#this is actually the perfect vibes for a fic i already have going!!!

[zahri-melitor]

Honestly the most interesting thing for me is that people clearly don't have a vibe about Hush happening at all.

Which is fascinating, given it's one of THE Batman titles as far as DC sales go, with endless reprints from here until eternity.

But clearly people have no context on when it happened or what happened in it, as seen in the constant 'Jason slit Tim's throat in Titan's Tower' fic beats. Even though that didn't happen, that the two main times Tim's had a neck injury it's in Hush (from Jason) and at the start of Failsafe (and Bruce has a minor breakdown).

Also I am never not going to remind people that Tim's neck injury in Hush is simultaneously claimed "to need stitches" and "have stopped bleeding already" by Selina who provides first aid.

I really am team "Judd Winick's retcon that Jason switched with Clayface happened" given that if you want to have revived Jason, Winick actually clearly did sit down and largely figure out how to slot Jason's presence in around all of the events he missed during the 90s and early 2000s. It's not perfect and some of the timings are a bit of a mess, but Winick understood the beats he was working around and has Jason out of action in specific manners to miss big things he otherwise would have noticed.

Plus, as others have noted, there is nothing after the fact that suggests that the retcon was unwound or anything that contradicts it.

Fascinating that it's largely disappeared from fanon understanding at this point, however, because in the late 2000s it was a major source of fic drama.

[forlix]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes. 

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[laughing-with-god]

Unsaid Vow I

(This is the first 1.7k of the 10k chapter that is available right now on my Patreon. Please join for early access plus beta content!)

Synopsis: You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a five-year-old.

Also looking for new fic art for this if anyone's interested!!

Read first: Prologue

“I’m a grown man.”

These were the words that greeted you and effectively pulled you out of your weary slumber.  

You drowsily rubbed your eyes and rolled over, yawning as you took in the sight of your son staring at you bemusedly from beside your bed.  

If you weren’t used to this behavior from Hugo already, you perhaps would've screamed at the sudden creepy sight of a child with a solemn expression saying odd things to you before the sun has even risen.  Yet, you have grown accustomed to the old man your toddler was.  

“Good morning to you too, bud.”  You groaned tiredly, already searching your thick bedding for your phone in order to check the time.  Your alarm hadn’t even gone off yet, which told you it was earlier than you had originally planned to wake up.  But what was the point of having plans when you had a child?  They had a talent for ruining them.  

“I’m five today.”  Hugo ignored your greeting, getting right into the point with furrowed brows as he held up all five fingers, each one representing a year of his life.  

“Yup, I know dumpling.”  You chuckled, finally pulling out your phone and opening it to see  ‘6:03 am” staring back at you.  “Believe it or not, the day you were born was quite memorable for me too.”  

You cringed as you thought of the 20 hour labor that preceded Hugo’s birth.   How could you ever forget that hellish day?  

“Mom, it’s my birthday.”  Hugo told you, tone serious as a heart attack.  

“Yes, happy birthday love.”  You smiled at your son, trying not to let him see the exhaustion you secretly felt.  “I suppose there’s no way I can talk you into going back to bed for another hour or so?”  

“No. You always say ‘the day starts when I first open my eyes in the morning”.  Your son parroted the saying back to you with a proud grin.  

Hugo once went through a phase where he wouldn’t want to leave the bed after waking up, simply wanting to stay in pj’s all day long and watch cartoons amongst his stuffies. 

It took a while to get your little homebody to actually stop this habit and begin getting up to ready himself for the day whenever he woke up.  You used to tell him that the day starts whenever he opens his eyes in the morning, however on days like these where he wakes up super early, he now does not see the point in lying in.  

“Right, that is a good point.”  You softly relented, mentally scolding yourself for yet another parenting tactic backfired.  “How does some breakfast sound?”

“Mom, I have a prop-pre-preposaa-”  

“Proposal?”  You offered, swinging your legs off the side of your bed.  

“Yeah, that.”  Hugo nodded to himself, most likely taking note of the proper pronunciation of the word so he can use it again in conversation.  “I think it’s time we talk about coffee.”

“Coffee?”  

“You and daddy are always saying that coffee is for grownups.  Today I’m five, which means I’m older, which means I should be able to have coffee.”  Hugo reasoned this to you while twiddling his thumbs, a nervous habit he does when he wants you to say yes to something he knows is unrealistic.  

“Mmm...”  You hummed, pretending to think hard about the offer.  “What if I gave you a very light coffee?  A beginner version to get you ready for the real thing when you’re older?”  

Hugo looked conflicted, but after reading your face and correctly assuming that’s the best he was going to get, he nodded solemnly in reluctant agreement.  

With one final huff you shoved yourself off the king sized bed, standing to your full height and throwing your arms up in a stretch.  “Why don’t you wait in the living room for me bud?  I’ll be right out.”  

The freshly turned five year old happily nodded up at you before exiting your bedroom, leaving you alone once again.  

You turned your attention back to the bed in which you just rose out of.  More particularly, you stared at the other side of the bed, the side in which your husband was supposed to sleep on. 

It was a direct opposite of your messy side, crisp and neatly made; the fluffy pillows, pressed sheets and silk duvet being perfectly in place.  Yet, this wasn’t an ode to Jungkook’s neatness and attention to detail.  

No.  

Jungkook hasn’t been sleeping in the same bed as you for a while now.  

Your husband always preferred to rise early, given he was a man who liked to follow a strict morning regime which could easily be thrown off if he slept in even a minute later.  Up at 5:30. teeth brushed and face shaved by 5:40.  Breakfast, coffee and newspaper consumed by 6:00.  

Then right before taking his leave, Jungkook would pack himself a bag of work clothes and make a quick protein shake, given he would then head to the gym where he would get his morning workout and shower from.  Then from the gym, he would head straight to work.  

A few months ago, he suggested sleeping in the guest room.

You had asked why, bewildered at the request.  

Sure, you two didn’t really cuddle anymore. Sex was also rare. But you figured that the least you could do as husband and wife was sleep in the same bed amicably. Had you started kicking him in your sleep or something?

“I’d notice you begin to kinda stir when I first get up and go about my routine.  I don’t want to wake you up or be a bother.”  He had said.  

That didn’t really make sense to you.  

You have always been a deep sleeper. And even if you did wake up for a second, you’d clearly see your husband getting ready for the day, roll over and go back to sleep.  

It was such a lame excuse, you just shrugged and bitterly told him that he hogged the blankets anyway.  

It wasn’t true, but Jungkook didn’t comment.  

You trudged over to the ensuite bathroom and quickly did your morning routine.  

When you came out of your room and into the living space, you saw Hugo glued to the giant flat screen in a trance-like state as he watched his usual morning cartoons.  The sight tugged a small smile out of you, although the mother in you didn’t like how close he was.

“Hugo, back up from the screen! Bluey isn’t going anywhere. Your eyes will go bad.”  Your son wordlessly obliged and scooted back, not breaking eye contact with his favorite family of puppies.  “What would you like for breakfast ‘Mr. grown man’?”  

“Blueberry pancakes…and don’t forget my coffee!”  

“You got it, birthday boy.” 

The kitchen, dining and living room were open concept, so you multi-tasked watching Hugo while whipping up his breakfast.  You never were much of a cook and you still aren’t even after motherhood, but you did commit to learning your son’s favorite dishes.

The process was over quickly, you having made this recipe countless times and knowing it like the back of your hand.  

You set a plate on the island table, calling Hugo over while you secretly mixed some instant hot chocolate in a mug.  

The five year old jumped up and grinned at the meal, saying a quick “thank you” before digging in with all the grace a five year old could possibly have.  

“And of course, your coffee.”  You tried not to smile as you handed him the cup.

“Thanks mama.”  

The mini-Jungkook took a gulp, then stared seriously at the contents of the mug, swishing it around in some faux detective work.  

“Something wrong, dumpling?”

“It tastes…fa-fam-”

“Familiar?”  

“Yes. Is coffee always this sweet?”  

You laughed, now moving to the real coffee maker to make your own cup.  “No, this is the kid version.  It might taste like chocolate because chocolate has caffeine in it too.”  

Your little old man huffed to himself but nodded in agreement, simply not knowing enough to dispute your logic.  

Your old coffeemaker grumbled awake, croaking and hissing as you pressed the worn-out buttons for your usual morning brew.  Jungkook always made fun of you for the ancient machine, but even after he had bought a much more expensive and up-to-date one, you stubbornly remained loyal to yours.  

“So buddy, what do you want to do today?  We can go get new books, hit up the toy store, maybe even visit the aquarium?”  

“I wanna help set up for my party, mommy.” 

Well, “party” wasn’t quite the right word for it.  

Hugo had no friends.  It was tough for a kid like him to make any.  At this age and as a boy, most of his peers would meet and form relationships in little league or rough housing at the local park. 

Your son was different.  He preferred reading to sports, hated the outdoors and was generally a shy kid who tended to tear up when anyone other than his family tried speaking to him.  

So this year, his birthday party was an intimate circle of family and family friends.  You hoped that by next year you could host an actual kid birthday party, as Hugo would be in school and have classmates by then. 

“That’s very sweet of you, but there’s time to do both.”  The boy looked at you skeptically.  “We can go to the bookstore across the street after breakfast and I’ll let you pick out some new bedtime stories.  Then we can go to the aquarium and have lunch there. And on our way home I’ll stop by the store to get some stuff for the party, and you can get a toy.  Sounds good?”  

Hugo frowned, then peeled back his pajama sleeve to look at his submarine-themed watch.  The act seemed a little pretentious to you, given he didn’t yet know how to read clocks.  

“Fine mommy, but we should be quick.  Also you need to ask our guests if they have any food aler-alergeez-”

“Allergies?  Yes bud, I’ll be sure to send them a text.”  You rolled your eyes.

With that, Hugo quietly finished his breakfast as you sipped your coffee.  

When you two were done, you both got dressed and ready for the day’s activities. 

Before leaving the apartment, you were sure to send a text to your husband.  

‘Be home by 6 please.  Hugo’s birthday party starts at 6:30 and he needs you there.’

[brucewaynehater101]

Have you ever read a fic called A Medication On Railroading? Because I think you'll like it. Basic summery with no spoilers: Jack takes Tim on a trip to Atlanta and then leaves him in Atlanta so he goes train hopping to get home. Very hurt/comfort.

But it also gives me an idea that I'm not sure where to share. What if that wasn't Tim's first time getting home like that? Maybe the first time was just New York when he was say... 9 years old? His parents took him with them to a Gala and Jack thought Janet called him a car home and Janet thought Jack took care of it. Neither one did and Tiny Tim figured out how to get home on his own. It happens again when he's 11 so he already knows what to do, he studied up in case it happened again.

After the second time, anytime Tim is with his parents he keeps his camera bag on him at all times which has 300 dollars in it that he can use on getting home. Tim also discovers during the second one that trains are *way* better than busses and cabs. He's all alone, just him and the scenery and whatever cargo his car holds. He can Fully Relax. He doesn't have to be the perfect heir, he doesn't have to smile for the cameras, he doesn't have to be quiet or good or perfectly polite. He can scream and laugh and cry if he wants to and no one will ever know! He can sing and curse and throw rocks at things! He can be a *kid*.

After Tim becomes Robin, he never calls Batman for a pick up if he's abandoned somewhere and instead will make his own way home. Heck, after some missions with Young Justice he will turn off his trackers and ride trains home so that he can loudly vent about them without having to worry about anyone ever knowing what he said!

This does become a slight problem when he's 17 and Bruce needs him for something and finds out from Bart that their mission ended a day and a half ago. But Tim never called for pick up. And his trackers are all offline. And he never hit his emergency beacon and *no one can find him*. Bruce totally isn't freaking out. The other Bats totally aren't freaking out. Young Justice totally isn't freaking out. There totally isn't a panic spreading through the super hero community about Red Robin maybe being dead I a ditch somewhere and how both Batman and his team will react.

Tim meanwhile is straight vibing as he reclines on a stack of bags of rice like they're pillows, singing along to some sound track he downloaded onto his MP3 player, having turned the volume to max and nearly screaming the lyrics because it's the one time he feels like he can.

Yes! I love that fic you mentioned. It's really really good. Perhaps I should re read it since it's been a minute.

Also, I absolutely adore the little tidbit you've added. A few things to note that I love about it:

No one else knows/finds out until he's Red Robin

It's a semi-decent coping mechanism. He gets to chill out, vibe, and process. He's also in touch with nature and music during this.

Tim drops his various masks to simply exist for a bit

Tim chilling on some rice bags in a train cart with an MP3 player (not even his phone. This indicates he's fully offline during these trips)

A few additional notes to add. One, this could buff up the canon notion that pre-Robin Tim traveled far to go see Dick at the circus and convince him to become Robin again. If Tim had already done that twice unexpectedly, he'd do swell when he actually plans to do it.

Two, Tim probably created a white noise generator or something to give him totally privacy on his "me trips." This is why Kon and Superman freak out. They can't hear him.

Three, he probably gets covered in grime, dust, and dirt. He's no longer in the pristine environment he grew up in.

Gods. That sounds so nice and relaxing. I'm actually kind of jealous. Just the wind, music, and the slowly changing scenery? Fuuuck.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

the art of breaking (dark!joel miller x f!reader; dead dove do not eat)

the art of breaking part one | part two

very dark!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your meeting is happenstance, but everything that follows? Well, that’s all Joel. He just knows you’re going to be his perfect little toy. He just has to show you how.

written for the #deaddovedecember2023 event hosted by @romana-after-dark | also on ao3 | dedicating this to @kewwrites, who is a master and icon of unsettling-but-still-romantic dark fic & whose incredible vibes made me feel brave enough to write this. love you ty 🖤

dividers by @saradika-graphics

NOTE: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Seriously, I am saying this as clearly as I can: read the warnings carefully. If anything listed is something you don’t want to read, don’t. The working title for this was “the darkest joel” for a reason (and I actually tamed it down/cut out some of the intense scenes). It’s modern-day/no outbreak, but Joel still lost Sarah and went off the deep end. He was probably a good dom at some point, but now he’s just fucked up.

If you're worried it'll be too dark, it probably will be.

Warnings under the cut:

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, non-con, dub-con, very dark!Joel, BAD bdsm etiquette, not SSC/RACK compliant, sadist!Joel x masochist!reader, coercion, corruption, manipulation, isolation, gaslighting, captivity, sadism, masochism, pain play, extreme punishment, semi-permanent damage (a bone is broken, I’m not fucking around), whipping, spanking, face slapping, tit slapping, impact play in general, mentions of vomit (no description), oral, anal, vaginal, degradation, humiliation, overstimulation, edging, denial, dacryphilia, bastinado (mentioned), restraints, very brief knifeplay, tiny drop of blood play, Joel sees reader as property, inadequate aftercare 

Again, I cannot say this enough. This is a dark fantasy and should not be taken as representative of a good d/s relationship—it’s abuse masquerading. Just because I wrote it doesn’t mean I’m condoning it. 

Please read responsibly. 

I. in media res

     -the fracture

There’s one comfort Joel almost never denies you.

Well, never denies himself.

Unless you’ve been real bad, you always take your place in bed with him at the end of the day. You think it’s so he has easy access to you if he wakes up horny, but honestly, that happens a lot less than expected. He works hard all day; he needs his sleep.

No, he likes the comfort of your warm body next to his. The way you curl up and press kisses to him, no matter how bad he hurt you during the day. His sweet little pet, desperate for every bit of his affection you can earn. He’s always gentle with you here.

It’s part of what makes The Pit so effective.

It fucks with your brain on so many levels, exposes you to so many fears, and then you have to reconcile that you were bad enough for Joel to deny himself the comfort of you in his arms at night. That you’re so undeserving of his love.

Of all of the ways he punishes you, this will be the worst. You can take the humiliation, the pain—not easily, but you can, and there’s usually immediate care after.

But a night in The Pit will tear you down completely.

You hadn’t known what to expect when he said you’d have to spend the night alone, but it wasn’t this.

“No, please,” you scream, stumbling to keep up as Joel pulls you by your hair.

“Shut up,” he snarls.

The soil is loose, clinging to your sweat as you try to right yourself. It’s a futile effort. When you reach The Pit, he holds you down with his boot on your chest while he unlocks and opens the bars.

“Get in,” he says.

You’re sobbing and shaking, skin already gone cold. Somehow, you manage to obey.

The Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It has an open wooden frame with mesh on the side walls to keep the dirt in place. The bottom is bare soil. Mounted to the top of the beams is a grate of bars that sit flush with the ground.

It’s big enough for you to curl up at the bottom—which is what you do now.

“I’m sorry,” you cry.

He shuts and locks the gate.

II. from the start

     -intact

It was kismet, really, that he was there that night. He didn’t usually go out for drinks with the guys, not wanting to be the boss who was always cramping their style. But Tommy had dragged him out tonight, and so he was witness (with the rest of the pub) to your relationship falling apart.

And okay, maybe he went outside for a smoke after you moved the fight to the alley so he could eavesdrop. But it wasn’t his fault. How could he not?

You had said, “Maybe you’re just not man enough for me,” to the brawny but pathetic prick across from you in the booth. “Wanting you to be rough doesn’t make me a freak.”

“That’s not rough; that’s fuckin’ abuse. You’re sick,” your boyfriend had practically shouted.

The discussion evolved into a screaming match in the alley, where Joel had been pleased to be right. It was about more than just a little rough sex or spanking.

At the end of it, your boyfriend stormed off, and you went back in the pub. Joel found you at the bar, throwing back another shot and wiping your tears away.

“You did good back there,” he says.

You startle and look at the stranger. The very handsome stranger. Rugged, with a salt and pepper beard and a scar across his nose.

“What do you mean?”

“Standin’ up for yourself. Not a lot of people woulda been confident enough. ‘Specially not a girl lookin’ for that.”

You glare at the bar counter. “M’not a weirdo.”

“Nah, you’re not. Shit like that is perfectly normal. He’s just pathetic.”

You look back up at him, and he sticks one hand in his pocket, trying to adjust himself discreetly. The tear streaks on your cheeks are getting to him.

“I don’t know. He’s probably right. It’s not your garden variety shit,” you say. The tequila and his gentle eyes have loosened your tongue.

“I doubt that. Try me,” he says.

“What?”

“Try me. Tell me what he freaked out over, and I’ll tell ya if it’s weird. Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”

You hesitate, but he looks genuine and kind. “I asked him to hit me. Like, in the face. And to, y’know, pin me down and—” you trail off.

“And make ya take it?” he guesses.

You nod. “He thought I like, I dunno, actually wanted to be raped,” you whisper the last word, eyes darting to the people around you.

Joel laughs. “Honey, that’s so normal, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve helped ladies out with that little roleplay more times than I can count. If that’s your deepest, darkest fantasy, and he couldn’t take it, then you’re better off without him.”

“It’s not,” you mumble.

“Speak up, honey.”

“It’s not my deepest, darkest fantasy. It’s probably one of the least of them.”

He grins. “Then you’re definitely better off. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with likin’ things on the darker side, sweetheart.”

You’re feeling hot all over and are about to ask him more when your phone rings. It’s your idiot boyfriend, who’s realized you have the car keys.

“I better go. Thank you,” you say, standing and offering him your hand.

He gives it a firm shake, tipping his head. “I’m Joel. And if you’re ever so inclined, I’d like to take you out sometime.”

You laugh. “Let me break up with my boyfriend first, Joel.” But you dig a pen out of your purse and write your number on one of the tiny bar napkins.

Your first date was so normal. You’re not sure what you expected. To jump right to hardcore sex?

But no, he turns up at your door in a neatly pressed green button-up, black slacks, and an ostentatious belt buckle. He greets you with a kiss on the cheek and a bouquet of wildflowers, lavender stalks nestled between pink honeysuckle and red salvia. Not a traditional arrangement, but it reminds you of a summer sunset.

“From my garden,” he says a little sheepishly, but you like them a lot better than some generic store display. You tell him as much and his cheeks flush a little.

You return the kiss and pop the flowers in a vase of water before he sweeps you off in his pickup. You aren’t surprised, really, but it’s more charming than some of the other men and their gaudy trucks.

Joel’s is older but well-kept, with minimal rusting around the wheel wells. The bed is open, and you can see streaks of grease and paint spills. A silver tool chest is mounted against the back of the cab. Everything inside and out has a light coating of sawdust.

He isn’t some insecure man with a truck big enough to make up for what isn’t in his britches, that’s for certain. You’d hazard a guess that the corded muscle of his forearms and the breadth of his shoulders are well-earned.

He holds the door open for you, which you tease him for as you slide onto the truck’s bench seat.

“Ain’t doin’ it ‘cause you’re incapable,” he drawls. “Or because you’re a lady,” he adds when he sees the glint in your eye.

“Oh yeah, cowboy?”

His grin is lopsided, a little dark. “Nah. I just think you deserve to be taken care of, s’all.”

You flush, the back of your neck burning, but you don’t fight the smile that threatens to break out. “Thank you, Joel.”

He shakes his head. He’s pretty sure, now, that if he plays his cards right, he’s found somethin’ special.

He waits three whole dates to take you to bed, and even then, it doesn’t start dirty.

“Let me get to know your body first, baby,” he urges when you ask him to fuck you rough. Instead, he takes you apart piece by piece. First with his tongue, and then his fingers. He brings you to the edge over and over, but never lets you fall.

After a while, you’re a broken record, pleas and sobs spilling from you.

“That’s music to my ears, darlin’,” he says, pulling his fingers out abruptly to see how your cunt throbs for him. He spits on your clit and watches it drip down to join the mess between your thighs.

“Please, please, Joel,” you beg.

“Please who now?”

“Please, sir,” you try, and are rewarded with his sharp grin. But not with an orgasm.

He slaps your cunt. “That’s more like it, baby. You remember who you’re talkin’ to, alright?”

You nod. “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.”

He shakes his head, sucking on your clit for a moment before pulling back to get a good look at you. “You do like a little pain, huh?”

“Would like more,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What would you let me do to you?”

“Anything, please, sir.”

He clicks his tongue at you. “Don’t go sayin’ that to someone you barely know. It’s okay to mean it when you trust somebody, but you’re gonna end up in more trouble than you bargain for if you pass that out like candy.”

“I do mean it.”

“Yeah? You’ll let me do this?” His open palm smacks across your face, leaving a sting tingling on your cheek and a lightness to your brain.

Tears spring to your eyes, but you nod frantically.

“What about this?” he grabs a nipple in his calloused fingers and yanks, twisting.

You yelp, but it trails off to a moan, and you nod.

“Goddamn, baby. S’good. But what about this?” He flicks open the switchblade he keeps in his pocket.

You jerk and whine, eyes wide and wet as he brings it to your breast. Your breathing falls shallow as you try to hold still, the point scraping the delicate skin as he circles it. But the look you’re giving him almost has him cumming in his pants like he were twenty years younger.

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding. I mean, you’ve gotta have limits; everyone does. But you just want me to hurt you, huh?” He digs the tip of the blade in a little on the side of your breast, cock throbbing as you gasp, and you both watch a tiny drop of blood bead and trickle down the blade.

He puts it away. “No,” he says when you whimper. “Not today. I ain’t prepared for all that.”

Joel doesn’t like to break his toys. Not permanently. Just enough that he can put them back together how he likes and then do it all over again.

“Don’t need to be prepared; just do it,” you whine.

He slaps you again and wrenches your head up with a hand in your hair. “First of all, I fuckin’ told you no. Second, I know you want to be a stupid little cunt for me, but I’m not about to cut you open without any goddamn first aid shit.”

He leans back and smacks the breast he had cut. He hits you over and over, alternating sides, until your chest burns, and you’re sobbing.

He looks you over briefly and then shoves his hand between your thighs. “You’re wetter than a slip ‘n slide, baby.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, and wipes the tears from your cheek with his thumb. He feels your cunt twitch when he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean.

It’s the last straw for him. He’s not opened you enough, but he has a feeling you’ll like it better this way anyway.

You cry out, back arching when he shoves into you. He meant to go slow, he really did, if only to drag out the anticipation. But you’re so warm. So wet. So he just stuffs himself inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t believe you love the pain; it’s just that he can’t resist feeling the evidence for himself. He slaps you across the face while you’re still processing his cock, and the resulting clench and jerk of your body drag a moan from him.

He holds back, regulates his urge to pull each whimper and scream from you, but it’s still so fucking good. It’s been a long time since he’s doled out real cruelty to a slut like you who loves to suffer.

When he finally lets you cum, it’s when he’s about to. He pulls out and spanks your cunt, granting his permission. As your pussy flutters desperately around nothing, he cums on it, watching the way it gets prettier as he paints it.

You black out for a minute. When you come to, he’s wiping you down gently with a warm washcloth, wicking the sweat off your face and chest before cleaning his cum from your curls. You whimper, and he grins, leaning over to steal a kiss.

Even after that first night, he goes slow. He can’t scare ya, not while you still have someplace to run. Plus, it’s so much easier if he starts planting the seeds for your training now.

He knows you’ll beg for it, anyway. He’s been getting the nastiest text messages from you. Part of it is the dopamine; he’s not stupid. But part of you really wants this shit. And the rest? Well. You’ll get there.

It’s the little things. He orders you a black decaf at the drive-thru when you ask for a latte. You start to correct him, like you think he’s made a mistake, but he gives you a look, and you shut your mouth immediately.

When he pulls away from the speaker, you look over at him again. “Sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry…?”

You squirm a little, heart pounding, unsure if he’s really doing this at the Dunkin’ Donuts. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles and rubs his hand on your thigh where it peeks out from your skirt. “Thanks, baby.”

And that’s all it takes. You take the cup when he hands it to you and you’re quick to say, “Thank you, sir,” even though the kid at the window is still passing things through to Joel and can clearly hear you.

     -fissured

It goes on like that for a couple of months, but it doesn’t all go so smoothly. One night, he picks you up from work and takes you to a restaurant, saying he wants to treat you. Halfway through the meal, he asks for your panties.

“What?” you say, shocked at his vulgar language in the dining room.

“Take ‘em off and hand ‘em to me.”

You go to stand, probably thinking you can go to the bathroom to obey.

He shakes his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Right here, right now, baby.”

“Joel,” you hiss, sitting back down, “I can’t do that.”

He fixes you with a calm smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, raising one finger in the air. “I’ll give ya three choices. The first one, the one I’m going to advise you pick, is that you do it right now, and I’ll only punish ya for talkin’ back.”

“The second one,” he holds up another finger for emphasis, “is you can go to the bathroom to take ‘em off, but you’re gonna pay for it when we get home. The third one is where you don’t listen, we leave right now, and you learn to fuckin’ regret it.”

Your breathing is shallow, and your pretty eyes are shining. If he wasn’t fully hard before, he is now.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper. “Please, sir.”

“You got about thirty seconds to make up your mind.” The softness is gone—from his voice, from his face, from the set of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you whisper, and you stand up. You’re only in the bathroom for a minute, and when you sit back down, you try to hand them to him under the table.

“Nah, that was only a choice if you were good,” he says, smirking and laying his expectant hand on the white linens.

Mortified, you ball them up tight in your fist and press them into his hand. He slides them into his pants pocket.

He doesn’t say anything else about it for the rest of dinner, asking instead about your projects at work and your visit with your parents over the holidays. You feel sick, barely eating a thing, and biting your lip to stave off the tears.

As soon as you’re in the truck, you start to cry. “I’m sorry, I was just scared and—”

“Shut up. You made your choice. You’re not sorry. You’re just afraid of the consequences.”

“N-no, I am sorry, I mean it.”

“You’re gonna have to prove it.” He doesn’t look at you on the drive home, doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t even turn the radio on; just listens to you sniffle.

When he parks, he sets his hand on your thigh. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you can be my good girl. All you gotta do is take your punishment and learn from it, okay?”

You sniffle again and nod, blinking through tear-laden lashes at him.

“So pretty when you cry for me,” he murmurs. He gets out and comes around to open your door, offering a hand to help you step down from the tall truck. You take it, and he holds on, leading you inside his house.

He sits sprawled on the couch, thighs parted wide to make room and waits until you’re comfortably kneeling between his legs. You’re sat in silence, head bowed, arms folded behind your back.

“Tell me what you did wrong today.”

This is a first, but not a last. Even on days when nothing egregious has happened, you will follow this ritual. He’ll ask for your sins, and you’ll confess. There will always be something you’ll owe him for.

“I argued when you gave me orders. I was disobedient.”

“Anything else I need to know about, baby?”

“No, sir.”

“Why’d you argue?”

“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Save your grovelin’ for after, baby. Why were you afraid?”

“I didn’t want people to see. I didn’t want to get kicked out or arrested.”

“You think I’d let anything happen to you? You think I would have given you an order that put either of us at any kinda risk?”

Your face burns. “I—”

“I thought you trusted me.” He sounds hurt, and you’re a little nauseous when you look up to see his eyes wide and sad, lips turned into a wounded scowl.

Your shoulders slump. “I didn’t think. I panicked.”

“Hmm. Okay, I can work with that.”

You look up at him, brow scrunched and lips pouting as you try to parse his words.

He smiles. It’s cold, and his eyes are steel.

You swallow hard, and his grin widens, quirking into a smirk.

“Alright, baby. I got just the thing.”

He leads you into the ensuite. You kneel on the little rug by the tub while he fills it. You’re too afraid to ask what’s happening, so you just sit quietly. He leaves the room and doesn’t come back until the tub is nearly full, and you’re starting to worry that you were supposed to be monitoring it.

He comes back in, and once it’s nearing the lip of the tub, he turns off the faucet. He has you kneel on the top of the three steps leading up to the edge. It’s the most luxurious thing in this house, and you suspect he installed it custom so he could soak his aching muscles.

He bends you over the edge so you’re leaning close to the water and crouches down behind you. It’s a pleasant surprise when he spreads you wide and licks from your clit to your asshole.

He stays there for a few minutes, indulging in your wet cunt and the cries it draws from your lips. After he’s had his fill, he stands up and lubes up his cock before pushing his way into your ass. He’s generous with the lube but rarely preps you, since you both like it better when it hurts.

You’re writhing a little beneath him, wriggling your hips to try to ease the passage. Once he’s fully seated inside you, he grabs the back of your head and shoves it under the water before fucking hard into you.

You thrash, displacing water from the tub, until he yanks you back up.

You gasp for air and scrabble to get a grip on the wet tile, but he pushes you back down and groans at how tight you get while you’re struggling.

He pulls you roughly back up. “Gonna keep going until you stop makin’ a fuss.”

You go to protest, to panic, and he pushes you back down.

The next time he pulls you out, he spanks you until your skin is burning. “Fuckin’ trust me. You think I’m gonna let you drown?”

“No, sir,” you cry, but it’s garbled as he pushes you back down. You’re still fighting him each time.

He pulls you back out and repeats the beating. “Relax, or we’re gonna be here all night.”

He continues the process a few more times and then gives you a reprieve, letting go of your hair so you can rest your cheek against the cold edge of the tub while he pounds into you. He reaches and rubs featherlight circles around your clit until you’re softly moaning.

“You gonna trust me?”

“I’m trying, my body panics,” you pant.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to ya. You hear me? You know you’re panicking, so focus on me instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

It shouldn’t make sense, but you think he’s long warped your brain anyway. The next time he pushes you underwater, you clench your fists tight and focus on what oxygen you do have, even if he knocks a little out with each thrust.

His hand in your hair is your anchor and buoy. You tense when you feel your body start to jerk, trying so hard to control it.

He pulls you up. “Just like that, baby. Again.”

It gets just a little easier each time. He leaves you under longer, until your lungs are burning, and you’re on the edge of gasping in water, but he pulls you out in time.

“Fuck, you’re doing so well.” He’s a little fascinated. He hadn’t really been sure it could be done or if your survival instincts would go into a frenzy. But here you are, letting him almost fucking drown you.

Not that he would.

Despite being balls deep in your tight little asshole, he isn’t trying to reach his orgasm. Not yet, staving off his pleasure so he can keep a clear head.

He keeps it up just a little longer. You’re getting tired and tolerating less and less time underwater. The last time he pulls you up, he pinches your clit and tells you to cum while he fills you.

He dunks you again while you cum, and you clamp down on him tighter than you have before, convulsing on his cock. When he pulls you back up, you’re gasping and sobbing. He pulls out and wraps you in a towel, easing you to the wet floor while he cleans up.

When he comes back to you, he helps you stand and dry off, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“So?”

Your brow furrows. It’s not what he usually asks after a punishment, but you think you know what he means. “I’m sorry. I trust you, I promise.”

“I know. M’so proud of you for taking that. You’re turning out so nicely, sweet thing.”

In the morning, you’re almost late to work after sucking him off when you should have been getting dressed. He’s about to walk out the door to head to the site when he hears your frustrated voice from the bedroom.

“Joel, where are my underwear? I need to fuckin’ leave.”

“I told you, baby. There was a price to pay when you picked the bathroom. Y’ain’t wearing ‘em anymore.”

“What?”

He doesn’t need to see you to smirk at the shocked expression he knows is on your face. “We’ll talk about it more tonight; I gotta run.”

     -avulsed

“Y’know, baby,” Joel says, leaning forward to rub your shoulder. “They just don’t fuckin’ appreciate you.”

You’re bent over, elbows on your knees, crying with your face buried in your hands. You sit up and sniffle, wiping the tears. “It’s fine; it’s not like I need to be coddled at work.”

All the stress of the PR world is getting to you, and you hate it, you fucking hate it, but you dropped 50k on a degree, so now you’re stuck.

“But they make you work all this overtime, cut your team in half, and then berate you when you can’t meet the client’s deadline? You do not deserve that, baby.”

You let him coax you into his lap, facing him so you can bury your face in his soft, worn tee. He rubs your back and holds your head to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” you mumble.

“Nah, darlin’, I’ve told ya a thousand times. You deserve to be taken care of.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I, well. I was thinkin’...”

You wait, but when he doesn’t pick back up, you sit up and look at him.

“I dunno. It’s nothin’,” he says.

“Please tell me?”

“Alright, fine. Now, I don’t want ya to feel any pressure. It’s just a thought. But maybe you should just quit and stay with me a while, ‘till you can find something better?”

You can’t tell if he’s joking. He must see something on your face, because he tips your chin up so you’re looking into his eyes.

“I know it’s sudden, but I mean it. Let me take care of ya while you figure shit out. We don’t gotta treat it like living together if y’ain’t ready. But I’d be open to that conversation, too.”

It doesn’t take much more than that. The first couple weeks, he lets you give it a try—searching for new degree programs, applying for jobs you know you’re overqualified for just to try something different.

After nothing pans out, he suggests you both take a week off. Him from work and you from the burden of trying to escape unemployment. Just relax, like a little staycation.

It’s bliss. You go on dates, eat pizza and marathon the “Jurassic Park” movies, and fuck like crazy.

On the third night, he sits you down. On his cock, of course. While you’re bouncing and brainless, he cups your cheek. “Baby, you’ve been too damn stressed still. What if we… well, what if we tried out a day or two like we’ve been talking about?”

Sometimes, you whisper to him in the darkness, usually while he’s balls deep, how you wish you could be his all the time. His good girl. His pet. And he whispers back, lures you right in with promises of taking care of everything, of you not having a worry or care in the world. Just him.

Now, he fondles your tits while he murmurs to you. “We can just wake up together, and I can take care of ya. Everything you need, baby. All you’d have to do is be good for me, yeah?”

You moan and grind down harder on his cock. “Please, sir. I want it more than anything. Just to be yours.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

Joel had no patience for brats, so he usually broke his toys in sooner into the training process. He liked ‘em nice and obedient—scared, if that’s what it took, but devoted. But you had been from the start—you wanted to be good in all the ways you could never seem to be to other people. Your family, your job, the world seemed to just demand more and more.

Joel was the first person to make you feel like you had actually, really, truly pleased him. There wasn’t a higher mark you should have made. There wasn’t any expectation for you to give more and more.

His orders were complete, always. You learned that very quickly. Attempts to go above and beyond were rebuked.

“If I wanted that, I woulda said so,” he told you. And like everything else, you committed his words to memory.

It helped that he gave praise freely. You didn’t have to wonder if he was satisfied, if you should have licked him differently, if you should have made prettier faces while you came. He reassured you until you believed him, and then kept going anyway.

It made it easier for him to slowly peel you away from the ungrateful world.

“You don’t have to take that,” he’d say after watching your face fall further and further while on the phone with your mom. “Family ain’t supposed to make you feel like shit.”

They made it too easy, really, and your relationship with them would have likely just fizzled out. But in the end, he had to step in and snap it off.

You asked him to come with you to dinner at their house. He was hesitant. He wasn’t really the boyfriend type. He wasn’t really even your boyfriend. That was too weird a word for either of you, not when he owned you.

But he knows you didn’t want to go alone, and he has a feeling he’ll be cleaning up the mess anyway.

You want to give them a chance. Things have been so tense, and they said they missed you. But they didn’t even make it through the entrée without ridiculing you.

When your father asks how work is going, you quietly confess to quitting, hastily reassuring them that you are looking for a new position. Though, and you keep this part to yourself, you maybe haven’t been trying that hard.

“What do you mean you quit? How are you paying your bills? You better not have come here to ask for money,” your father says, setting down his fork to glare at you.

“Well, I’ve been living with Joel,” you mumble to the tablecloth.

“I didn’t raise you to be a gold digger,” your mother chides.

Joel tries to bite his tongue and let them dig their own graves. But your father calls you a “fucking whore,” and he can’t stand it. Can’t stand the way you’re cowering in your chair, fighting back tears.

“You watch your mouth,” Joel snaps at your father.

You look up, mouth agape, eyes darting from Joel to your parents.

“Mind your business,” your dad tells him.

Joel stands up and throws his napkin on the table. “She is my fuckin’ business. I wouldn’t stand by and let anyone talk to her like that. You’re not an exception just because you managed to get it up long enough to cum in your wife.”

“Joel,” you whisper, tugging at his sleeve. You’re burning, melting on the spot, from the vulgar way he’s talking to them. For him, someone who’s always strict about manners and proper hospitality, to talk back like this? God, you think, he must really love you.

He puts a hand on the back of your neck and holds firmly as you lean into it. He rounds back on your parents. “You treat her like fuckin’ dirt beneath your feet, and I’m tired of it. You don’t deserve the fuckin’ dirt beneath her feet.”

He shoves his chair back and grabs your hand. “C’mon, baby; we’re leaving.”

You take it and stand up, letting him pull you along. Your father follows you into the foyer, and you try not to look at him while you shove your shoes on.

Joel holds your coat out while you slip into it, and you tune out whatever your dad is yelling now. You don’t want to hear it; you know it’s nasty, and your whole world has narrowed to Joel anyway.

He holds out the key. “Go wait in the truck, baby.”

And you do.

He comes out about five minutes later, red-faced and huffing with fury. He doesn’t say a word when he gets in; just throws the truck into reverse and pulls away. You both ignore the blood on his knuckles.

Once you’re on the road, he looks over at you and sighs. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

You unbuckle and slide over to the middle seat, tucking your hand between his warm body to curl around his arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Whaddya sorry for? None of that was your fault.” He kisses the top of your head and cups your cheek at the stoplight. “It was gonna happen eventually, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

The rest of the ride home is silent while you breathe in his comforting musk and try to relax. But the tension is unrelenting, the horrible rotting feeling eating away at your spine.

He knows. Knows what you need, knows what he can do to seal this moment forever. He waits until he’s unzipping the pretty little cocktail dress you’d stressed over.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, breaking away from where he was sucking his claim down your neck to swap out your delicate necklace with his collar.

He unhooks the bra and kisses the marks he left behind with the cane, your penance for being allowed to wear it. It leaves you bare to him, and his hands turn greedy. He presses biting kisses against your lips while digging fingers into your bruises, swallowing your whimpers.

He grabs you by the neck and squeezes the sides of your throat, holding you to him while your vision blurs. When he lets go, you stumble, but his arm around your back holds you upright. He slaps your face with quick, sharp blows in rapid succession to keep you unsteady.

“Knees, hands behind your head,” he says, and lets go.

You fall but are quick to right yourself and take the position. He wastes no time, giving you another harsh smack before grabbing your hair and shoving his cock into your throat.

You choke and gag but keep your hands in place even as your head spins. You feel limp and grateful that he doesn’t seem to require any effort from you as he uses you without mercy.

“Look at you. You’ve got my whole cock down your throat. You’re so fuckin’ good for me.”

Your eyes are already glazed over, and you moan your appreciation around him.

He pulls out and hauls you to your feet. “I know what you need, sweetheart. Get your ass downstairs.”

He fucks you, beats you, uses you wherever he wants. But the basement is where he keeps the heavy equipment and where you know you’re about to have your mind and body pushed to the absolute limit.

You’re ready, he thinks, when he gets down and finds you waiting perfectly in place for him, eyes wide like he’s descended from on high. He jerks a thumb to the wooden post, and you meet him there.

“Forget about what they want you to be,” he murmurs as he closes the steel cuffs around your ankles. “You know what you want, baby. Right?”

“Mhm,” you nod, already slipping away into that safe place only Joel can get you to.

“What do you want to be?” he asks, binding your arms up over your head to the eye bolt at the top of the post.

“Yours.” It’s half-whisper, half-whine.

“Yeah? You just wanna be mine? You don’t want to get a new job?”

“No,” you finally confess. “But—”

“But what, baby? If you say somethin’ about money or bills, I’m gonna be mighty unhappy.”

You bite your lip. “I’m scared one day, you’ll wake up and not want me anymore.”

“That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said, sweetheart. You think I put all this work into helpin’ you, into teaching you how to be mine, just to toss ya out? You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

He slides a silicone cock into the bracket lined right up with your mouth. It’s a fairly standard size, since he knows you’re going to thrash around and doesn’t want you gagging too much and throwing up.

Your torso gets tied to the post by your tits, the wood nestled between them and rope woven around. Securing you there forces your head onto the toy, but he doesn’t make you take it all the way. You keep your mouth open and don’t move closer or further, waiting for his command.

“Suck on it whenever you’d like. You’re going to need it.”

Your eyes roll back a little at his promise. If he thinks you’re going to need something in your mouth to self-soothe, you’re in for an absolutely amazing time.

“Focus on me. That’s all you’ll need to do from now on, baby. No more worries in that pretty little head, okay?”

The first strike is a warm-up. When you feel the lash of his favorite whip lick your ass, you moan. It’s a moderately short signal whip that he wields like a fucking pro. His warmups are quick but thorough, and you’re squirming when he moves on to your thighs and shoulders.

“Already?” he says, laughing when you whine around the silicone cock.

You’re absentmindedly sucking on it when he starts a harsher assault. A particularly sharp strike stings at the valley where your ass meets your thighs, and you yelp, jerking a little and gagging yourself on the dildo.

His smirk burns into your back as the cry melts into a moan, and you writhe a little, trying to get friction where you need it most. What you get, though, is the tip of the whip against your cunt.

By the time he moves around to your tits, they’re covered in spit, heaving with the effort of holding back your orgasm. He comes up to you first, and pinches at your nipples.

“Aw, does my dumb little cunt want to cum?” He croons, tugging and twisting until you moan. He laughs when all you can get out is a muffled “mhm.”

“Tell ya what. You can cum all you want while I hurt you tonight, okay?”

He punctuates it with a particularly cruel pinch, and that, combined with his permission, is all you need to let the pleasure shudder through you.

“Yeah? You gonna get off to being my little toy? Gonna let me do whatever I want?”

You moan around the fake cock, easing it further into your throat.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He doesn’t give a warm-up on your tits, figuring you’re already so far gone it doesn’t fuckin’ matter.

He’s right. The first lash is harsh, a welt blooming across the top of your breast in its wake, but you groan, trying to press your cunt up against the post for any relief.

You don’t need it, though. He brings you to your peak again with the skilled flick of his wrist, landing blows across the fat of your breasts. He waits until you’re mid-orgasm to bring the whip hard across your nipples.

The resulting wail almost makes him cum in his pants. He does it only twice more, relishing in your agony, but restraining himself from just letting loose. Not with the whip, as much as he’d like to. Maybe later with a flogger.

Once he’s taken it as far as he’s willing to risk, he moves back around to give the rest of you the same treatment. The hardest hits push you over the edge, and by the time his arm is getting tired, you’re sobbing and writhing in your restraints, overstimulated in every way.

He unlatches your ankles first, helping you find steady footing before untying your wrists and torso. You drop to your knees and open your mouth, throat aching for his cock after the tease of the toy.

He doesn’t have the willpower to torment you by denying it tonight. Instead, he nearly pops the button off his jeans in his urgency to pull his cock out and shove it as far down your throat as he can.

Your arms find their place behind your back, and you just take it. He fucks into you without restraint. It’s filthy, from the mess you’re making to the wet choking sounds he pushes out of you with each thrust.

You’re shaking, and he pulls out abruptly.

“I said while I’m hurting you. You don’t get to just cum from getting facefucked.”

“Then hurt me, please,” you sob. It’s right there; you’re so close.

He slaps you across the face and laughs as you cum, shoving back into your throat while you’re still riding out the aftershocks.

He pulls back out, and you whine until he yanks you up by the bicep and pushes you over to the padded bench, bending you over it and shoving into your sopping cunt.

“Still disappointed?” he teases.

“N-no,” you pant. “Please hurt me.”

“Beg me properly, greedy little cunt.”

You clench around him just at the words, but obey. “Please, sir, please hurt me so I can cum. Please.”

“I’ve been hurtin’ you all night, baby,” he says, voice thick with false pity. “Don’t you want me to be gentle with you now?” He can feel how hard you’re trying not to cum as he mocks you.

“No,” you sob. “No, love me, hurt me, please.”

It’s got an edge of desperation and heartbreak to it that he just loves.

He smacks your already bruising ass until you sob harder, shaking uncontrollably as you cum. He wraps his hands around your throat and fucks you through it until he cums, hips stuttering, and filling your cunt with his spend.

He lets himself collapse a little on top of you, pinning you with his weight against the bench with his softening cock still buried in you. “Feel loved now?”

You’re still crying, and when he folds his arms around your chest, elbows resting on the table, you cling to him. “Love you,” you murmur over and over, pressing kisses up and down his forearms.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and sucking at you. “I know, baby. You know I love ya.” He’s half-hard—not something that happens a lot anymore at his age, so he’s not gonna waste it. He pulls out just to manhandle you up onto the bench on your back, climbing up between your legs and shoving back in.

It’s a little sloppy until he’s fully hard again; your combined cream making things a little too slippery. Once he’s erect, though, he sets a punishing pace, folding you in half with your legs up by your ears. He works your clit with his hand, relishing in the way you’re fucking exhausted and overstimulated, but your poor clit’s been neglected. It means he can twist and pull on it, tugging until you give him more and more, until you’re sobbing for mercy that you know you’ll never get.

He doesn’t ease up until he pulls out to cum over your tits and face.

“Mine,” he snarls, shoving his fingers into your swollen cunt and feeding you what’s left of his first orgasm and your… well, he’s not really sure how many. A fuckin’ lot. “You’re all mine. Little fuckin’ toy to do whatever I want, right?”

You’re still gasping for breath, having been half-suffocated in that position, but when you look at him, it’s like he’s a fucking god. “Yes, sir.”

     -broken

The day had started out fine.

He’d laid out a dress for you to wear. Sometimes, he made you go around bare for a while, just to fuck with your head a little, but he prefers to unwrap you like a present.

Plus, the sight of you crawling around in nothing but a slutty, barely-there dress is picture-fuckin’-perfect. He’d know; he’s got a bunch of ‘em on his phone.

And crawl, you do. You haven’t been allowed to walk further than a couple of feet in a long time. There’s penance to be paid if you can’t avoid it.

Joel collects your penance whenever possible, gathering what’s owed for your sins and dealing out forgiveness when it's settled. It’s how he shows his love.

And he does love you. How could he not? Such a perfect little toy. He’s spent so much time training you right to be his prized possession.

He knew it’d happen eventually, so when you commit one of the worst offenses, he has to make it count. You were testing your limits, of course; he had expected it. He had expected it months ago. It was worse now, after you’d been so good and earned so much trust. But now that you’d been nothing but his for two months, you had finally fucked up.

Your punishments were never painful. Okay, they weren’t pain-focused. Sometimes, he had to put you over his knee to let his frustration out before he could give you a proper punishment. But the pain wasn’t the point—you both liked it too damn much. No matter how much farther he took it than a regular session, and no matter how sick you were with guilt, you were always a soaking wet mess after a beating.

This time would have to be different, though.

It was time to finally break you.

He knew as soon as he got home. Not the particulars, but that you’d made a huge mistake.

On the surface, nothing was amiss. You were knelt by the door in your pretty little dress, a short number in navy blue. You had your head down and arms folded behind your back in perfect posture.

But something was off. It didn’t feel like you were happy he was home. And he was pretty sure there would only be one reason for that.

He hung up his keys but didn’t bother to take off his shoes, coming to stand in front of you. “What’d you do?”

You flinch and have to re-tense to hold the position as a sob escapes you. Your hands are balled into fists to fight the urge to cover your face. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were sorry. I asked what you did.”

If it were still the early days, when this shit usually happened, he might have been just a little softer. At least until he coaxed the confession from you, anyway. But you were in too deep, now, too entangled in this life that he had little patience for your reticence.

“I—”

“I recommend you spit it out. You’ll tell me in the end, anyway.”

You start to cry. “I can’t say it.”

“You better figure it out pretty fuckin’ fast, little girl.”

“I had an orgasm,” you blurt, whimpers escalating to sobs.

He pauses. It’s worse than he thought. The rush of disappointment and anger sends his heart racing, and his fingers flex in longing for a cane.

“Did you enjoy it?” he says.

It catches you off guard. “No, I promise.”

“That’s too bad, ‘cause it’s the last one you’re gonna have for a while.”

You aren’t surprised; you’re actually relieved. Of course, of course he’ll fix you.

He finally takes his shoes off and sets his phone on the counter, beckoning you to follow him to the living room. Taking his seat on the couch, he waits until you’re settled at his feet.

“Why’d you do that, baby?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. I was edging for the last time today, and I don’t know what happened. It was just there, and I knew it, I knew it was coming, and I—” You choke on the guilt, the grief.

“You what?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t convince myself to stop. I kept thinking ‘no, you stupid cunt,’ but I couldn’t pull my hand away.”

He regards you for a moment. He’s burning inside, but trying to calculate the most effective approach.

“Thank you for telling me right away,” he says, but even though he means it, the words are cold and clipped. “Which hand?”

You look at him, eyes wide and brows furrowed. “What?”

“Which hand did you use? Give it to me.”

You lift up your right hand, and he cradles it in his.

“Listen close.” He waits until he’s sure you’re focused on him, on his words.

This is where things have fallen apart in the past. No amount of training and manipulation can get someone across this hurdle; they have to mean it. The last thing he wants is someone running to the police because they don’t fucking understand how serious he is.

“This is going to be your last chance to back out. I will stop right now and let you pack your shit and leave. But if you stay, you’re agreeing to anything I do to you past this point.”

You bite your lip, stomach churning. “You’re scaring me,” you whisper.

“Good. You should be scared. What you’ve done is one of the worst things you could have. That’s got some serious consequences, baby.”

“What’re you going to do?”

“I gotta hurt you. Bad. Y’ain’t going to like this; I can promise you that. I can’t punish your cunt because you’re such a stupid pain slut; anything short of permanent damage is gonna make you wet. And I’m not lookin’ to do permanent damage.”

Your lip trembles, heart pounding. You’ve never been so afraid, but you’re also enthralled. Lured in by the timbre of his voice and the salvation it’s promising.

He squeezes your hand where he’s still holding onto you. “I’m going to break one of your fingers.”

Your heart falters, blood rushing. “Oh god,” you whisper, shaking your head. Instinctively, you tug back on your hand, but he grasps it tight, tight enough that you feel the bones grind under his large fingers.

“It’s up to you. That’s half the price for forgiveness. The rest is gonna be spending the night alone.”

Somehow, that sounds worse. You can’t breathe.

“Gotta choose, baby. You wanna go? I’ll pay for a cab. You can walk away, but you can’t ever come back.”

You think you might be drowning. Leave? How could you leave? There’s no debate in your head; you have nothing without Joel. Nowhere to go, no one to turn to. And the idea of losing him feels catastrophic.

You’re crying again, and you’re vaguely aware of his soothing voice trying to coach you through breathing. When you focus on him, just like he’s taught you, you start to calm down.

It’s Joel, you think. He’ll take care of you. And he said he didn’t want permanent damage. You just have to suffer for your betrayal and he’ll forgive you.

“I think I might throw up,” you warn him.

He sighs, the fear of losing you flooding away, taking some of his anger with it. “We’ll do it in the bathroom.”

He stands up, and you follow, albeit slowly, as the wave of nausea rises. You do throw up as soon as you get in the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. He holds your hair and rubs his hand across your shoulder blades.

“It’s okay, baby, get it out of your system. You’re being so brave for me,” he croons. He helps you up to sit on the edge of the tub and gets you a little cup of mouthwash.

“I’ll help you brush your teeth after,” he promises. “I’d do it now, but, well. You’re probably going to puke again.”

When you’re done swishing the mouthwash, when it’s all turned to foam and you’ve spit it back in the cup, he swaps you for water. You rinse and spit that, too.

He’s laid a few things out on the counter. You feel dizzy all over again. Something tells you the comfort you feel is wrong, but he’s prepared an ice pack and medical tape, and has four little ibuprofen out next to another cup of water.

The other, louder part of you is whispering, see? He’ll take care of you. The act of wondering what’s wrong with you feels like a farce. You’re thinking it because you think you should, just going through the motions.

He takes off his belt and brings it to your mouth. You clench it between your teeth, letting a shaky breath through. His hand cups your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“I knew you were somethin’ special,” he whispers. You’re not sure he meant to.

Your whole body is shaking uncontrollably. He watches you for a moment, worried you’re going to faint, and then sits on the floor with his back against the tub, pulling you into his lap. He lays you back against his chest, caging you in with his arms and thighs. The ice pack sits to his right, already popped and frozen. Waiting.

Gently, he lifts your hand and brings it in front of your chest, taking it in his left. It’s a macabre mockery, the way he cradles it in his palm, fingers wrapped around the sides. In his right hand, he notches his thumb on the knuckle of your middle finger, bringing the other fingers in below it.

He doesn’t drag it out, doesn’t take pleasure in your terror. When he moves, it’s faster than a gunshot. Your scream is raw, breaking free from the spaces between your teeth and the belt. The taste of leather will remind you of this moment for the rest of your life.

He has the ice pack on it before you mentally register that it’s over. You’re sobbing. Horribly, he’s right, and you are sick again. He holds your hair in one fist, holding the ice pack to your mangled hand in the other.

When you’re done, he pulls you back against him, wrapping his limbs around you in a perverse embrace as you shake harder. With his free hand, he brings a damp, cool cloth to your face, cleaning you of the viscera of your sickness.

He’s shushing you, head bent close to your ear. “It’s alright, baby, it’s over. You did so good. I’m so proud. I love you so much.”

It’s good that he doesn’t expect an answer because he doesn’t get one. You’re too lost in the pain and shock.

When it’s time to take a break from the ice, he grabs the medical tape and wraps it around your index and middle fingers. You cry out again as he jostles the break. Once he’s splinted it, he lowers your hand gently to your lap so he can grab the medicine.

“I can’t; I’ll throw up again,” you say, voice cracking.

“Don’t have a choice, baby. Gotta keep the swelling down.”

He feeds you each pill, one by one, chasing them with sips of water.

You look so sad and precious that he almost feels bad. Unfortunately, he’s also rock fucking hard, so he shifts you a little to pull his dick out.

You don’t say anything when he lifts you to lower you on it. He’s careful, trying not to shake you around too much. He was right; you didn’t enjoy this pain. You’ve never been this dry for him before, and you whimper pathetically at the pinch and sting of his girth.

You may be worn out and in agony, but your cunt doesn’t get the message. He grins when he feels you getting wet and clenching around him. He doesn’t push it though, doesn’t torment you, just fucks up into you gently until he fills you.

You’re limp against him now, and he presses a kiss into your hair. “You may have to walk for a bit,” he muses. “But I’ll cap your penance at ten.”

You wince. Ten strokes with the cane on the soles of your feet every day until your finger heals? You usually only owe enough for two or three. It is a mercy, though, so you nod and thank him.

Joel can hardly contain the way his chest is flooding with warmth. You’re so close; he can feel it. So close to being completely his to put together just the way he likes.

He can’t wait to take you to The Pit.

     -kintsugi

You’re cold. So cold. You’re curled in on yourself, tucked into a corner in the hopes that you’d be able to keep warmer. Your whole right hand throbs.

Moonlight only cuts across the corner, but it’s a comfort still. The soil is loose and you keep shuddering, feeling the tickle of a dozen phantom insects.

Worst of all, your chest aches, like he may as well have hewn you open. Dry sobs work their way free every now and then, leaving your mouth tacky and your throat full of cotton.

The only rest you get is when you blessedly pass out. Every time you close your eyes voluntarily, you see the heartbroken look on his face when you begged him not to leave you there.

“I wish I didn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t broken my trust and I could keep you close, baby. But you’re never going to learn how to be good if I don’t show ya.”

Bad, I’m bad, he doesn’t want me anymore, you think to no end.

When the sun starts to rise, you’re limp, still in your corner. You barely turn your head when a shadow falls over The Pit, but your heart starts to pound when the lock clicks, and Joel raises the gate.

“Oh, baby,” he says, soft and sorrowful. “C’mere.” He reaches out a hand, and you scramble to him, letting him take your left arm in his grasp and pull you out. You move immediately to your knees, body bent forward as your knotted muscles protest. He scoots his boot out of the danger zone near your broken finger.

You keep whispering, a broken record of “Sorry, please, I’m so sorry.”

He picks you up and holds you to his chest, shushing until you fall quiet. It doesn’t take longer than a few seconds as your brain desperately clings to any scrap, any way you can be good for him.

He brushes the loose dirt from you before going inside and upstairs to the ensuite. He sets you on the little rug next to the full garden tub, and he tests the water with his fingers before peeling his clothes off.

You flex your left hand, balling it in and out of a fist. You’ve never been particularly ambidextrous and wonder how you’re going to wash him without falling in or hurting your hand.

Before he gets in, he feeds you four more little red pills. Once he’s settled, he reaches out and guides you carefully by the waist, pulling you into his lap in the warm water.

That’s all it takes for you to start crying again. He doesn’t try to quiet you; just holds you there against his chest and lets you sob.

By the time you’ve calmed, the water has cooled, but instead of getting out, he just drains a little and runs more hot water.

Joel tips your chin up gently with the knuckle of his index finger. “You ready to be my good girl again?”

You nod, lip trembling.

Joel does nothing you hadn’t asked for. The trouble for you was that you asked for too much. Gave him too much. And it was far too late to get any of it back.

He gave what he could, though. Couldn’t replace what he’d taken, so he pours himself in the cracks, puts you back together with a firm hand and loving care. Sure, his love doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but he knows you see it for what it is.

“I know, baby. You took that all so well. Don’t worry,” he pauses to kiss you, “I forgive you. My perfect little toy.”

pls be nice, I'm so nervous about this.

[asocialangel]

a polaroid love

For Christmas, Isagi got a polaroid, and you best believe all his 10 polas would be of you, his muse.

smut – 4k words🧍. Isagi x fem!reader

DO NOT READ IN PUBLIC unless you’re a brave soul wwww. Mentions of sex, slight chocking, p in v, cum.... yadayada. Characters obvi aged up.

inspired by someone here on tumblr ! Who's user i forgot so if you know pleassssse tell me !! Their fic was something along the lines of: where the bllk boys would keep their dirty polaroids. I feel so stupid for not finding it again... Anyway enjoy my first long fic ! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

ꕥ

For christmas, Isagi got a polaroid with 10 pictures to take. He did not ask for that, neither had he ever thought about getting one, let alone actually using it. But he figured, now that it’s here, might as well make a good use out of it. 

His muse was obviously the one and only you. It wasn’t necessarily his intention, but his first and last pictures would be of you. At first he asked you when to take pictures, if you considered they would be worthwhile. Over time, he had his own sense of photographic art. The very first one was his idea though. 

1rst pola: a picture of you two. 

When he got it, he instantly said that the first picture he wanted was one of the two of you, to put in his phone case. Therefore the first picture ever printed was you two hugging in front of the christmas tree. You’re looking at the camera, smiling, his hand on your waist, your head nuzzled in his neck. You were wearing matching christmas sweaters if it matters, yours red, his green. He had asked Hiori, who gifted him the polaroid, to take the picture and choose the settings. And it turned out perfect ! Not over exposed, centered. Isagi was so happy with the results… As promised, he instantly put it in his clear phone case, hiding the dollar bill that was already there. It’s a happy memory you are glad has been immortalized. 

2nd pola: you at a café

His second picture was at a café, not much after the first pola. He had almost forgotten the existence of his camera, until he saw it sitting on his shelf and thought your upcoming coffee date was a great time to take a pic. He quickly put it in his bag and carried on. When you were finally seated he asked you to pose and ! Flash and all, the picture was getting printed. It came out a bit too bright ‘cause he didn’t master the settings yet, but he was happy nonetheless. “Pretty for my first polaroid, isn't it?” “Your model did all the work”, you answered, kittenish. 

3rd pola: you fixing your hair

For his third polaroid, Isagi had decided he wanted to have a candid moment, not a perfected pose. So when he saw you getting ready to go to run errands, he thought “this is the typa moments i want to capture, my lovely day-to-day”. He turned the polaroid on and sneakily took a picture of you fixing your hair in front of the mirror. The flash surprised you so much, you turned around and couldn’t help but to smile at his contented face. To be fair, the picture turned out great. The yellow bathroom light almost gave it a retro vibe. and the composition, for something that was taken so fast, was surprisingly good. Had it been digital, it definitely would have become your insta profile picture. 

4rth pola: you at the beach

The fourth film was used at the sea. You and your boyfriend were on a beach vacation. That definitely was a good place for pictures, had he thought. In the suitcase it went. Isagi was definitely not the type of guy to “save things for the perfect moment, a moment that ultimately never came so you ended up never using said thing''. He was a firm believer in “use it as soon as you feel like it, or else it would end up unopened 5 years later when you are no longer interested in it”. So whenever he felt like taking a polaroid, he did it, not thinking about its price or anything else. Obviously, a vacation in a paradisaic landscape was the place he wanted to have physical memories of. As soon as you guys had arrived at the hotel, you put down your suitcases and stripped down to put your swimsuit on – a baby blue and white striped bikini – and ran to the sand. Isagi did the same, only taking his polaroid with him and a bit of cash cause he knew you would want ice cream. Just as he planned, you first ran up to the water, went in until your claves got wet, turned around, splashed him a bit, laughed at him and exited the water, until you saw the ice cream vendor with his cart, and looked at him with puppy eyes. You didn't even need to say a word, he was already holding your hand as you walked towards the man. You chose your always flavor, Isagi did the same. He had the routine memorized, so he knew the next step would be you tasting your ice cream and immediately asking to taste his before even finishing experiencing your own flavor. “Sure” he said as he brought his cone to your face. Just as it was close enough for you to lick (you were staring at him right in the eyes), he pushed it a little more, until it hit your nose leaving a bit of ice cream on it. You smiled really hard, til the corners of your mouth reached your ears. He stepped back, and clicked the perfect shot. Beautiful you in a beautiful outfit with a beautiful sea behind. And a cute moment. Maybe his favorite pola as of this far. 

5th pola: you flashing him at the supermarket

When the time came for him to take his 5th polaroid, half his shots, you wanted to make things more interesting. Isagi had been so sweet to you these days, especially during these beach vacations. He told you he wanted a more casual souvenir, one in a random place. So the local mini supermarket seemed perfect ! He told you to stand next to the soda bottles for a colorful background. So you did. But you were feeling a little mischievous and also wanted to give your lover a special gift. You were all reddish from the sun, your freckles stood out and your hair was curly from the salt. You looked effortlessly innocent, maybe that was why Isagi loved you so hard perhaps. Since you were coming back from the beach, you still had your tote bag on your shoulder, your mini shorts on, and sand on your knees. Oh and you weren't wearing anything under your shirt. So after making sure you were right where Isagi wanted you in the frame, you hit a pose. “Are you ready ? One, Two, Three !” Right as he said three, you shook your peace signs away to grab the bottom of your shirt and lift it up, showing your beautiful boobs to the entire supermarket. Luckily, it was empty and no one saw it. Clueless, Isagi put down his camera and waited for the film to come out. Perhaps from the small window thing on his camera, he hadn't seen what you did. So he was there, blissfully unaware, looking at the white yet undeveloped polaroid. “Okay, we can get moving now ! As always, the picture’s gonna show up in a few minutes so let’s buy what we have to buy”. Isagi started walking in front of you. As you guys grabbed snacks, you could see him peeping at the picture. Getting chips, he peeped. Getting fruit, he peeped, longer this time. Getting chocolates, he peeped and looked confused, bringing the pola closer to his face. While grabbing chewing gum at the cashier, you could see him getting redder and redder, though he didn't say a word. He quickly put it in his pocket, and asked for the total, stuttering. You could feel he was avoiding your eyes. So to tease him even more, you got up to him and grabbed his arm. You could feel how hot his face was, it was so cute. When you passed the automatic exit doors, he looked at you: “Y/N ! Why did you do that !” He wanted to sound mad but you knew he was just flustered. “Why, are they ugly ?” “No – don't say that ! They are way too beautiful, that’s the problem. I’m gonna cherish this pola, it will be mine and only mine to see”. You laughed and laid your head on his shoulders as you walked. “Don’t play tricks like this on me again, y/n…”

6th pola: a facial

The sixth pola was taken the same day as the fifth. I guess all these emotions had him excited. When you guys went back to your hotel room at the end of the day, you put down your stuff and headed straight for the shower (you hated the feeling of sand in your hair and salt on your skin). As you started singing a tune under the shower head, you heard the bathroom open, but you paid no mind to it as Isagi often entered to take random items and exited as if he was never there. So you continued singing “yeogi pale blue dot, ooh hoo ohh…” When you heard the door close, you sang a little louder as you tried to wash away the shampoo from your hair. But you soon heard the shower curtain wrinkle and water droplets fall on the rug. You barely started to turn around to see what was happening when you felt Isagi’s hand on your waist. His touch felt a bit slippery as you still had remains of foam on you. “What are you doi–” you giggled but he stopped you from finishing your sentence, interrupting you with a kiss. From there on everything went literally steamy, as you guys locked yourself up in the bathroom for quite some time, stopping all the vapor from ventatiling. It did not stop at a kiss, and when you guys finally decided to exit the bathroom, it was only to continue in the bedroom. You had your high quite a few times, so did he. It ended when he came on your face for one last time. You looked at him with lustful eyes, shiny from tears, cheeks flushed pink. You were so beautiful. So much so he wanted to remember your beauty forever. Without letting go of your throat –that he had been holding as hard as you liked– he turned around and grabbed the polaroid that you guys had thrown on the hotel carpet since you were in such a hurry to free up the bed. Because one hand of his was busy, he had to pull on the lens with his teeth, to turn the camera on. As soon as it was ready, he chose the right setting and flashed your eyes almost blind. He did it so swiftly you barely had time to realize it, let alone change poses. You still had your innocent expression on, face dazzled with his milky cum. He took the picture that was coming out and laid it on the bed. He finally unclenched his hand on your throat and with his thumb, rubbed off some of the cum you had on your nose to spread it on your pouty lips. You licked it off and finally smiled, like you regained your spirits. “Did it turn out great ?” “How couldn't it ? You’re so photogenic”. Once the pola had fully gotten his colors, he looked at him before showing you. You were lying in the bed sheets when you took it from his hands. Beautiful. Your big eyes, the eerie white flash on the white hotel sheets, his veined hand, your breasts with pointy nipples and obviously, Isagi’s artistic streaks all over your face. “Are you putting this one in your phone case, Isagi ?” “Want me to ?”. You chuckled. 

7th pola: your wet pussy 

I think at that point you guys had hit the point of no return. Every pola he’d take from now on would not end up in a family photo album. The 7th was taken back home. The vacation had ended and neither of you had wanted to take a pola, maybe nothing was memorable enough to take a pic. So the 7th one happened in your house actually, after a match. Isagi had played against a random nugu team, but somehow had made very beautiful plays. Maybe it was because you, for once, made the effort to go see him. To be fair Isagi was having a really bad season and you kept on taunting him about it. It’s understandable that you didn’t particularly want to see him barely run on the field. But that day you went because you had nothing better to do, and you guys arranged an at-home date, so it was easier if you went home together. You didn't warn him you were coming, you just parked your car and sat in the VIP lounge, close enough to the field he’d notice you fast. Damn had he been good for once in a hot while. He was very lively, made beautiful feints, and memorable goals. He was so attractive when he played… The way his muscles tensed up, how he constantly wiped his sweaty face with his jersey, revealing his abs… Yeah you were no better than a fangirl. Actually you were the fangirl. But to top it off, really tie the knot, something that, unbeknownst to him, physically made you wet… He got mad at other players. Ah, so embarrassing for you but how down bad you were for him shouting at his teammates, borderline pushing the opponents, cussing himself when he missed… You could feel your pussy throbbing all throughout the match, getting more flustered as he began bad mouthing more and more the opponents cause he was winning. When people tried to talk to you, you stuttered, afraid at the idea they could read your mind. Oh the things you were imagining right now. When the match finished, Isagi went directly to you, and changed moods like nothing happened (he was never mean to you like that, to your discontent…). “You came to see me, angel ?” “Yes I figured I’d spare my boyfriend some of my precious time”. You went and kissed him, tasting the salty sweat on his face. You loved him like that, but again, it was a secret. Your kiss was unusually passionate for just a ‘hello’ kiss. Isagi stepped back and looked down at you, chuckling. “Thank you for coming. Let’s go home ?” “Yeah”, you answered as he took your hand and walked to your car.

You were driving when you talked about the match. “I think I went overboard with the rudeness today on the field”. “You think ? I think it was okay. Plus it made them tense, so I guess it worked.” “Tense ? Wait, you could hear them too up where you were ?” “... No, I just, I’m just guessing”. You could feel your cheeks getting redder. “Soooo you know how I am on the field ? Why’d you never mention it ? This is so embarrassing for me y/n…” Isagi closed his eyes while you were pretending to be focused on the road to avoid looking at him. “No it’s not actually. I find it… sexy”. Your cheeks were now hot. “Sexy ?! What do you mean ?! I’m plain spiteful !” “Yeah… that’s kinda what I like. I thank you for not being like this with me cause I’d be constantly horny”. Big blank. Isagi paused as you turned left into your driveway. His mind was working double (So she knew about it ? But she likes it ? Does she like being disrespected or is it just me ? What does she mean horny, if I push her she’ll kiss me ? If I insult her she’ll moan ? What the flip ?) ((Yes I'm convinced Isagi genuinely says that)). You turned the car off, took your keys and opened the door. “Forget about it, I’ve said too much and lost my dignity ‘till the end of our relationship”. You look at the floor sheepishly. “Are you fucking crazy ? You’re so weird y/n !” Isagi looked at you, angry as he caught up to you. You didn't react and went for the door, but Isagi blocked you, putting himself between you and the lock. “Answer”, he forced your chin up with his hand, making you look him in the eyes. Finally you could see the playful spark in his eyes. You smiled. “Yes I’m ‘fuckin crazy’. Cause this is enough for me to want to take my shirt off”. “Damn that’s… crazy. I adore crazy. So when you said wet, you meant… wet ?” “I’m pretty sure I left my seat back there drenched”. Isagi finally let you unlock the door and as soon as you closed it behind you, he picked you up from the floor, taking you straight to the bedroom. “Let me see”. He threw you rather carelessly on the mattress, making you laugh at how everything turned out. He unbuttoned your jeans and took them off for you while you kept laughing. As he threw them on the floor you heard him fulfilled: “it IS true ! You’re so wet only from me ?” You hide your face with your hands, still giggling “I ammm”. As Isagi looked up to see your face, a wide smile on his face, he saw his pola sitting on his shelf. “I am so proud – wait let me show you !” He removed his hand from your inner thighs and stood over you, hands on the bed, stretching trying to reach his camera. When he grabbed it, he looked down and looked at you in the eyes. Your faces were so close to each other. He snapped out of it and went back to business. He touched your wet pussy and tugged on one lip, revealing its pinkish color. Your panties were so stretchy, and so thin, even with fabric, all its topography was clear. And your wetness made the fabric stick even closer to your beautiful inner lips. Your panties were DRENCHED. You didn't lie when you said it made you feel things. Actually, had he looked, even your jeans were humid. He stroked your pussy quickly, and spread your legs slightly more with one hand, as he framed the shot, looking through the small camera preview. “Looks good”. He clicked and you heard the shutter go down. He took the picture and jumped back up to tower you. He looked deeply into your eyes “when you said you loved all of me, you did mean it” “i did, i do”. He kissed you passionately. The polaroid eventually showed its colors. A close up of your beautiful pussy, half of it revealed by Isagi’s fingers, and almost all your panties soaked. “You better not use this kink I have as a secret weapon during our fights from now on, babe”. What a use of a polaroid. 

8th pola: your hands on his dick

The eight pola was the result of a game. Basically you guys went to an arcade and you had set a rule: you would count the winner of every mini activity you did, and the one with the most wins could have a wish realized, any wish. In the end, you ended up winning. And your wish was simple, you wanted a pola that you could keep for yourself. With the satisfied grin you had when you told him what your wish was, he directly understood this would not be a polaroid like the first one you took. You really hesitated for what exactly you wanted to capture, so you thought to yourself that you would see how the night would go and you’d choose the right moment. Isagi looked really really cute, cute enough for you to want to take the picture multiple times. Honorable mentions of when you really hesitated to take the pic: when he took his belt and jeans off, that’s a classic but always has its effect on you, when he towered you, shirtless, and finally when he was eating you out. But you settled on perhaps your second favorite thing ever of Isagi, after his sweet personality: his cock. When you were giving him a blowjob, it really kicked in that, yes, damn his dick was beautiful. So you had him come but forbid him from spitting his cum anywhere but his abs or right up in the air so it’d fall back on his tip (usually he loves cumming on your thighs). So bam, his penis is covered in his own cum, and your beautiful hands –with a fresh manicure mind you– are stroking his dick. “Isagi stay like this. This is how I want the pola”. He looked at you almost embarrassed, he wasn't used to you being the one giving orders, especially in this context. “Can you take it for me ? I love your artistic vision better than mine”. Okay that was already too much for him so now he felt straight up humiliated. “Uhm, sure…” “A bet is a bet, angel”. Now you were using HIS pet name for YOU, TURNED AGAINST HIM ? He was the one who called you angel usually… He pouted, cheeks started to flush from embarrassment and he reached for the polaroid. “Make sure to leave your balls, your abs and my hand on the frame, angel”. He did not answer, he just kept pouting and pressed the button. When he was done you wiped the cum on his dick with your hand, cleaning your hands on his abs. “Good boy” you purred. You kissed him and grabbed the picture. It turned out perfect. “This one’s gonna be in my phone case”. 

9th pola: your naked body

The second to last, 9th polaroid was taken the same night. Had he been honest, Isagi would’ve admitted it was for revenge and to remind you who was in control. But he just said that “the camera was his after all, so he could take pics whenever he wanted”. As soon as you admitted being satisfied with your wish, Isagi pushed you lying on the mattress and pinned you down. “Let me show you a prettier sight”. He edged you for minutes on end, fingering your tight pussy. At the end, when he finally let you cum, you were left breathless and tired. That's when he grabbed his camera back, and took a picture of your naked body, bright flash on, leaving out your face. You could see everything in the picture, your boobs, your pretty hands, your shiny pussy from your own cum, your cute belly, and even your underwear that was still tossed next to you. “I’m the only one who knows it’s you because your face is left out, but I know every detail of you, even the heart shaped mole on your hips”. It was a cool pola to be fair. 

10th pola: his dick in your pussy 

The very last polaroid of the 10 item refill was thought through carefully. Isagi wanted something memorable and quintessential of his photographic journey. So he hesitated quite a long time between a genuinely innocent picture of the two of you, a selfie perhaps, or a nasty, dirty, filthy intimate scene. He was an advocate for the first one while you preferred the latter, that's why he decided to choose while playing rock paper scissors… Guess who won ?? Yours truthfully, obviously !! You shouted in joy and jumped around, hugging him from behind and teasing him. “I know what I want already, babe, something that is fair to the both of us”. You whispered in his ears: “let’s photograph a creampie”. He snickered. I’ll leave it up to your imagination how everything unraveled, but the last pola was very pretty indeed, showing equal parts of you and Isagi. 

A/N: Y’ALL MY 1RST SMUT WAS IT GOOD OR NAH ? I fear it’s not even that smutty but idk, I find fics describing graphically everything boring, like I'm creative enough to imagine which dirty words my delusionalship would say to me… This was longer than anticipated, but I gotta say I'm quite proud ! Plus I wrote it in like 3 days, which is unusual for inconsistent me. I lovvveeee isagi sm, this felt illegal writing cause I was always in my family living room kkkkk. And I was also inspired by my current polaroid I dusted off from last time I used it in 2017 bahaha.

[wonwoosthetic]

Can you recommend joel miller series?

Hii, of course!😊

I’m sure some of them have been recommended many many times before but that’s just bc they’re actually THAT good, so here are the ones that I’ve read multiple times by now ˙ᵕ˙

You want feels? You want emotions? You want drama and love? Overprotective hot Joel Miller?Read this:

i know who you are by @punkshort

What about a good slow-burn playing in Jackson where you just can’t help but want more from Joel than just a one night stand but it will take time? Here you go:

a stranger’s heart without a home by @morning-star-joy

As if these weren’t already enough emotional, get ready for this two-parter that will absolutely WRECK you in the best way possible😭 I never knew hurt/no comfort could ever be so beautiful:

“You’re the loss of my life” by @stylesispunk (warning: I cried ever time I’ve read this and it’s been about like five times 😭😭) also: another INCREDIBLE writer, you can honestly just read through her entire masterlist, you will NOT regret it!!!!!👏🏼🫶🏼

THIS is THE hurt/comfort series! I absolutely love the structure of this story so much, I’ve read it like four times already haha😬 Joel is just so irresistible that even after 20 years, this man has the audacity to captivate you again. Get ready for a wild ride of emotions with this:

Woman by @dancingtotuyo

But these aren’t enough? You want even more angst? You want to see Joel truly REGRET things? This one’s for you:

invisible string by @toomanystoriessolittletime

Okay, we’ve cried and screamed enough, time for something a little bit more gentle. Something that will pull you in and just not let you go? With just a bit of angst but the wonderful rom-com vibes that we all love? With the perfect neighbour!Joel storyline? This is the one:

Nicest Things by @schnarfer

Now what about a perfectly outlined AU with a fresh start and leaving the past behind only to find a hot Joel Miller as a sheriff?? If you’re interested:

somewhere to run by @punkshort (a second mention, so honestly, you can read absolutely everything she wrote, she’s an absolute genius and I’m in AWE of her talent)

Okay, now this one has become a Joel Miller classic but how dare I not mention it. It’s complicated, it’s unsure, but literally both are in love with each other and it’s perfect earning and UGH just incredible:

texas sun by @from-the-clouds

What about sneaking around with hot Jackson!Joel who cares all too much about Ellie but is also just so enthralled by you? Too jealous to let anyone else touch you but too much of an idiot to put a label on it? Here we go:

But I Would Die For You In Secret by @wheresarizona (I have to put a quick extra note right here: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read everything by her!!!! Learning to Live (Javier Peña x Reader) is literally one of my all time favourite series across all of the fandoms I’m in and September is also just INSANE, the writing talent this woman has is out of this world!!!!)

What do we want? THE SWEETEST JOEL? Where can we find him? RIGHT HERE! Get ready for just the most comfortable fic you’ll probably ever find and just UGH the cutest fucking Joel Miller:

Elks by @whocaresstillthelouvre

Loner Joel that makes you feel less lonely after you find your place in Jackson? Ooooh, that sounds good, right? Well, this story was perfectly written and you can read all about it here:

Yearling by @justagalwhowrites (edit: I realised way too late that this incredible writer also writes Lavender, which I read through on AO3 and I seriously couldn’t put my phone down and talked to my bestie who doesn’t even know about tlou and got her to read it!)

OKAY NOW LISTEN. This writer right here is one of my all time faves and I’ve read this series too many times to count and I just can’t get enough of it. SO, a perfectly written relationship with Joel Miller that gets you through the day of the Outbreak, all through those 20 years and even during your adventure with Ellie. This right here. You NEED to read this:

A Future Together by @kteague (note: if you want the best Frankie Morales fic ever, read Because Of You, istg the amount of times I’ve read it is insane and I still go back to it and re-read bc I just- it’s just- I can’t even put it into words)

I think we need some humour. We’ve had hurt, we’ve had comfort, romance, but what about a good collection of one shots that you can laugh to? Who would’ve thought going through a pregnancy can look this fun? Well, with someone like Joel Miller by your side, of course:

Joel Dealing with his Preggo Wife by @pedge-page

Most of the stories above have some smut in them (some more, some less), BUT, I know you guys. And I know myself. And I know that sometimes all you need is a good hoey story (Yes, I may have just made that word up). What do you do when you have a shitty boyfriend who lives with his hot fucking hunk of a single dad? Exactly, you fuck the dad:

boyfriend’s dad!joel by @joelscruff

Buuuuuuuut, what if you want to be live in a bit more delulu world where you can be a hot singer with a hot bodyguard that has to try to keep his hands off of you as hard as possibly can but just snaps? Warning: Hot hot HOT! Hehe, well, then I think you might enjoy this:

Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star by @mermaidgirl30

I also have to add: there’s one series where you match with Joel on Bumble (I think… maybe it was Tinder…) where Ellie and Sarah created a profile for him and I remember reading and absolutely LOVING it, but I can’t find it😭😭 so, if anyone else knows what I’m talking about, pls let me know! In the meantime, I’m keeping a placeholder for it here:

single dad!Joel Miller with daughters that just want what’s best for him by a fucking genius writer

I hope there’s something on here for everyone to enjoy! ˙ᵕ˙

If anyone has more recs that they think deserve a mention, please let me know or just mention them in the comments!!☺️ There’s so many amazing authors, I just went down my likes and saw what I had saved and what I remembered really enjoying, but I know there’s a lot more!!🫶🏼🤍

[keystonepublishing]

Dirges in The Dark by WixWrites

Before I start, let me just say: Ranchers! Scarian! Hermits and Life Series and Empires characters! Sheriff Jimmy! Sheriff Scar! Criminal Tango! the Wild West! Treebark and Ethubs!

RANCHERS. THE WILD WEST. CREEPING ELDRITCH HORROR.

Whoo, that was a rush.

I'll be honest; I think this book would have come out much sooner if not for my decision to add-in a whole lot of stuff into the text and pages. It got to the point that the original cover would have been a wanted poster at the front and a sheriff's report at the back!

I had to restrain myself, lest this book would never get finished at all. It's already been 59 days since my last post, and doing the original cover would have stretched the days even further. So I had to follow the mantra: Finished, not perfect. Besides, nothing says I can't make another version in the future...

From the moment I finished this fic, I knew it would become a book. But at 143,412 words, Dirges in The Dark by @twodiamondhoes would stretch my ficbinding skills to the limit and would be the second-ever bind that would reach past 250 pages (the first was an MCYT Sleepy Bois fic that predates this blog that I want to redo).

Eventually, the full typeset took up 520 pages! And as such, I finally decided to use extra support for the entire textblock. From an old pair of pajamas, I backed strips of fabric with glue and paper before cutting it into tapes, forming a crucial support for the various weaves along the spine. I then covered the entire spine in brown wrapping paper for even more strength.

For the title and headings, I scoured for and found several typefaces, dingbats, and vector graphics which really evoked the fic's Western and Gothic vibes. I also took some inspiration from fellow ficbinders in the Renegade Publishing group for the style of layout and formatting throughout the book, such as using faded images in the background of these pre-story pages.

I wanted the reader to be immersed in the Wild West from the get-go, so having such images from the start — before the story even begins — felt very appropriate. I tried to make them thematic to the information presented, like a singing cowboy for the music playlist pages, but I think I made the image too faint to be seen!

As for the chapter openers, I experimented with some layouts before finalizing on what you see: photos taking up one entire page on the left with the chapter titles and opening paragraphs on the right.

Just like my last bind, I want to make the reader feel immersed in the story and also bring out the mood of that particular chapter. This, however, led me to entire days of scouting and scouring stock photo sites just to find the right pictures for 11 different chapters. 4/10 would not recommend for sanity.

Given that the story uses a number of foreign words, old slang, and specific Wild West-era terms, I added a plethora of footnotes at the bottom of some pages for extra context and meaning.

I also wanted to be playful and make certain story parts, such as characters receiving letters and notes, really look like they're a part of the story. So I cropped old paper textures and fished out old fonts from the past to make them look as if they're actually there, pasted against the paragraphs!

More importantly, there were some specific parts of the fic that felt super important and I wanted to highlight these passages, especially the Deals made by the characters throughout their arcs. Given DiTD has a certain affinity with eldritch darkness, I decided to highlight such paragraphs by backlighting them against a band of pure black. Besides being thematic as hell, I made the bands have curved edges and decorative lines to add a certain western-gothic touch!

It was from this that I begin to think "what if I can color entire pages to convey the mood and setting?"

...Which led to the madness in these pages. I can't reveal too much because of spoilers, but there are certain times when the characters end up in situations where the very light turns to dark. Or they end up in hellish situations. Or the eldritch creatures began to speak.

It took some creative brainstorming to figure out how to show the mood of such scenes in printed pages, but I eventually figured out that I need find the right fonts, change their colors from black to white, and then change their backgrounds from white to dark to highlight them all! The power of formatting!

There's a lot more pages where I went wild with such shades and fonts, but I ain't revealing in public because spoilers!

But undoubtedly, this is the biggest experiment I have made with this bind. There is a certain part where Grian and Pearl spoke in eldritch R'lyehian / Cthuvian, and I want to convey the sheer strangeness of the speech and it's meaning. Something outside the box.

Luckily, I have an inspiration in fellow fanbinder @mythrilthread, who made an amazing fanbind that used vellum overlays to showcase the speaking of alien languages and what they mean in English. AND IT LOOKS SICK AS FUCK. When I finished reading Dirges, I knew I had to emulate this form of language translation, so I printed the eldritch speech, cut it, and pasted it onto the spine to give a similar effect of strangeness, and IT LOOKS SO COOL!!!

And lastly, I just had to include some of the amazing fanart made by readers into the book! All of these are placed by their corresponding text and chapters, and they all look so cool!

So I want to give a special thanks to @azzayofchaos, @leafdoodles, @hybbart, and @foxyola for granting their permission for me to include their incredible works into this bind! The dark shades and page formatting is one thing, but these works truly make this book feel so much more alive!

All in all, this bind was an odyssey in the making. I experimented with page formatting, layout wizardry, and bookmaking methods that I haven't tried before. While I know I could do better, I am beyond happy to see this work finished!

And once again, a thousand thanks to @twodiamondhoes / WixWrites for crafting an amazing story!

[autisticandroids]

au fics part two: canon-a-little-to-the-left

alright i'm a little late to the current round of @spnficrecfest. on account of I Hauve Covid. that's also why i missed the long fic / short fic round, and i will go back and do that at some point, but not yet. anyway. two fic rec lists for this round. one for true aus, and one for canon-a-little-to-the-left aus.

i may not be a huge fan of traditional aus, but i'm an absolute aficionado of things that relate to canon but put a rather different spin on it. i have been looking forward to this day (rubs my little hands together).

in order of wordcount:

patchwork drapery of dreams by tigriswolf, 1k, chose not to warn

a decade or so later, victor henriksen catches ben braeden. gen.

orison by whereupon, 2k, mcd

after it all ends, cas baptises dean. destiel.

kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep by lise, 4k, chose not to warn

a disturbing little story. it's all in the context. sam/lucifer.

sleepwalking the life fantastic by insanetrolllogic, 5k, chose not to warn

gen. it's 1995 and sam wakes up normal.

cheyenne by deadlybride, 8k, mcd

victor henriksen and sam winchester in the lebanon alternate universe. gen.

the following story takes place at night by beetlebeverage, 12k, chose not to warn

this one blew my socks off. destiel, but very strange. a season two au. the winchesters come across a cult.

i would most especially recommend this one if you're a fan of the first church at the end of the world, which should tbh also be on this list, but it's on my endverse list instead.

the white whale. by orange_crushed, 14k, violence and chose not to warn

generations in the future, cas still works with winchesters.

right of conquest should also objectively be on here but i recced it already [sob emoji].

freakshow by mme_yersinia, 26k

stanford era dean, and an angel in a cage. destiel.

the inexhaustible silence of houses by askance, 31k, mcd

some things are fandom classics for a reason. a destiel haunting.

back road, black road by eden22, 167k, violence warning

so can i confess something? i'm actually only about halfway through reading this, currently. which i feel like is against the spirit of a fic rec list. i thought of trying to put on a burst of speed and finish it specifically to rec it, but it's simply too long for that. and i just can't not rec it, it's way too good.

anyway, this fic is balls to the wall insane. perfect "what if the early seasons actually had the vibes they pretend to" story. specifically, kind of a "what if born under a bad sign was good and also was the entirety of seasons one and two" thing.

sam never made it to stanford, and when dean goes to pick him up, he isn't there. the level of gore and body horror in this fic raised my eyebrows, and you guys know me. i'm no slouch. half is dean pov, half is sam pov. the sam pov is actually my favorite because it's so insane and fucked. oh and it's also destiel.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 11 K Warnings: None Prompt: Halloween has arrived, you see the boys in their costumes for the first time and they see you in yours. Things are perfect, just don't let your thoughts get to you before the euphoria does. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. This chapter may be read as a stand-alone / oneshot too.

Chapter 17: Tonight's What It Means To Be Young

When you entered your room, the only person there was Lily, you smiled when you saw her, she already had her stunning green dress on, and she did look like a total princess. 

“You’re stunning,” you said honestly. 

She turned to you with a little frown, “Not sure what to do with my hair.” 

You smiled, “Come sit,” you told her, motioning to a chair, in front of your desk, you pulled a soft brush and started to lightly brush on her soft auburn hair. “Do you mind if I use one of the potions we made?” 

“Not at all, do whatever you want, I trust it’ll look pretty.” 

You smiled, and walked inside the bathroom, taking some of the enchanting hair serum, and letting a few drops fall over the brush, before going back and brushing her hair with it. It instantly looked a lot more vibrant and hydrated. After that you started pulling sections from the front, and making soft twists. You were far from an expert hair stylist, but this one, in particular, was simple enough for you, and it would look perfect with the mediaeval vibe of Lily’s dress. Once that was ready, you took some of the perfect curls potion and added it to her hair, but you defused it with the serum so that the curls were just soft waves. Once she was ready you handed her a mirror, and she smiled. 

“You like it?” 

“It’s perfect!” She added, standing up from the chair and turning to you with a hug. “But what about you? When are you getting ready?” 

“Now, actually,” you said, rushing towards your wardrobe and grabbing the iridescent bustier you’d gotten for your costume. Lily leaned over next to you and looked at it, she hadn’t seen it up close, the pearls and chains that dripped from the side made it an absolute treat to observe, it was pretty much a piece of art. It was actually a family heirloom from your grandmother. 

“It’s stunning,” she said as she looked at it, almost completely mesmerised. That was, in fact, one of the charms the item had, fairies enjoyed dragging mortals into their parties, having fun with them, and sometimes, at expense of them. Some fairies could be really wicked creatures, which is why wizards tended to stay away from them. Therefore, and to drag them in, they invented all sorts of magical items. If mermaids had their chants, fairies had their charms. Some as dangerous as being able to force people to do things with the mere command of their voices, known as glamours. Your mom still had the ability to do that. You didn’t, except sometimes you could be a little too convincing. It was the little bit of fairy bIood still cursing through your veins. You would have to tone down the charms of the bustier if you didn’t want everyone to react like Lily. 

“It is,” you agreed, closing the box again. Lily blinked a couple of times before turning towards you, “Why don’t you walk downstairs and help Tom with the reception while I finish up getting ready?” 

“Don’t you want me to help you?” She asked, looking like she wanted to open the box again.

You shook your head “It’s fine Lils, I can do this,” you reassured her. She nodded and waved at you as she approached the door. When she left the room, you used a simple spell to block the magic emanating from the bustier and walked inside the bathroom, finally taking the glow potion you had prepared earlier that week. In a matter of seconds, a soft glow started emanating from you. You giggled at your reflection, it made you look like Tinkerbell. You then grabbed some of the perfect curls potion and applied it over your hair along with the serum. You pulled your hair back a little and added some flowers you’d gathered from the greenhouses earlier that day. Letting some curls fall to the side of your face, on an organic but put-together look. 

When you walked outside of the bathroom, Mary and Marlene were there already. Marlene had her Cher wig on and Mary had charmed her nose to look like a kitten’s, she had also added curl potions to her curls and was scrunching them around her face to look like a mane. Both girls turned to you when they heard the door “You’re glowing!” Mary said. 

“The potion worked!” Added Marlene excitedly, she was now putting on her loose shirt. 

“Yes it did,” you said with a smile, twirling around a little, “love what you did with the whiskers.” You told Mary, she then stood up, and you realised there was a tail wiggling behind her, you gasped, “That looks incredible!” 

“It does, doesn’t it?” She said as she wiggled the tail a bit higher, playfully brushing it over your arm as you approached. 

“All right, I’m ready.” Marlene said, as she finished applying her eyeliner, “Holden should be already waiting for me.” 

“Me too, I’ll come down with you, unless you need help with anything luv?” She said, turning to you attentively. 

“I’m good girls, I won’t take long anyway,” you said and waved them goodbye. As they left you walked towards your trunk and picked out the short skirt you’d be wearing along the top. It was a very flowy thing composed of a few layers of gathered fabric. Some longer than others. You put it on, and then pulled the cover of the box again, carefully grabbing the bustier and placing it over your chest. The sides of the piece extended, adjusting to your body, while the chains and pearls wrapped all over your back. It was almost like a fairy transformation scene, as the pearls and pieces continued to wrap around your body. 

Once that was ready, you pulled a pair of flats, of the same iridescent tone as the rest of the outfit, and put them on. Small vines grew from the side, wrapping themselves all over your calves. You grabbed your wand and performed a short spell on yourself, your ears turning slightly pointier, like your mom’s. 

Finally, you turned to look at yourself in the mirror, and you gasped, you looked every bit a fairy. You started doubting if it really was a good idea to dress as a fairy, when you were actually part one when you heard a knock on the door. 

You walked towards it and opened it, finding Remus standing on the other side, your words nearly escaped you; if you thought he’d look handsome in the sexy pirate costume, you had vastly underestimated how captivating your friend was. He wore this white flowing shirt, paired with a snug burgundy vest. A vest that, incidentally, Sirius had borrowed. He had a pair of pants, subtly tighter than his usual go-to, and thick leather boots. All of that along with a belt, slightly tanned skin, and trinkets dangling loosely from his hips —including a holster with its accompanying gun— it all suited him like a dream. He had a few rings all over his fingers, some with burgundy gems that combined with his vest ––they had also been borrowed by Sirius, you could easily identify one or two–– and they made his long fingers look daring and mischievous. As you stared back at his face, you noticed a single earring adorning his left ear, a small icy blue gemstone droplet (like Sirius’ eyes), making him look even more like a pirate, like he’d just stepped out of a romance novel, or perhaps even a romance novel wouldn’t do him justice. 

And Remus, from the other side of the door, was just as stunned as you were, first because of the glow emanating from your body, which had him squint just a little when he saw you; but then, when he looked at you, he realised how alluring you looked. It was not a particularly sexy Halloween costume like Sirius had proposed, but it was definitely something; enticing, borderline bewitching, and Remus knew about bewitching. So much so, he’d been bewitched with amorentia once. This felt like that, a sudden urge to hide you from all the eyes at the party overcame him, he somehow thought he wanted you all to himself. No, not just himself, Sirius had to see you. He had to see just how beautiful his girlfriend was. He cleared his throat, trying to snap himself from the trance, and pulling you from yours in the process “Eh… Tom was, Tom was looking for you downstairs.” 

“Remus!” You said excitedly, finally getting yourself together, “You look fantastic! You really are getting all the bitches tonight, aren’t you?” 

Remus blushed, from how honest and unabashed your compliment had been “Thank you, you look dazzling yourself. Sirius will go crazy for you, I’m sure.”

“He should already be,” you said playfully and walked towards him, now analysing his outfit “You’re missing something.” 

“He is, trust me… What are you looking for?” He added as he saw you look around your trunk. 

“This!” You said, pulling out a necklace. It was a simple pendant of a mermaid, thick but dainty, when you had it you walked over to him, he pulled back just a little. And you realised what happened, he may have thought it was silver. “My mom gave it to me a couple of birthdays ago, she said it was made of some special sea metal, that would warn against evil spirits, goes with the vibe, don’t you think?” you added casually, he relaxed visibly and allowed you to get close enough to place it around his neck. You had to stand on your toes to reach him better, but you were done rather quickly. You pulled back and looked at him again. “We should unbutton your shirt a little more, I think…” You said approaching him again, but stopped yourself before laying a hand on him “Do you mind?”

“No, it’s fine.” He responded with a small shrug, already missing how close you’d been to him earlier, and cursing himself for it. My friend’s girlfriend, My crush’s girlfriend, damn it! 

You grabbed the box plate of the shirt then, and started to unbutton it, being as careful and gentle as you could. After the second button you spread the shirt open just a little, moving your hands upward to adjust the collar, raising it up slightly, for dramatic effect.  When your hands brushed against his neck, he looked to the side and gulped, his heart was drumming against his ears and he wondered if you could hear it too. Eventually, you pulled back and smiled to yourself “There you go Rem, you look perfect.” 

“Thank you,” he said, and motioned to walk to the door, but you stopped him, “No wait! Erm… would you mind helping me with this?” You asked, grabbing a shiny golden oval and showing it to him “I was gonna use the mirror to do it, but you’re much better with transfigurations than me, I’m sure it’ll be a piece of cake. That way we can just come down together.” 

“What’s this?” He asked with a frown, taking the small item in between his hands. 

“My wings,” you responded, “just put it in the middle of my back,” you said, turning your back to him, “and do this spell.” You handed him a small piece of paper. 

He cleared his throat again “You want me to place it?” He asked, looking at your exposed back. 

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead,” you nodded eagerly, oblivious to the way Remus was blushing from behind, but he complied, gently placing the little golden box, avoiding your skin as he did, a real gentleman, you thought. 

“It’s– It’s not sticking.” 

“Just press a little harder, it’ll stick.” He did, this time around he used his fists as leverage, you could feel his cold rings digging onto your skin a little, and he pressed again, with his thumbs this time, the box finally stuck. He then chanted the spell along with a little wave of his wand. The little metal box seemed to fade into your skin, and shortly after, a pair of wings started unfolding from the exact same place it’d been. Thin, translucent but shiny wings, came out. You adjusted your back, Remus couldn’t help but notice the way your shoulder plates moved, soft skin moving along with your muscles, he wondered what his hand would feel like pressed against it. Suddenly the wings started to bat, softly. You turned to him with a smile, the merriment in your face making you look impossibly divine,  “They look incredible,” You said, the wings fluttering excitedly behind you. 

“They do indeed, Breagha Nicnevin,” he said the last bit in a soft breath, almost unwittingly.

“What’s that?” You asked curiously. 

“Nicnevin? It’s a Queen Fairy or Queen Witch from Scottish Folklore, my mom used to tell me the story when I was little. It’s a muggle tale, but it’s based on some truth, according to Bins.” 

You listen to his explanation attentively “And the– the other word… Breha?” 

He smiled, at the way you butchered Gaelic, but you weren’t far from the real word he’d said, and he wasn’t sure he’d want you to know the meaning either, so he changed it “Beag, stands for little. My mom used to call me Beag Boy too.” 

“Little witch? You called me Little Witch!” 

“Or fairy, yeah.” 

“But I’m not little!” You argued. 

He looked at you and tilted his head just a little, Remus was at least a head and a bit taller than you, and he used his hand to measure your height, it falling just below his collarbones “You sure?” 

“Reeemus!” You whined playfully. 

He just shrugged, an even more playful smile on his lips, “I’m just stating the facts.” 

“Ugh, for a sexy pirate, you surely are exasperating.” 

“’M taking that as a compliment,” he said, still smiling. 

After the laughter between the two died, a moment of comfortable silence fell, you felt your wings flutter and you turned to look at them from behind, turning back to Remus with an earnest smile   “Thank you!” You said, “I couldn’t have done it better.” 

“I’m sure you could’ve.” He replied confidently, “But you’re welcome.” 

Finally, you motioned at the door, “Shall we?”  

Remus nodded and the two of you walked outside, you were still talking to each other when you started walking down the stairs. Sirius saw the two of you first, and he wasn’t sure where to look, he didn’t know Remus could look so handsome, the combination of the daring outfit and the tanner skin, made him look like a true pirate, but the kind of pirate that you would let kidnap you away on his boat. In fact, he was so enthralled by the way his friend looked that it took him a minute to distinguish the shiny figure beside him, oh, but when he did; Sirius Black was a goner. He just couldn’t stop looking at you, except for the moments in which Remus did something and he got completely lost on him. And then back at you, at the way your curls gently bounced with every step down you took, at the way, you laughed while talking to his friend, at your long legs, and the way pieces of shiny skin would appear when the folds of the skirt moved to the side, at the pearls and chains adorning the smooth skin of your arms, and he hadn’t even seen your exposed back, but he was already growing mad. 

Remus was the first to notice Sirius’ staring, but he was too late, he didn’t notice the way he had looked at him, only how he had completely surrendered himself to you. And he couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions, there was the pride, that his friend had finally found the one, that he knew Sirius would go crazy when he spotted you, and he had been right. But also a pang of sadness, one that he understood but felt even worse for having, he hated seeing Sirius looking at you like that, simply because his gaze was completely lost on you, and not on him. And he couldn’t even blame Sirius for it, you were definitely an absolute sight to behold. He noticed when he turned to you again, you still had a beaming smile on your face as you looked at him ––just as dashing and alluring as you had been in your room–– at least you were looking at him. Until you weren’t anymore. 

Just as you finished telling the words of a joke, you turned your head to the front, to look at a funny step that was always tripping people, when you noticed Sirius hollymotherofmerlin Black. He was wearing a pristine white 3-piece suit, a tie ––the colour of bIood–– with a small trident pin just below the knot. The first hint of who he was dressed as tonight. On the pocket of the jacket that draped seamlessly over his broad shoulders ––giving a glimpse of the confident stance beneath–– there was a matching burgundy handkerchief. On the bottom, he wore a pair of tailored trousers, tapering down to polished white dress shoes.

Sirius looked like an angel, more now than usual, but they do say the devil’s in the details for a reason, even if a halo floated above him, a red devil's tail emerged from the side seam of his trousers, waving casually behind him, like that of a lion, one that knows that he is the king of the jungle. And behind him, a pair of dark angel wings, that went from black to red as the light hit them, just like raven’s wings sometimes had a tint of blue to them. When you finally turned to his face again, you realised his icy grey eyes sparkled with mirth and allure, almost drawing you to him, hair pulled back behind his ears, perfectly arranged, making him look more polished than usual. Sirius wasn’t just wearing a costume tonight, he had in fact, embodied the devil himself, the charm and the sophistication in which he stood, the mischievous quality of his stare, hinting at secrets only known to him. No wonder some witches got burned at the stake for devil worship, if the devil looked half as good as Sirius did tonight, you’d worship him as well. If this was hell, then hell’s a wonderful place to be. 

But then you realised, Sirius was looking at Remus, just before he turned to look at you, but his gaze, it didn’t change, the same hungry eyes, for both. It was barely a flicker, and the thought escaped your mind just seconds after. Remus didn’t notice either, he was still staring at you when Sirius turned his head to him. Finally, you reached the bottom of the stairs and walked towards the boy, Remus was just a couple of steps behind him. 

“So your costume was a handsome devil, after all.” You told him with a smirk “Should’ve guessed.” 

“Too bad you didn’t.” He replied, leaning down for a quick peck on your lips. Remus took a deep breath, a mix of feelings churning in his stomach. 

You shrugged “Maybe too bad for you, I’m sure you’d have enjoyed my wish.” 

“Would I? Why don’t you tell me about it?” 

You pretended to think about it for a second before speaking again “Nope.” 

“And you’re a fairy. Should’ve said I was close when I guessed mermaid.” 

“That would’ve made it way too easy for you… You like it?” You asked with a little smile. 

Sirius’s tail whipped a little from behind “Oh, “like” is an understatement Starshine.” 

“Welp, that’s my cue to leave,” Remus said, nodding, but Sirius stopped him. 

“What did you do to him? He looks different from when he stepped out of the room.” 

“Me?” You asked innocently “Just spiced him up a bit, and got him a necklace.” 

“Simple, but it works,” Sirius said. At this point, both you and your boyfriend were attentively looking at Remus, and he felt a little self-conscious, he wondered why on earth he wanted Sirius’ stare on him earlier when it could be so unnerving. 

“Maybe we can raise the collar a bit more?” Sirius asked. 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” You agreed, and the two of you approached Remus, adjusting the neck of his pirate shirt together. 

Remus started to panic, having the two of you all over him made him feel things that he wasn’t sure he wanted to savour, he was sure he wouldn’t get enough of it if he did. And so, in his desperation, he snapped “All right, both of you, get off me. NOW!” 

Both you and Sirius were startled and pulled back, Remus did not have a problem when you fixed his collar earlier, he also didn’t have a problem when Sirius was adjusting his belt and weapons back at their room, which had the two of you confused. 

Remus took a deep breath, your faces almost broke him “It’s just…” he turned to look around “People are starting to stare.” 

“I don’t mind.” Sirius said with a shrug “You?” He asked, looking at you, you shook your head. 

“Well, I do.” Remus said, still a little snappy “I’m getting some punch.” He added before leaving the two of you. 

“It’s not even that time of the month,” Sirius whispered as he saw Remus walk to the other side of the room. 

You pretended not to hear, even if you finally understood what it meant. You wondered how many inside jokes you’d missed so far and then you turned back to your boyfriend. And ran a hand through his wings “They’re stunning.” 

“And you say I’m the one into costumes.” He responded, what a tease. 

Remus had already reached the sweets table and leaned his hands onto the edge of it as he tried to ground himself. Why the fuck did he have to go develop feelings for both his best friend and his best friend’s girlfriend. He should be sent to hell, he didn’t even know who he liked more, not that it mattered of course, he would never dare try to get in between the two, and he was sure as hell if the two of you broke it off yourselves, it’d break his heart too. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Maybe I do deserve to be locked up after all, forget about the monster, I’m worse as myself. He then proceeded to grab the ladle and pour a good deal of punch into his cup, downing it in one go before serving himself again, by the time he was moving away from the table, he already felt a little better, a little lighter in fact. Maybe it hadn’t been just “a tickle” of alcohol in there. All thought he doubted you would lie to him. He filled two more glasses and walked towards the two of you. When he reached up to where you were, you and Sirius were already laughing about something. 

“Thanks, Rem,” you said with a smile as he handed you the cup, you took a small sip, before Tom showed up from behind. 

“We need to talk.” He said in a serious tone. You frowned as you took another small sip. He tilted his head a little, pleading with his eyes “Come please?” 

Sirius was staring daggers at the boy from behind. You didn’t notice, but Remus did, and he placed an arm over Sirius’ shoulders, to distract him from acting like an asshole. You turned to look at the boys and handed your glass to Sirius “Mind holding this for me for a second, Pups?” 

Sirius nodded and grabbed the glass in between his hands. Remus’ hand still lazily draped over his shoulder as he took a sip with his other hand. You walked behind Tom for a couple of metres, just far enough away from where you stood –close to Lily and the girls– so no one would be able to hear, “We have an emergency.” You squint your eyes at him, nodding for him to elaborate “It’s the potion.” 

“The potion” you said with a nod, as if you knew what he was talking about, and then asked “What potion?” 

“(Y/N)! Stop thinking of your handsome as-hell boyfriend ––pun intended–– and focus. THE. POTION.” 

You gasped when you realised what he was talking about, whisper-shouting now “That potion? The potion we don’t talk about— potion?”

“Brilliant, you’re back on this earth.” He said, “Yes that potion!” 

“What happened with it?” 

“Um… well, how do I put this?” he asked nervously, “It’s lost, yeah that’s it, it’s lost.” 

“Lost how?” 

“How do you lose something (Y/N)? Lost, lost.” 

“You lost a very potent euphoric brew, in the middle of a party?”

“Shhhhhh… Will you? Yes, I don’t know where it is. It was in my bag, okay?! But then I threw all the contents of my bag onto the sweets table and when I went to check, it just wasn’t there either–.“

“-Tom.” 

“And I don’t know what to do, because if anyone finds out, let alone accidentally drinks it, without being aware of the possible consequences I-“ 

“-TOM!” You shouted, shaking him as you did “Tom breathe, it’s just a potion, it’s not poison, if it’s lost it’s lost. And if someone drank it then they will have a very high time tonight, but that’s it. Besides, nobody except for us knows who brewed the potion, so even if it somehow got to teachers’ ears, it would be fine.” 

He frowned “Why aren’t you worried?!” He asked. 

“Just forget it Tom, have fun!” You told him with a soft pad on the shoulder before walking back to where you stood earlier, most students had already arrived at the party, and James was already walking downstairs, so you went straight to greet him “JAAAAMES!” 

He smiled at you, and pulled a skull, similar to the ones you had hidden all over the common room earlier and set it right in front of his face “To be, or not to be?” He said dramatically as he stared into the distance, then turned to you with a small grin“How was it?” 

“Perfect!” You told him with a bright smile, “We should find Lily, you should get pictures together.” 

“You think?” 

“For sure! Why put so much effort into your costume if not?” For a short second, you frowned yourself, wasn’t James right? Originally it hadn’t seemed like the best idea to have James dress as Hamlet and match with Lily when she had refused a couple’s costume initially, but now it seemed like a great one. You just felt so happy. 

When you arrived at where the girls stood, they all had their own cups of punch in their hands. And you smiled brightly when you saw them, Lily was the first one to speak “OMG! You’re Hamlet!” She said with a gasp as soon as she saw James. 

“What a coincidence, right?” You said dumbly. 

Lily just blinked a few times but nodded “We should get pictures together!” She said and pulled James along with her onto another side of the room. When he was being pulled he turned to you, you winked, and then nodded in an encouraging manner, whatever had gotten onto Lily, he better use it in his favour, and if she wanted pictures, then he’d have to take as many as she pleased. 

More and more people started to arrive then, you saw Neil, Alice and Marina and introduced them to Mary, who you’d been left talking to earlier, and they all seemed to bond really nicely. You’d originally wanted to introduce Neil to James since you thought they’d make great friends, but in the end, decided it would be best not to interrupt him. Especially since he looked really happy while Alex took fun pictures with him and Lily. 

“And we were in this class, right? Suddenly people start standing up at their desks, and it’s just insane, Muggle studies is just brilliant sometimes,” you heard Neil talking, and then spotted Sybil on the door, walking alongside Tod. You smiled and went straight to greet them, Sybil was dressed as a muggle fortune teller, while Todd had worn white clothes and used magic to make himself look like a ghost.

“You made it?” you said with a huge smile when you saw them. Todd nodded shily while Sybil pulled you in for a hug. 

“I absolutely love your costume,” she told you as she looked at it. Sybil had guessed you were part fairy weeks ago, and she understood more than most what your costume was really about. “You look stunning, Nina should’ve been here to see you.” 

“Nina?” you asked with a bit of a frown, you didn’t quite understand what Sybil said but continued talking regardless “She’s not gonna make it, she’s on a date.” 

Sybil arched an eyebrow at your answer. Is that what she told you? She wondered but decided to let the subject go. “How’ve you been?” she asked instead.

“Great, actually,” you responded honestly. “I mean, there’s the really annoying Slytherin group that has it against me for some reason, but other than that, I’ve been brilliant.” 

“I heard about that,” she said with a bit of a frown.

“Just ignore them, they’ll forget about you eventually,” Todd added, you smiled, he was clearly opening up a little. Hanging out with Sybil would definitely do him good, she was so unapologetically herself, it was downright inspiring. 

“And you? Have you come up with any prophecies yet?” 

She shook her head “All pretty good vibes so far.”

“Let’s toast to that!” you said but then remembered you didn’t have your drink anymore “My cup?” You went through the things you’d done tonight  “Puppy has it!” you said with a smile and then bit your lip “Do you guys mind if I leave you for now? There’s punch and sweets over there, and also some snacks over the coffee table. Peter got them from the kitchen elves, they’re delicious I’m sure. My common room’s your common room, feel at home, please.” 

Sybil nodded and pulled Todd along with herself to the sweets table “Go ahead hun, we’ll be alright.” 

“Yeah,” Todd agreed. “Go find your puppy or whatever.” 

You frowned at his answer, staring at them as they left, and laughed when you realised Todd had no idea you meant Sirius. Then it made you wonder if Sybil knew about it, she seemed to know a lot of things, but you weren’t too sure. You were still thinking about it when you heard a scream from the side of the room, you turned around to find Steve ���the skull– cackling as it clung to… was that Minho? You approached them and laughed merrily for a couple of seconds as you saw the boy struggle, deciding to help Minho when he was becoming too desperate. “I’m sorry, Steve can be a little intense sometimes,” you told him. 

“Steve?” he asked with a horrified face. 

“Yeah Steve,” You told him matter-of-factly, casually pointing at the skull before letting Steve walk back to his closet “Nice to see you here Minho,” you told him, he was wearing a Tutshill Tornadoes’ Quidditch uniform “That’s a brilliant costume!” 

“Not nearly as brilliant as yours,” he said, motioning at you, and you remembered you’d literally drank a glow potion and laughed.

 “I take Halloween pretty seriously.”  

“Yeah, I can tell! You look beautiful.” He said with what looked like an honest smile, no wonder so many girls had fallen for him, Minho was indeed very attractive in his own way.

“I thought Comet would be coming with you.”

“She did.” He said pointing behind him, she was talking to Imogen, and had a shiny star filled dress that seemed to change and ripple as she moved. 

“Woah, what a cool dress,” you said, Minho nodded in agreement, it was even cooler that she’d picked a star theme that went along with her name. Kind of like you, wearing a fairy costume. 

 It was then when you noticed Minho looking around rather suspiciously. You squinted your eyes at him, and he gave you a questioning look “What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing, have you seen Sirius? I was looking for my drink.” 

Minho shook his head in response “I was looking for the boys too, I brought them something.” 

“Something? What something?” 

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” You nodded fervently and he pulled his backpack to the front, opening it just a little for you to see what was inside.

You gasped “You’re their Firewhiskey dealer!”

He put his hands over your mouth “Shhhh…” 

You nodded, and he finally took his hand away “Sorry,” you mumbled. 

“Why do you think I’m one of the few Slytherins allowed at your parties?” 

“Should’ve guessed,” you said with a smile “Let’s find them together, shall we?

He nodded, and the two of you started walking around the party together. You spotted Tom at some point, he was talking to Todd as the two of them drank some punch together, Tom looked a lot more relaxed now, and it made you smile satisfied. Minho was also looking at the two boys, but his expression was a bit sour instead. You turned to him and noticed, he was staring daggers at Tom as the boy in question moved closer to Todd. You turned to Minho, and then back at Tom, and then back at Minho again and it downed you. No wonder the most sought-after bachelor at Hogwarts had never gotten a girlfriend, he just didn’t like them.

“You should tell him,” you said softly.

“What?” 

“You should tell him you like him,” you said then, for some reason you didn’t even consider that maybe Minho would be shocked by the fact that you noticed he liked Tom just like that. Had Sirius perhaps put more alcohol on the punch than you’d seen? But you’d only drank like 3 sips before you left your drink with the boys?

Minho looked at you with panic, he was pale, a lot more than he’d been when Steve was clinging onto him earlier “What did you… how do you know? Did Remus tell you?” 

“Remus?” you asked confused “Why would Remus–– shut up,” you said shocked. 

Minho realised too late what he’d done “You didn’t hear a thing.” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you whispered as you tried to gather your thoughts, Remus knew as well, maybe it was because he was very observant, and open-minded, that or… How was it possible one boy had so many different secrets? You thought, and you still didn’t know half of it. “Remus and you…?” 

“One time!” he said, to get you to stop thinking about it “Now forget that, how did you know?” 

“I knew about Tom,” you said, quietly, still a little distracted. “He did warn me most people hid it really well, but Remus?” You asked as you remembered the way Tom had looked at the boy earlier. 

“Please forget about that,” Minho said, now distressed “He will kill me if anyone finds out.” 

“I wouldn’t say a thing,” you told him honestly, for Merlin’s sake you already knew a lot more secrets of the boy that you were gonna protect with your life if it were necessary.

“Was I that obvious?” 

You shook your head “Not at all, I just… the way you stared at Tom, I recognized that stare, it was like looking in a mirror.” 

“You like Tom?!?” He asked, confused. 

“Godric heavens NO!!” You said with a frown “It’s… the same way I looked at Sirius before we started dating,” you explained. 

“You’re dating Sirius?!” He asked, shocked. 

“I really thought that was old news,” you said with a shrug “But I meant it earlier, you should just tell Tom.” 

“But what if he doesn’t like me back?” He asked, finally accepting that you knew, and letting himself talk to someone about it. Minho had been hiding that for so long that none of his friends knew about it, let alone his family, who’d probably cut him off. 

“Minho,” you almost deadpanned “have you ever looked at a mirror in your life? Besides, you’re really funny and nice, and attentive, Tom would love it.”

“You’re only saying that because we haven’t played Quidditch together, I’m not planning to make it easy for you on the field.” 

 “You better not!” you told him with a smile “And either way, that’s what Quidditch is about, even if you threw me off my broom, I wouldn’t change my mind about you.” 

“Awwww…. that’s so cute,” he told you, “I think I’m gonna do it.” 

“Will you? Then go ahead, it’s your turn!” You said as you saw Todd leave to talk to someone else. 

“You still gonna look for the boys?” He asked, you nodded. “Do you mind giving this to them?” He said as he took off his bag and handed it over, you grabbed it with both arms, the bag was very heavy, and bottles clinked against each other with the movement. 

“I’ll find them!” you told him with a smile before giving him one last encouraging nod.

Then you turned around and started to look for the boys. Sirius and Remus were still talking to each other near one of the faraway couches, James was still with Lily, and Peter was hanging out with a girl, who -because of the resemblance- you assumed was Annie Doxon, Beth’s cousin. You didn’t think twice and walked towards the couches. As you approached the boys, Remus was quick to notice you were having a hard time with the bag and quickly approached you to help. 

“What’ve you got there, luv?” 

“Little errand from Minho,” you told him with a complicated smile, he grabbed the bag from your hands and when he felt the weight and heard the sound, he instantly knew what it was. 

“You’ve got the… Did Minho tell you what you were carrying around?” Remus asked, a little shocked as he closed the bag again and carefully placed it on the table. 

“Oh, he showed me,” You told him with a confident smile, “Guess I’m just trustworthy like that.” 

Sirius still had your cup in his hands, and he handed it over “Remus drank your punch earlier, but we refilled it, there’s almost nothing left there.” 

“Did you pour more alcohol on it?” you asked as you took a sip. 

“I would never,” Sirius said with a frown, offended, “I’d never pour anything on your drink without you asking for it.” 

You stared at him confused, and let a soft breath out when you realised the confusion “Not my drink silly! I meant the punch. I know you’d never do something like that, I trust you.” 

Remus shrugged “Maybe he poured Amorentia on one of your drinks and that’s why you’re so in love with him,” he joked. 

You took the cup from your lips and pointed at Remus with it “Touché.” 

Remus nodded, and raised his eyebrows with a playful smile before turning to Sirius, “But actually, I had the same question, Pads.” 

“It was nothing, you saw how much it was,” Sirius said looking at you, and then frowned “But it does feel kinda strong, doesn’t it?” 

“I mean it’s not like it tastes a lot of whiskey or vodka but…” you said. 

“But it does leave you a little lightheaded, doesn’t it?” Remus added.

“Exactly!” You said, agreeing with him, and then turned to look at Lily still wiggling about the Common Room with James trailing behind her. She was actually pulling James along by the wrist, “Look at those two,” you told the boys “Lily’s been hyper for a while now, she was also drinking punch.” 

“That’s odd, maybe the alcohol you had was heavy?” proposed Remus. Sirius took a small flask for his jacket and opened it, giving it a whiff. 

“Smells normal,” he said. 

You pulled the flask from his hands and brought it to your mouth, taking a sip, and playing with the liquid in your mouth for a second before swallowing “Tastes normal,” you said, as you winced “Like the one from Marlen’s party.” 

“It is the one from Marlene’s party!” Sirius said. 

“Maybe someone else added something to the punch,” Remus said with a shrug. 

Someone else added something to the punch, you repeated in your head, someone else added something to the punch! you gasped “The potion!” 

“What potion, love?” 

“The potion we don’t talk about, that potion,” you responded. Sirius and Remus were visibly confused. “I should talk to Tom.” 

Remus, who spotted Tom with Minho through the people thanks to his height, grabbed onto your arm softly, to stop you “He’s busy.” 

You frowned at him and stood on tiptoes to try and see, and you saw Tom’s curly locks next to Minho’s perfect hair and you remembered. “Very busy, never mind,” you said before turning back to the boys with a smile. Sirius paid them only the shortest glance and assumed they must have been talking about something important, he didn’t know, but it was Tom so he was just happy you wouldn’t leave them to go see him again. “And I mean it’s not like there’s anything we can do at this point, the punch is almost empty anyway, right?” you reasoned. 

“Yeah…?” Sirius responded a little confused still. 

“Well then,” you said looking at the cup “Live for the moment, right?” You said with a smile before raising your cup for a toast “Bottoms up.” 

Just before your cup touched your lips Remus turned to you “What was the potion?” 

You smiled mischievously “Euphoric Brew,” you said before tilting the drink towards your mouth and downing it in a few gulps. Sirius smirked and followed suit. Remus stared at the two of you for a second, Sirius’ tail was wagging patiently behind him, making him look even more like a lion as he waited to see what Remus would do. 

“You don’t have to drink it if you–“ you started, but Remus had already tipped the drink over his mouth. What was one more cup anyway? He’d already had like three. 

“Do you feel anything?” Sirius asked. 

“Nope.” You said as you shook your head, and then you laughed. Sirius laughed along with you. 

“I’d never tried Euphoric Brew before, how did Tom get his hands on it?” Remus asked. 

“He made it,” you told them “We got the ingredients from Slughorn’s stash, he let us use it when Lily asked, that’s how I managed to pull this off,” you said as you bit your lips and dramatically made a ta-da hand movement. 

“The costume?” Asked Remus a little confused, his head getting fuzzier.

“The glow, dummie!” Sirius responded.

Then you heard a couple of chords from a song, “Merlin I love this song!” you said with a grin so big it reached all the way to your eyes “We should dance!” 

“Dance?” Remus asked. 

“Yeah dance!” you repeated, grabbing the two boys by the wrist and taking them to the place where some other guests were already dancing. You noticed Lily and James dancing together a little further away and you smiled and waved at them, before starting to dance yourself. Sirius looked at you diverted before joining, your wings were batting blithely as his tail wrapped around his leg as if not to be stepped on. 

You had danced for at least a couple of minutes when you realised Remus wasn’t dancing, but just staring “Rem! Come dance with us!” You said with a pout. 

“Yeah Moony! please,” Sirius joined you. 

Remus was already going to start dancing –there was no way in hell he’d be able to say no to those puppy eyes you were giving him– when both you and Sirius approached him and placed your hands all over him, prompting him to move. You had one hand on his right shoulder and the other one on his chest, while Sirius had both of his hands on his left upper arm, both of you moving Remus along the rhythm. 

You may have not been able to feel the potion, but the potion was definitely doing its job, both you and Sirius were throwing your manners to the wind –not that Sirius minded them that much anyway, especially with how whimsical he could be– completely invading Remus’ personal space. But Remus’s senses were cloudy already, with how much euphoric potion he’d gotten in his system, along with the few drinks of Sirius’ flask they’d shared earlier, that he wasn’t thinking properly, either that, or he just didn’t care to think.

He started dancing along the two of you, all bodies pressing and brushing into each other like you shared the same personal bubble between the three, and the three of you were having the time of your life. At some point, someone from behind pushed you accidentally and you ended up falling towards Remus, Sirius held you by the waist while Remus placed his hand on your shoulder, they both steadied you as you laughed and a minute later, you just kept dancing, a lot closer now that the dance floor was getting a little more crowded. Remus did not remove his hand, only let it travel a little closer to your neck, it sent shivers down your spine, his touch felt soft and intimate, but when you turned to him, he was busy laughing about something the other boy had whispered in his ear. 

Sirius was definitely aware Remus had his hand all over you, but he didn’t even mind it. He was too happy, there was so much joy pilled in between the three of you that things felt electric. It was like everyone else didn’t exist, and it was just the three of you, paying no mind to your surroundings, while looking at each other. You wondered for a second if that was what humans felt when they went to fairy parties, if that's what it was to twirl and whirl until your shoes were danced to pieces and your feet bled. Because if dancing with Sirius and Remus could go on forever, you might just dance to dеath. You wouldn’t have the strength to stop. 

Remus placed his other hand on Sirius’s shulder and pulled the two of you closer to him as he leaned his head “I’m so happy I get to be alive at the same time as you, wankers!” he screamed, both you and Sirius laughed merrily, Remus was so close to you, that you didn’t even think about it and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. Remus’s neck started to turn red from the bIood rushing to his cheeks, but Sirius was too busy looking at you, and the way you’d kissed his friend. But it wasn’t jealousy why he was so attentive, no, Sirius had an idea, and he smirked when it fully developed in his head. He leaned down, copying your actions earlier but instead of a soft kiss, he straight up licked Remus’ cheek. 

“Ugh, that’s gross Pads!” Remus complained as he wiped his cheek with his sleeves. 

“Shut up Moony, I know you love it,” Sirius joked. Remus felt a pang in his heart when his friend spoke because really, he did. 

You laughed and hugged both boys, bringing them closer together, “I’m also really happy I got to live at the same time as you,” You said as you burrowed your head in between the two boys. Remus’ heart raced and he breathed in, trying to memorise the way both you and Sirius smelled, from your hair to the saltiness of your slightly sweaty bodies, both so close to him that a chill ran down his spine. He wanted to carve on his brain the way your soft skin brushed against his hand and the way Sirius’s muscles felt against his chest. It was chilling, it was exciting, It was pure bliss. Remus Lupin was in heaven, and he did not want to fall away from it. 

But then it happened, a sheer moment of what he considered clarity crossed his mind, and he realised what exactly he was doing. This is wrong, he thought. He was, quite literally, getting in between the two of you, and it repulsed him. You’re being selfish, his mind said again. And poor Remus didn’t only feel selfish, but also greedy, loving two people at the same time? That was off. But loving two people that were already dating each other, that was straight-up heinous. 

And the worst part was, that he’d gotten a taste of what it would be like to be with you both and he was sure the joy he had felt wasn’t just there because of the potion, it was there because he yearned for it. Remus was drowning in his feelings, a suffocating mix of desire, guilt, and longing that was quite literally dragging him down from heaven and he hated himself for it. For feeling things when you hugged him or when Sirius placed his arms around him, it was a constant reminder of what he wanted but couldn't fully have. 

The tight knot in Remus's chest only tightened further when you pulled your head back up with a smile, looking at the two boys, so innocently, so oblivious of his loathsome thoughts. He felt like an invisible vice was gripping his heart, his head was torturing him, torturing because he couldn’t let himself feel bliss, not in between your arms, not in the heat of your bodies, not in a corner of your heart. He felt like a marionette caught between two puppeteers, each pulling him in opposite directions; the strings of desire and duty were tangling around him, threatening to tear him apart. This has to stop. It HAS to stop! His mind shouted at him, and he pushed the two of you off of him, a little too forcefully, and you stared at him a little shocked. 

Did I somehow upset him? Your hurt expression, and the little frown of confusion that stared back at him almost smashed his heart. But he cleared his throat, “I’m just feeling a little dizzy, I’ll go sit down for a minute.” 

Your frown deepened, still a little confused “We can hold you,” you offered. 

Remus felt the temptation pulling onto him, your words so soft, but he shook his head, a forced smile paying on his lips “It’s fine, you guys have fun.” 

You saw him walk towards one of the couches, not too far from where you were dancing, and sit down, you started to walk to get him, but Sirius placed a hand over your arm softly, stopping you. Remus had done the same thing to him before, he knew how to deal with it better “Let him cool off,” he said softly, gently pulling your chin so you’d focus on his grey eyes rather than on Remus “He does that sometimes, he’ll come back eventually,” Sirius explained softly, letting your eyes focus on his, he smiled mischievously “Dance with me?” 

You smiled, a little giggle coming out, how easy was it to lose yourself on Sirius. You leaned into him and continued dancing. After a couple of minutes, you realised his tail was wagging in between the two of you, still away from the rest of the dancers but now swaying along with the music. Curiosity got the best of you and you reached to grab it, Sirius flinched at your touch, and the tail pulled away from your hands. 

You turned to him with a surprised expression “You felt that?” 

He gulped but nodded, “When I found the spell I didn’t expect it to be so… so sensitive.” 

You raised an eyebrow at that “May I?” you asked, your eyes still fixated on looking at it. His tail lifted itself a bit higher again, closer to your hand, you slowly leaned your hand, and gently grazed your fingers over it. It was soft and sleek, very different from his skin, except it was just as warm as him. Sirius’ breath got caught in his throat as you continued to move your hand through it. 

“All right Satarshine, that’s enough,” he said, voice rough and a little strained. 

You turned to him, his pupils were blown out as he stared at you, and you gasped “Sirius Orion Black!” you reprimanded, he winced at his second name “What on earth were you thinking of?” you asked with a diverted smile, you almost wanted to laugh. 

“I wasn’t!” he posited, “I told you it was sensitive. You still wanted to touch it.” 

Your eyes opened wide in surprise. “You didn’t say… sensitive like that?” 

“Thought it was obvious,” he retorted.

You just giggled “Poor Puppy, I was straight up torturing you and you just allowed it.”

Sirius nodded along with you, playing the victim “Why don’t you make up for it?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. 

You raised your eyebrows, placing one of your hands on his shoulder, a little diverted at his ploy “How ever would I do that?” 

He placed his hand on your waist and brought you closer to him, with a smile “How about you take a guess?” 

The two of you were smiling like idiots at each other, dancing like there was no tomorrow, and Remus was sitting on one of the sofas, looking at the two of you every now and then, really trying not to look as miserable as he felt. Of course, you’d just completely forget about him the moment he left your sight, you were deeply in love with each other after all; meanwhile, he couldn’t get the smell of your hug out of his head, it was invading his mind, colonising his senses and he felt jealous, and he cursed himself for it. 

He yearned for a distraction, and the universe delivered. Alice Becket, a tall Hufflepuff girl he’d seen in a couple of classes approached him with a smile and sat next to him on the couch. Very close to him. “Hey Remus,” she purred as she placed a hand on his leg, “why so lonely?”

He looked at her, Remus would surely run away from a situation like this on a normal day, not today though, he wanted to stop thinking about you and Sirius, he wanted to forget. Alice is pretty, he thought, not as pretty as you or Sirius, but she’s got a nice smile. Remus tilted his head a little, and shrugged “Maybe I was waiting for a pretty girl like you to approach me.”  

Alice raised one of her eyebrows and looked at the boy with a smirk, thrilled her advances were being reciprocated. “What do you say we find a more quiet area?” 

Remus looked at her, and then back at you and Sirius, you were both standing so close together, his stomach churned again, but he slowly turned his head back to Alice, she was wearing a short blue dress. Dressed as Alice from Alice in Wonderland, Remus concluded when she saw the blackhead band and the small apron, He’d seen the movie with his mom a couple of years ago; the dress was a lot shorter than the one in the movie though, barely reaching mid thigh. “How about we stay here instead? It’s comfortable.” 

Alice arched her eyebrows, diverted, “Is it? I’d have to see.” She said before she lifted herself up and accommodated on Remus’ lap. She moved around just a bit and then nodded “Hm… I see, definitely comfortable.” 

Remus smirked, impressed at her teasing “Told you so.” 

Alice leaned in closer to the boy “Will you just stare?” 

Remus let a soft laugh out before leaning in to kiss the girl. Her lips were soft, but not as soft as yours. Her kiss was kind, but not as kind as yours. The way she held him, wasn’t gentle nor caring, it was hungry, and it made him feel more like a toy for her than a boy, but it didn’t matter. Because a broken heart is blind, and the more he focused on the kiss, the easier it was to forget you and Sirius dancing together a couple of metres away. It wasn’t until Alice turned herself completely, one leg on each side of his waist, that he managed to lose himself. Alice was pretty much grinding onto him as they kissed, and it felt good, finally something felt good. 

Sirius was the first to notice Remus on the couch, he had been lost on you until he saw Alice approach Remus. He had continued dancing with you but kept a close eye on the two of them as they talked. Something twisted in his stomach when Alice sat on Remus’ lap, and he frowned, Remus with a girl? he’d never seen something like that. Sirius still thought Remus didn’t have much experience in the realm of romance, and yet, he had a girl on his lap, and he was flirting. Sirius turned the thoughts to the back of his head and turned to you again, you were still glowing, he smiled, he really was the luckiest man on earth. But then his mind got distracted again, she’s kissing him! She’s kissing him, and he’s kissing her back!

A sudden urge to kiss you came over him, he smiled at you flirtatiously “Dancing’s good to make it up, yeah, but how about a kiss?” 

“Just one?” you teased. 

“Satshine, you can kiss me until my lungs run out of air and I faint. And even then you could continue kissing me.” 

You blinked a couple of times at his words, sometimes Sirius could be so romantic it took your breath away. Eventually, you smiled and finally leaned in to kiss Sirius. His kiss was hungry, hungrier than normal. It must be the euphoric brew, you thought as you kissed back. Sirius’ hands had travelled to the small of your back, just below your wings, and his warmth made you shiver. Sirius kissed you like he was starving, opening his eyes just to check on Remus, he was still kissing the girl, and Sirius turned back to you, deepening the kiss. 

Alice’s lips started to trace kisses down Remus’ jaw when he finally spotted Sirius, he was kissing you feverishly. Remus’ mouth was slightly agape and his sight a little unfocused as the girl continued to kiss his neck, but not so much that he didn’t notice Sirius’s gaze focused straight on him, there was something in his gaze he hadn’t seen before, and it pissed him off. How was it possible that he was kissing you, and focusing on anything other than your sweet lips? Remus stared at Sirius one last moment, before turning his head again, grabbing Alice’s face and bringing her back to his lip. He wasn’t there to think about Sirius. 

As you kissed Sirius, you felt something wrap around the middle of your thigh. His tail, you realised, like a snake, it was clinging to you like its life depended on it, you smiled and continued to kiss him, for some reason you liked it when Sirius got clingy. But then you felt it tightening even further, enough for it to be uncomfortable rather than hot, so you broke the kiss off “Sirius what are you…?” You started and turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at something else, you followed his gaze and it landed on Remus and Alice Becket? 

Until literally that second, you’d assumed Remus was gay, because of the conversation you’d had with Minho earlier, but perhaps, he was more like Tom? “He really did get bitches after all,” you said surprised, the smallest bit of anguish slipping into your heart. It didn’t make any sense, but it was there regardless. 

“Yeah…” Sirius said, letting a breath out “I’d never seen him like that before,” he admitted. 

“Maybe it’s the euphoric brew?” You said with a shrug “has him doing things he’d usually do in the dark.”

“You think he’d do it in the dark?” He asked you with a frown. 

“You don’t?” You asked matter-of-factly “Remus is pretty damn handsome! Especially with the sexy pirate costume.” 

“I know.”

You tried to step out, to rest for a moment since you were a little tired already, but you couldn’t “Sirius your tail…” 

“Sorry?” 

“It’s um… kind of trapping me,” you said awkwardly. 

“Oh, sorry.” He whispered and finally released your leg, blushing when he realised how high the tail end had gotten. 

“‘Tis fine,” you said even as the marks of it had itched onto your skin. 

“Let’s go sit somewhere,” he suggested, looking at the marks he’d left on your skin. A part of him felt bad for hurting you, but the other really wanted Tom to see them. You nodded and let Sirius guide you to the couches. You thought he’d take you near Remus, but he instead took you to the other side of the common room and sat with his back facing him. Sirius did not want to continue being a witness to Remus’ little show. 

“He did not give me a 3-day notice,” he complained with a little pout as he sat down.

You raised an eyebrow, not quite believing Sirius would fuzz over that, but then again, you all were pretty drunk and under the influence of the potion. You saw some people enjoying a game of potion pong in the corner before you saw Remus and Alice were still glued to each other’s lips. You didn’t remember Remus being so fierce when he kissed you. Maybe it really had been a soft kiss because of the game, after all. 

“I highly doubt he planned it.” You reassured Sirius as you sat down beside him “In fact, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t close to Alice before now.” 

Finally, Sirius let go of the subject, almost forgetting about it as he looked at your leg, specifically at the marks he’d left. It was a little red, he frowned as he etched his hand closer, “‘m sorry.” He whispered, even if he still kinda liked that the marks would be there for a while.

“Oh, that?” You said looking at your leg as Sirius graced his fingers over the marks, it made a shiver run down your spine, and it wasn’t because it hurt, Sirius had never touched your bare thigh. “It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”

“If I had known how whimsical the tail would be I would have chosen a different costume.” 

You shook your head “I kind of like it, actually…” 

Sirius raised his eyebrows “Oh, you do?” 

Bad idea, bad idea, Sirius will never cease to tease me about this, “Looks hot on you, not everyone would be able to pull it off,” you said besides your own warnings. 

An amused smile was playing on Sirius’ lips, “Ah… so you do think I’m hot. It’s not only sexy pirate Remus this, sexy pirate Remus that…”  

You laughed at that and turned to him. You didn’t think it would be possible for Sirius Black to doubt his attractiveness, and there you were. A little idea came to your head, maybe you’d have to reassure Sirius yourself. So you crossed one leg over his lap and sat on top of him, just like Alice had done with Remus, if it works for them. 

“Luv, what are you...?” 

You leaned into him, hands over his shoulders, as your lips brushed against his ear “Do you really need me to tell you how bIoody hot you look tonight?” Sirius’ mind went completely blank the second he heard your voice purr out of your mouth. You pulled back with a smile, “Cat got your tongue?” you teased. He looked at you, chest falling and rising slowly, “I can tell you how much I liked the wings you chose, or the stupid little halo that still glows over your head, or I can tell you about how interesting your naughty little tail felt wrapped around my leg,” Sirius’ hand, that somehow had reached your thigh, squeezed it a little “Or aside from the costume, I could tell you how nice your hair looks,” you said as you brushed a strand behind his ear, “or how in love I am with your eyes.” 

“Yes,” he choked out. 

“Yes? Yes, what Puppy?” 

“Tell me more.” 

You smiled, “How about I tell you how I literally had to press my thighs together when you gave me that ravenous sight of yours as I was walking down the stairs…” 

Sirius leaned in to kiss your neck when you felt someone plop in the couch beside the two of you. You both pulled away from each other, but the two were looking at none other than James Potter, smiling like an idiot beside you. 

You sighed when you saw him, there was something about James, that even in that situation, you couldn’t be mad at him for interrupting. He just looked really, really freaking happy, it was contagious. And James hadn’t even taken a drop of punch that night. Sirius, on the other hand, was glaring at his friend, and he might have told him to piss off if it wasn’t because James spoke first. 

“Guys you won’t believe this!”

“Really?!? James?!?” Sirius complained, nodding to the fact that you were quite literally straddling him still. 

James’ head was too high up in the clouds for him to acknowledge Sirius’ sarcasm “Lily said she’d go on a date with me!” 

You looked at the boy with a smile, crossing one of your legs over Sirius, so you wouldn’t be straddling him anymore, even if you were still sitting on his lap “Really?” You asked, now fully invested in the new subject. Sirius was still a little pissed, looking straight at the place in your neck he’d wanted to kiss earlier rather than at his friend. 

“Yes, and I’m gonna make it the best date of her life!” 

“How?” You asked with a frown. 

“With your help of course!”

click to see the boys in their costumes

Series Masterlist | The Interlude | Next Chapter

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A/N: BOOO! HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Can you tell I love halloween? Because I love Halloween! And we barely celebrate it where I live. Woaaaaah, I really did write this, what a freaking rollercoaster this chapter was, right? Still one of my favs but uff... so much excitement and then... Baby Remus I'm sorry, my editing literally had me squealing both in excitement and dread. Remus needs to get off his own head. But I did warn him at the beginning, didn’t I? ps. pls don't hate me you know I love you. I’m almost scared to ask this one but… thoughts?

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✧ forget-me-nots ✧

trying to pass on some of the appreciation I receive here because it's crazy to break the 4th wall for a second and really internalize how this community is driven by creativity and mutual loving. here's a list in random order of my most dear to me loves + a few nonmutuals whose work i think of often, and the pieces that remind me most of them

when they come for you in the night (thorfinn x reader) | @gardenofnoah

the depth of dive i had to take through your blog to find this is just.. the moment i hit "when you’ve known nothing but cruelty, kindness would surely be terrifying" it was game over. thorfinn came so so to life and this was such a stunnning introduction to your style. youve written so much now and i find myself always totally stunned! but i still always think of this one first. (i give it all to you also spills out of my brain sometimes while im trying to go about the world and was a close contender + this bkg x feral creature little piece of wonderful)

you. that's what happened, you (maki x reader) | @neiptune

you already know, i would be a godless liar if said i didn't think about this weekly; the maki rizz is heretofore unmatched, this piece went above and beyond all req expectations, “hold my hand, they’ll think something’s wrong if you don’t” will be the epitaph on my tombstone. you have the power to make me love all those boys ive never even thought about, and when it was time to write for my actual wife you cracked your knuckles and made sure id never be satisfied by another! (aint that the worst thing you ever heard also reminds me of you sm, eren aot of all people)

unsubtle pro shinsou drabble | @moonbeamwritings

i can feel the heat of shinsou's crush through both our screens it is just perfection!!! what a dweeb. love to send this to myself so its easy to find and reread on the regular

To Shape a Home (bkg x reader) | @kweenkatsuki-fics

not only do the stardew vibes shine through every corner, this fic was carved out with such care it makes the relationship + bkg's growth all the more precious! "yer nothin’ to go nuts over." was an insane introduction and the two of them only got better and better and sweeter and stickier with time (ao3 tagged bc i cant find your beautiful masterlist marquie sosrrrrry)

bittersweet (vash x reader) | @heich0e

i remember exactly where i was when i read this for the first time and I remember how excited I was to find a vash fic after so long loving trigun! i didn't even know the new series had been released yet! this was agonizing, such a soft characterization for both, and the desert was so palpable-- the setting really added so much spice to an already seasoned piece

hanafuda (tanjiro x reader) | @cherryblossomsenpai

way way back in 2022 this was one of the first tanjiro pieces i ever read that really made a romantic argument for him. love his exhaustion, exasperation, fear and relief all wrapped up in one hug "The rest of his lecture is indecipherable," bc he's just crying so hard! total sweetheart, so in character

kirishima drunk girl wrangler | @mechamedusa

dusa🫱🏻‍🫲🏼kirishima ofc your kiri thoughts are unmatched and this one is so quintessential, when i think of him i think of you. he is so wrangler shaped! the perfect boyfriend, your mind is a treasure trove

wedding vows (hashira x reader) | @meowzfordayz

to my very first friend <3 you'd think the piece i associate most with you would be one of giyuus and you write so so impressively much it was hard to decide, but this hashira drabble wrung me by the neck when I first read it, and it still crushes me that your kyojuro isn't a real man i can go outside and hunt for sport. "I have an energy bar in my suit pocket — just in case." a snack for his partner at their own wedding put me down, love your mind always

sleepy rengoku drabble | @vampcubus

my femdom queen! why was it so hard for me to remember which character this was written for? reader's rizz blinded me, thank you for introducing me to dom!reader works bc now every sexy hc i have is filtered through the puppysub filter to make all those big strong boys tastefully more submissive

anything to do with anika~ | @ltadoriyuujl

love your oc, she's such a caring nuclear bomb! loved reading your wonderful chara exploration piece and being able to write for her myself! what a trust fall

the only exception (yuuji x reader) | @touyangel

yuuji is such a boyscout at the end of the world, even in total tragedy he is kind and calm and caring. thinking about "If he wasn’t teaching you how to decapitate something that used to be human, it might have been romantic." this one hurts so so good and very easily convinced me love on him. even with all the choso pieces of yours I adore, this yuuji piece reminds me most of you (this sick choso drabble is a close second!)

menthol (aki x reader) | @cyancherub

the smut hall of fame all time champion on my knees on the floor kicking my feet and smiling, love the characterization in this piece! car guy/childhood friend/overprotective/smoke sess/ so intimate and perfectly filthy. a tried and true classic, this is a blessing

fill my little world right up (aizawa x reader) | @shibaraki

the fic of all time yeah, WHAT a way to be introduced to your writing and what a privilege! this piece is just a beating heart, every action and character introduction felt like a memory, the love was so palpable. reread this one all the time, can't believe it's free, want to bind a copy for my bookshelf

cor unum (sukuna x reader) | @vampyrsm

this was the first writing i ever saw from you and in an effort of solidarity (im finishing a longform fic as well and holy fuck) i've very recently started reading and can already tell how much care you had for this world and its characters. the dedication to setting and history is so cool and rare in reader fics, can't believe you're letting us read all this for free! what a tome, seriously looking forward to it (and this bkg thought abt crowded places! mmm)

i love you more than being seventeen (nanami x reader) | @strawberrystepmom

this fucking guy oh my god, this fic almost put me in the hospital, so so glad you reposted. "hey. I love you." OOhhhHHGoowwAWAWAAAA this is such a timeless character piece-- nanami running away from this word he hates, job he hates, girl he loves, and coming back to it all knowing he'll die and knowing its worth it. i get chills

strawberry stars on my lips (bkg x reader) | @willowser

breaking the rules of speed dating is insanely romantic, probably the most romantic thing someone has ever thought of and this is the piece i think of when i think of your blog. bkg is simultaneously so constipated and so vulnerable i almost feel like i have to cover my eyes for him and it is sugary sweet in the best way. happy hiatus!

[speakofthedebbie]

by popular demand (re: one person) some radioapple fic recs!! (i hope thats what you meant lol most of the fics i read are just radioapple)

Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis

just yes. thousand times yes. so basically my boy luci has some sleep troubles and that somehow leads to a qpr with al look its been a while ok just read it

Managerial Liberties by the same fella

these two tags explain it pretty well

something that sticks out to me about this is that charlie is actually (reasonably) cold to adam and like. im actually surprised with how little ive seen that. i mean i dont think id be exactly buddy-buddy with my besties killer either. only 3 chaps as of writing but already looking to be a radioapple classic

im not sure if its meant to be read as such but it kinda feels like a squeal to bedtime rituals in a way (edit: not meant to be read as such, just the same vibe)

devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss

also just yes. basically a really not cool joke evolves into a blossoming romance because why wouldnt it. (man if i had a nickel for every radioapple fic that had a masquerade that was sabotaged by the vees- *gets shot bc i cant mention osas yet*)

i’ll hold you close (i’ll stay the course) by the same fella

the entire time i was just going "yas king! put that egotistical flatscreen in his place!!". basically luci reminds the overlords who he is and vox shows he can be more of a threat than he lets on.

ykw fuck it just the entire series (i didnt mention i would give anything to not give a shit (but i do) and my perfect rock bottom (my beautiful trauma) because the first one sounded a lil too angsty and ive gotten enough of that from other sources [pointedly glares at Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love {also coming up later!}] and the second is (mostly) smut and ive been trying to step back from that because "ive seen worse" isnt a valid excuse for that torture actually)

Of Saints and Sinners by the forever amazing @morningstarwrites!! (if you see this i have a serious question: is this your first time ever writing a fic? because how do you get so much right the first time- [not even beginners luck could explain this level of skill])

i could sing its praises until my death bed but ill hold off so i can explain whats happening. basically after burning down a meeting room several times, luci and al make a deal ("not a deal!", luci laments to the void): they will attempt to be civil and maybe even friendly, and by the end luci will owe al a favour. whats the favour? read it yourself dammit! seriously, 10/10, i am foaming at the mouth till friday (depending on how this goes, that might be tomorrow or today)

Quietly, It Slips Through Your Fingers, Love by Starlit_Rainfall (no tumblr in sight, so AO3) (i. urgfgh. what happened. i was just smiling over the fluff while crossing to go to school. where did it go. where did it gooooo)

if thats anything to go by, the last few chapters have been rough. the fluff feels so far away that i cant even explain what happens. luci was waxing poetic about swimming in maple syrup for al, i remember that much. also emily is there (fallen) tho we havent seen her in a sec. if you read it, warning for the gut punch of angst that starts chap 32 "She/Her" (though the chapter before that, "Should Alastor Know By Now?" ends pretty rough too)

Freely We Serve by @romanaxe

i dont remember how i managed to stumble upon this but im having a great time. basically alastor is a new sinner fresh in hell (but time doesnt matter and the whole cast is still here) and thinks "what better way to gain power than be the personal assistant of the heartbroken king of hell!" features a 6(?) year old charlie and a morally dubious lilith (also i loved eepy al X3)

A Family Forged in Hellfire by Green_Ghostwriter (once again, no Tumblr, so AO3)

this ones a bit newer (10 chaps), is so far mostly exposition and the slowburn pot hasnt even been put on the stove, but as just a hazbin fic in general i see the potential. basically its a 1920s au where heaven decides little charlie doesnt deserve to be raised in hell and is sent to earth with a "foster" family where her actions in life will determine witch realm she will return to after death. her "parents", al and minzy, are given false memories so they can claim the girl as their own and gee i wasnt kidding when i said it was a lot of exposition. erm honestly explaining anymore would tech be spoiling so go read it!

The Red Thread That Binds Us by @scun-gilli

{{future me prefacing this by saying i have no idea where i was going with yesterdays thought process, all you need to know from it was im on chapter 27. also scungilli your comment is making me very worried 😟 well theres no mcd tag so im sure itll fine, right? RIGHT, SCUNGILLI??}}

basically its a king x kings guard au where al and luci grow up together and only grow closer after a. certain life event for al (its fine guys trust :)) [she said, like a liar]) then al is sent of for royal guard training school (ik its not called that i forgor 😭) but dw he comes back. just watch out for graphic depictions of injuries (i think thats this fic) angst and a sneaky eve bc radioapple fics are allergic to happiness (or maybe im not looking hard enough lol) (also im really tempted to make the friendship bracelets they had 👀)

somewhere down the line by kj_crwm (AO3 link)

this one starts off as human!alastor/lucifer but by the middle(?) its just regular radioapple. basically al is encountered by luci while finishing off a job who agrees to keep quiet. luci just keeps on showing up, reveals hes the devil to which al us just like "lol ok" and eventually they get in a relationship (ooh lala 👀) but they break up after saying some hurtful things to each other (oh nono 👀) with luci promising al they will never cross paths again. if you watched the show then well. you know that doesnt happen 😂 most human!al radioapple have al summon him (no hate to them) so this was an interesting change of pace

cannot stress it enough but this is a WORKING list i WILL be coming back to it bc these are purely the fics i could think if off the top of my head. IN FACT, if any of you have radioapple fics you love, SEND THEM THE FUCK IN! i am one person whos only been in this fandom for 4 months, and reading fics/shipping radioapple even less, theres bound to be some ones i missed that you think are Worthy™️! and if theyre nsfw then at the very least it shouldnt be the main focus

EDIT: so sorry anyone who reblogged this before had to see the disgusting unedited version. literally just found out that tumblr doesnt apply edits to reblogs. what the fuck

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the March roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read close to 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

(Inaugural roundup can be found here)

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

~

Title: Bones of My Bones (& Flesh of My Flesh) by everyday_forever Word Count: 15,759 Summary: When Will & Hannibal reunite in Italy at last, Will doesn't fear becoming Hannibal. He knows he already is Hannibal. However, Will feels as if he's a derivative of Hannibal, made in Hannibal's image, from Hannibal's own raw material. He doesn't feel like he's Hannibal's natural equal. Will thinks the only way he can forgive Hannibal is by claiming a piece of Hannibal in return, and choosing to make it a part of himself. He has to eat him. And Hannibal is all to happy to let him.

As far as I'm concerned, this IS canon. Truly some of the best canon-compliant characterizations of them that I've read. This is absolutely what would have happened if Will hadn't tried to kill Hannibal after leaving the Uffizi Gallery. It was perfect. And so them. And obviously, mutual cannibalism. *chefs kiss*

Title: Do you feel the hunger, does it howl inside? by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee Word Count: 261,929 Summary: It's been weeks since the Fall. Since Will had leaned against him, the wild scent of blood thick and cloying on the air, and had taken them from the top of the cliffs. And for every second of every day since, Hannibal has been calmly dealing with the fallout of his decision that night: Life over death. Will had intended them to die, had allowed himself a moment of weakness, of desperation. Perhaps the last act of an exhausted soul. Yet Hannibal had denied him.

I am being dead serious when I say that this fic changed my brain chemistry and managed to do something that several years of therapy had not. I wanted this to go on forever (there IS a sequel!) and did my very best to savor it instead of plowing through the entire thing in a single day. Check the author notes if you're unfamiliar with these two writers–the format took me a couple chapters to get used to, but clearly it wasn't a big deal for me.

Title: Sensational by bigfootghostdick Word Count: 39,607 Summary: Franklyn’s obsession with Hannibal Lecter truly knows no bounds. His obsession only grows worse after being fired as Dr.Lecter’s patient. Feeling slighted by Hannibal's rejection, Franklyn follows him home one evening only to stumble upon something that he never expected to see. Who’s that dark-haired man locking lips with Hannibal right outside his front door? Overcome with jealousy, Franklyn decides to seek revenge on his tenth psychiatrist. How? By selling the photos he took of them to Freddie Lounds.

Listen. I love a good jealous!Franklyn, especially when Hanni and Will firmly put him in his place. Sue me.

Title: The Stress-Sex Connection by shotgun_sinner Word Count: 48,090 Summary: When Will gets out of the BSHCI, he resumes therapy with Hannibal Lecter. His stress levels are through the roof, and Hannibal makes an offer that Will doesn't turn down. Hannibal assumes he's going to take Will to bed and make love to a fragile man, shy and delicate. Will enjoys taking Hannibal to bed, and proving him wrong. OR the story where Hannibal is shocked to find out that Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets.

I was sold on the last line of the summary, "Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets" because it actually got a good cackle out of me, and then who would have guessed! Essentially porn with feelings, but I loved.

Title: hold me, kiss me, rip out my tongue by multifandom_fanfic_writer Word Count: 18,005 Summary: Will notices things. He notices a lot of things, can’t turn it off. Some of these things are about Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He watches Hannibal watching him eat. He watches the touch on his elbow lingering, possessive. He watches Hannibal's eyes darken when Will pulls his hair and fucks his throat hard.

Okay, so I'm realizing that a lot of my five star fics this month were pretty smutty, but I make no apologies. That being said, I did find the characterizations of both Will and Hannibal to be very compelling, and it had the added bonus of Will getting to rub it in Alana's face that Hannibal chose him not her.

Title: Ligare by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 8,280 Summary: Will's never gone down on a man before and is feeling nervous about it. His solution: tie Hannibal up first. Hannibal has no complaints.

Initially shied away from this one because Will essentially drugs Hannibal to knock him out and fuck him for the first time, but I PROMISE Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and allowed it. However, if that isn't your thing, this won't be for you.

THAT BEING SAID, my honest reaction after this was, "fuck fuck fuck, dom!Will might be my new favorite." Bonus points for it being the first in a series, and the rest is equally good!

Title: Oboedire, Implorare, Vovere by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 18,715 Summary: At the end of Ligare, Hannibal said Will should "test" his willingness to submit to him. Will takes him up on that, and the results are more than either of them expected.

As I said, the rest of the series was SO GOOD. This was basically off the charts hot.

Title: To the Devil His Due (His Due is You) by everyday_forever Word Count: 26,3319 Summary: Will Graham is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, courtesy of one Hannibal Lecter. And Will wants payback. He threatens Hannibal with a reckoning. And then Will has a terrible and wonderful idea- he opts to get back at Hannibal and make him jealous by pursuing a sexual relationship with Dr. Frederick Chilton. Feeling emboldened, Chilton sends the audio recordings of him and Will together to Hannibal to boast of the new development in Will's 'therapy.' Hannibal knows at once Will is the mastermind behind it all. Hannibal is most displeased with his manipulative albeit cunning boy. Chaos ensues. Will continues to manipulate both Chilton and Hannibal in order to make Hannibal jealous. Will has entered into a dance with the Devil after poking Hannibal's beast and Hannibal is eager to teach Will a lesson and remind him who he belongs to...

HEAR ME OUT. Prior to this fic, I had never considered Will/Chilton. Ever. Let alone reading a fic where most of the on paper smut is ChilWill. And yet here we are. Hannibal was just so present through it all, given that Will was only screwing Chilton to get at Hannibal (although, I liked that there was some genuine affection between Chilton and Will, it wasn't completely callous), and it just all combined to be an excellent fic. Sue me.

Title: Trope: Fake Date (Hannigram AU) by TigerPrawn Word Count: 4,207 Summary: Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Fluffy first meeting AU, nothing more nothing less. I just love seeing them happy!! (sometimes, lmao)

~

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

[icallhimjoey]

AAHH my favorite bitch back at it again! This will be a 5 chapter fic, correct? Because we best make him the FILTHIEST of martinis that makes him drop to his knees and kiss the floor we spill drinks on walk on. He better recognize we are more than just cute 😤😤😤

well, best we can do is TRY, isn't it? And that is, if Martin will let us... Wordcount: 3.7K

---

Mistaken, Not Stirred

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“Surprise, surprise. Look who's back again. For the, what, fifth time this week, is it?”

“That’s... that’s no way to speak to a customer.”

You let your mouth smile so hard, it made your sarcastic eyes disappear entirely.

“What can I get you?”

“Oh, that’s all right, I think...” Joe started, and Martin reached to place a drink down on the bar where Joe would usually sit. Joe pointed at it for you to see, like you were dumb to even suggest you had to take his order. “I’ve already got one waiting. But thank you. Next time.”

Disrespectful idiot.

You didn’t like Joe.

You did. You liked Joe a lot. But you didn't like him, you know?

It had been a few weeks of this now, and the comments had become more and more biting. Always said with smiles – ones that didn’t reach your eyes, nor his. Never mean or actually bitter, but there was definitely a “you suck at this job you stupid cow” vibe coming from him, and a “you come here too often you sad sack of shit” vibe coming from you.

It made Martin bite away sly smirks and swallow his obvious laughter when he witnessed you interact with each other.

You just didn’t like how Joe seemed to act like he was above you in this bar, even though he didn’t even work there. Only vaguely knew the manager. Came in a couple nights a week, mostly by himself because he didn’t have any friends.

You didn’t know if that was true, but who the fuck spends hours in a bar by himself if they have actual friends to hang out with, you know? Man was a loner. A real loser.

Shame he looked so good. And shame that it always made your heart beat faster when you saw him walk in every couple of days. You’d tell it, fucking knock it off with the palpitations, I don’t have time for this shit, he called us inadequate, you stupid bitch.

Cute too, sure. He had called you cute as well. It was why he made you blush just by looking at you.

But he’d wished Martin good luck with that one and he obviously had meant you. So you didn’t like Joe. Even though you did. And even though he’d been right.

Because Martin really did need good luck with this one, you thought, mentally pointing a fat thumb at yourself. Martin hadn’t called you inadequate to your face, yet, but… the message was clear.

No one else got told to just go sit and to closely watch what he did. See how he made drinks. Learn from what you could observe. 

Martin had said it all politely, but had grabbed onto you by the shoulders and steered you around the bar without any hesitation. Gestured at the barstools there and… you were a little dumbfounded at first. 

“Just... so I just sit…? And watch?”  

“It’s a little too busy to have so many bodies behind the bar.” 

You were in everyone’s way a lot, is what he meant.

James had shoved you aside more than once and had dropped a bottle of sticky syrup when he bumped into you. Somehow that was your fault. You’d been standing in a spot you weren’t meant to be standing, because apparently you had to by now be able to anticipate his every next step all night long.  

You sat down closest to Martin’s station.  

Decided if you were going to be tasked to watch and learn, you might as well watch and learn from the best.  

It had been three days since you’d been called cute by a stranger and three days of trying to mix the perfect dirty martini.  

And it really shouldn’t be so difficult. You knew the steps. You knew what went into the glass. You could do everything exactly the same as Martin would do it, but somehow, you thought it always didn’t come out right.  

Martin said yours was good. Had tasted the dirty martini you’d mixed before opening just to show him you knew exactly how now, and he’d said, “Yea. Good. So that’s one drink down.”  

Only thirteen more to master from the current menu.  

And then whatever other random off menu drinks people would ask for. Like frozen cocktails that weren’t on the menu. But there was blender behind the bar, and people would go, “I see you have a blender, can I have this drink, but have it frozen, please?” and Chloé would tell them, of course! And then would have you try your hand at it. 

You weren’t sure if she was giving you the orders she knew you were going to fuck up just to mess with you.  

But you were kind of fucking everything up, off menu or not, so, probably not. It was likely more an issue of incapability on your end than a malicious thing on hers.  

Martin made you sit and watch him, and after a little while, he passed you a little notepad and a pen. It was weird to have someone rest their head on two stacked fists on the bar all night. Taking notes made it look like you were actually doing something. So Martin started giving instructions on what he was doing whenever he could, whenever he felt he had the time to do so, to give you things to write down.  

He didn’t have a lot of time to do so, though, so you just started writing down what you saw. Wrote down ingredients. Step by step instructions. Utensils and glassware used. 

You had to be quick though. 

Martin was fast.  

You had to keep eyes on his hands and hope that what you were writing down was still readable after.  

In your focus, you hadn’t noticed that someone sat down next to you. 

Someone who now had to sit at the long end of the bar, cringe, eyeroll, so very annoying, because you so happened to have taken the seat he’d usually occupy.  

Joe sat down and sort of watched you for a little bit. Looked at what you were doing. Puzzled together why you weren’t behind the bar doing your job, or trying to do so at least, and instead hogged his favourite seat.

He saw how you didn’t break eye-contact with Martin’s hands and chuckled to himself when he saw your handwriting.

There was no way you’d be able to decipher that. Didn’t even look like you were writing down words.

He looked on as your pen slipped off the paper and left a mark on the bar. 

“Careful, that’s the end of the note right there,” Joe said, condescending, too late to actually be helpful.  

You rubbed at it with a finger and quickly got your eyes back on Martin. 

You’d missed a step. 

Shit.  

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to pay attention because,” you paused, wrote down what Martin did with some lemon zest.  

“Because…” Joe egged you on. 

“Because apparently, I can’t mix my cocktails right.”  

“Oh,” you heard next to you as you watched Martin finish the drink, followed by, “So, you’re aware?” 

Hm?

What the fuck? 

You frowned as you looked down at your note and tried to process if what you just heard had been right. Then you slowly looked up, eyes first, then your head followed, and, oh no, this was the guy.

There wasn’t even time to think of a smart comeback quick enough, because the realization immediately made you move onto different things.

“Dirty martini!” you exclaimed, eyes wide, and you immediately got up. Well. You tried to immediately get up. The barstool scraped against the floor loudly, but it didn’t move back far enough, and you got caught between the chair and the bar and it made your tits land on the edge awkwardly before you turned and let your feet find the floor properly.

The whole scuffle of it made the little smile on his face break into an actual laugh.

“Careful,” Joe laughed as he hovered a hand near you that did nothing, all pretend helpful.

But the second you were off the seat, you got instructions to get back on.

“Sit back down.” Martin said, eyes not even on you, and it was stupid how quick you climbed back onto the seat again. It was also stupid how you were legitimately proud of yourself for succeeding at something Martin asked of you.

“This one’s for Joe,” Martin said as he placed the drink he’d just finished right in front of this guy. Joe, you’d just learnt. “But you can get him a dirty martini next if he’ll have one.”

Martin looked at you like you were a child, eyebrows raised up high on his forehead, and then when he turned to Joe, he broke into a grin. It felt like it was a smile that made fun of you a little, but then he said, “Let me know what you think, I need to sort the Christmas menu.” and you hadn’t even considered the menu changing soon.

Fuck.

That meant there were more drinks you were going to have to learn how to make. Things with seasonal ingredients. Things that were more festive. Things that included fire maybe, and you weren’t ready to light yourself on fire. You weren’t ready to see the horrified reflection of your hairdresser in the mirror as you explained that it was just an accident, and could she please fix it because you had a big New Year’s Eve party to attend soon?

 You didn’t get to make Joe his dirty martini that night.

Or the next time he came in.

Or the time after that.

Instead, you got to listen to him wince, hiss and then laugh when you dropped a full tray of drinks over yourself before you could even step around the bar to bring them over to the right table.

Instead, you got to see him hide a giggle when you held a bit of orange peel the wrong way when you squeezed it over a drink, spraying the juice right into your eyes.

Instead, you got to see how he seemed playfully impressed when you bit back at a comment Chloé made about you needing to get out of the way after she bumped her hip into you, and you’d said that it wasn’t your fault she had a fat arse.

When you looked at him though, he’d pretended to be absolutely scandalized. Like he was on her side for it. Like he was about to go, "Are you just going to take that, Chlo?" and egg this on.

When he didn't see you look, you'd seen him smile softly to himself and, you know what, he could actually piss off for real, who did he think he even was in the first place?

You’d apologized to Chloé immediately after, terrified Chloé would be offended, mortified you’d started an actual fight, but you’d seen a flicker of joy across her face, and you had felt comfortable enough to show a little of a smile in return. Felt like the first little bit of acceptance, of you speaking her language, and all it took was a little gas to the fire.

Instead of getting to make Joe a dirty martini, Martin made you do a million other things. He had you take peoples orders, had you learn how to close the bar to make opening easy and efficient the next day, had you prep ingredients the correct way, and had you do mundane shit like cleaning floors, tables, toilets, et cetera, et cetera.

You basically got to do anything but make drinks.

And Joe was the type of person to give you tips from where he was sat. Unwelcome shit. Things like, “Missed a spot here,” when you would wipe down the bar, or, “That table has been waiting for ages,” when you were just about to go over to take their order.

But Joe was a guest, and you were meant to be friendly and polite.

So you’d smile your most inauthentic smile and would tell him thanks in your flattest voice.

It always made him laugh.

Which, in turn, always made Martin smile.

Weird how that worked.

“Good evening,” you’d tell Joe when you’d see him walk in, all exaggerated faux politeness which he easily accepted from you. Before he’d even be able to go and sit down, before the coat was even off, you’d raise your pen to your pad and would ask, “What can I get you?”

And Joe’d just smile, like he couldn’t help the grin, and then he’d nod his head down, scrunch up his nose and point towards the bar before walking over to where he always sat. Where he’d take his coat off and reveal he was wearing a shirt with the first three buttons undone, sometimes even four, showing off literal cleavage. You didn’t need to get him anything. He’d get whatever Martin was already loudly shaking in his shaker.

It felt a little like you were put on the bench. By Martin. By Joe. Like you got to be a part of the football team, but didn’t actually get to play at all.

Didn’t get to take Joe’s order.

Didn’t get to make any drinks.

After a few shifts like that, James took pity on you, and when Martin left him in charge for the rest of the night, he’d given you an order to make.

Fuck yes.

Excellent.

And Joe was there, too!

Maybe if you did this right, James wouldn’t bat an eye if you just started on a dirty martini after, to slide over to Joe and to do what Martin always did. Ask him what he thought of it. Ask him to give a lengthy review which you knew was going to be nice words only, topped off by the satisfaction you’d get from him expecting the worst and then tasting the best.

You wanted to see that face. Feel it in your bones.

The Simon-Cowell-watching-Susan-Boyle-for-the-first-time face.

But then you didn’t do it right, did you?

You poured all liquids into the cocktail shaker and closed it properly, like you’d been shown how, but, you weren’t meant to put all liquids into the shaker, were you?

You were meant to keep the carbonated drink to the side and add that directly to the glass after you’d mixed the rest of it.

You only shook it twice.

Maybe three good, violent times, to really get the ice to rattle.

The cocktail shaker exploded in your hands.

You gasped as the cold drink hit your front, and stood there, frozen as the drink dripped down your face.

You saw Joe very slowly reach and wipe underneath his eye with his middle finger as he rapidly blinked, like a little drop had made it onto his face.

There was no way any of that had gotten onto him, but the fact that he pretended that it did was just as infuriating as it was embarrassing.

James and Chloé stood there frozen also, until James reached for a dishtowel and hit you in the face with it.

“I think maybe Frank needs help,” he had then said after you’d finished cleaning, and were sent upstairs to join Frank by the door.

Not the worst job.

Frank was nice, didn’t mind a break from playing solitaire on his phone for a chat, but... joining Frank by the entrance was the bar equivalent of being put on time out, and Frank knew it too.

When he saw you come into view as you dragged your feet up the stairs to where he was sat, he smiled and said, “What’d you do this time?”

You plonked onto the barstool next to him in the small little hallway and sighed as you leant back against the wall.

“Put fizzy drink into a shaker.”

You bonked your head against the wall behind you, once, twice, three times.

“Shook it.”

Frank huffed a laugh, said, “Nice.” and got back to his game on his phone.

“When do you think I'll get fired?” you asked jokingly.

“Hmm, a week, give or take.” Frank answered, eyes on his phone, and you couldn't help but laugh.

“Nice.”

As the night came to a close, you saw people out along with Frank. Opened the door for them. Wished them a lovely rest of their night.

Just when you thought you might as well go down to help James and Chloé with closing, the both of them came up the stairs, talking, laughing, both in their coats already.

“Hey, what’s...” you faltered, confused. There was no way they’d actually finished already.

“We’ve done most, you’ll be fine finishing up, yea?” Chloé asked. It wasn’t a question for you to answer though. She was already standing outside when James tried to give you some last instructions.

“Use the key in the cash register, leave it in the letterbox after locking up.”

You just looked at him. Blinked a few times, because, were you allowed to do this on your own? Would Martin be okay with you closing the place by yourself?

“You got this!” James smiled, and you knew it was just that he was happy to be fucking off early for once.

When the heavy door fell shut behind them, you stared at it a second before you huffed a humourless laugh.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I still got half an hour on my clock,” Frank said after checking. “Do you need any help?”

You considered it for a moment.

“That's kind of you, but... I actually don’t, thanks.”

You didn’t.

Martin had practically let you close on your own before. He’d just been sat at the bar whilst you worked around him, big grey folder opened and pen in hand, doing whatever admin needed doing.

“Join them. Have a... somewhat early night.”

It was late.

“You sure? Can’t place blame with me for anything if I’m not around.”

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “I’ll be fine.”

You said goodbye to Frank, closed the door behind him and sighed.

Fine.

This was fine. You could close by yourself. Lock up by yourself. You’d be there for opening the next day anyway, so if you were to leave anything undone, you’d be able to pick up where you left off, stepping on your own toes, no one else’s.

You made your way back down the stairs.

Around the corner. 

Past the toilets.

Down the dark hallway. 

Into the bar, where... there was loud music playing. Loud music.

When you stepped inside, you were fully expecting to be alone but then realised: you'd not said goodbye to Joe yet.

And there he was.

Behind the bar.

Hands near the sound system, like he was trying to figure out how to use it. The song skipped to the next one, and Joe clapped his hands together once before he held both arms out wide as he spun around.

Teeth bitten into his lip, he made eye-contact with you near the entrance and... danced. Did a stupid hip and shoulder shake to the beat before he clapped in his hands again.

You frowned, loudly shouted, “Guests aren’t allowed behind the bar!” as you made you way over.

Joe completely ignored you. Got really into his old-man-at-wedding dance as he lipsynced along, all playful, all goofy.

When you were close enough, he grabbed a wet dishcloth and was about to throw it over. He waited for you to hold you hands up, to get ready to catch it, but you just said, “Yea, great, the tables probably still need doing, thanks.” as you slapped him on the shoulder, passing behind him to get to work behind the bar.

Not before you changed the song to something you liked, asserting power over Joe, because you worked here. Not Joe.

He could treat this place like a second home all he wanted.

You were closing the bar, so you got to choose the music.

And you expected to turn back around and see Joe get into his coat, dishcloth abandoned on the side.

You expected an overdone smile, a snarky comment, a mocking smile with narrowed eyes as he’d insincerely wish you good luck.

You expected to have to go and look to see if Joe paid for this drinks.

You expected he probably hadn’t, because by now you’d clocked in on this weird agreement Martin and Joe had, but you were going to make him pay regardless.

What you weren’t expecting was to turn back around and to see Joe bent over a table, hips wiggling as he wiped it down, focussing on a seemingly extra sticky bit, mouth pouted and brow furrowed.

Oh shit.

You didn’t like how that worked something in the pit of your stomach.

You also didn’t like how you watched Joe clean a few tables and then saw him catch you staring.

You snapped out of it and pretended you dropped something, just so you could duck down behind the bar for a second.

When you got back up, Joe had moved on to do more tables, and you were glad that he ignored the staring. He could’ve absolutely made a sassy comment to embarrass you, but he’d chosen peace over violence tonight, so it seemed.

Dirty martini.

Yes.

A filthy one.

You could make him a dirty martini as a silent thank you, because there was not a chance you were going to say those words aloud.

Just make one and then leave it out on the bar for him to find as you cleaned up behind the bar so you could pretend you didn’t even care if he liked it or not. Be all casual about it.

But then Joe looked up at you again, and a small smile grew into a wider one and there was no way he wasn’t going to slag you off for something, so you abandoned all plans and just... went for it. Asked him in an almost challenging way, no smile to be detected, with eyebrows slightly raised,

“Dirty martini?”

---

The Taglisted

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[msmargaretmurry]

for the i wish you would write meme, post scf winner's room? if you're into winner's room. if not, your thoughts on post scf mattdrai break up to future fic exes to lovers

ok so i'm not NOT into winner's room, but i have to be in the exact right mood to vibe with it, you know? i'll read and enjoy it but don't think i'll ever write it because i get way too caught up in the logistics + consent issues when i am the one pulling the strings. like my immediate thought here is, when is anyone going to have time for a winner's room sesh admist all the celebrating??? i totally get the appeal of the concept but i think you'd need someone more able to commit to the bit than i am to figure out how to write it 🙈

so: post-scf breakup to futurefic makeup!

i do think matthew winning the cup is such a delicious moment for a breakup because while it is a totally logical place to realize, yeah okay this conflict of interest is too big to overcome, it still feels like a petty kneejerk sore loser reaction. like, oh, you beat me for the cup? well , fuck you, you can't have me anymore, and i hope that sucks for you. and even if that's not what leon would think/feel when he's not drowning in grief and frustration, it's what he feels in that very specific awful moment, and then it's done, and he has to hold onto that grudge so tightly for years to justify it.

there are several fics already of the "they end of on the same team later in their careers" genre but that's fine, we can have another one. i think it would be great here. it's been long enough that leon losing the cup to matthew and the whole rivalry there is kind of like, well, people assume that he's over it. it's been years! he didn't have florida in his nmc! he must be fine with going there! and sure, he's fine with going to the team, it's just matthew he has a problem with. also kinda has a problem with the return his team got for him, like, they had to retain salary for florida to take him, which is just embarrassing. he's having a kind of off season, that doesn't mean he's not worth his paycheck.

and oooh, it's rough. not because matthew is awkward around him, but because matthew is picture perfect cordial friendly welcoming committee. he's shaking leon's hand, welcoming him to the team, introducing him to guys and cracking jokes about how obviously everyone already knows who leon is. but none of them know the real history between leon and matthew, and it is both a relief and a special kind of excruciating to have to act like this is just a fully fresh start. he's the new guy in the room; he won't be afforded the grace to hold a grudge anymore. it's up to him to make a good impression. he's never been very good at not wearing his heart on his sleeve, but he has to try.

insert here a painful slow burn reconciliation where leon tries to be friends and runs smack into the emotional wall matthew has thrown up against him — acting the part of the welcoming committee and being actually glad that leon's here are two totally separate things. and leon is wrong about no one knowing about their history, too (he learns, mortifyingly, one night when samuel corners him with some mild threats about how he needs to treat matthew). of course he makes friends on the team but it sucks because everyone loves matthew so much that it's hard to feel like anyone is really in his corner. he misses being on a team that loved him that much.

but ofc things will slowly thaw and matthew will start slowly making genuine efforts instead of just performative efforts to include him in team stuff, and he starts getting his groove back on the ice, and eventually things will come to a head where maybe leon (drunk, in his feelings for whatever reason) tries to kiss matthew, which matthew is NOT having, and they finally have the big fight they need to have — best day of my life and you tried to make me feel shitty about it; yeah well worst day of my life and it was your fault, etc — and once they're finally being honest they can finally, tentatively work their way back to each other. and bone tenderly about it.