regret messing with my oreos..” Her middle finger is the last thing I see before the line goes off.

“Fuck” I groan tilting my head back my eyes widening when I realized I swore,looking over at the camera.

“I’m sorry Sony” but on the inside I’m screaming FUCK ME I’M SCREWED WHEN I GET HOME.

“What am I saying, I’m a Brit and I swear a lot.. They can’t be mad I made my pregnant wife angry” I nervously laugh looking to the side.God this is going to be a long day, I’m so nervous to go back home now.

-

[Reader’s POV]

“At least you got the video of him falling into the shower, he just knows you have the picture”Zendaya laughs clapping her hands together.

“Today he answered his phone and then I got mad at him cause he messed with my Oreos and then I said he wouldn’t get anything from me and not even the special thing he likes then I realized he was in an interview because of all the Spider-Man backgrounds.. “

“YOU’RE KIDDING ME”  her face drops completely her laughter ending. I wish I was kidding,yet I wasn’t. Now I’m going to become a meme with Tom’s fans I know it. Their memes are floating around the internet as we speak.

“Yes, and he had me on FaceTime while he was in an interview” I groan as I burry my face in my hands. All I heard was Zendaya’s laughter fill the air. Her laughter was a great sound but it sucked hearing it you were still so embarrassed.

“Girl, don’t stress out you’ll harm my future Godbaby out.. That just means you have to get him back so badly he will want a truce” She grins mischievously quirking an eyebrow up. God her eyebrows were threaded by Aphrodite herself.

“Well I did have a plan for him when he get’s home, maybe it will be bad enough for him to end it.” I sigh adjusting the screen of my phone. Zendaya was currently sitting in her hotel room and was bored. The two of you becoming close and picking on Tom was fun for the two of you.

“What do you have planned for him?”

“Well I was going to do something with his hair gel but I love his curls too much to put glue in the gel..”

“Okay well I have an idea since you mentioned glue.. it will be one sticky situation he can’t get away with now listen closely” Reaching over I grab a piece of paper and a pen.

“Ready, Okay let’s get started”

-

-

-

“Darling, I’m home!”

“Hey baby, how was the rest of the day?” I ask chopping up some carrots, the knife going down harder hearing his voice.

“Uh.. darling please be careful with the knife.. you could hurt yourse-” Stabbing the knife into cutting board, Tom flinches from the sound taking a step back. Hormonal,pregnant and a knife.. Not a good combination.

“Alrighty then.. I’m just going to go to the bathroom and probably have a scroll through instagram while you cool down darling..” He backs away out of the kitchen slowly.

“Hold on, I have to pick up something I spilled in the basin” I walk towards the bathroom making sure I had the thing Zendaya told me to get. Once inside I fix up the bathroom getting everything settled.    Leaving the bathroom with my items I let him in. Tom presses a kiss against my forehead before walking past me. “Tessa , come here love” I call out setting her dish onto the floor. Grabbing the baby book I was reading earlier in the day. I make my way to the couch and sit down setting it aside.  

Opening up my camera I press record waiting for him to realize and finally I hear Tom shout.“GOD DAMMIT, WHAT THE FUCK… SERIOUSLY BABE?!”

Paybacks a bitch isn’t it...

“YOU GLUED ME DOWN?! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING!!!”

Laughter is pouring out of you as you walk over to the bathroom. Tom being an idiot and not locking it you walk in. He covers himself groaning loudly a grin on your face. “Can we please have a truce.. I give up CAUSE MY ASS IS GLUED TO THE SEAT!”

“So does that mean I’ve won the war?” I ask peeking from behind the camera. A huge grin was plastered on my face. He glares grabbing a strip of toilet paper from the roll.

“I Tom Holland, surrender to the Prank War Queen, now get me the fuck off babe!” He waves the toilet paper strip like a flag. He uses his shirt to cover himself on the camera.

“Okay baby, let me get the nail polish remover” Pressing end on the video I set my phone on the counter.

“God you’re lucky I love you” He looks at you with a loving smile that melts your heart.

“More than yesterday?” I ask tilting my head to the side holding up the bottle of nail polish remover.

“Yes I love your more, more, more than yesterday, now get me off of here… I can feel my unborn child judging me from inside you”  he pleads as you open the cap grabbing cotton balls.

“You better not fuck with my oreos again Thomas Holland..” My voice stern as I rub the soaked cotton ball on the skin connected on the seat.

“I promise not to touch the oreos darling.. I risked the war with fucking up the oreos..” He sighs as you work at separating his skin.

“How much glue did you put on here?”

“I don’t know! Zendaya said to use a lot because you have a “thick ass”  I say throwing up quotation marks.

“My ass isn’t stupid, it’s a nice ass!” he defends crossing his arms over his chest. Rolling your eyes you finish the left side moving to the right.

“I know your ass isn’t stupid babe, it’s an American term.. In terms it means you have a big ass” I laugh getting another cotton ball throwing the other one away.

“I love you darling, even when we do crazy shit like this” You feel his lips press against the back of your head.

  The moment he got free he stood pulling his pants up. Remnants of glue still stuck to his ass and legs making me  laugh. The glare he sent my way silenced me right away. Tom picks up a bag from the dining room table handing it to me. Opening it up was a new package of Oreos calling your name.

“I love you so much, thank you” I pull him by his shirt pressing my lips against his.

“More than yesterday?” he mumbles against your lips. Breaking apart I nod my head up at him cupping his cheek with my free hand.

You loved this man just as much as the Oreos you were holding.

[miseryff]

17. Jet black

[ Paris ]

I really didn’t want to enter shawty’s room, but it was possible that she had some jet black hair dye in her possession. I was over this washed out blonde hair. I was feeling like a fierce bitch and I needed the hair to match. Rolling my eyes, I placed my knuckles to her door and knocked twice. I heard some rummaging around before the door was pulled open. “Wassup?” She stood there with a contour brush in her hand.

I smirked because she looked absolutely ridiculous with the baking powder underneath her eyes. I wonder if I looked that ridiculous when I would beat my face in my room back home. “Uh, I wanted to know if you had any jet black hair dye?” Her hair was was jet black so I was hoping she had some up in her room. She looked up at the ceiling before nodding, and then allowing me access into her room. “I dyed my hair like two months ago, and I didn’t use the whole two bottles so just gimme a sec. I need to find where I put it.” I nodded smoothly as I took in the design of her room.

It was cute… I guess. Super tomboyish with navy blue walls; and boxes of sneakers piled so high up. Not really my style but it was cute for her. Walking over to her vanity, I scanned the different make up products that were sitting on her desk. “Oh shit, how do you like this ABH palette? I was supposed to get my hands on it so long ago but I dead forgot.” I picked up the highlighting palette just as she walked out of a closet. I smirked once I seen the bottle of L’oreal hair dye in her possession.

“I like it a lot. I use it only when I’m for real going out though. Cause that bitch be having me shining like a diamond. The common folks don’t deserve that on a regular day.” We shared a laugh and I placed the palette back where I found it. I thanked her briefly as I examined the bottle of hair dye. It felt completely full so that was great. I wouldn’t have to purchase another bottle. “Well, thanks again for this.” I turned on my heels to exit her bedroom but she started speaking.

“So how long you knew my brother? Cause he don’t bring females around like… ever. So ya’ll must be serious.” A small smile touched my lips after hearing that but I quickly hid it. “Uh, we’ve only know each other for like a month now. We just met.” Her jaw dropped after I said that. I watched as she walked over to her vanity, and pick up a powder brush to dust off the baking powder from her face. “Only a month? Are you dead ass?” Her eyes met mine in the mirror and I nodded.

“That’s crazy… wow. He must really like you then. Do you really like him?”

Now I started to get annoyed. What the fuck was this, an interview?

“Yeah, I do. He’s mad cool.” She nodded and then went back to focusing on her make up. Taking that as my cue to roll bounce, I swiftly exited her room.

“Ya sister asks mad questions, ma nigga. She needs to be a lawyer or some shit.” I walked out the bathroom with a towel wrapped securely around my wet hair. He briefly looked from the t.v. screen and in my direction before chuckling. “Yeah, I know. If you let her she’d ask about ya whole life story. She’s actually in school studying Criminal Justice.”

“Makes sense.” I walked over to the bed and picked up the night gown that I’d be sleeping in tonight. It was no surprise that his hornball ass paused the game to give me his full attention, once I dropped the towel from around my body. “Mind ya business.”

“You are my business.” I rolled my eyes at him but that didn’t stop the smile from making its way onto my face. For some reason I was always smiling in the presence of this nigga. What the fuck was good?

“You wish I wasn’t on my period huh?” I teased as I pulled the gown over my head. I already had my underwear on but I didn’t sleep in bras so I was flashing the shit out of him with my pretty ass tiddies. “Damn right.” His bottom lip sunk into his mouth, and he called me over to him with a finger. I secured the towel on my head before taking my ass over to where he was positioned on the bed. He easily pulled me onto him and before I could even say a word, he was attacking my neck with his lips.

Moans rolled off my lips, and I almost yelled out when he took my breasts into his hands and pinched my nipples. “Don’t do that shit, babe. I told you bout that.”

“Shit, my bad.” He spoke into my neck so his words came out a bit muffled. Closing my eyes once more, I enjoyed the pleasure of his lips against my neck. He slowly made his way down to my chest and I watched as he took my right nipple into his mouth. My head fell back once he wrapped his lips around my nipple and began sucking. My hands found comfort in his soft ass curls, and I tugged on his hair each time he swirled his tongue across my nipple. Pulling his head up, I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. We shared a sensual kiss before I pulled away and went down to his sweats.

“Take them off.” I demanded as I got up off the bed and walked over to the dresser. I quickly pressed the towel over my head before removing it completely and admiring my jet black hair. “Turn around, lemme see.” I quickly ran a comb through my damp hair to make it look semi-decent before turning to face him. “Oh, shit. Who you looking sexy for?” I fell out laughing when he started nodding his head in approval. 

He looked like a damn perv.

“I look good for myself, homie. Fuck you thought? And why ya pants still on? You don’t want some fire head?” When I said that he quickly began pulling his sweats down his legs. Turning back to face the mirror, I brushed my hair up into a messy bun and secured it with a hair tie before admiring my reflection once more.

I was feeling this color.

[The following morning]

I woke up to the smell of bacon, pancakes, and eggs in the air. Rolling onto my side, I smacked my lips once I seen Derrick’s fat ass stuffing his face with what looked to be a McGriddle from Mcdonalds. I stared on in disgust as he stuffed the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth, before beginning to unwrap another one. “Umm, I hope you bought me a sandwich too.”  I sat up in bed and wiped any remnants of sleep from my face.

He took a long sip of his orange juice as he stared at me. And this motherfucka bought OJ too? “I ain’t buy you shit. Good morning to you too, though. Rude ass.” He shook his head before starting on the second sandwich. “Where’s my food, Derrick? Stop fucking around.”

“You need to go fuck around in the bathroom and brush ya teeth, Paris. Ya breath is metro boomin all over my Mcgriddle.” I didn’t want to laugh at his dumb ass, but when he pinched his nose I fell back onto the headboard. He was not funny—at all.

After taking care of my morning routine in the bathroom, I found two Mcgriddles along with a large OJ waiting for me on the night stand. “That’s what the fuck I thought, nigga.” I spoke to no one in particular as I applied lotion to my body. “Stop talking shit ‘for I eat ya food.” I almost jumped out of my skin once I heard his voice emit from his closet. Shit, I ain’t know his big headed ass was still in here.

“You ain’t gonn’ do shit.”

He walked out the closet with the swiftness, and my eyes dropped to the load resting in his boxers. “Thanks for the food though. If my mouth wasn’t full right now I’d suck ya dick.”

“You can do that after you eat. It ain’t no rush.” I made a face when he walked back into the closet. I could hear him trying to stifle his laughter but shit wasn’t working. He really thought he could get away with talking to me like he was crazy.

Derrick was really nuts.