#sorry if not coherent its past me bedtime

[nightseeye]

Thinkin abt the rlly small toys in poppy playtime,,, bein small is prob stressful as FUCK, esp toys that arent massively popular and r thus mass produced (huggies) or are part of a group toyline (critters)

And even then upper levels r probably somewhat (relatively) safe to go solo or in pairs on, but the lower u get u either gotta go in a swarm or follow a stronger more powerful toy

Mostly just thinkin bout how fucked up the critters (and by extent the mini game huggies on mommy's floor) are. Like yeah theyre probably fucked up and evil and yeah they wore dogday like a skinsuit but its prob scary af to have to follow the likes of catnap. Homie is NOT stable, ya never know who's ending up on that (presumably) sacrificial shrine next

[jjuzoir]

A dangerous fellow hc with Zion where mc is hurt bc Zion is choosing Scarlett over her and do mc becomes increasingly brash and charging into danger which worries Zion? It’s a lil complicated sorry haha

Request:

A/N: anonieeee:;; i’m sorry TT it took me sooo long ahh;;; kdjsjsn,,, i hope you like it,,, 😔👉🏻👈🏻

————🌷————

Jealousy | Zion

For a week or so your boyfriend, Zion, had been paying more attention to Scarlett.

Not that big of a deal, right? Yes, you guessed, but at the same time it kind of… hurt you? Maybe not so much the fact he was spending time with the pretty blonde but how pushed back you felt.

He constantly pushed you away with excuses involving her and it got to the point even the other guys thought something was up. Eugene and Harry began hanging out with you, out of what you could only guess was pity.

So, instead of bottling the feelings up any longer you decided to confront him. You knew that keeping the frustration in would only hurt you and the relationship.

So, you gathered all your courage and knocked on his classroom door.

As it slowly opened you were able to take a small peek to find, to much surprise, that it was empty.

You stepped inside quietly and looked around worried, it was already past the established bedtime and Zion was nowhere to be found.

“Zion,” you whispered as you squint your eyes, the blue-tinted room dark from the lack of light source.

No answer.

You felt a headache coming to you as worry washed over you, where could he be? Had he left with- no, he wouldn’t?

“Did he leave with her?” You bit your nails in worry, the thought was irrational no matter from what angle you looked at it but for some reason your distraught mind made it seem like the only rational solution. He had been spending an awfully long amount of time with her.

Your chest felt contacted as if it had shrunk in size and tears blocked your vision; you were scared, standing in his room at night, of losing him. You felt like the relationship was going nowhere, it was stuck in a limbo where neither of you could understand the other, you didn’t want that.

You rub your eyes before turning around and leaving the room quickly, maybe he was just checking up on food? Water? What would he be checking in on anyway!

You hurriedly make your way to your room when you hear a giggle, a girly giggle; Scarlett, soon followed by a deeper laugh… Zion was with Scarlett.

Somehow, the prospect made your chest hurt more than if he had suddenly left. He had chosen her over you, again.

You turn on your heels, it felt like your feet were glued to the ground and you couldn’t move; you felt small. Had Zion regretted being in a relationship with you instead of being with Scarlett?

You gulp down a fat tear before sprinting down the stairs and into the back of the school where you felt your legs give up.

He had been your only comfort for a while, a sign of you not being alone and yet he felt like he was slipping away.

You felt tears rapidly fall down your cheeks as your whole body trembled as you sobbed, before long you felt yourself grow tired and limp; exhaustion soon became present in all of your muscles.

You were sure you were alone, no one was going to be with you anyway- not even your boyfriend stuck with you, but apparently, a zombie would.

You heard a low growl coming from your right, a growl similar to that of a disfigured wolf threatening because you knew what it once was but terrifying of what it had become.

You turn around slowly attempting to move quietly, you squint your eyes trying to find the source of the movement when you catch a glance of a tall silhouette hanging from a tree.

“How did it get here?” You mumbled as you slowly crawl backwards in fear, if you could run fast enough maybe it wouldn’t see you but it was too late as it snapped its neck to face you, burnt skin that had come out of its face and yellow teeth drenched in dried blood became visible as it opened its mouth and screamed.

Adrenaline pumping in your veins your scramble upwards and attempt to run back inside only to trip on a stick and fall face first into the ground,

you were now scratched and bleeding. Your whole body burned as you turned around to see that thing trying to climb down the tree, it didn’t seem to know how so you tried your luck again and forced yourself up and sprinted down the back of the school.

You heard a thud behind you and almost tripped again when you saw it laying on the ground trying to get up; it had a few missing limbs and you could see the flesh and bones where they had been amputated, you were trying your hardest not to puke.

Just as you were about to give up you extend your finger in hopes of finding anything to protect yourself, you feel a cold metal blindly grasp for it; a pole, it was awkwardly cut and it had a sharp edge in the end, and right now it was the only thing you could use to attempt to use for protection.

You use it to try and stand up and quickly change the way you grasp it before awkwardly raising it and hitting it against the floor as a warning, but it didn’t care and only continued getting closer to your panicking form. You raise it again now that it was a bit closer and shove it inside the things neck, blood splattered around the floor and up the metal and you felt your food travel up your throat, just as you were about to repeat the moment you heard someone scream your name.

“What the fuck are you doing-?!” A bush of red hair darted from behind the creature and tackled you in a hug, it was Zion.

“I-I was trying to,” you attempt to form a coherent sentence as he smothered you against his chest.

He looks at you dead in the eyes with worry, it was the first time he had looked at you like that in a while, before turning around to the impaled creature he slowly took the pole out of its neck and shoved it in the chest, not that you could see well with tears forming around your eyes, and just like that it slowly died.

“You were looking for me?” You asked softly.

“I just told you that,” he ruffles his hair annoyed, “why were you out here this late?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know why you’re out here?” Zion raised his eyebrow at you.

“I- yes I know but it’s dumb,” you cough slightly.

“Of course it’s dumb, I can’t think of a single damn reason why you’d willingly walk outside and into a darn zombie,” he looked at you confused, “Just tell me.”

“I-I was,” you take a deep breath as you felt the scars and bumps you got, “I was jealous of- of Scarlett.”

“Jealous of Scarlett?” Zion breathed out confused, he walked over to you with furrowed eyebrows as he laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah, I- you were spending so much time with her I-I thought you, maybe, regretted being with me,” you explained shyly, “I tried looking for you to talk it out but- I heard you two hiding or something and I didn’t wanna bother you…”

“S-So instead of waiting you ran here up to a zombie?” He tried to understand your reasoning as you two stood under the bright moon.

“Not really, I just wanted to walk it out and it was there…”

“You could’ve died, you could have died!” Zion whispered to himself before realizing how it could’ve ended, “[Name], are you stupid?!”

“I didn’t mean to but it just happened-“

“You happen to find a coin not try taking down a fuckin’ zombie by yourself! Not even Ethan and I can do that, you’re lucky this bastard had only two days left before becoming fossil fuel!” Zion exclaimed, “You should’ve told me before, you-you should’ve at least waited or something!”

“Waited for what? For you- you to turn me down whenever I try talking to you?” You spit back annoyed, had he not realized how he was pushing you back, “Haven’t you noticed how little time you’ve spent with me? I-I have been trying, Zion, for a week- hell maybe even more- to talk to you about it but you’re always running off with her! So go ahead, dump me and go for her! You spend so much time with her I’m not even sure you’re my boyfriend!”

You felt your chest rise and fall rapidly as you finished your rant, finally getting it all out of your chest. You couldn’t find it in yourself to look him in the eye either tears jam-packed in yours, your hands trembled on your sides as you attempted to calm your heart down.

“Oh?” The red-haired boy whispered, you look up to him and find him standing in front of you, “I-I didn’t know that you felt like that, I-I’m sorry…”

“You should be,” you stutter, “I just need to know, and be honest, is this even gonna work?”

“What? Us? Of course it will, what are ya’ saying?,” Zion was taken by surprise, “This was just a lack of communication, whenever you feel like this again, just tell me… Okay?”

“Fine…”

“And whenever you feel like you need some space or that Scarlett’s hogging me up,” he approaches you slowly before hugging you tightly, “Don’t be a fucking idiot and tell me.”

“Sure,” you hug him back. Even if he was rough around most edged, even if he had a hard time reading the signs you dropped- he could be nice, yeah… he could be.

[afoolforatook]

Some STRQ co-parenting fluff, and then Fairgame fluff.

So, the other night in the shower I was thinking about my Musicians!au more and something occurred to me and I frantically made a little drabble post, but then mobile ate it and I was too sleepy to rewrite it then…. (I AM STILL SO MAD I LOST IT IT WAS SO GOOD)

But, after this past week, what with all the Fairgame babies that have been popping up, it’s now actually relevant as well as self indulgent so!!

So in my original Musicians!au post I said that the girl’s asked Qrow to play 

“A little tune he’d play for them when they were little.”

But in a very uncharacteristic move for me, I had failed to think about what that little tune might be exactly. 

Well that is what occurred to me in the shower.

That “little tune” could be a lot of things. There were plenty of old folk tunes he’d play them, that they loved. I’m fond of the idea that the specific one Clover heard that first night was The Butterfly. Because slip jigs are fun and the girls could ask him to go faster and faster and they’d squeal with glee when he did, but he could also slow it right back down and let its lilt calm them back down before going to bed.  

(also I’m biased because I played it for my senior recital in high school and it’s just so fun and I can just see Qrow hitching his shoulders with each slip and trill, his hip sticking out reflexively, and Clover needing HELP.)

Also, when he wants to show off, he could do Black Cat . And the first time Clover saw that I think he might have actually choked because fucking shit that song is insANE.

(and irl Warren Hood is a god for it and if I could sell my soul to only be able to master one song in my life it would probably be this. I’ve seen the guy play it live countless times and watching his technique is just….ugghh sorry this is not about my music obsession)

But neither of those are what this is about. This is about the one that is the most special, the one that Clover doesn’t hear for a long time. 

Because if Tai and Summer and Qrow sang and played for the girls when they were little, they had to have had a lullabye. 

Qrow was the one who first played it. 

Maybe even played it for Raven when she was pregnant with Yang. 

Maybe it was one of the last bits of nostalgia they shared, one of the rare things that was a childhood memory they didn’t relate to violence or neglect. 

Maybe it was a tune that Qrow had heard from their mother or someone else in the tribe who had taken care of them when they were little. 

Maybe it was the staple of the rare instances where the Branwen tribe showed compassion. 

And I immediately knew what tune it would be. 

It’s called Skye Boat Song.  (Really wish I could find a good cover that is just violin but can’t. It’s just so fucking pretty y’all. Also surprised there isn’t at least a Celtic Woman version.)

It’s an old Scottish fiddle tune that you might have heard before as the opening theme for Outlander. 

But  why, I hear you ask, does that come to mind so quickly, Farley? 

So, fun fact about me: my dad is a singer-songwriter (as well as a minister...I had a unique childhood but that’s a different story).  It’s why I grew up around so much music. When I was little he made a couple of albums, and on his first one he included a special song. 

It was Skye Boat Song. Except that’s not what the track is called. 

The track is Lullabye for Meagan. It’s the regular tune but with my dad’s lyrics. He wrote it before I was born and would sing it to my mom. It’s the first song I ever heard.

The tune of Skye Boat Song is the most comforting, safest, warmest, thing to me. 

And if I picture Tai, Summer, and Qrow singing something to little Yang and Ruby as they fall asleep, it’s that, because I can hear my parents singing it to me. Just change the name. 

I say all of them sing it. Honestly it’s Summer. Tai never really had much of a voice and would just hum, and Qrow would usually just lean in the doorway and pluck out the melody. On rare occasions Summer would persuade him to sing with her. It’s central to many of those nights early on, before Summer died, where Qrow was around more, his desire to be with his family stronger than his paranoia over hurting them. 

At the end of nights where they would be around a fire outside or on the porch, Qrow playing different tunes, the girls screaming and running around, Qrow could play the first notes of that tune and watch them calm, now much more willing to go to bed. 

But then Summer was gone. And no one dared even hum it for weeks. 

Until finally Ruby broke down, begging for it one night. She was so little, she didn’t understand why it should hurt to hear that. Because to her, it was Summer, and all she wanted was her mother to sing her lullabye and to feel safe again. Even if it wasn’t Summer singing, it had to mean she was there, right? That tune and Summer were inseparable in her mind. 

Yang, even though she was still pretty young, understood more, and didn’t want to hear it for a long time. 

So on nights, when Ruby insisted, Tai or Qrow (and on really bad nights, both of them) would curl up beside her and hold her to their chest and hum the tune until she fell asleep. 

After Qrow started being home less and less, Tai found that it was comforting to him again too, even Yang warmed back up to it after a while. It felt like it was something that could hold the three of them together when it seemed like their family was falling apart. As they got older it was a bedtime ritual less and less. But it was still there when they needed comfort. When they needed Summer. 

Every now and then, when Qrow would visit between missions for Ozpin, Tai would find him leaning against the back of the house, his fiddle under his arm, eyes closed, plucking out the tune just like he would have in the old days, back before everything went wrong. Tai never said anything, though he was pretty sure Qrow knew he was there. 

After the fall of Beacon, it was more prominent in the house than it had been in years. While Ruby and Yang were unconscious it was something to hold Tai and Qrow together. 

Qrow often found Tai in one of the girl’s rooms, head in his hands as he sat by their beds, humming the tune so softly. 

And Tai would find Qrow, most often in Ruby’s room (likely from old habit from the days when Yang didn’t want to hear it, he’d not been around as much by the time she’d warmed to it again) singing so quietly, his head tilted back to look at the ceiling. 

They never sang it together. Really they hadn’t done that since Summer had died. It felt too wrong to play it with the two of them, and not with Summer, in a way that wasn’t there if they just sang or hummed it on their own or with the girls. 

(so I started writing this part and then it became a little too hurt/comfort for this fluffy rant, so I’ll post it separately maybe… might even fit into my big fic…. Anyways.. Let’s stick with the short fluffiness here for now.)

Years later Clover, cries a little when Qrow teaches him the words. He knows how much that song means. He knows what it means for Qrow, for all of them, to share this with him. It means he’s family. Not just Qrow’s. Tai’s. Yang’s. Ruby’s. Summer’s. 

And one day, all those little Fair game babies… They have a lullabye too. 

(I know I will miss some, these are just the one’s I’m most aware of, but any and all are included)

Citrus and Mint

Myrle and Cinnamon

Phoenix

Lily

(This isn’t nearly as good as what I wrote the other night but my notes were written by ‘3 am sleep deprived’ Farley and not ‘currently coherent’ Farley and thus, they are nearly indecipherable.)

[ratchedspeach]

can you write some Fallon/Kirby angst?

tOh … you know it.

Branch By Branch - A drunken exchange

“The girl in that book is selfish, callous. I mean she’s definitely a narcissist.”

They used to hold competitions between the two of them - races based on stamina and strength. When she was twelve, she had challenged Fallon to a tree-climbing competition, which the other girl accepted jovially before racing off to a cluster of oak trees at the far side of Carrington Manor. Kirby had bolted after her, using her full extension to scale past her in record time.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Fallon had called, “You’re just taller than me!”

“I gave you a head start!” Kirby had responded, not bothering to look back at the girl.

She reached the top in record time, perching precariously on a branch and looking out over the outstretch of land that encompassed the larger than life property the Carrington’s called home. Kirby looked down, expecting to see her friend mere inches behind her. Her heart plummeted when she wasn’t there, and not only that, there was a low, murmured groan coming from somewhere at the base of the tree. Fallon lay in a mess of curls and mangled adolescent limbs, her left leg positioned in an unnatural angle. Between wisps of hair, Kirby thought she could see the contortion of pain taking over the girl’s face. Even at such a tender age, Fallon didn’t scare easy, and she showed discomfort even less. It was a sign of weakness, and in a family full of sharks, that was unacceptable.

“I’m sorry. I think I need to be on my own for a while.” 

“Okay.”

Kirby hadn’t intended on eavesdropping, but found she didn’t have a choice as she rounded the corner on the two’s conversation as Liam started gearing to walk away. She was trembling - she could tell even from her skewed vantage point. It reminded her of that June afternoon where she had broken her leg - not because she had any bodily harm done to her, but because she couldn’t think of another time she had seen the woman so earth shatteringly miserable. 

Fallon whipped around as though she knew she could sense Kirby - her eyes narrowing on the redhead. Kirby felt the color in her cheeks rise, and she cursed internally before offering up a sheepish “Hi.”

The brunette rolled her blue eyes, blinking heavily as the glint of tears threatened to fall.

“Just say it, Kirby.” She rasped, crossing her arms over the front of her white sequined gown.

Kirby’s brow furrowed. “S-say what?”

“That I deserve this.” Fallon whispered, her lower lip trembling dangerously. “That this is all my fault, that after everything … after everything this is the very least of what I have coming to me, and that —“

Kirby thought she would regret hugging her, or more specifically that Fallon would make her regret it, but she didn’t care. It was too much to hear the usual self-assured businesswoman self-deprecate. Fallon tensed for a moment when Kirby closed the gap between them. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been hugged, and it felt unnatural, and warm, and …

She didn’t stop the tears that spilled over her lash line, allowing herself the momentary release as she buried her face in the nape of the other girl’s neck, because … it’s just Kirby, it’s not like its Cristal or Daddy or… Now it was Kirby’s turn to feel uncertain, because this was … this is all wrong. This isn’t the Fallon she’d come to know — the balls to the wall, eat or be eaten woman who didn’t take anyone’s shit, let alone get hung up over a man. Then again, Kirby countered, she was starting to think she didn’t know Fallon as well as she had initially thought.

She had been rushed to the hospital — or more specifically, it had been rushed to her — a private doctor being personally chauffeured to the manor the second Kirby had stumbled in carrying Fallon in her arms. She never cried, hardly bat an eyelash. She just grit her teeth, and answered the slew of “are you okays” with nods and “yes” and “its fine”.

They put her in a cast, and on far too many pain meds for a twelve year old. She was, for all intents and purposes, alright. A broken leg, a mild concussion, and a couple of bruised ribs, but nothing life threatening. Kirby thought she must be the luckiest girl in the world, because at a whopping ninety-three pounds (she had always been on the slighter side thanks to Alexis’s influence), the twenty-foot fall should have killed her, or at the very least maimed her a lot worse. But she was … okay. A little bruised, pretty scraped up, but coherent. Kirby would sit with her over the course of the next week, sleeping at the foot of her bed like a puppy until Fallon finally rolled her eyes and invited her under the covers of the massive king size bed.

Fallon’s bed felt the exact same today as it did back then — overly plush, insanely comfortable. It smelled like her lilac and primrose shampoo, and smoke from the fireplace that she lit when she was feeling especially down. Fallon offered her a glass of scotch, which Kirby graciously accepted. At nearly $2,000 a bottle, she was shocked as she watched the other woman down her glass in a single gulp. Kirby rolled her eyes when she remembered that a couple thousand dollars was effectively pocket change for the heiress.

“So what’s up?” Kirby inquired, swirling the potent liquid around in its crystal glass, watching it slosh up the side without ever going over.

Fallon grit her teeth before downing a second glass and slamming her own glass on the mahogany bedside table. She sat stiffly in the lush bed, wringing her hands, and averting the redhead’s gaze.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh come on, Fallon.” The girl drawled, her accent making the words hang like honey in the air. “I still have mascara on my shoulder.”

Fallon bit the inside of her cheek, but didn’t respond. She fucking hated this.

“Look,” She admonished, “I had a … moment … but it’s fine now. I’m fine. Everything is —“ 

“Let me guess, fine?” Kirby mused, stifling the smile that threatened the corners of her lips.

Fallon shot her a glare that she meant to be intimidating but looked more anguished than anything.

“It’s a blip.” She assured, mustering as much fervency in her voice as she could. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like closing the deal on that new author you found us. Any news?”

Kirby sighed heavily, shifting in the bed so she was facing her. “Fallon …”

The brunette sighed, tucking a few pieces of hair behind her ear, but never meeting Kirby’s gaze.

“You know, I forgot how fucking persistent you could be?” It was meant to be an insult, but it came with the weight of their entire history, so it hit more like a remembrance.

Kirby smirked, her eyes glinting. “Funny,” she mused, “I never forgot what a had-ass you could be.”

It earned her a light smack on the forearm, which only forced her smirk into a smile. Fallon looked at her like she was was reading someone else’s bedtime story. Something dark and brooding flashed through her saturated blue eyes, but it was gone before Kirby could fully identify what it was, but then it didn’t matter, because —

“What if he’s right?”

It caught Kirby off guard. Usually when Fallon asked a question, it wasn’t for the sake of an answer, it was for some form of personal gain. Not this time. It was heavy, and dare Kirby say … yearning? And Kirby wasn’t sure how to respond, so she didn’t. Her mouth pursed, then gaped, then went slack altogether.

“Oh come on, Fallon.” She placated, wheels spinning.

She saw right through her, of course, snatching her still unfinished glass of scotch and practically inhaling it. She could feel her brain starting to lighten, her throat burning as the golden liquid hit her stomach and warmed it. Fallon wasn’t certain of much at the moment, but there was one thing she knew without question:

She was getting hammered tonight.

“No, I’m serious.” She choked as her words mingled with the last of the scotch. “I’ve spent my entire life looking out for myself, and he … I mean what if he’s right? What if I’m still the same selfish kid that I’ve always been?”

Kirby didn’t respond, just let the other woman’s gears turn. She learned long ago that there was no talking sense into Fallon. Not unless it came from herself.

“I loved him. I mean I … I really loved him. I thought I could spend my life with him.” She chuckled humorlessly, lying back on the silk-adorned pillow, her hair billowing out around the frame of her face. “I’m just like her.”

That caught Kirby’s attention.

“Who?”

Fallon’s eyes stayed fixed on a spot on the ceiling. She didn’t respond right way, just let the question hang in the air like a noose.

“Alexis.”

“Fallon.”

“I’m serious!” She persisted, pushing herself up on her shoulders, her eyes holding an uncomfortable amount of earnestness. “Think about it, Kirb.”

She hadn’t heard her use the nickname since they were children — since before she’d fallen from the tree, and then gotten her kicked out of the manor, and then …

“I’m just as insane as she is. I always have been, really. I just … I don’t know.” Her breath hitched in her throat. “I thought maybe he saw through that.”

Kirby’s brow furrowed. “He could.” She replied gently. “He wanted to marry you, Fallon.”

“That was before.” She snapped, and there was the Fallon that Kirby had come to know and hate.

She rolled her eyes, swinging her legs over the side of the other woman’s bed. This was getting tedious.

“Wait … where are you going?”

Kirby shot her a glare, her eyes narrowing critically on the other woman.

“Somewhere else.” Her tone was surprisingly casual for the poison that polluted her stare. “We’re going in circles.”

If Kirby thought she was a nightmare when she was able-bodied, she had another thing coming. Fallon was unbearable injured — an entitled, self-serving, bratty little princess. After three days of being at her beck and call, Kirby would even avoid the hallway that the pre-teen’s room sat on for fear of being spotted and called upon. Part of her felt guilty, because she knew it was her suggestion that they climb that tree in the first place, but … this is too much. Her father would notice the distance and ask what was wrong. Kirby would make up an excuse about having too much homework, and promise to visit Fallon later.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Oh. Oh. Well this is new. “Just … please … don’t leave. Not yet.”

Fallon practically lept out of bed, snatching up the carafe of scotch and swinging it temptingly with a light smile. Kirby sighed, shaking her head, but complied. She grabbed the two classes and held them out as Fallon poured more of the liquid courage into either glass. The glasses clinked as the made contact, and this time, Kirby followed Fallon’s lead as she downed her fourth glass within the last twenty minutes. Kirby shuddered as the alcohol hit her tongue, swallowing hard. This was definitely not a drink meant for shots — nor was Fallon pouring singles - more like triples. Fallon smiled deviously, her eyes closing as she reveled in the wooziness of her buzz. 

“You’re insane.” Kirby giggled, watching her friend pour yet another glass.

“I am not. I’m sad.” Fallon smirked, and if Kirby didn’t know better, she would have thought it was flirting. “Feel badly for me.”

“Oh please.”

She kept pouring shots until they could both hardly remember their own names, let along what Fallon was upset about in the first place. Kirby swayed slightly, clutching her empty crystal glass to her chest, and tracing its pattern with her index finger. She didn’t remember Fallon turning on music, but it was there now — the soft tinkering of a jazz saxophone serving as the perfect backtrack for the melodrama that the two of them found themselves living in.

“Who the fuck forgets their own fiancee?” Kirby slurred, giggling slightly.

Fallon shrugged, grasping the almost empty decanter as she considered another shot. She didn’t respond — her eyes trained on the liquid inside. It was golden brown, deep but see-through. Through it she could see Kirby, still swaying and smiling lightly at the state of her own drunken stupor. It was Fallon’s turn to giggle, but it got caught in her throat, and came out more as a cackle — short and dishonest.

She dropped the carafe on the table, then took Kirby’s glass from her and placed it there too. Kirby watched her as carefully as she could through the blaze of intoxication that was cornering her vision. Fallon took her hands in her own, and spun her around to the music. Her hands came around the redhead’s waist, and Kirby placed her own around her shoulders. This felt … wrong, but then again … Kirby allowed the music to inform her as the two swayed lethargically to the melody. Fallon brought her forehead against her’s, her eyes closing and squinting like it hurt to keep them open anymore.

“Fallon…?”

“Shhhh…” She murmured softly. “Just …”

Her thought trailed off, her eyes snapped open, and then the warmth of her skin left Kirby’s. Fallon looked at the other woman. She looked at her like she was apologizing. Kirby hated it.

“I … I have t’find Liam.” She slurred, using the wall to steady her gate as she stumbled to the door.

Kirby stayed where she was, yearning for the glow that Fallon’s contact had afforded her.

There was a moment of levity as Fallon climbed that tree - it was unbecoming of a lady, utterly dirty, and completely the opposite of what was expected of her. Fallon’s heart fluttered. She was almost there, so close to the top of the relatively young oak tree. She hadn’t intended of coming in second - hadn’t intended on Kirby being able to come anywhere close to her, let alone having her win their silly little competition. When her foot caught a thin branch and snapped beneath her, it felt like flying - the rush of air and gravity made her feel limitless.

She had chased that feeling ever since.

[excusemymind]

Touch

AN: Hi guys!!! I had this idea I think last week? It is kind of a surprise because I struggled a bit but here it is, I like the way it turned out. Huge thank you to @aqlemonade for talking me through, motivating me and being super sweet on the last few days. Hope you all like this as well! <3 (if you want, read on AO3)

Some LA queens are reunited in Roy's home, there's alcohol involved and a game is brought up.

“It is like this, you put the scarf or whatever on your eyes so you can’t see, and you have to guess who’s kissing you.” Willam shrugged when he finished explaining the game.

“Okay.” Katya nodded like he was hearing a coach say the match’s plan.

“And if you’re blindfolded you can’t touch the person, so hands behind your back, and all you bitches be quiet.” Willam added.

“I’m scared.” Danny said his classic line.

“What are we? On 7th grade?” Roy rolled his eyes and sipped his wine.

“Shut up, don’t be such a cunt.” Shane reprimanded him.

“I know where some of your mouths have been and I don’t know if I want go there too.” Trixie joked, looking especially at Willam.

“Fuck you,” Willam said. “Give me a scarf or something.”

Against his wishes, Roy stood up from the couch and went to his bedroom to grab a mask he use to sleep in planes. He made his way back and handed it to Willam.

“Who’s gonna go first?” Willam asked.

“You go!” Danny suggested and Willam shrugged, agreeing and putting the mask on.

Everyone looked as Willam stood up in the middle of the room, put his arms behind and waited. Katya stood up trying to make no sound and Shane put his hand over his mouth, covering his giggle. Katya stood in from of Willam and took a step forward, he stuck his tongue out and with the tip he licked Willam’s lips messily.

“Fuck off, it’s Katya.” Willam said as he stepped back, laughing and everyone broke in laughter too.

Katya sat down again and Shane raised his hand, signing to the others he would go. Standing in front of Willam, Shane carefully leaned in and their lips touched, briefly, and when they parted Willam leaned in again. So they kissed, a little longer this time.

When Shane sat down again, Willam waited a bit and took off the mask off his face, everyone was looking expectantly at him. He could feel his cheeks burn, so he decided to just say any names so he could get rid of those eyes on him, despite knowing exactly who kissed him.

“Uh… I don’t know,” He shrugged, as if he didn’t really care. “Trixie?”

“No!” Trixie yelled, as if this idea was disgusting.

“It was me, you twat!” Shane said, laughing and then taking a sip of his drink, everyone laughed.

“Nice.” Willam said as he went back to his place, half dismissive, half trying to play it cool.

Katya had grabbed the mask and while everyone was laughing and not really paying attention, he walked over the room until he was behind Roy, and in a quick move he put the sleeping mask on him.

“Let’s try to make things interesting for grandma before she sleeps, you know it’s past her bedtime.”

“Fuck you!” Roy yelled and blindly tried to smack Katya, who had already run away and was sitting back on his place.

The guys looked around, silently wondering who was gonna go, while Roy sipped on his wine impatiently. The glass was taken out of his hand, he protested with an “hey!” but he knew it was pointless. He remembered he had to put his hands behind, so he did it, lacing his own fingers together on his back. He was about to open his mouth to complain but he stopped because he felt it, he could feel someone in front of him, he was sure if he made any movement he would touch whoever it was, but the doubt was thrilling, the guessing game got into his blood, anxious to find out.

Thankfully for him, he didn’t have to wait too long. A pair of lips brushed against his, testing the waters before diving in, and then properly kissing him. His senses were all a mess, he couldn’t touch and he could not see, the smallest of the touches had him alert. His bottom lip was being nibbled, and that in his sensory overload felt a hundred times better than it would in different conditions, he was craving for more, for anything.

Roy parted his lips, it was all he could think of doing, and he hoped the other person would take the cue and giving him what he wanted. His bottom lip was sucked, teasing him, then he felt the tip of the tongue licking his lips slowly, but this time was different, was better, was right.

His hands were in fists by his side, desperate for more, for control, for touch, but he was restraining himself as much as he could. He felt fingertips on his chin, raising it up a bit and the extra contact made him alert all over again, the hands rested in his jaw and the lips pressed into his. Deeper and delicate, Roy melted into the kiss, leaning his body closer to the other to ground himself as his head felt like it was in the clouds, the touches too soft and heavenly.

When the kiss was broken Roy whimpered in protest even though he was breathless, he didn’t want it to be over just yet, or anytime soon. He leaned in and kissed what could only be a jaw, he nuzzled his nose down, reaching the neck and placing small kisses all over. The warm skin beneath him had a familiar scent, pleasant enough for him to lick it. He dragged his tongue up and sucked at the top, a spot just below the ear.

In less than a second, his head was being lifted up again and then there was more kissing, but the mood changed. The kisses were heated and somewhat desperate, Roy felt the hands now rest on his shoulders and neck, and nails slightly dragging on them. He took a deep breath to regain some self control because he could feel his breaking point coming very soon if things continued like this.

The lips were soft, tasty, he found himself wanting always a little more, to taste it longer and savour it. The tongue met his, chased it, teased, tortured him, but like a cycle he kept coming back for more.

He felt kisses but there was nothing against his lips, Roy was so caught up on the touching he didn’t care where it was, as long as he had some. A finger made its way down his throat and he gulped, thirsty, but also eager, and he leaned his head back unconsciously. As quick as it came the finger was gone, and there were lips in its place, carefully placed but filled with desire, he realized he was getting his payback and he loved every second.

The hands wandered down his body, lighting it up with the touch and Roy’s hands clenched by his side as he was teased, his neck being bitten and sucked, making a contrast with the feather like touches. His lips parted and a moan escaped, low, intimate and revealing, just for both of them. The fingertips brushed against his nipples on its dedicated exploration and that was enough, that was too much. Roy’s hand flew free and reached for the body he longed to touch, leaning his head back and holding the other one in front of him, smashing their lips together in a fiery urge.

A surprised moan was heard and it was melody to his ears, Roy wrapped his arms around the body, pressing it against his to make up for the previous lack of contact. Arms were wrapped around his neck as they lustfully kissed and the fingers intertwined on his hair, he could feel hot and soft skin beneath his hands, breathing, heartbeat, he could feel everything and it was hallucinating.

It was the need for air that made them break the kiss, but the lack of pressure on his eyes made Roy open them for the first time in what felt like forever. He did it slowly, and he then saw a pair of lips he would recognize anywhere, anytime, giving him long pecks on his lips. Danny opened his eyes right after and they stared at each other in silence. Roy had a mix of shock and surprise on his face and Danny felt himself blush under his gaze, kind of uncomfortable as he couldn’t really tell how Roy was gonna act next.

A noise made Danny jump scared, the tension between them too much, and both of them looked at the direction where it came from.

“Sorry, forgot my damn keys.” Katya raised his hand, showing it. “Please, proceed to bang.”

And it was only then that they looked around and realized all their friends were gone, and Katya was leaving again. Even though he felt zero regret, Danny wanted a hole to form in the living room so he could hide his face there.

“I should go, too.” Danny said, looking down and avoiding Roy’s eyes.

“Do you want to?” Roy’s voice sounded deep and serious and Danny felt a shiver run down his spine, of course he didn’t.

He looked up at Roy and knew he wasn’t going nowhere, his eyes were blown and dark, he could physically feel his stare in his bones, the air leaving his lungs and his knees failing to keep him steady. This was all Roy was doing by looking at him, and Danny died inside thinking about the things Roy wanted to do to him.

Danny shook his head, dizzy. His mind was betraying him just like the rest of his body, if normally he would struggle to make a coherent sentence, now it was near impossible. He looked down at the lips he was kissing moments ago, and after a while looked back at Roy’s piercing eyes. It was barely a whisper, and yet Roy didn’t need to be told twice. “Kiss me.”

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 18

The Personal Journal of Mr. S. Holmes Diamond City, The Commonwealth, 2288

Shaun found me sitting on the sofa with a cigarette when he came home from school. I put it out, it was a poor substitute for what I was craving. He came up to me, carefully, and I was both angry and devastated to see so much uncertainty in him.

“Are you ok, Dad?”

I was exhausted, but forced myself to pay attention. “Why do you ask?”

“Well… I know you're not like other dads, but that's ok, because you’re still my dad. But you've been different. It seems like something’s wrong. Did I do anything -”

“No.” A pain that had nothing to do with withdrawal burned through me, Valentine’s words echoing in my mind. “No, Shaun, you have nothing to do with this. I… I suppose something has been wrong, but I’m going to make it right. I'll be fine, you'll see.”

I was wrong. Two days later my lips were stained red and I didn't remember when I'd taken the mentat. Or mentats. I felt like I was spiraling into a black pit. I heard the door open as I sat on the edge of my bed, Codsworth telling whoever it was that I was upstairs. I was surprised, pleased, and ashamed to see him.

“Valentine.”

He was carefully neutral. “Shaun told me you were sick.”

I scoffed. “He's right.”

“I gathered from his vague description that you tried to quit.”

“Ha. I couldn't make it two days.”

“Brought something that might help.” He held out a small red inhaler.

“Addictol?”

He nodded. “I understand it's about as unpleasant as the old fashioned way, but a hell of a lot faster.”

“It's worse. But it works.” I took it from him, and breathed in the bitter medicine. It stung. He watched, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. “Shaun brought you here.”

He nodded. “He’s worried.”

“I know. I didn’t want… damn, I’ve made such a mess of things. I should have gone with you when you came, I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“Well,” he sighed, finally softening, “insulting you didn’t help my argument much.”

“You were right.” I grimaced, the addictol taking effect, “Faster than I remembered.”

“How long will it last?”

“A few hours. Headache, nausea, weakness and exhaustion. Some pain.”

“I can’t tell if you’re toning it down for my benefit or not.” I smiled a little, and laid down. He hesitated, “You gonna be ok by yourself?”

“I’ll be alright.”

I heard him talking to Shaun after he descended, speaking as if nothing were wrong in the world. “Your dad’s gonna be fine, Shaun. He’ll feel a little rough for a few hours, but then he’ll be right as rain.”

“But what was wrong with him?”

“Well… you know what chems are?”

“What Solomon sells. They make people feel differently, and Nat said Piper told her if you use too many you get sick and can't stop.”

“That's about right. Your dad took some, and couldn't stop. But the medicine I brought him should fix that.”

“But why would he use them? He knows better.”

“Chems are tricky things. Use the right ones, and humans feel like they can do things they normally can’t. Look, kid, your dad's a good man. Tries to help as many people as he can. Unfortunately, humans have to take a break every now and then. Holmes doesn't want to have to stop. Always doing something.”

“He thought if he used the chems he could help more people because he wouldn't have to stop?”

“That’s part of it. He was also worried about me.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, just fighting a bunch of super mutants. Saving a synth that escaped the Institute. Swearing at the Brotherhood.”

“Nick, you don't swear.”

“Not that you've ever heard,” he joked.

The conversation moved on, stories of super mutants and daring rescues. At some point I must have fallen asleep. I awoke feeling marginally better, but it was clearly far from over. I heard Codsworth say something about bedtime. I slowly made my way down the stairs.

“Dad! Are you ok?” Shaun asked. He was at the table with Valentine, an issue of Awesome Tales between them.

“Not yet,” I managed a weak smile, “but I will be.”

“You should be in bed,” Valentine said, without any of the frustration or disapproval of the past week.

“Shaun has school tomorrow.  He should get some sleep, and a sick father in the bed beside him won’t help.”

“Do you promise you’ll be ok?” Shaun asked.

“I promise I’ll be perfectly fine in the morning.”

“You’re going to stay, right Nick?”

“Course I will, kid. Hurry on to bed, do what Codsworth tells you.”

Shaun hurried off, Codsworth right behind him. “It wasn’t completely true, what you told him,” I said softly.

Valentine shrugged, “Alright, you got me. There were only four mutants when I rescued the farmer’s daughter, not half a dozen.”

I smiled, “That’s not what I was referring to. My chem use is only partially motivated by work.”

“Didn’t think I was the person to do any in depth explanations.”

“I suppose. Thank you, for your help… and for staying.”

“Couldn’t leave you in your hour of need - easy now,” he steadied me as a wave of pain racked through me. This time, I welcomed the support, permitting myself to rely on his arms as he guided me to the sofa. “You’re burning up.”

“Normal,” I muttered, “the worst of the addictol.”

“Thought you said it would only last a few hours.”

“I was toning it down for your sake.”

He smirked, “Guess you’ve done this before.”

“Multiple times.”

“Still smoke cigarettes.”

I laughed, sudden and likely far more manic than I typically sound. “You smoke and you don’t even feel any effects from it.”

“It’s easier to let the old Nick have his addiction,” he smiled. “Tried substituting all sorts of stuff, thought it might be just an oral fixation, but nothing worked.”

“Ha. Well,” I grimaced, breathed a moment, and said, “I enjoy sitting and smoking with you. That’s one habit I don’t intend on stopping.”

“I think I’m alright with that.” He kneeled down next to me as I lied down on the sofa with a groan. “Whatever you need, you let me know.”

I grasped his hand. “Just stay. The worst is nearly through, just…”

Metallic fingers carefully folded over mine, and my fragile state made his eyes seem to shine even more than usual, “I’m not going anywhere. The night won’t last forever.”

The next I can recall is the middle of the night. I'd fallen asleep on the sofa. The house was dark but for the soft glow of Codsworth on standby, and a pair of glowing yellow eyes. “Nick?”

He squeezed my hand, gently, constantly mindful of the metal. “Still here.”

“I'm sorry I sent you away. What I said…”

“Hush. You weren't yourself. I shouldn't have left you.”

I shook my head, my grip on his fingers tight, “You had every right. I told you to stay away from my family, but you are, Nick, you -”

“Easy,” he soothed, a hand on my shoulder. “It's all water under the bridge. Go back to sleep, Sherlock.”

I did. The next time I woke, the sun was rising. Codsworth was moving about the kitchen, taking stock of our supplies. Valentine's hand still held mine.

“Just woke up, and already you look fifty times better than yesterday,” he said.

Codsworth soared over, “Oh, sir, I completely agree with Mr. Valentine.You don't know how glad I am to see you coherent - ah -”

“It's alright, Codsworth, I know what you mean.” I sat up, “Is there anything to drink?”

“Of course! Fresh water would be just the thing, I think.”

I shared an amused glance with Valentine as water was provided. It was good to see Codsworth so relieved. I thanked him, and asked about something to eat, which had him ecstatic.

Valentine and I moved to the table as Codsworth prepared a light breakfast. “I know you must be tired of hearing me say this, but how are you feeling?” Valentine asked.

“Better. Tired, but… refreshed. It doesn’t fix anything,” I cautioned, “simply clears the body of its dependencies.”

Valentine nodded, “Yeah, I realize that. Still, it’s a good place to start.”

Much of the early morning was spent in silence. I didn’t let go of his hand until it was required to eat. I didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you’ were hardly adequate.

Shaun joined us and happily declared I looked a lot better. He and Valentine talked, Shaun had detected some discrepancies in the stories he’d been told last night, and I was content to listen and watch until it was time for Shaun to go to school.

Valentine stayed the day. We threw out every pill in the house, and talked about anything and everything we could think of. We spent a great deal of time sitting in comfortable silence as well. Codsworth is currently using him as a guinea pig for his latest iteration of ‘tea.’ “Last time I let someone test a drink on me, it was Vadim and a batch of moonshine. It didn’t end well. So, compared to that, this is great.” Codsworth is not encouraged, and I’ve been scolded for laughing.

[searchingforaplacetocallhome]

Almost Easy

Setting: New Orleans**

Characters: Michaela “Mickey” McKenna & Johnny Tran

Warnings: Angst, Drama, Sexual Content NSFW (possible trigger: sexual assault)

Background: Mickey is one of these characters that stuck with me through the years, because she never really got her story told in a way that satisfied me. Originally from Los Angeles, she comes from the Fast and Furious setting. She was an undercover police officer, sent to infiltrate pretty much like Brian O’Connor did. Rather than Dominic’s crew, she drew the attention of Johnny Tran. When the lines between her cover and her true identity blurred, she became involved with Johnny. He was controlling to the point of abusive, knew she was a police officer all along, but still kept her around. She was his personal toy. So when Brian shot him, she saw her chance, and escaped. Moving to New Orleans, she discovered she was pregnant, had her baby boy, and has been going at it alone, building up a new life, thinking she’s free of her past…

** Mickey is currently and NPC in an AU Supernatural story set in New Orleans, but she deserves to have her story told and there is no reason the two don’t mesh.

Word count: 2133

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Part 4 - Is It Love

“Voom, voom. Voom, voom.”

Matthew ran naked from room to room with his toy car, running it over every surface he could touch. Mickey paid just enough attention that she could stop him before he could hurt himself. Most of her attention was on her phone. She had sent Steve two texts, and he still hadn’t responded. Staring at the phone wasn’t helping either, so she put it aside. “Okay buddy, time for bed.”

Unsurprisingly, Matthew didn’t agree with bedtime. The moment she picked him up he went limp like a rag doll and started crying. Struggling to get him on the changing table without bumping his head, Mickey got his diaper on. “This would be a lot easier if you worked with me, baby,” she said with a sigh and ran her fingertips over the soft skin of his chest. As it always did, it soothed his cries and he looked up at her, holding out his toy.

“Daddy!”

Swallowing down a lump in her throat, Mickey leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Your daddy’s in heaven, baby.” If there was such a thing as heaven and hell, Johnny surely wouldn’t have gone upstairs, but Matthew was too young to understand it.

Holding up the toy again, he pointed to it. “Daddy!”

“Okay. Are you and daddy gonna help mommy get your jammies on?” Matthew nodded and lay still, riding the toy car through the air over invisible roads while she got him dressed. He only fussed a little when she had to get his shirt over his head and his arms in the sleeves. Mickey felt an odd sense of relief that maybe he had gotten the toy from Miss Bee after all and ‘daddy’ was just what he named it.

Tucking him in, she turned on the baby monitor, hitting the button to start his favorite tunes playing and caressed his hair and back until she was sure he was too far gone to wake up when she walked away. She had only just turned off the light and closed the door when her phone buzzed on the counter in the bathroom where she had left it.

Hurriedly tiptoeing across the hall, she grabbed it and looked at the screen before answering. “Finally. Do you have any news?”

“Still investigating. Besides, I am not going to give you an update over the phone. I know you.”

Mickey rolled her eyes at Steve even though he couldn’t see it, closing the baby gate behind her as she walked down the stairs. “I just put Matthew to sleep, I am not going anywhere. Did you talk to Beatrice?”

“Yes, and that is all the information you are getting over the phone. Will you let me do my job?”

“I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“You are not doing nothing. Did you make that list like I asked you to?”

“Yes, though I am still not sure what good it will do. What did Beatrice say? Did he get the toy from her?”

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. “Your selective hearing is getting worse. I have a few things to wrap up. You texting me every five minutes to ask for an update is not going to speed things up.”

“Sorry… I need answers, Steve.”

“And we’ll get them. You gotta let me do my job though. Have you eaten yet?”

“Does wearing half of Matthew’s dinner count?” Mickey smiled when she got a chuckle from the other end of the line. She knew she had to be driving Steve crazy with her constant harassment.

“I’ll make you a deal. You let me finish what I need to do without bugging me for updates, and I will pick up some food. We can go over my findings together. Sound good?”

“What about your daughter?”

“She’s working tonight. If I call her and explain she’ll understand. You let me worry about my kid, okay? Any preference for food?”

“Anything but Chinese.” Her freezer was full of leftover Chinese take out. Mickey had many talents, but cooking wasn’t one of them. She hardly had the time, and Matthew was the worst food critic, so getting him to eat his dinner was a job all on its own. So she often resorted to ordering food after he was asleep.

“Noted. I will text you when I am on my way. I gotta go. Hang in there, kiddo.”

“Ugh! Hanging up on you,” Mickey grumbled at her phone, ending the call and tossing the device on the couch in passing. Steve enjoyed ruffling her feathers from time to time to remind her she was still just a junior.

Making a bee line for the fridge, she pulled out a bottle of wine, grabbed a glass and poured a respectable amount of wine in it. “Who am I kidding?” Pouring some more wine in until she was satisfied it was enough, she left the bottle on the counter and sank into the couch, fishing the remote out from between the cushions.

Finding something mindless to watch, she sipped her wine. It had never been Johnny’s drink of choice. He preferred the taste of a good whiskey as he sat in his chair, always the same chair with a view of the door. Swirling the ice cubes in his glass as he sat and waited for her to walk in. She never knew what to expect though, when he was sitting in that chair and she had come to fear it.

“You’re late.”

The tone of his voice made her hold her breath for a moment. With just three words he had her fighting the urge to cower in fear. How did he do that so easily? “I was stuck in traffic. There was an accident.”

“And your phone stopped working?”

“Battery’s dead.” Her answer didn’t please him. His eyes were narrowing, but as they did, it ignited a fire inside of her. Straightening her back, she put a hand on her hip and fixed him with a look. “Is this what we’re doing now? Because if that is what’s happening, let me stop you now. I had a really long day, and the last thing I need is for you to pick a fight with me over something that was beyond my control.”

Turning on her heel, she only took one step before his next words cut through the silence of the room.

“Michaela. Not another step.” Slow, deliberately articulated words spoken in a low tone. The groaning and grunting of the leather chair followed by his foot steps coming toward her had her frozen in her spot. Her heart was pounding in her chest, which heaved with each breath, bracing herself for what was about to happen.

The hand that grabbed her chin was firm, but his urging for her to turn around was gentle. The anger she expected to see in his eyes when she turned was absent. A thumb rubbed over her bottom lip, and her sights lowered to his mouth, a smirk twisting the corners of his lips upward. “Such fire… What am I gonna do with you, hm?”

- Kiss me. Shut up and kiss me. -

Hypnotized by those lips, no words made it from hers. Slipping her hands up over his chest, she tugged on the collar of his button up shirt, urging him forward, pushing herself up on her toes. His resistance to her urging, causing her lips to just barely brush over his, drew little frustrated sounds of protest from her. Sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout, she leaned her head to the side a little for added effect.

His eyes moved slowly, searching, over her face, down to the dress she was wearing and back up. When his gaze met hers, he waited for her to open her mouth to speak to make his move. Slipping a hand into her hair, the other gripping her hip, he pulled her against his chest as he crushed her lips in a kiss that took away her breath and ability to form coherent thought.

Melting completely into his embrace, her arms wrapping around his waist, nails scratching over his clothed back, the kiss eased off the last of her fear. Dropping her guard turned out to be a mistake.

His hand tightened it’s grip on her hair, pulling back while the hand from her hip now gripped her chin to make sure she was looking into the angry eyes that brought the fear rushing back to the surface. “Don’t ever speak to me that way again.”

The room went by in a blur as she was turned around, the grip on her hair still tight and her hands came up too late to brace her impact with the wall. It knocked the wind out of her for a moment. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t struggle as he pulled her hips back, kicking her feet apart. Struggling only made things worse.

Impatiently the skirt was pushed up around her waist and she grimaced as her panties were pulled taut, the fabric cutting into her skin before it finally snapped under his force. The sound of his belt being pulled lose followed by the sound of his zipper sliding down was the only warning she got before a sharp pain made her cry out.

Relinquishing his grip on her hair, he used both hands on her hips to pull her back against him each time he thrust his, driving him deep inside of her. Her body shook from the impact. Bracing herself against the wall as best as she could, she endured the assault on her body.

He was hurting her with forceful thrusts, and yet as he continued, each stroke of his cock became smoother, and the sharp pain was now a dull ache. Whimpers escaped her when he hit a spot inside of her that made her hollow her back more, turning her head and giving him a pleading look.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her against his body more, grabbing at breasts straining against her bra and dress. Another ripping sound as he yanked her dress out of the way, freeing a breast to pinch the sensitive nipple and tug it, drawing little wordless pleas from her lips.

His mouth pressed kisses from her shoulder up the side of her neck, biting down on the muscle at the same time as he bucked his hips hard enough to jolt her forward. Throwing her head back against his shoulder, she cried out and tried desperately to find some hold on the wall.

His lips pressed against the shell of her ear, letting out a guttural sound that traveled straight to her core, making the heat radiate out. Her muscles tightened around him in warning and driving his cock as deep as he could, he stilled inside of her, drawing more sounds of protest from her. “You belong to me. You understand?”

“Yes...”

“I don’t think you do.” A hand closed around her throat with just enough pressure to get her attention. Pulling his hips back, they collided with her body again in a forceful thrust, driving him impossibly deep inside of her. “Tell me. Who do you belong to?”

“You.” Her legs were trembling and every fiber in her body was screaming for him to stop torturing and give her the release she so badly needed.

“I can’t hear you. Who do you belong to?”

Another forceful thrust left her aching for release so badly she would have signed her soul over to the Devil. “You. I belong to you.”

“Good girl.”

What followed was the sound of skin slapping against skin, fingertips digging into her hip. She didn’t even recognize the sounds she was producing, surrendering completely to his assault and her desire. Her back arched almost painfully when his thrusts finally pushed her over the edge, crying out loud enough to make her voice crack and fail.

Sitting up straight, Mickey startled, looking for her glass, afraid she was about to drop it or already. What had just happened? Had she dozed off. The clock told her fourty minutes had passed, and whatever was on tv was not what she had put on. Her glass was on the coffee table, where she had left it along with the remote.

Reaching across the couch, she glanced at her phone screen. No new messages meant that Steve wasn’t on his way yet. Rubbing her face with both hands, she stood up and stretched, needing to move around after that. At least Steve hadn’t walked in on her that way, because she had no idea what had just happened.

“I’m losing my damn mind...”