#this is my truth bomb lol

[astral-herald]

Uncritically Enjoying Mage Viktor

sometimes when i turn off my angry (logical) brain, i achieve some very sentimental mage viktor clarity that i would like to share <3

this is a lot different from my other Thoughtful "Analysis" Posts. my plan is as follows: address my understanding, slim though it may be, of mage viktor; bullet-point all the less than critical/theory driven reasons why he makes me happy; make a somewhat melodramatic point about reading/viewing for fulfillment over critique. mage-tor enjoyers, unite!

What is Mage Viktor's Purpose?

Try as I might to turn off my thoughtfulness, I am typically critical of the media I enjoy, so I'll be among the first to admit that Mage Viktor was certainly a retcon. That seems to be the fandom consensus, so I won't reiterate too much on that point. It makes shots like this especially funny, though, because that is simply not the Viktor we know, interdimensional or otherwise:

But something I would like to push back on is a pervasive "favorable" read on Mage Viktor as we come to know him in season 2. I fully disagree with the idea that Mage Viktor sought Jayce out in every timeline because he loved Jayce, rather than as a means of saving the countless innocents Viktor in other timelines would inevitably kill thanks to Hextech, the Glorious Evolution, etc. Hear me out for a second!

Bestie @arowyn-m pointed out to me that Necrit confirmed that Hextech is THE canonical event, the linchpin, so to speak, that ignites the chain of events we see culminate in season 2. These are the same events that Mage Viktor seeks to prevent. It takes however many lifetimes and iterations of mass destruction for Mage Viktor to gather two vital facts about the universe: Hextech is the inciting, inevitable incident, and Jayce is the complementary indelible constant. Hextech is inevitable, but only Jayce can show Viktor how to stop it.

Viktor's love for Jayce is not what motivates Mage Viktor to seek him out - it is the inevitable result of their being "inextricably bound." Reducing Mage Viktor's manipulation of time/space/what have you to his desperate need to protect Jayce in every timeline morphs him into a very out-of-character Genocidal Eldritch Being when he's supposed to be the antithesis of OUR Machine Herald Viktor. By taking up Mage Viktor's quest to kill Machine Herald Viktor under these very specific circumstances - acceleration rune in hand - Jayce can end the cycle. He trumps the inciting incident. His love for Viktor reigns supreme.

The fact that this is so awkward to explain speaks to the severity of the retcon. I guess what I'm getting at is that Mage Viktor was not acting out of selfish, obsessive love (as romantic as that may seem to some); he was searching for a way to right his wrongs and found it in Jayce, his inseparable other half.

"Only you could show me this."

MORE TO THIS POINT: even Mage Viktor, for all his implied wisdom, having seen countless lifetimes wherein they failed to stop Hextech, still does not anticipate the depth of Jayce's love for him. He (presumably, because don't see this exchange, because Riot made egregious cuts) tells Jayce that the Viktor of this world must die. Jayce "can't fail." As far as I can tell, he never tells Jayce that he has to die along with him. Jayce rejected Viktor's bid to be partners again, after all...

Mage Viktor, like the true Viktor that lurks within the Machine Herald, still believes that Hextech is fully his fault. He still believes in his own weakness and his shortcomings and is so reliant, obsessed with independence that he refuses to share this responsibility. When Mage Viktor reveals himself to Machine Herald Viktor, and he's confronted with the depths of his own feelings, he shoves Jayce away in a last-ditch attempt to preserve his isolation.

Jayce does not allow this.

The love that keeps Viktor "inextricably bound" to Jayce is not one-sided. Viktor, in all iterations and timelines, does not bear the responsibility for Hextech alone. In his dying moments, when he finally understands that LOVE is what has kept he and Jayce together all this time, his humanity returns to him. They save the world - literally. Love literally conquered all. No Viktor, not even Mage Viktor, anticipated this. All Jayce really had to do was kill this Viktor, but he couldn't bear to part ways.

TLDR: Mage Viktor found a way to save the world, but Jayce found a way to reignite Viktor's humanity. Neither of things could coexist without the other.

Smaller, Less Important Reasons Why I Like Mage Viktor

I'll never forget the breathless whiplash I felt upon Mage Viktor's reveal. I feel pretty alone in that experience - oh well! I'll be the pariah! - but here are the reasons why he's made such an impression on me.

Seeing an aged Viktor hit me like a bus. I know he's still stricken with the arcane, but there's so much wisdom and kindness and life experience in his expression. I never thought we'd see that. I doubt he did, either.

BEARD VIKTOR TRUTHER.

It gives Viktor some agency back. I wrote in an earlier post that Mage Viktor being the one to liberate Viktor from his own tragic narrative is pretty awesome, and I stand by that.

Mage Viktor's vulnerability. I feel like Mage Viktor, finally realizing that this Jayce is the right one, that this moment is the pivotal one, says a lot of what Viktor in all timelines longs to say to Jayce.

The question of lifetimes - how many times did Viktor search for Jayce? How many times did he watch a timeline go by without him? How much loneliness did he endure (for the greater good?). What was it like seeing that in-universe Viktor had killed Jayce?

Reading Uncritically (I Swear This is Relevant)

Rita Felski, a very cool literary critic who we all should read, said the following about reading critically (the way that lots of us engage with Arcane on tumblr): "It is a mode of interpretation that adopts a distrustful attitude toward texts...that remain inaccessible to their authors as well as to ordinary readers" ("Suspicious Minds" 216). Even though she's writing about academia/literary criticism, I think her point still stands. We engage with media with the intent to expose, unearth, and problematize. We eagerly search for moments where the text fails us at the expense of the "superficial" that would otherwise uplift us. We are practicing the "hermeneutic of suspicion," which can be exceptionally draining.

It's pretty melodramatic of me to apply this kind of theoretical work to Arcane, of all things, but this story means a great deal to me. It is deeply flawed - the Mage Viktor retcon is kind of appalling if you stare down the barrel of suspicion. But, in looking through a reparative lens (Eve Sedgwick's word, not mine), I see Mage Viktor as a agency-ridden Viktor, an aged Viktor, a vision of the future Jayce and Viktor together make possible. I'm enriched by that.

Felski asks us: "How else might we venture to read, if we were not ordained to read suspiciously?" (232). What can we derive from Arcane by putting the pieces together with the goal of harmony and fulfillment? In the smallest sense, we may feel a bit better about the ways in which season 2 seriously let us down. In a larger, more hopeful sense, moments like Viktor confessing an ultimate love and attachment to Jayce, and Jayce returning it in kind, may fill us with an even deeper appreciation for unconditional love as the culmination of human connection, a world-ending and world-renewing thing that stares down the BBEG of Arcane and wins.

You could probably read all of this as my apology for enjoying what so much of the fandom has condemned. That's alright. There are so many pieces of Mage Viktor that fragment under the critical microscope, but I can't shake the emotional impact of his reveal, so I'll live in that space for the time being. Had Arcane allotted for any explanatory conversations, flashbacks, and/or given up their soft world build to account for Mage Viktor, we'd be in a better place plot-wise. Alas, here we are instead. Everyone can point and laugh at me if they did all this just to bring back God/Made/Eldritch Being/Whatever The Fuck Viktor in future projects. That'll be my penance!

And, finally, if you really didn't like Mage Viktor, I fully respect that, but this is my self-indulgent post and I'm not overly interested in debating...there's little anyone could say that I wouldn't agree with. I'm just avoiding the suspicion of it all :)

[waywardted]

So long, farewell.

[monkii-bombs]

old Truth Patoot doodles

[david-box]

I feel like people always find things have changed significantly since they were younger once they get older regardless of how much has actually changed. Like my mom thinks that, and she's not wrong, because of technology and changes in social norms, but that feeling would still be there in like, the 1200s right? It just would have been changing political borders and economic flux even barring the plague, or fashions, or religion. Did people in those years in Japan where they were only open to Portugal in one port feel the same? I wonder what words people in their 50s used that were politically incorrect for the time but like pre bronze era Ethiopia.

[fridayplanet]

If I die remember my Tumblr legacy

[gothcsz]

Motive | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 3 of Unscripted Desire | ~10k wc | Series Masterlist | gif cred | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Another chaotic shoot... but at least it's in Malibu?

Tags: more plot keeps sneaking into the porn, angst, frankie has entered the villa, jealous!javi, reader stands on business, it's a porn set other people are also fucking, masturbation on camera (m), dirty talk, lots of cursing (f bombs my beloved), an attempt at a blowjob, javier can't get it up, a dash of misogyny, author projects her ooc thoughts about problematic age gaps in the porn industry, no use of y/n, reader has a degree in film production, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: me nervous that part 3 isn't going to live up to the hype? more likely than you think! 🙂‍↕️ this fic is taking on a brain of its own and i'm just along for the ride, baby! for my just the tip stans— i'm sorry but i'm going to have to edge you until part 4 *crowd boos and i'm dragged off stage* i was going to wait to post this, but i really wanted to get it out because i'm so damn proud of it lowkey, lol, so i hope you all like it 🖤 let a bitch know what ya think! also, shoutout to my pookie @persephone-girl for reading over this 💋 love u mamas

Your phone’s shrill ring pierces through the haze of sleep, and you groan in frustration, burying your face deeper into the pillow.

The comforter is pulled tight over your head, shielding you from the annoyingly bright sunlight filtering through your window. Your hand shoots out, fumbling blindly across the bedside table until your fingers finally close around the receiver. 

“What?” you grumble, voice thick with sleep and muffled beneath your sheets.

“There she is! My beautiful, talented camerawoman. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate what you do?” Robbie’s overly cheerful voice blares through the phone, so you pull it back from your ear slightly, wincing.

“Why are you calling me this early in the morning?” you snap, already regretting picking up.

“Early? It’s almost noon—”

“What do you want, Robbie?” You cut him off, not in the mood for small talk, especially since last night’s bar shift ran past four in the morning. You were hoping to sleep through most of the day, recovering in your bed with no interruptions. Clearly, that plan has gone out the window.

“Look, I’ve got a big shoot happening in Malibu today and I’m short-staffed. I could really use your magic touch behind the camera.”

“No.”

 “C’mon,” he drags the word out, “I’ll make sure you’re well compensated for working on your day off.”

You rub your eyes, the remnants of sleep still clinging to you. “How much?”

He tosses out a number, and despite your best effort to remain indifferent, your eyes widen. Damn. That’s more than decent money.

“Malibu’s all the way across town,” you point out, “I won’t make it there in time if I take the bus. And a taxi? That’ll cost me a fortune.”

“Don’t worry about that. Your ride’s outside waiting for you.”

You blink, confused, and get out of bed, dragging the corded phone with you as you move toward the bay window. You pull the curtain back just enough to peer down at the busy street below.

Sure enough, Steve is there, leaning casually against his Jeep with sunglasses on, a cigarette between his lips. The second he spots you looking down, he grins like the cheshire cat and waves.

“Seriously?” you mutter to Robbie, flipping Steve off with a half-hearted smile. “And what if I’d said no?”

“We both know you wouldn’t have.”

After a few more quick exchanges, you hang up, glancing once more at your ride through the window before turning to rush and get yourself ready for the day ahead.

Truth be told, you’re still not fully awake, your body moving on autopilot as you shuffle through your morning (midday) routine.

It’s been ages since you’ve been to the beach— especially one as nice as Malibu’s. The thought of it softens the blow of losing your rest day. You tell yourself you’ll make the best of it, turning this unexpected workday into something that benefits you, too.

After shooting wraps, you’ll indulge in a quiet evening by the shore, sinking your toes into the warm sand with a good book in hand. No rush to head back. This time, you’ll gladly take a taxi if it means getting some peace seaside.

With that plan in mind, you dress for the day accordingly. Your halter-style bathing suit doubles as a cute top, the color complimenting your skin, while your favorite denim shorts sit comfortably over your bikini bottoms.

You pack a few essentials into your beach bag and make sure to grab your camera bag as well. Once you’ve double-checked that everything’s packed, you make your way downstairs, feeling a bit more awake now.

Steve catches sight of you approaching and flashes a dramatic grin, straightening up like he’s about to chauffeur royalty.

“Your chariot awaits,” he announces with an exaggerated flourish, swinging the passenger door open.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the bemused laugh that escapes your lips. “God, you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, shaking your head as you climb into the seat, tossing your beach bag onto the floor.

He shuts the door behind you with a smirk. “Ridiculous? I prefer charmingly dedicated to my craft.” He hops into the driver’s side, flicking the cigarette away before starting the car.

You snort at his self-satisfaction, leaning back against the seat and putting on the seatbelt. 

“Malibu, huh? How the fuck did he manage to swing that?”

He chuckles, one hand lazily draped over the wheel, the other tapping out a rhythm on his knee. “He didn’t tell me much either— just asked me to stop by and pick you up on my way.”

That makes sense. Robbie’s always been a bit scatterbrained, occasionally running around like he’s managing a multi-million-dollar empire when, in reality, he’s holding it together with duct tape and half-assed enthusiasm.

The drive is surprisingly fun, Steve’s constant jokes keeping your spirits high. He always manages to make you laugh, which is why you tolerate his quirks. 

“I’m pretty sure Javi’s going to be there,” he says, almost too nonchalantly, meaning he’s in the mood to be messy.

You keep your gaze focused on the coastline, watching as palm trees blur past. The wind from the open windows has you squinting momentarily, but it can’t cool the sudden heat spreading through your body. 

“It’s not going to be weird seeing him, right?” He presses and you finally turn to face him, moving your sunglasses to the top of your head.

“Why would it be weird?” you ask, the challenge clear in your voice.

He shoots you a look, brows raised and lips quirked in that irritating way of his. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe ‘cause of the whole flirtin’ with you during the middle of a scene thing? Or, y’know, the elevator incident… which, by the way, what the fuck even happened there?” He glances at you, curiosity practically oozing out of him.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, but you can’t stop the way your thighs rub together at the memory. 

Javier’s mouth... God. “None of your damn business.”

“Don’t tell me you fucked him.”

You laugh, loudly, the sound bordering on forced. “Absolutely not.”

He shoots you that okay, sure look, and you groan internally.

Steve’s like a dog with a bone when he gets curious, and you know he’s not going to let this go until you give him something. You sigh, deciding to indulge him— partially. 

“He was being an asshole,” you start, and he immediately interjects with, “Nothing new there,” causing both of you to share a laugh at Javier’s expense.

You shake your head, returning your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose. “No, seriously. He was pushing my buttons, being his usual peacock self. I don’t even know how it escalated, but one moment we’re arguing, and the next... he’s got his tongue in my pussy.”

Steve chokes on his own spit at your bluntness. He’s heard and seen much worse on set, yet your confession has him all tripped up. 

“So, you did fuck him?”

You roll your eyes again, shifting in your seat as the horny flashbacks hit you all at once— Javier’s lips wrapped around your clit, the perfect rhythm of his tongue, his fingers.

You shove those thoughts away, focusing on the road ahead, annoyed at both Javier and Steve now. “Getting head isn’t fucking. It’s, like, third base. And anyway, I made it clear— that’s all he was getting from me. I’m not about to waste my time rolling around in bed with him.”

He gives you a look— a knowing look— and you scoff, shaking your head. “What now?” 

“Nothing. You’re just the first person I’ve heard say that about him.”

“Someone’s gotta humble his ass,” you mutter, though the words feel heavier than they should. You try to act like you’ve put Javier out of your mind, like that moment was nothing but a blip in your life, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

You’ve never met anyone like him, and the fact that he can elicit such reactions from you pisses you off so bad.

As the coastline stretches out in front of you, Malibu drawing closer with every mile, you can’t help but wonder if seeing Javier today will be as easy as you’re pretending it will be.

The mansion is far more extravagant than anything you could have imagined. Its grand facade, with towering columns and ivy crawling up the sides, feels like something out of a movie set, and for a second, you almost forget why you’re here.

But then, as soon as you step past the threshold, you hear it— echoing from deep within the house are the unmistakable sounds of exaggerated moans, grunts, and the rhythmic thump of bodies meeting.

You adjust the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, your beach bag abandoned in Steve’s car. As you step further into the foyer, Robbie appears, that infamous smirk plastered on his face.

“Long way from home, aren’t you, Dorothy?” he jokes, taking in your wide-eyed amusement as you scan the expensive decor— the towering glass chandelier overhead, the marble floors gleaming beneath your feet, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You can’t help but be a little impressed. 

But of course, he’s there to give you shit about it. You turn your wide-eyed gaze into a glare, bringing your attention to him. “So funny. You should quit your current sleazy day job and take up another sleazy one— stand up,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He just grins, unbothered by your sharp tone. “You’re always a joy to work with. No wonder Javi asked for you specifically.”

Your entire demeanor shifts viscerally and you curse yourself for it mentally, caught completely off guard. “Wait, what? Javier asked for me?”

He shrugs, indifferent to your confusion. “Yeah. He’s set for a solo shoot upstairs in one of the bathrooms before he’s on with...” He snaps his fingers, trying to remember. “...Mariella. Real pretty girl, it’s her first on-camera gig today.”

The world blurs a little as your mind zeroes in on that one bit of information: Javier asked for you. And not just for any shoot— a solo one. You blink, shaking your head to clear the fog. “I’m sorry, can we go back to the part where I was summoned here by someone who isn’t my boss?”

“Oh yeah, he made a real fuss about it. Sent away the other guy we had lined up for the shoot. Told me he wouldn’t do it unless you were behind the camera. Even offered to pay out of his own pocket just to get you here. It’s the only reason we’re paying you as much as I promised over the phone.”

Your stomach twists and you can feel your face settling into a deep frown, the kind that pulls some of your mood down with it. So that’s why he dangled such a big paycheck in front of you this morning.

After the elevator incident (as Steve has so eloquently named it), after the intense heat of his mouth on you, the way he had you— he said he’d leave you alone. He was supposed to respect the boundaries you set, but here he is, yanking you back into his orbit. 

You can already picture him upstairs, lounging in one of those stupidly lavish bathrooms, probably smirking that damn smirk of his, waiting for you.

You try to squash down the way your pulse quickens at the thought, the lingering memory of his fingers digging into your hips, his tongue working between your thighs, is beckoning you into temptation again.

“Fucking great,” you mutter, more to yourself than your boss. You have half a mind to storm up those stairs, find the pornstar, and give him a piece of your mind before marching right back out to spend your day on the beach— free of drama and distractions and him.

But the reality is, you’re being paid nearly three times what you’d normally make on a gig like this. It’s enough to drown out the temptation to walk away, however satisfying that would be.

You’re an adult. You’ve dealt with worse. You can handle this.

Robbie gives you a sidelong glance, clearly sensing your hesitation. “You’re not backing out, are you?”

With a sigh, you force a smile and shake your head. “As good as it’d feel to leave, no, I’m not. I’ll be up in a sec.”

Relief flashes across his face, and he gives you a few pointers before rushing off into this maze of a house.

You linger for a second longer, taking a deep breath to shake off the nerves. Come on. Get it together. After a final mental pep talk, you head toward the grand staircase that winds up to the second floor. 

The sight that greets you at the top of the stairs stops you in your tracks: Lexxie is splayed out on her back atop some console table, currently getting the life fucked out of her. The visual is chaotic but nothing new. You’ve seen it a hundred times before. 

A guy with a scruffy beard and a beat-up baseball cap stands behind the camera, looking more bored than impressed, barely watching as the two stars go at it.

You lean against the nearby railing, your voice cutting through their heavy breaths and grunts. “Guess your marriage to Javier didn’t last very long,” you tease from off camera, referencing the honeymoon shoot.

The star’s eyes snap open at the sound of your voice, and she flashes you a playful, almost sweet smile in between heavy breaths. “Kinda regretting stepping out on him—oh, fuck.” Her snappy comeback dissolves into a breathy moan as the guy currently rearranging her on the table pushes her legs up to her chest, hitting just the right spot. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your shot,” you say, throwing a glance at the cameraman, knowing how annoying it can be when someone messes with your focus.

He waves it off with a lazy shrug. “It’s not ruined. Honestly, I would’ve quit filming ten minutes ago. It’s starting to drag. I’m impressed they’re still going.”

You let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, they’ve got stamina like you wouldn’t believe. Makes me feel lazy in bed sometimes, but then I remember how unrealistic this shit actually is.”

He chuckles, scratching at his jaw. “Should make it an Olympic sport. Bet we’d bring home gold.”

“Pretty sure that already exists and it happens in the Olympic Village.” You smirk, finally peeling your eyes away from the couple to look at him properly.

He’s cute in that disheveled, stray-dog kind of way. His curls poke out from under a worn baseball cap, his beard patchy, and his clothes rumpled, like he just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing he could find. He fits in perfectly with the kind of guys you’d expect on a porn crew.

Earning a genuine laugh from him, he extends a hand. “I’m Frankie.”

You shake it, offering your name in return. “I’m also part of the crew. About to go shoot a scene in the master bathroom.” You explain, noticing how his grip lingers just a little, his smile playful and easy. You feel a bit of warmth rush to your cheeks, and he’s about to say something when—

“Oh fuck, I’m about to cum!” Lexxie’s voice is piercing, loud and breathless, pulling your attention back to the scene.

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Well, that’s my cue,” you mutter, stepping out before you get too caught up flirting with him.

“Nice meeting you,” he says before dismounting the camera, moving in closer to capture the so-called money shot.

Cute. Too cute. It’s almost enough to make you forget about the man you’re about to see.

You push open the door to the room Javier’s in, and the sight of him has you doing a double take.

He’s standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his defined Adonis belt drawing your eyes in a way you hate to admit.

His toned, brown torso glistens with the thinnest layer of sweat, the sunlight pouring into the room making him look like he’s glowing.

You need to toughen up, and in order to do so, you have to bitch at him. It’s the only way to keep that lustful cavewoman instinct away.

“You’re a piece of work,” is what you settle on, making sure to let your tone really punctuate how annoyed you are by the stunt he pulled today.

The second his eyes lock onto yours, amusement flickers behind them, as if he’s been waiting for this confrontation.

He quirks a brow, lips curving into a lazy smile. “¿De que hablas nena—?”

“What happened to ‘if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone’? Was that something you said just to lower my guard? To get me to give you what you want?” You cut him off, keeping your distance even as you notice him inching closer.

Your eyes are daggers as they bore into him, and for a brief second, you hope he feels at least some of the fire burning in your chest. But if he’s affected, he doesn’t show it. He is frustratingly calm, like he’s above it all.

“You gave me no indication that you didn’t want me anymore.” His voice is casual, almost patronizing.

You groan as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “I literally said, ‘Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again.’ What the fuck else do I have to say or do to get you off my back?”

Silence settles between you two as you stand there staring each other down. He’s unreadable, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.

“Well?” you demand, impatient.

“In my defense— it didn’t sound very convincing.” You stare at him incredulously before turning on your heel. Hell no. He can keep his money and his bullshit. You’re not doing this.

But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, his voice sharpens with a hint of panic, calling your name.

“Wait, look,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “I’m not trying to start anything. I just thought—” he pauses, searching for the right words. “I’d feel more comfortable if you were behind the camera during this shoot. Not the other guy Robbie brought in.”

Frankie? He seems so harmless, and besides, Javier’s never had an issue with whoever’s in the room when he’s filming, so why is it a problem now?

However, his tone does sound sincere. You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes and refusing to let your guard down. “This better not be another one of your tricks, Javier. If you’re doing this to try and get into my pants—”

He almost grins, but catches himself just in time, clearly biting back a remark. You can see it in the way his mouth twitches, and you know exactly what he’s thinking. Already have, his brown eyes seem to say. But he holds his tongue, offering a faint nod instead. 

“I promise. No tricks. Just a professional shoot. That’s it.”

You give him one last warning glance before sighing. “Fine. But I’m telling you, Javier—”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts, holding up his hands. “I get it and please stop calling me Javier.”

You arch a brow. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but everyone calls me Javi.”

Ugh, whatever. “Okay, fine, Javi. Just show me where I’m supposed to set up.” 

He bites back another grin and motions you with a flick of his head, and with the weird tension simmering, you follow him toward the ensuite bathroom. The door creaks open, revealing an elaborate setup, and you pause in the doorway, eyes widening.

It’s surprisingly... beautiful.

In front of a massive window that overlooks the sprawling blue ocean outside, there’s a porcelain clawfoot bathtub filled with what looks like a milk bath. Various colored flower petals float delicately on the surface, scattered in an almost artful arrangement.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Well, damn. This actually looks nice.” This bathroom is bigger than your entire apartment.

Javier notices your reaction and leans against the doorframe to the connecting walk in closet, arms crossed over his bare chest, a smirk playing on his lips. “Catering to the female gaze,” he says with a cocky shrug, “At least, that’s what my agent told me. Seems like I’m very popular among the ladies.”

The way he says it makes you want to smack him upside the head. He’s pushing your buttons again in the most subtle way, and you hate how good he is at it.

“Cute,” you reply dryly, walking past him to set your camera bag down on the large counter.

As you begin to unpack and set up, you can feel his eyes on you, watching your every move, lingering on the exposed skin of your back then dripping down to your legs.

It kind of feels good to have him ogling you like this. The whole look but don’t touch thing is really doing it for you, more than you’d care to admit. There’s a certain power in keeping him wanting, yet also forcing the distance.

“It’s not just about the ladies, you know. I actually want this to be good. I trust you to make it look that way.”

You glance over at him. His playful arrogance has slightly faded, shaded in by the genuine want to make this feel more than just some raunchy scene.

“I’m not a director, I just film it,” you remind him, adjusting the camera lens as you try to play it off. “So just do whatever you think is right. Robbie gave me some pointers, but it wasn’t much.”

“Still,” he presses, “there’s some finesse to what you do.”

At least he’s aware of that. “Let’s just get this over with,” you say, deflecting the compliment.

You finish setting up the camera, adjusting the tripod to get the perfect angle. It’s important to capture the full picturesque scene to begin with— the soft light spilling in through the window, the sparkling blue ocean in the background.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I’m all set for whenever you’re ready.”

Javier moves casually as he unwraps the white towel from around his waist. His cock, already half-hard, demands your attention, but you force yourself to look away. You rub your lips together then lick at them unconsciously, trying to focus on anything other than his naked body.

“Got plans after this?” he asks as though he’s asking you about the weather.

You blink at the normalcy of the question “Just going to hang out by the beach,” you reply plainly, trying to keep your focus on the camera and not on his crotch.

It almost feels strange talking to him like this, without the usual teasing or sexual tension-laden bickering.

“Sounds fun,” he says as he steps into the tub, the water sloshing around him. “Real nice out here. The weather is perfect for it today.”

You watch as he settles in, the milky water rising around his body, and for a moment, you’re completely mesmerized.

The scene in front of you looks like something out of a romantic painting, and it hits you how undeniably beautiful he looks. His skin, a warm golden brown, contrasts perfectly with the creamy white of the bath, and the colorful flower petals floating on the surface make the whole thing look like a dream.

He leans back, the water just kissing his chest, and you catch yourself imagining what a soft, hazy vignette filter would do to the shot, how it would add an enchanting glow to an already intimate scene.

You shake your head slightly, snapping yourself out of the reverie. You’re supposed to be filming him jerking off, not admiring the aesthetics like this is some fine art shoot. But fuck, it’s hard to separate the two when the visuals are this damn good.

Javier, of course, senses your brief distraction. He watches you, eyes thoughtful as he stretches out, letting the water ripple around him. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand, despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “Is there a clear direction for this scene, or are you just improvising?”

“I’m just winging it,” his voice is a rich, velvet drawl, a little rough from all the smoking he does. “No dirty talk. They want my natural noises to be the main focus… amongst other things.” He cocks his head to the side, one arm coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

Heat blooms low in your belly, shooting straight to your cunt at the sight. The way his bicep flexes, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath that taut, sun-kissed skin, showcasing just how defined he is while still looking so maddeningly soft. 

Calm down, girl, you silently reprimand your pussy. She’s fucking purring right now.

You clear your throat and give him a nod, signaling him to begin. Stepping behind the camera, you focus through the lens, grateful for the distance.

Javier moves slowly. His head tips back against the edge of the tub, eyes falling closed, the soft curve of his lashes fanning out like shadows against his skin. One hand trails down, lingering at the hollow of his collarbones. The movements are unhurried, almost reverent, as though he’s savoring the feel of his own skin.

The intimate build-up draws you in, despite your best efforts to remain detached.

You unmount the camera from its tripod after a few moments, stepping closer to him, framing the shot tight around his chest, the slow glide of his hand along his torso. You can’t help but notice the pounding of your heart, each beat mirroring the steady, throbbing pulse at your clit. 

The sight of him— relaxed, fully in his element, bathed in the soft glow of light— stirs that fucking feeling deep within you.

It’s not just desire, though that’s certainly there. It’s the maddening awareness of how sensual, how magnetic this man is. And even though you try to tell yourself you’d feel the same about any other attractive man in his place, you know that’d be a damn lie.

Javier’s hand moves lower, ghosting over the ridges of his soft stomach. His other hand trails slowly through the water, sending gentle ripples through the milky bath. You swallow hard and focus the lens on his face— the slight parting of his pouty pink lips beneath his trimmed mustache that you just now realize has a small patch right above his cupid’s bow.

Even his imperfections are attractive.

The flushed skin of his cock makes an appearance, his thick, swollen head breaking the surface of the water with each subtle movement, teasing you and the camera. The way it peeks through, the slick tip glistening in the milky bath, almost feels like a taunt— winking at you.

Doing as you’re supposed to, you adjust the lens to zoom in on the way his cock flirts with the surface.

If you were anyone else, one of his usual co-stars maybe, you’d lean down and give it a few kitten licks. You’d tease the sensitive crown with your tongue, circling the tip before letting it slide past your lips— just enough to drive him wild.

Your tongue twitches at the thought.

A soft groan escapes his lips as he gets closer to where he’s aching to touch. It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he knows you’re imagining the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of his salty skin, the way he’d twitch against your tongue as you tease him until he begs for more.

Maybe he’s picturing your lips wrapped around him, too.

You bite down on your lower lip, forcing yourself to stay quiet, to stay focused, even though your body is betraying you. The mess in your panties, the way your nipples stiffen beneath your bathing suit top— everything about this moment is dangerous.

Then finally, his fist wraps around his cock, a soft slosh of water accompanying the motion. The eroticism of the scene— paired with the proximity, the memory of those hands on you— ignites that annoying need deep inside.

He strokes himself slowly, eyes still closed as though lost in the pleasure of it all. You focus the camera on his hand, on the way it moves with purpose, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, slick with precum.

His groans start to fill the air, and your own body reacts, hips shifting slightly as you try to ignore pressure at your cunt.

“Still with me?” His voice cuts through the silence, raspy and knowing, eyes fluttering open to look at you.

Oh. Have they always been this golden?

“Yeah,” you’re proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

Javier’s body is pure, unfiltered sin in motion. As you move around the bathtub to capture every angle, you can’t help but admire him. His muscles shift with every slow pump of his hand, the sinewy lines of his arms and torso rippling just beneath the milky water.

His stomach contracts with each exhale, drawing your gaze lower to the faint trail of hair leading down to his cock, which you catch glimpses of when his hips buck up inadvertently.

His breathing grows heavier, his pouty bottom lip caught between his teeth, brows furrowing in concentration as his pleasure builds. It’s mesmerizing, the way his face contorts, his expressions almost too intimate, too personal for the lens. But you can’t tear your eyes— or the camera— away.

His fist moves with such confidence, touching himself with an unhurried rhythm that only a man used to his own pleasure can manage. Every time his thumb glides over the tip of his cock, a heavier grunt rumbles in his throat and it’s so hot.

You’re too focused on capturing every inch of him that it almost catches you off guard when he begins to speak.

“Wish it was your pretty hand around me right now, baby.” His voice is husky, laced with want, and the words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You blink rapidly, heart stalling in your chest as the camera wavers slightly in your hands. “Javier,” you sigh, his name slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Fuck, I know, but shit—” His words are more ragged now, spoken between heavy breaths. “You’re all I can think about still. You stay in my mind, muñeca. Can’t get you out.”

Even though every rational part of you knows you should stop him, should leave or at least say something to shut him up, you don’t.

You don’t run, you don’t protest. You just... let it happen.

“Talk to me, please.”

“I-I—” The words get stuck in your throat, “I can’t. I’ll ruin the shoot.” Why is that your priority right now?

“You won’t.”

The way he says it chips at the walls you've built around yourself.

“What do I even say?”

“Anything,” there he goes again, using that tone that makes him sound like he’s begging.

So, you say what you’ve been thinking of since he got into this damn tub. “Your cock is so pretty, Javi.” You purr, throwing all caution to the wind, lying to yourself that this means nothing.

The effect is immediate. He groans, a deep sound from his chest, and his hand moves faster over his shaft, the slickness of the water amplifying the movement. “Fuck,” he says, his breathing now erratic, “say it again.”

Your gaze flicks down and it’s mesmerizing watching the way his body responds to his own touch, but it’s the fact that he’s unraveling in front of you that leaves your mouth dry.

“Such a pretty cock, Javi,” you repeat, voice steadier this time, growing bolder with each passing second. Every flex and contraction of his body feeds the arousal pulsing in you. “I bet it would feel perfect sliding down my throat, hitting the back of it until I’m choking on you.”

All those hours spent listening to cheesy porn dialogue are finally paying off.

His head falls back, exposing the strong column of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. A guttural groan escapes him as the image of what you just said sets in. His other hand moves down to cup his heavy, swollen balls, the water around him rocking more violently now as he starts to lose himself in the fantasy.

“Shit… I’m close,” he growls, voice breaking with need, the words barely coherent. “Keep talking to me, fuck…”

You lean in slightly, the camera momentarily forgotten. “You want to come for me?” Your whisper is dripping with lust, the idea of him falling apart because of you making your pussy ache. “You want to make a mess? Pretend I’m kneeling right here, my mouth open and waiting for you to fill it, warm and wet just for you?”

You’ve seen him come so many times, watched him fill too many cunts with his spend and paint different parts of their pretty bodies— but none of it compares to the sight before you.

The way his body jerks in response tells you everything you need to know. His grip tightens on the edge of the tub, knuckles going white as he pumps faster, rougher, pushing himself toward the brink. His hips start lifting out of the water with every thrust into his own hand, chasing that final release.

“Fuck, yes…,” he groans, voice strangled, barely holding it together. His eyes squeeze shut, every muscle in his body tensing, going rigid as he falls over the edge.

His bilingual expletives cut off into a long, drawn-out moan as his cock twitches, thick ropes of cum spilling out in messy spurts, splattering against his fist, swirling into the milky bathwater. The petals float lazily across the surface, some clinging to his skin, as the evidence of his release drifts around him.

You stand there, heart pounding, frozen as your brain tries to catch up with your pussy.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, fumbling with the camera as you stop the recording. You quickly move to pack everything up and try your damndest not to look at him.

“Wait, don’t—” Javier’s voice is still hoarse, but there’s a touch of urgency to it now, breaking through the post-orgasm haze. You hear the water sloshing violently behind you as he moves, and you know he’s getting out of the tub. “Just… hang on.”

“No. I-I gotta go,” you stammer, your hands frantically packing up the camera, the lens cap slipping through your fingers. You try to grab it, but your nerves are shot and it fumbles. Thankfully, it doesn’t take damage. You’d hate to hear Robbie bitch at you for breaking the brand-new camera.

Just get out of here is the only thought running through your mind. Every time you’re around him lately, you end up a confused, horny, exasperated mess, and you can’t handle it anymore.

“Hey—wait!” Javier slips as he tries to step out of the tub, nearly falling as he reaches for you, his wet feet squeaking against the floor. You turn just in time to see him catch himself, water dripping from his body, his skin still flushed from what just happened.

“What the hell?” You shoot him a look, “You’re gonna break your neck trying to stop me from leaving—”

“I wasn’t—fuck, just let me talk for a second.” He runs a hand through his soaked hair, water dripping down his neck, over the curve of his shoulders, and you hate how even now, you’re distracted by how good he looks. He reaches for the towel and loosely wraps it around his waist. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Neither did I,” you snap, stuffing your gear into your bag, not caring how haphazardly it’s packed. “This— this isn’t what I signed up for. I’m here to work, remember? Not… whatever the fuck that was.”

He steps closer, reaching for your arm, but you yank it away before he can touch you. The last thing you need is his hands on you right now, reminding you of everything you shouldn’t want.

“You think I don’t know that?” His voice softens, but there’s a frustration beneath it, like he’s grappling with the same confusion you are. “I wasn’t trying to mess with you, okay? I just… I don’t know what the hell is happening between us either.”

You stop, finally meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes that pulls at the part of you that’s freakishly tethered to him, but you can’t let that get to you now. Not when everything feels so damn complicated.

“Javier, this—” You struggle for words, shaking your head. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t—” You pause, your breath catching. I can’t have you. “I don’t want you,” you correct yourself.

His jaw clenches, muscles ticking under the strain. “Stop bullshitting me,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“I’m not,” you shoot back, but it comes out too quickly, too rehearsed.

“You’re lying through your fuckin’ teeth, and it’s pathetic. What is so wrong with giving me a chance?” He keeps circling back to this— chances.

One thing about him, he knows how to trigger a fucking migraine. 

“Everything!” The word bursts out of you like a confession. “Everything about this is wrong. It’s why I’ve been trying to stay away since day one, but you’re so— ugh!” You throw your hands up, exasperated, the bathroom suddenly feeling too small and claustrophobic. He’s got you spinning in circles, tying you up in knots, and you can’t think straight around him.

Without a second thought, you turn to leave, your feet moving as if you’re fucking levitating. So what if you’ve made a habit of running away from him? You don’t owe him shit.

“Nena—” Desperation laces his voice and that stupid nickname makes your skin curl. “I don’t want you to leave like this.”

“Well, too bad,” you snap over your shoulder. “I’m leaving so you can’t sweet-talk me into anything.” The slam of the door echoes behind you, a final punctuation to your statement.

As you step out into the hallway, the distant sounds of people fucking filter through the air, kind of grounding you back to the real world.

You can’t keep working with him, not if every interaction is going to end like this. You make a mental note to talk to Robbie after today’s shoot. No more Peña.

The day drags on, the tension from earlier still lingering, but now, sitting outside on the shaded patio, you feel a small reprieve.

A half-eaten sandwich rests before you on the table, your eyes lazily tracing the lines of the zero-edge pool that blends into the horizon. The soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze lulls you into a sense of temporary peace. You glance around, taking in the pristine luxury surrounding you. Rich people really have it made, you think, marveling at the extravagance of someone else’s life.

The spat with Javier lingers but you’ve done your best to ignore it by keeping busy. The other shoots happening in the house have kept you distracted, but you know what’s coming: the last scene of the day— with him— and the new girl, Mariella. A small sigh escapes your lips as you sink deeper into the patio chair, absolutely dreading it.

Your tranquility is shattered when you feel a presence nearby. Already anticipating another confrontation with Javier, you steel yourself and don’t even bother looking up before snapping, “Oh my god, can you just leave me alone—”

The words get jammed in your throat as your eyes land on Frankie, not Javier. He stands there, looking taken aback, a paper bag in one hand and an awkward smile tugging at his lips. You instantly feel like a bitch.

“Shit— sorry,” you stammer, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I thought you were someone else.”

Frankie lets out a small chuckle, brown eyes softening as he rubs the back of his neck. “No worries, I can leave if you want—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, waving him off. “Please, stay. I didn’t mean to be snappy.”

He hesitates for a moment before motioning to the empty chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

You shake your head, and he lowers himself into the seat, setting his lunch down. The small talk starts easily, flowing naturally as you both munch on your food. He tells you about his daughter, a proud smile on his face as he recounts how she’s the light of his life. Then he goes on about how his friends call him Catfish because of some dumb inside joke, and also the fact that he’s a retired pilot. It somehow doesn’t surprise you— the career fits him.

“How do you go from flying helicopters to shooting porn?” you ask, the question half serious, half teasing as you lean back in your chair, eyes hidden behind your sunglasses.

Frankie raises an eyebrow and smirks, clearly amused. “Shit happens,” he says with a shrug. “How do you go from having a film production degree to spending your days staring at tits and ass?”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. You tilt your head, pausing for effect. “... Shit happens,” you echo, the irony not lost on either of you.

He snorts, taking a slow sip of his water, the sound of his laughter rolling into the lazy afternoon air. You can’t help but steal a glance from behind your shades, your gaze wandering over his rugged features.

There’s something about the way the sun hits him just right, casting a golden glow over his tanned skin. You swallow, feeling a subtle pull in your chest, an unexpected attraction. He’s not flashy, not like the other guys you’re used to working with— there’s an unspoken confidence in his ease, a solidness that makes you want to keep looking.

“So… who’d you think I was? Just then?” He asks, adjusting his cap.

You try not to let your small smile falter. “Oh, just an annoying coworker.”

“Ah, the kind who shows up at the worst times, huh?”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh, “You know the type.”

Frankie leans in just slightly, lowering his voice. “Well, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” There’s a flicker of flirtation in his tone, his eyes lingering a beat too long. “But if you ever need someone to… keep him under control, you just let me know. Got the remedy for that right here.” 

He exaggeratedly flexes his biceps, and the snug t-shirt he’s wearing pulls taut around his arms, highlighting their impressive size.

You can’t help but admire the view— he’s really fun to look at, all charming smiles and playful confidence.

“I might just take you up on that, actually,” you reply, matching his energy with a teasing smile of your own. “I could definitely use someone who knows how to handle things.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his pink lips. “I’m more than equipped for that, trust me.”

For a second, it feels like the two of you are in your own little world— until, of course, it comes crashing down.

A voice cuts through the moment like a knife. “We’re ready for the last scene.”

You turn to see Javier standing there, arms crossed, jaw tight, his gaze flicking between you and Frankie. His entire posture screams annoyance.

“And who are you?” Frankie retorts, squinting one eye against the harsh sunlight, playful defiance dancing in his tone.

Javier doesn’t seem to like that response at all. “I’m ready to get this shit done with,” he snaps, and you narrow your eyes, practically shooting daggers at him.

Frankie clears his throat, sizing up Javier’s bristling energy. “Right.”

You catch the word presumido slip from his lips— the Spanish insult that has you exhaling a light laugh through your nose, because he’s so spot on and he doesn’t even know it.

Both of you stand, Frankie gathering the remnants of your lunch. “If you’d like some company down by the beach later, I’ll still be around,” he adds smoothly, sliding the proposition in there as casually as if he were just suggesting grabbing coffee. You almost don’t mind him crashing your solo date.

“I’ll let you know,” you reply, pushing your chair in. “It would be great to not have to take the taxi back, but I was willing to do it for a nice afternoon by the water.” You can feel Javier’s possessive stare burning into you from across the way.

Frankie, absolutely unbothered, leans in closer, a charming grin on his face. “Here’s my number if you need that ride.” A pen appears out of nowhere, and he scribbles down his digits on a clean corner of his napkin, tearing it off with an effortless confidence before handing it to you.

“Definitely,” you say with a flirty smile, tucking the napkin into your pocket, feeling a thrill against the scowling presence of the spectator watching from the sliding glass door 

Frankie branches off to use the restroom and you push past Javier, no intention of speaking to him until—

“If you spent less time flirting with the crew and more time focusing on your job, we’d be finished by now.”

You can practically taste his jealousy.

You stop in your tracks, turning to face him, your patience running thin. “Really, Javi? You’re jealous of Frankie? That’s what this is about? Did our last conversation not put shit in perspective for you?”

He steps closer, eyes hard, voice low. “Jealous? Of him?” He scoffs, but the tension in his jaw betrays him. “I just don’t appreciate having to wait because you’re too busy cozying up to someone else. Especially someone who looks like they just got picked up off the side of the road.”

“And you wonder why I don’t like you.” Is all you can say, brushing past him yet again, his presence looming heavy as you head toward the living room where the last scene is set to be shot.

The moment Robbie goes on with his usual pre-shoot rundown, your attention shifts to the newbie Mariella immediately, drowning out his usual spiel.

The girl— and she is a girl, no matter what the paperwork says— looks painfully young. Her cropped tee hugging her braless chest, barely keeping her breasts from spilling out, and those flimsy pajama shorts riding high on her thighs. It’s the kind of outfit that makes you uneasy— one you’ve seen too many times in this industry, designed to play into the fantasies of men who want their women to look barely legal.

You bite the inside of your cheek, the sour taste of frustration building in the back of your throat. This is the part of the job that gnaws at you— the undercurrent of exploitation that no one acknowledges.

You’re not naive, you know exactly what sells in porn. You know what these people want to watch, what they get off on. The younger, the better. 

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach when you’re standing on set, watching it play out in real time.

Just as Mariella positions herself, preparing for the camera to roll, you can’t stop yourself. The words come out before you can think to censor them. “How old are you?”

Suddenly, everyone’s attention shifts to you. Robbie. Steve. Frankie. Even Javier, who’s lounging in the corner, waiting for his moment to shine. They all freeze, the casual banter dying off as your question lingers in the air. Mariella blinks, looking around as if unsure who you’re even talking to.

“I—I turned twenty last week.”

Your expression hardens, and the disapproval is written all over your face. “She’s not even old enough to drink, and you’re having her fuck Javier?” Your eyes cut to Robbie, who’s staring at you like you’ve just sprouted another head.

The silence stretches for a beat too long before he scoffs, shaking his head like you’re being ridiculous. “I don’t pay you to hear your opinions on shit,” he snaps, clearly irritated. “Just sit there and record the damn thing.”

Your eyes roll hard enough that it almost hurts. “You’re all a bunch of perverts.”

Poor Frankie catches a stray with that one. It’s like everything is grating on you in ways it usually doesn’t. Normally, you can shove it down and keep your head low because, at the end of the day, you’re just here for the paycheck.

“Perverts pay your bills, sweetheart,” Robbie throws back, all nonchalant. What’s worse is that he’s right.

Moments like this make you wonder how long you can keep doing this without losing a part of yourself in the process.

You look around at the other three men, none of them stepping up to say anything in your defense. Useless.

You shouldn’t be surprised, but it stings. Even Javier, usually quick with a sarcastic quip or biting comment, says nothing. He just sits there, stuffing out a cigarette that’s magically appeared between his lips.

It feels like a betrayal, even though you know better than to expect any different.

And Mariella? She’s clearly distracted, caught up in the magnetic pull Javier has over people. The way she’s looking at him with that starstruck, wide-eyed awe only makes it worse. You can see it in her expression, the way her gaze flickers over him like she’s already imagining how it’s going to feel when he fucks her. Thinking with her pussy instead of having common sense.

You recognize it because you were just in her exact position, drawn into that same orbit. You find empathy for her, but not the other motherfuckers.

The room descends into awkward silence, as if everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you’re not in the mood for a full-blown argument, so you shut down, slumping into the chair behind your camera with your arms crossed tightly over your chest. 

You know it’s only a matter of time before all these feelings you’ve been aggressively pushing down come back up and make you snap, but for now, you continue to force it all away.

You’re assigned to shoot the stoic, wide shots while Frankie’s in charge of the close-ups, and honestly? You’re relieved. The last thing you need is to be up close, watching this trash unfold.

The scene starts with the typical, raunchy premise: Dad pays babysitter with his cock! It explains Mariella’s barely-there outfit and the cluttered coffee table with school notebooks, setting the scene.

Then there’s Javier who looks the part too; dressed in dark blue slacks, a typical white collared shirt with a few buttons popped open to give that I’m stressed, come take care of me vibe.

He’s the picture of temptation, and it’s obvious Mariella’s already in the clouds.

The filming begins and they share that cheesy, erotic dialogue and lustful touches. You feel yourself sink further into the chair, silently counting down the minutes until you’re decompressing by the beach.

She sinks to her knees before him, her doe eyes looking up at him with that practiced innocence they all seem to perfect so quickly. She reaches for the buttons on his slacks, her delicate fingers fumbling just a little before she pulls down the zipper and tugs at the waistband. She nuzzles her face against his thigh, brushing her lips against his skin, and finally pulls out his cock. Even soft, it’s still an impressive size— but it’s definitely not how this was supposed to go.

“Well, are you going to suck it or just stare at it?” Javier snaps, his tone cutting through the air with an edge that feels too sharp, too real. It doesn’t sound like the crudeness that’s meant to spice up the scene.

His hand shoots out and tangles in her hair, yanking her closer. He’s rougher than usual, harsher, as he forces her mouth onto him.

She wraps her lips around his head, suckling softly at first, then taking him deeper into her mouth. She’s trying to do her job, playing the part of the eager babysitter, but something’s off.

Javier’s head tilts back, eyes squeezed shut, but it’s not the usual look of pleasure that crosses his face. It’s more like he’s concentrating, forcing himself to feel something that isn’t there.

You can’t help it— your eyes flick around the room, looking at the rest of the crew. No one seems to be noticing what you’re seeing, their eyes all honed in on the action in front of them.

But you’re catching the small details like you always do.

After a few more moments, it’s clear that it’s not happening. Javier lets out a frustrated curse, pulling out of her mouth with an audible, wet pop. “Fuck—just, give me a second,” he grumbles, stepping back. Mariella wipes the saliva from her lips with the back of her hand, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and hesitation.

You take that as your cue. Reaching over, you stop the recording, your finger hesitating on the button for only a moment before pressing it. Frankie does the same, Steve lowers his mic and pulls his headset off.

Javier runs a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the floor, like he’s trying to avoid looking at anyone directly. “I just need a minute,” he says again, but it’s more to himself than to anyone else.

Your gaze lingers on him for a second longer than you intend, and your mind flashes back to earlier, to the way he was with you. The memory is sharp and clear, the contrast striking. He’d come undone for you without hesitation, without needing any coaxing or forcing. Just words. But now, with Mariella kneeling in front of him, offering herself up like a gift, he’s struggling. 

“How long will this minute take? We gotta be outta here soon so get it up before I get one of these two to take your place.”

Javier scoffs, dismissive, “Tape wouldn’t fucking sell.”

“Well one featuring a soft dick won’t either,” comes the retort, and the two of them start their back-and-forth bickering.

You rub at your temples, trying to ease the pressure building behind your eyes. This has to be some weird-ass dream; it sure as hell feels like it. Maybe you’re still in bed, blissfully sleeping until three in the afternoon.

Javier storms off and Steve puts his equipment down. “I’ll go talk to him.”

Robbie just waves him away. “Take five,” he mutters to the rest of you, going in the opposite direction. This is such a mess, and poor Mariella remains on her knees, picking at her cuticles. 

“Please get up and sit on the couch. You look pathetic,” you say to her, not cruelly but bluntly. It’s not her fault, but the sight of her there is making you itch. She complies like a chastised child. 

Frankie drops down beside you, letting out a breath that mirrors your own. “These things usually go like this?” He takes his hat off, ruffling his hair before putting it back on.

“No,” shit has just been weird amongst this group for weeks now. “Burnout is inevitable, I guess.” You’re not about to sit there and shit-talk Javier, despite everything. You might have a mountain of complicated feelings when it comes to him, but you won’t kick him while he’s down.

Before Frankie can respond, Robbie comes barreling back into the room, his face flushed with anger. His eyes lock onto you, and you can see the accusation in them before he even opens his mouth.

“This is your fault,” he spits out, voice sharp, acidic. “All that shit you were talking earlier— now he’s fucking broken.”

You narrow your eyes, standing your ground. “Excuse me?” you snap, incredulous. “I was making a valid point. How the hell is it my fault that he grew a conscience?”

“Y’know,” he starts, his words dripping with the kind of vile, misogynistic shit that makes your blood boil. “You’d do me more good in front of the camera. Have somethin’ shoved up in there to keep you fucking quiet.”

The reaction is immediate. You shoot up from your seat so fast the chair scrapes against the floor, the sound sharp and angry, mirroring how you feel. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Frankie stands too, his face hardening as he takes a step in front of you, finally coming to your defense. “Watch it,”  he warns, and it feels like the whole situation could explode into something much worse.

Robbie, of course, just sneers “What? You gonna defend her? She’s been a pain in my ass for weeks—”

“I’m done.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can think them through, but they feel right. 

You’re tired— so damn tired— of this whole mess. Of dealing with assholes like Robbie and Javier who think they can get away with saying whatever they want. “I quit.” 

Your boss’s mouth opens as if he’s about to say something else, but you cut him off with a cutting glare. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you treat me like shit because your precious Javier can’t get his dick hard. Go fuck yourself, Robbie.”

You don’t wait for a response. You turn on your heel and head for the door, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You’ll double up on shifts at the bar or go back to waiting tables like you did throughout college. Whatever keeps you away from this bullshit. 

As you stride down the hallway toward the entrance, you pass Javier and Steve. Javier’s face is stormy, brows knitted together as if he’s still reeling from whatever heated discussion they just had. 

The moment he spots you, his expression shifts. There’s a flicker of surprise, maybe even concern.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks.

You yank the heavy, probably expensive for no reason, front door open, the sound echoing through the hallway. “I just quit,” you snap, voice sharp as glass. “See you never.”

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @libre-sol . @cherrysugarx . @goodvibesonly421 .

finally started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out. muchas gracias mis putitas (gn) (endearingly) 🖤

[sugrhigh]

TOUCH IT - ( c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- you and chris have never gotten along, despite your close relationship with his two brothers. you find out that’s he’s been messing with your love life behind your back, and all hell breaks loose. you both exchange many hurtful pranks, until you take it too far and chris shows up at your place

warnings- SMUT W/ A PLOT (enemies to lovers), virgin!reader x playboy!chris, cursing, you know the drill

a/n: it’s been forever, but i have returned!! thank you for waiting and i truly hope this makes up for my absence. to the nonnie who requested this im praying it meets expectations lol. my inbox is always open for reqs, comments, sweet nothings, etc <3

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @lovesodakid @mattslolita @sturniolopepsi @boywonderblogs @cherrypostsposts @iprk90 @bxbynyah7 @mbbsgf @zivall @slut4chriss @sturniolossss @sturnslcver @k111rby @vsangel-starbies @ginswife @eyeliketoeatpoosay @sturngirly @faygo-frog @s8nshines @bellasashylegs @mattsbbg @sturnlova @huntiesworld @cthasia @mattybsbitch @justalittle47 @ponyosturniolo @goldengrapejuice @matthewsturniolosactualgf @lustfulslxt @kenzieiskoolaid @ryli3sworld @c6ina @mcdonaldscocacola @venusvonlaw

your sniffles fill the living room, a pathetic sound that continues as you wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. well, it’s actually nick’s sweatshirt, and even though you’re getting your makeup all over it, he feels so terrible that he doesn’t mind.

“i don’t understand, you guys. why would he blow me off after we already went on three really good dates?” you question, voice cracking in hurt.

nick shakes his head solemnly, rubbing your arm to try and console you. “because he’s a fucking loser. i know it sucks, but i promise you this is for the best. now you don’t have to waste any more time on that dick.”

you just sigh. he’s right, but that doesn’t make you feel any less embarrassed. being stood up is a hit to the self-esteem, especially when you get all dressed up to wait around outside the restaurant like an idiot and have your best friends pick you up an hour later.

and after years of being on the sidelines, of watching everyone around you date and fall in love, you have to admit that you really thought something was growing. you thought it was your turn.

meeting wes was like a breath of fresh air, and after a few very promising initial hangouts, you figured this might finally be it. a cute guy with similar interests who actually seemed to like you.

but you suppose you guessed wrong.

“he was so sweet though, and that’s why i’m confused. the guy i thought that i was going out with would have never done that.” you reason, more with yourself than with him.

matt huffs from the other side of you, pushing his hair back on his forehead. “don’t cut him any slack. if he was even halfway decent he would’ve been open and communicated with you.”

another truth bomb that only further ruptures your heart. you know they’re trying to help, even though nothing about this is making you feel any better.

the whole thing is a disaster, though you should have known better. your entire love life has always been a mess. but each time you meet someone new and start to fall, you’re hopeful that it’ll be different.

“i just want to know what i did.” you mutter, sniffling again to try and stop your runny nose.

before either of them can respond, a loud bang erupts out from the kitchen and infiltrates the moment. you flinch, snapping your head in the direction of the noise just to meet a pair of icy eyes.

it’s chris, because of course he has to see you like this, at your literal lowest point. he’s got a small pot in hand as he stares you down, somehow managing to look both annoyed and indifferent at the same time.

“what are you whining about this time?” he asks, turning his back to you so he can set the pot on the stove and switch on the burner.

“be nice, chris. she’s having a rough night.” nick tells his brother, who doesn’t heed the warning in the slightest.

instead he just spins around to face the three of you once more, a small (but still smug) smile lighting up his face.

“oh, you had a date with that idiot wesley didn’t you? how did it go?”

chris poses it as a question, but you see right through him. his sarcastic tone indicates that he already knows how it went, considering your mascara is streaked under your bloodshot eyes and you’re in nick’s clothes rather than your own outfit.

but still, you find yourself giving him an answer, though it’s followed up by an interrogation of your own. “he didn’t show. you happen to know anything about that?”

he shrugs, reaching to open the pantry and grab some pasta. “nope.”

“bullshit.”

it flies out of your mouth before you truly think about it, but you’re kind of happy you spoke up for once. you know he’s hiding something, and you deserve the whole truth.

“what is that supposed to mean?” he narrows his eyes, like he’s challenging you to say more.

“it means you’re lying right to my face. what did you do?” you question further, even though you’re not entirely sure you want the answer.

chris gnaws on his cheek, trying to decide how much to tell you. and then he remembers that his brothers are in the room, and that he’d never be caught dead admitting to any sort of vulnerability, so his mouth starts running without a second thought.

“oh, that? yeah, i ran into wes the other day at the gym.” he shrugs simply, like that explains it all.

you rise to your feet, legs far ahead of your brain as you charge in his direction. “what the fuck did you say, chris?”

he’s surprised by your temper considering you’re usually so mild-mannered, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to stand down. instead, he straightens to puff his chest out, crossing his arms in a defensive stance.

“i told him the truth. that you’re a prude, and that you’ll never let him hit no matter how many amazing dates you go on.”

your mouth falls open and you stop in your tracks, just a few feet from him now. there’s no softness in his eyes; he’s completely shut down, focused on upholding the facade.

never in a million years did you expect him to throw your inexperience back at you as an insult, no matter how much you both disliked each other.

you’re pretty sure you hear both matt and nick gasp lightly from the living room, completely taken aback by their brothers brazenness. you can’t blame them. you’re almost not sure how to react, or what to say. almost.

“you’re gonna regret the day you ever fucked with me, christopher sturniolo. i can promise you that.”

and you kept that promise.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you hear him roar from somewhere upstairs.

you immediately smile, munching on your breakfast (even though it’s noon) in the kitchen. nick looks over from beside you with wide eyes, and then takes notice of your satisfied expression.

“what did you do?” he asks in a hushed voice as you hear chris come bounding down the stairs.

you shrug and turn to look over your shoulder at the man of the hour. he’s shirtless, hair tussled from sleep with his sweats hanging low on his waist, and he’s waving around a pair of his boxers. it’s one of the expensive ones that you know is now completely destroyed thanks to your doing.

“really? cutting out a hole in all of my underwear?” chris snaps at you, tossing them at your feet because he doesn’t know what else to do.

it’s a dick hole, to be specific. they’re completely in tact aside from the gaping space where it’s supposed to protect his manhood.

“figured it would help save time since you wanna fuck everything that moves.” you say, taking a satisfying bite of your bacon as you study him with a smirk.

nick lets out a laugh, because he knows that chris honestly deserves it after his asshole behavior towards you a few days ago.

you’d been strong, pretending it didn’t phase you as much as it really had whenever you were hanging out with them. but it was beyond messed up, and neither of the boys could understand why their brother would go to that extent just to sabotage your relationship.

“better than being a stuck-up virgin who thinks she’s smarter than she is.” he growls in return, and there’s a mean look in his eyes.

you know he’s trying to hurt you, but he’s once again tossing your innocence around like a dig, which is what offends you the most considering it’s a deep-rooted insecurity.

and you hate that he’s still being malicious while he looks so damn heavenly standing across from you, his bare chest heaving in anger. it makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

you don’t know if you’re sick with rage or sick with desire.

definitely rage, right?

“i’d rather be selective than completely ran through.” you hurl another diss at him, which he just scoffs at.

“you think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you? how many other times have you snuck into my room while i’m sleeping?” chris questions, taking a singular step forward.

he’s towering over you as you sit at the table, but you don’t let it intimidate you like he wants. instead, you say the one thing that you know he won’t expect.

“how many times have you thought about taking me in there yourself, huh?” you accuse him harshly.

your words hang in the air, and the tension is palpable. his lips part in shock, and you watch the blush creep up his neck to his face because he can’t count on both hands how much he’s pictured you in his bed.

you’re also stunned by his reaction, but you try not to show it. you expected him to tell you how wrong you are, how he would never touch you in a million years.

but he doesn’t.

“jesus, what did i just walk in to?” matt grumbles as he trudges past his brother into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

chris answers before you can. “nothing, she’s just being insane.”

“i’m sure whatever she did was reasonable after that douchebag comment you made the other day.” he replies easily, and your heart swells at the fact that he came to your defense.

you know it puts your two best friends in a tough situation considering you’re constantly bickering with their brother, but it’s nice to know they have your back on this.

“fine. i don’t fucking need this from all three of you anyways.” chris’s frown deepens as he turns on his heel to head back upstairs.

part of you feels a bit bad as you watch him go, but the overwhelming sensation that takes over is pride. you finally fought back, and you may have actually ended it.

well, that’s what you thought anyways, but you find that you’re once again wrong.

on your way back from the triplets house two days later, you were honked at eight separate times. you started keeping track.

the first instance scared the absolute shit out of you, because you thought you were about to get into an accident or something. your hand had flown to your chest, a loud curse leaving your mouth as your other palm gripped the wheel.

and then it happened again, and again, and many more times after that. you were pretty sure there was something written into the grime on your back window, but you couldn’t read it no matter how hard you tried.

you’re enraged by the time you park at your place, tearing out of the driver's seat to go look. you pull out your phone and tap the flashlight on, illuminating the hidden message.

honk if u think im a SLUT

you press your shaky fingers to your mouth, completely embarrassed by the fact that you’d been driving around like this and by the fact that so many people had essentially called you a whore.

what a stupid prank, considering you had almost crashed your car over it. you grab a napkin from your center console and wipe it all away, grumbling under your breath about how much you hate chris the whole time.

you stalk into your little ground-level apartment, slamming the front door shut behind you. by the time you’ve kicked off your shoes and made it to your bedroom you’ve worked yourself into a fit.

you whip your phone back out and find yourself pulling up his contact despite how much you don’t want to hear his cocky remarks.

but it’s ringing regardless, and he picks up on the second one. he was expecting the call, anxiously awaiting your reaction because he knew it would piss you off enough to talk to him.

“hey.” chris says simply, smiling to himself as he leans back in the rolling chair in his room.

“you’re a fucking idiot, you know that? and also a raging hypocrite while we’re at it. am i a prude or a slut, chris?” you lash out immediately, pacing around your room because you can’t seem to sit down.

“you’re a slutty prude.” he replies, and you can literally hear the smirk in his voice.

“and you’re just a little bitch. you love to act like you’re so tough, but i think you’re the weakest person i know by far. always too scared to say what you really mean.” your words are sharp yet fluid, as if they’re coming from someone besides yourself.

there’s a pause, just for a brief second, and you wonder what’s going through his head. you don’t know what’s going through your own anymore.

the line crackles and he sucks in a breath, re-arming himself to continue this brawl.

“you want me to say what i mean? i think you love riding on your high horse, pretending that you’re better than everyone else. like you’re so pure. but really you’re just needy and desperate, hoping someone will come along and fuck you right.”

your mouth is suddenly completely dry, trying to process what he even means while also coming up with a quick response.

“you think about people fucking me a lot? or do you think about you fucking me a lot?” you ask a beat later, bringing back the conversation from the other day.

he feels the blood rush to his dick, which stiffens against his sweats from this kind of talk with you. he’s only ever imagined it in his dreams.

“you wish it was me, don’t you sweetheart? taking it slow, making you weak.” he mutters, and you feel yourself throb from his words alone.

you hate how much it turns you on, thinking about chris completely having his way with you. you can feel the butterflies erupt in your stomach, pattering through your gut and up to your chest.

“you gonna come do something about it or are you just gonna keep talking shit?” you call him out.

he sucks in a breath, completely hard now from your alluring voice and the context of your words.

there’s nothing he wants more than to sprint to your house and spread you out on your bed, to show you what real pleasure is all about. but there’s so many underlying problems, one of which is the fact that his brothers are best friends with you.

there’s a lot to ruin, even though he knows he already destroyed any chance of a real relationship between the two of you the second he met you. but still, being honest means things will change, and that scares him.

so he pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up.

for a second you don’t even realize, and then the ending tone alerts you that he’s not waiting to respond, he’s just a fucking jerk. you can’t believe he ended the call so abruptly, like it didn’t phase him at all.

your legs are shaky as you throw yourself down into bed, ignoring the chill you still feel creeping across your body from the conversation.

he won’t get the last laugh. you won’t let him.

chris thinks about you the most at night. it’s hardest to get you out of his head when he’s alone in his room, just like he is now, watching tv to try and drown out his overactive mind. he hasn’t seen you in a few days, which is unusual, and he doesn’t like to admit it but he misses you.

you’re the reason he’s scrolling through instagram in the first place, aimlessly liking girls' photos just to try and convince himself that he’s interested in other people.

but he’s not. he hasn’t been in a long time, because he knew almost immediately that you’re everything he’s ever wanted, which was only confirmed as you continued to stick around. the thought alone was terrifying.

so he pushed you, and pushed you, and pushed you, ensuring that you’d steer clear of him. it just seemed easier, though it’s proving to be quite the opposite.

he’s just about to turn to video games for saving when his phone goes off in his hand. it’s a text from a girl he met over a week ago at a party, who had come back to spend the night with him.

and she’s asking if he has chlamydia.

the question is followed by a screenshot, which chris taps on immediately as his heart beats out of his chest. it’s a different message from some kind of bot number, alleging that he recently tested positive and she should see a doctor.

the sad part is that it looks pretty official, so much so that if he received the text himself he would probably believe it blindly. his face burns in embarrassment and irritation.

then another one comes through, from a girl he used to hook up with pretty frequently last month. by the time he responds to one person, he’s greeted by more messages from others.

five girls text him in the span of five minutes, which just adds insult to injury that they’re all questioning it too. but finally, they stop coming, and he’s pretty sure it’s over.

and now that he’s no longer focused on repeatedly putting the rumor to bed, he’s pissed.

of course chris knows it was you behind all of it, because who else would it be. he just can’t believe you thought of it, that you bested him at his own game.

there’s so much pent up energy in his body that he feels like he could run a mile. but he doesn’t. instead he jams his feet into his sneakers and orders a car, on a path of complete destruction.

you're midway through an episode of broad city when you hear a pounding on your front door, which you don’t expect. it surprises you so much that you actually have to take a second to calm your racing heart down from the panic.

you know who it is too, which scares you more. you weren’t expecting him to just show up like this, especially since it’s only been a little over fifteen minutes since your latest prank.

you were thinking maybe there would be an angry confrontation next time you went over to their house, but not right now.

the knocking comes again, louder and more impatient this time. you finally bring yourself to get off the couch, heading for the front door and squaring your shoulders as you go.

you swing it open a second later, and even though you expected him, you’re still troubled by chris’s expression. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so infuriated, so intense.

his eyes are dark as he stares you down, muscles straining and on display in his black wife beater. his entire face is flushed, and even though you know he took an uber here, it looks like he could’ve sprinted the whole way.

“do you think you’re fucking funny?” he seethes, taking a step toward you.

instinctively you move backwards, like two opposite ends of a magnet. chris raises an eyebrow, and you tilt your head.

“am i laughing?” you ask sharply.

“why are you messing with my life like this, huh? all because i made a comment to some dumbass kid?” he continues to rail you with questions.

you literally can’t help but just blink at him for a moment, completely at a loss over the fact that he sees nothing wrong with what he did.

“if you really believe that it wasn’t a big deal, you’re even worse than i thought.” you respond, voice quiet but lethal.

this time his anger actually falters, and his grimace turns to a slight frown. you’ve cursed him out plenty of times, but somehow this feels way more real. and it rips through him like a knife.

“yeah, i’m the awful one. you wanna know what wes was saying about you to his friends in the gym that day? he said that he was trying to fuck you for the roster, and that he was hoping to do it after your date so he wouldn’t have to see you again.”

he reveals this information rather bluntly. it just falls out of his mouth, and there’s no way to stop it, so he keeps going, “and then i told him all that stupid shit about you to scare him away, because i thought it was easier to keep hating me than to hear the truth about him.”

your jaw goes slack, lips parting even though you have no thoughts running through your head. or, more specifically, you’re having so many thoughts crowding you that you can’t pick one.

“i—okay, let me get this straight. instead of just being honest with me, you let me wait around outside a fancy restaurant by myself for an hour like a fucking fool?” you grill him, still somehow finding a way to be pissed off.

“i didn’t want to hurt you.” chris counters, taking another step toward you so he’s almost inside the doorway.

you stand your ground this time, staring him down defiantly. “don’t give me that bullshit, you’ve been tormenting me since the day we met and you know it.”

he shakes his head, a frustrated grunt leaving his lips. “why do you insist on misunderstanding me?”

“because you don’t make any sense! first you hate my guts, and now i’m supposed to just accept that you were supposedly looking out for me the whole time?” you throw your hands up in exasperation.

“i never hated you, y/n. not even for a second. and i know it’s not my place but he didn’t deserve to be anywhere near you, especially not after what he said.”

this absolutely infuriates you, and you place both of your hands in between your two bodies to shove him back onto the little patio. he’s stunned by your temper, but he only lets it show for a moment.

“what, and you do? you ever think about all of the shit you’ve said about me, chris?” you’re louder now, because you feel like you’re being made to look like an idiot.

he just approaches again, which sends you backing up into the apartment as he follows close behind. chris kicks the door shut and reaches out, one hand slipping behind your neck while the other moves to hold onto your hip, forcing you close to him.

“i didn’t mean any of it. i liked you from the moment i met you, and i hated that, so i took it out on you to try and keep you away. but i didn’t mean it,” he emphasizes, leaning in slightly so he’s practically breathing his words against your mouth, “let me show you.”

you can smell the musky cologne on his skin, trying so hard to ignore the shiver running down your spine from his proximity alone. your heart is beating out your of your chest and you briefly wonder if he can hear it.

“i don’t…i can’t trust you, chris.” you reply, turning your head so you can avoid his gaze, but he won’t let that happen.

he forces you to look back at him, tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck so he can guide your head straight. chris watches your eyes grow wide, lips parting ever so slightly as your resolve continues to fade.

“yes you can, i promise. let me show you what i really think about you, please.” he begs, tilting a bit more so that his lips ghost over yours, testing the waters.

you haven’t been properly kissed in quite some time, and the desire to give in is so strong that you can’t fight any longer. so you lean into it, throwing your arms up so you can wrap them around his neck and pull him flush against your chest.

his mouth melts against yours, tentatively at first to make sure you’re comfortable. when you start to pick up the pace, kissing him with a newfound fervor, chris begins to let his tongue wander against yours more passionately.

then his hands slide down to grip your ass tightly, kneading the supple flesh with his fingers. you gasp against his mouth, an airy and delicate sound that makes his stomach twist. he’s been dying to hear that for over a year now.

a second later you feel him bite down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth and admiring the way the skin recoils as he lets go. you didn’t realize how much you would enjoy the mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“tell me you want this too.” chris demands, lining his mouth up with your ear so that he can speak lowly.

normally you would protest, or insult him, or roll your eyes, but things have completely changed in the last few minutes. now all you can think about is how soft his kisses are, how you want to feel them all over.

so you nod with those doe eyes locked on him as he pulls away to study you, taking in your flustered state. “i want you to show me, chris.”

the sentence is music to his ears, and he can’t believe this is actually finally happening. you break your grasp on his neck, taking a step back so you can slip your hand into his.

you lead him down the hall toward your bedroom, heart thumping against your ribcage with each step you take. you’re nervous, but you also somehow feel more comfortable with him than the few guys who came before.

and sure, you’d never fully had sex with any of them. but now you’re kind of glad you didn’t, so chris can be your first.

your room is a bit messier than you’d like considering you weren’t expecting company, especially not in this part of the house, but you don’t have time to fix it now. it’s not like he gives a single shit; the only thing he’s focused on is you.

the tiny shorts you’re wearing have started to ride up as you tug him along, which only grabs his attention more. chris gives your butt a light smack with his free hand before twirling you back into his side with the other, pressing a steady kiss to your lips.

you laugh slightly, because you can’t help it, which makes him smile against your mouth. it really does feel corny, but he doesn’t care all that much. for you, he’s willing to drop the tough guy act.

“are you sure about this?” chris asks as he pulls away, his forehead pressed against yours as he awaits a response.

you lean in to peck him swiftly again before speaking. “i’m sure, really.”

he nods once, guiding you a few steps backwards so you fall down onto your own plush bed sheets. for a moment he admires the way your hair fans out around you, the slight ‘o’ of surprise that your lips make, trying to capture a mental picture of the moment.

your fingers find the bottom of his shirt in an attempt to speed things up, wrapping the material into your fist and bringing him down on top of you. he braces himself, arms on either side of you while he nudges your legs apart so his knee is between them.

you let your hands grasp his mostly bare shoulders as his head dips down, pressing kisses to your cheek, along your jaw, the hollow area underneath your earlobe. soft little noises fall from your lips as chris finally reaches your neck, careful not to be too rough as he sucks on the sensitive skin of your throat.

he adores it and he wants to hear more, to make them louder. so his mouth trails to your collarbone, which is luckily on display since you’re in a tube top. and then he lifts his thigh forward a bit more, ensuring that his knee brushes right against your clothed heat.

your hips grind down against his muscles almost involuntarily, eliciting a real moan as your cunt throbs desperately. you rock your hips against him at a quicker pace, loving the pressure that's beginning to build in your stomach from the stimulation.

“mmm, y’sound so pretty.” chris grumbles against your body, tongue sloppily running over the now irritated areas.

it’s the first time he’s ever really praised you, and considering it’s coming from the person you least expected, it makes it that much sweeter.

he pauses, pulling his head up so that he can hover over you. his hands begin to slide underneath your top suggestively and you help him, wiggling the stretchy material over your head.

you toss it to the floor, chest fully on display as the cold air rushes over your hardened nipples. a long breath passes by his lips as he takes you in, his dick straining against his sweats now as you gaze at him bashfully.

“quit staring.” you complain, though your voice holds no conviction.

“you make it hard not to.” chris shakes his head with a smile, leaning back down so that he can brush your worries away with another brief kiss.

this time you can feel his hard-on pressed against the inside of your thigh as his mouth searches yours, sloppier yet somehow sweeter this time around. his hand dances across your hip and up your side, moving higher and higher until his fingers are grazing over one of your exposed breasts, stopping to massage it roughly.

your back arches, rutting your chest into his grasp as you groan against his lips. chris pulls away, tiny smirk morphing his features.

“aw, you like that baby?” he goads, spreading his other palm out against the previously untouched mound of flesh, squeezing your nipples between his fingers lightly.

you can feel the wetness pooling at your core as he stays poised between your legs, continuing to tweak the sensitive buds in a way that’s deliciously enjoyable. you’re writhing under his hands, and he loves that you’re completely in his control.

but chris also knows that he can take you further, satisfy you more than you could’ve ever imagined. so he bows to your body, attaching his mouth to your throat and leaving several messy kisses.

his lips shift to brush against the area right above your chest, nipping at the skin lightly as he brings one hand back to grasp one of your tits. finally, he gets far down enough to flick his tongue across one of your nipples, his fingers pinching the other gently, swapping between them after a moment.

“fuck, chris.” you whimper, mind already becoming fuzzy from the carnal desire for more.

“god i love hearing you moan my name.” he admits before sucking the sensitive bud back into his mouth, toying with it a bit more just to drive you crazy.

he stays there for a moment as you both enjoy the dragged out foreplay. it’s a moment with you that he’s waited for for what seems like an eternity, and he wants it to last as long as possible.

and as much as he would like to linger in this spot forever, chris is craving even more of you. the tent in his pants is still growing from all of your beautiful noises and expressions, but he’s only worried about making this the best experience for you.

so he carries on, trailing down the valley of your breasts, wetting the area as he continues. he presses several slow kisses against your stomach, in a straight line leading directly to the waistband of your cotton pants.

you watch as he looks up at you through his long lashes, pupils blown out in lust. “can i take these off, pretty girl?”

“please.” the roles are reversed and now you’re the one begging him.

“so needy.” chris drags the ‘y’ out slightly as he simultaneously does the same thing to your shorts, careful to tug your thin and soaked panties with them.

the air rushes over the slickness that’s already developed, and you instinctively close your legs. you’ve never had anyone actually go down there, just a guy who stuck his hand in your pants to finger you—very poorly, if you’re honest—during seven minutes in heaven well over a year ago.

so it makes you a little self-conscious having him this close. he’s quick to pry you apart again, fully lowering himself to the floor of your room so he’s face to face with your pussy.

“can’t believe no one has ever seen you like this, you little tease.” his voice is low as he starts kissing your inner thigh, working his way in, “wanna taste you so bad.”

he’s growing closer to where you need him, and you throb when you feel his lips graze the innermost part of your leg. chris blows one singular breath right across your cunt, which shocks you slightly, before pressing a soft open-mouthed kiss to your clit.

you feel your legs tremble a little bit in his palms, your hands automatically going to tangle in his hair. a long whine escapes as his tongue works across you, and you can literally feel him smile in satisfaction.

the fact that it’s his mouth making you squirm like this, that he’s the only one that’s ever gotten to eat you out, is something he’s currently taking a lot of pride in.

he lightly teases your entrance, moving back and forth from that and sucking on your pulsing clit. it makes you grip onto his roots tighter, grinding down onto his face slightly as you moan his name again like a prayer. he swears he could cum in his pants right now, without you even touching him.

“you’re so fucking sexy.” he purrs against your cunt, the vibrations sending another tiny jolt through your body.

you can feel how hot your face is, how tense your stomach has become, and you can’t bring yourself to find any words. that is, until his fingers glide across your clit, rubbing over it lightly as you throw your head back against the mattress.

“holy shi—oh!” your voice catches in your throat midway through your sentence as he suddenly slips a finger inside.

a lewd noise escapes your throat once he does so, and he begins to pump it slowly. you’re finding it nearly impossible to keep your hips planted on the mattress, so he guides your leg over his shoulder and digs his nails into your skin to keep you still.

you rock your pelvis forward, connecting with his hand harder now as you chase the sensation, listening to the wet sounds of him gliding in and out of your cunt. chris adds another one of his slender fingers inside of you, and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to contain some of the desperate noises you’re making.

his own cock is pulsing as he continues, admiring the way your tits jiggle as he picks up his pace, the way your hair is slightly matted while your mascara collects under your eyes. he knows you want more just based on the way you’re bucking to meet his fingers, but he wants to hear you say it.

“is there something you’d like, sweetheart?” he asks, pressing another open kiss to your overstimulated clit.

you look down at him, meeting those pretty blue eyes as he awaits an answer, and you feel yourself shiver in both anticipation and from the current excitement.

“more, chris. i—need you.” you finally manage to get it out, voice pinched as you speak.

“what do you need, huh? you gotta tell me, use those words.” he demands further, and even though his taunting makes you shy, you realize you’ll have to answer if you want him to continue.

“need you inside me, baby.” you plead breathlessly, and he lets out an involuntary groan at the use of the pet name.

he didn’t expect you to play into the dirty talk, and at this point his erection is begging to be set free, to have you wrapped around him. so chris slows his fingers to a stop, leaving you feeling empty as he removes them.

a pout takes over your features as he stands up, placing his fingers in his mouth so he can suck your wetness off of them. it’s ridiculously racy, and it leaves you clenching around nothing as you wait for his next move.

“wanna be buried in this pretty pussy so bad.” chris growls, reaching to yank his wife beater over his head.

his chain bounces against his collarbones as he throws it away half-hazardly, tugging his boxers and sweatpants down to his ankles a second later. your eyes widen slightly as his dick springs free, slapping against his stomach as he steps out of his clothes.

precum dribbles out of the tip, which is angry and red from desire. you’re completely in a trance, staring as he takes himself into his own hand, pumping a few times so he can spread the slick around.

he notices the way you’re studying him in amazement, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “d’you want to give it a try, princess?”

your heart leaps into your throat, and even though you’re scared, you really want to learn how to make him feel good too. so you nod silently, extending your hand toward his cock, hesitating once you’re close enough.

“spit in your palm, wrap your fingers around it and then stroke, just like i was.” he instructs, so you suck in a breath and do as you’re told.

your newly-wetted hand closes around the bottom of his shaft, and he hisses out a curse as you start working up and down, squeezing the sensitive skin timidly. your thumb runs over his slit and he lets out a low moan, fucking himself into your fist.

“a-ah shit, just like that.”

you adore the admiration, unable to contain your smile as you apply some more pressure. his head is tilted back to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut as he enjoys the brief handjob. but chris can already feel the orgasm building, so he stills your movements by placing his fingers over your own.

your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “was it bad?”

he shakes his head immediately before he settles back down on top of you, bracing himself on his forearms as he leans in for a kiss. the taste of your arousal still lingers on his lips, which you surprisingly enjoy way more than expected.

“no, if anything it was too good. i would’ve finished from that alone.” chris admits against your mouth, which makes you feel insanely content.

“can’t have that, can we? not when i need you to fill me up.” you reply in a sultry tone, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that the comment made him blush.

“jesus, you can’t say shit like that to me.” he grumbles, moving to run his tongue along your jaw as his hand wraps around your throat.

chris squeezes the sides of your windpipe lightly, rutting his hips upward so that his dick slides against your drenched folds. the warmth from your center immediately causes his breathing to become labored, and you whimper as you feel his tip nudge your swollen clit.

“are you ready?” he pants into your ear, and you mumble a few pathetic words of confirmation to spur him on.

with that, chris uses the hand that was previously on your throat to line himself up at your entrance, looking up to catch your eye again. he pauses for a moment, so you give him a nod of encouragement.

“tell me if it gets too uncomfortable.” he says, intertwining his free fingers with yours so you have something to hold on to.

then he slowly starts to push himself inside, beginning with just the tip as your eyes screw shut. the stretch is painful at first, like you’re being split wide open by the sheer size of him, so you focus on your breathing as your grip on his hand tightens.

inch by inch he fills you up, until finally his full length is being gripped by your plush walls. you wince at the agonizing pressure, your nails digging into his back as he waits for you to adjust. you’re already clenching around him involuntarily, and he lets out a long groan.

“you alright, baby?” chris questions a beat later, concern laced in his voice.

“yeah, i think so.” you reply quietly.

“keep breathing, i’ll take it slow.” he promises, trying to comfort you as best he can.

you just nod, still latched onto his shoulder while his thumb strokes the back of your hand. his other palm clutches your hip, steadying himself as he begins to move in and out. you choke on your breath, doing everything you can to ignore the overwhelming ache.

it’s a feeling unlike any other, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck to keep from crying out. slowly but surely he picks up his rhythm, rocking into you sensually as you finally begin to transition into the pleasurable part of the experience.

a moan falls from your lips, muffled slightly by his skin. it surprises the both of you, and it makes chris flush, completely aroused by the fact that he’s the first guy to ever make you feel this way.

“doing so well, taking it all for me.” he says in a whiny tone, shifting to give you a kiss as he marvels at how tight you’re squeezing him.

the pressure in your stomach from earlier comes back, building as chris begins to snap his hips a bit quicker. gasps escape your throat on loop every time he plunges back into your cunt, and he grunts from the feeling of you enveloping his dick.

“oh my god.” you whimper pathetically, positioning your hand on the back of his neck so you can pull yourself in to meet his strokes.

he loves that you’re taking more control, that you’re truly starting to enjoy yourself. he can feel himself growing closer to the edge, and it doesn’t help that you’re now clenching around him every time he bottoms out.

but he holds on, letting go of your hand so he can bring it between your bodies, brushing two fingers over your clit. you practically convulse in surprise, your pornographic moans filling the room as he rubs tiny circles against the sore bud.

“shit, chris!” you cry, and you can feel the band in your stomach getting ready to snap.

“let ‘em know, princess, tell ‘em who makes you feel this good.” he slides his fingers against you quicker, plunging so deep now that he’s tapping your cervix with every pump.

“i’m—” you don’t even have time to finish your sentence before your abs tense up, legs uncontrollably shaking now.

you lean into the wave, letting it wash over you as you find your release. chris is close behind, shuddering as his thrusts grow needy and sloppy. then you feel him twitch, his hot cum mixing with your own as it pours out from his slit. he eventually stills a few seconds later, both of your chests heaving as he slowly slides out of you for good.

he rolls to his back, slumping beside you so that both of your arms are pressed together as you each regain your breath.

you’re scared to speak first, terrified really, so when you hear chris clear his throat you’re thankful that he’s breaking the silence.

“that was…you’re so…fuck, you’re just perfect.” chris fumbles with his words, and you glance over at him with a small grin.

“i’m really glad it was you, chris. thank you.” you press a sweet kiss to his cheek, and this time you’re positive he’s blushing.

“i’m glad it was me too.” he confesses as his arm snakes around your waist, pulling your back to his chest.

it’s a comfortable feeling, being held by him, and it’s one that you want to enjoy forever.

“to think, we could’ve been doing that this whole time.” you rag on him a little, unable to remain completely serious.

he buries his chin in your neck, breath tickling your ear as he responds. “good thing we have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

[lisholoz]

Hello. It's me the fic recs anon. I heard you calling for me from the depths of the void that is tumblr.

Right third time's the charm everytime I spend 20 mins compiling links Tumblr glitches

So! I know you mentioned you weren't a fan of omegaverse however neither am I and I normally block the whole tag BUT

So I'd suggest giving these 2 a chance because they're both so well written and don't focus on the stereotypical main tropes of the genre imo.

(Merc)urial Desires

This one has alpha/alpha so it satisfies my cravings for werewolves lol I watched a lot of teen Wolf in my teens

Worth counting (Series of alpha/alpha Sladejay)

Right this one just *slaps* and the action is so fun I must actually reread it soon

Deep Breaths

This one is my most reread, it hits every fun Sladejay trope that makes me love the ship in the first place

By Any Other Name

This bunch of fics were spawned from a prompt I challenged everyone too and I hold them all near and dear to my heart so I'd recommend checking out my gifts on AO3! And please send lots of lovely comments to the authors!! ( Same username).

So here's a taster for that trope

I want to live in your blood

Thicker Than Water

You're happy when I'm on my knees

Now this one???!!!! Makes me

It's so romantic and so soft

Show me slowly

This one?? YEEHAW even if you haven't played Red Dead Redemption 2 I think you'll enjoy it. It's so well written I could honestly read descriptions of them saddling horses and beating dirty laundry with a stick forever

Nothing to nobody

This one blasted onto the scene and gave me some of the best Sladejay dialogue ever! These bozos somehow manage to have the healthiest relationship possible. It's so funny I honestly laughed out loud multiple times while reading it , highly highly recommend

Fictober 24: Jayde

This one Slade gets hit with a truth spell and doesn't realize it, whacky diabolical shenanigans ensue

Truth Bomb

These are all the recent/top of my head stuff I can think of but everything in the Sladejay tag is absolutely stellar so even just searching by the ship is bound to be successful. Hope this helps!

[golbrocklovely]

cultish love // colby brock

A/N: first off, so sorry for this being so late, i had a lot of things i had to edit about this fic. also this is my longest fic ever ! like the other fic before this, this is a AU version of colby… where he, you guessed it, is a cult leader. and he is also corrupt (but like aren't all cult leaders). again this deals with some possible heavy themes, so give a good read of the trigger warnings before reading ahead. i've always joked about colby being able to lead a cult, and that's basically where this idea came from. this fic also took a turn i wasn't expecting, but i like it anyway. also the first half is written as a journal entry (all italized) and then the rest is an actual fic (not italized). lmk what you think, and happy haunting !

prompt: you're a journalist, and your next big story is on the 'empathic love' cult, led by none other than colby brock. this cult is not known well, but you are getting a first hand look at them and what they do. and quickly, colby takes a liking to you. || fem!reader x AU!cult leader!colby brock

trigger warning: SMUT, no actual sex but you do get mentally fucked (it will make sense in the story), cult vibes all around, love bombing, cursing, supernatural powers, colby is very intense and kinda scary but also still his charming self, slight dubcon similar in vain to sam's story - you never say no outright, but you do have general feelings of 'wtf is this, idk if i like' so if that's too much for you, feel free to read something else :), colby's aura is crazy good at giving you visions, strangers-to-soulmates?? don't know if that's a tag lol, also…. colby's technically bisexual in this????? but like barely

word count: 8610

I've been a reporter for only five years, and this story.... it could make or break my career. Cults aren't as prevalent as they once were way back when. They still exist, just in the shadows. A lot quieter on most fronts. Usually disguised as a business or religion, for tax reasons of course. But this cult, Empathic Love, is unlike any cult I've heard of.

Of course, they don't call themselves a cult, but that's what they are. How else would you describe a bunch of randos following one man around wherever he goes?

They only started so many years ago, right before I graduated university. The main founder, Colby Brock, is a pragmatic individual, according to his followers. The cult began blowing up in my town a little over two years ago, and now people flock from all over the world to visit the Love Compound. You would think it's Disney World the way people grow excited about it.

But I am here to get to the truth of this cult. What is their motive? What are they planning to do? Will this be another Waco or Heaven's Gate? What sinister beliefs hide underneath the modern-day hippie aesthetic they show?

These notes will document everything I experience for the next couple of days. And in case I go missing, these are my proof of who's to blame.

I don't think it will go that far, but you can never be too sure.

~~~~

Day 1 - Investigation

I'm still incredibly surprised I was allowed to come onto the Love Compound. The leader himself apparently reached out to my boss and told them that they wanted someone to come down and interview the group. They allow visitors from time to time, "new recruits" as some of the townspeople call them, but reporters have never been allowed in. Not once. Until me.

Driving up to the compound was nerve-wracking. I never imagined I would be nervous; I've interviewed plenty of criminals in my years, have done full blown investigations into scary, horrifying crimes. But something about this place freaked me out. Partially because I didn't know what I was getting into. But another part of me, and I will never admit this out loud, felt... at home.

The only promise I made to myself was I wouldn’t drink any kool-aid while there. So, I plan to stick to that. Pretend my previous statement never existed.

I was greeted by a beautiful woman when I got there: Avery. No one went by last names. And some apparently changed their names altogether, which was not surprising. My guess is there were most likely criminals hanging out amongst the group. But I had no proof of that, just a hunch. It easily could be a safe haven for those wanting to escape whatever life they had before.

The compound was three Victorian style mansions connected to each other and had a decent size farm attached - about 222 acres. Avery told me about all of the vegetables and chickens they farmed. Everything was organic and used up as often as possible. Anything that couldn't be eaten or produced too much for the only 100ish people in the compound, was sold at the farmer's market or given away to the local food bank. Avery explained to me very clearly that everyone in the compound chipped in one way or another. Some still worked normal jobs, but just lived here with everyone. But she noted that Colby hoped in the near future no one would have to work at all and they would be self-sufficient in a couple years.

A cult with future plans? Almost unheard of.

I told Avery that I was given an all-access pass to ask anything I wanted to, and nothing I asked could be ignored or deflected. She agreed to an interview. I recorded all of it, but here are the highlights of what I gathered.

I asked her why Colby was such a secretive man. There were very few photos of him that did exist out there, but all that was rumored about him was his alluring eyes and generally attractive presence. She agreed that he was handsome, describing his as having "ocean blue eyes" and his voice was to die for. "Deep and arousing", as she explained.

I noted that she seemed almost lost in thought at the idea of him, like she was envisioning him directly in front of her. Strange behavior; but not for a cult follower. Many end up falling in love with their leader, believing they have a genuine relationship with said person.

I bought up the name of the group, Empathic Love, and said it felt a little too inviting. She laughed and told me that it was right on the money - the best way to describe why everyone was there. She expressed to me that so many of Colby's followers wanted peace and love and light, and that being in this group felt like that. It was rewarding to be surrounded by those that cared and wanted to see each other succeed. Life outside the walls of the compound was rough, scary, draining; but inside, it was all love.

Call me cynical, but I don't believe that for a second. It took all the strength I had to keep from rolling my eyes at her. But I could tell from her voice, her motions... she was telling the truth. Well, her truth.

I wanted to know what brought her here, so she spoke of her previous life. She was abused growing up, moved around a lot in foster care. She was almost homeless, and then one day she ran into Colby. He had just begun the Empathic Love group, and she just knew she had to stick with him. Her life immediately turned around the moment he was in her life. The adoration in her eyes told me a different story, so I pressed her - "are you and Colby... together?" She smiled and said no, but she knew that they were life partners before, just not currently.

Oh... so it's one of those types of cults.

She said that Colby doesn't have a second in command, wife, girlfriend, whatever. Everyone is equal and heard. He's just the face of the group, which is a bit ironic given even I have no clue what he looks like. I knew he was young, in his mid-20s. But other than that, no idea.

I needed to know, why stay? What keeps you here? A dreamy look came over her, like she had said this a million times before: "Colby. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Chills ran up my spine at the tone of her voice. It was dull, and her words sounded like a mantra, the way she said them so easily.

I wrapped up my interview with her, quiring if I was allowed to interview others. She said yes and began sending over random people one-by-one to me.

If I hadn't gotten chills from her first, I would have from everyone else. Something about seeing everyone saying similar things, smiling happily, like the ship isn't sinking around them was eerie. It made my stomach churn when I would ask questions I already asked Avery, and get almost the same speech back.

I interviewed about 15 people. All variety of ages and genders. I suddenly realized that there were no children around, and everyone was over the age of 21.

Consenting adults… minus the supposed brainwashing.

A couple of the interviewees stuck out to me:

Penelope, 25. Her upbringing was similar to Avery's, but she still kept in contact with her family. Apparently, she wasn't the only one like that either. Many still kept in touch and even visited their loved ones. I asked her to describe Colby, tell me anything about him. She giggled, almost like a schoolgirl, and began to weave such a story about him. He was kind and caring. His smile was contagious, just like his laugh. And his singing voice was fantastic. She talked about him like he was a boy band member, and she was his biggest fan. I asked her to give one word to describe him, and she said "Love. He is love, and that's all anyone could ask for."

Greg, 36. He had fallen into rough times, and desired a fresh start. He had heard about this group online, and figured checking them out while he was in town wouldn't hurt. And that was a couple years ago. I wondered why he didn't feel weird listening to someone that was younger than him, and he shrugged. It was nice not having eyes on him. He loved being in a wallflower, and he believed that Colby deserved all the love he got from everyone in the group. Every ounce he got was ten-folded back into the group. Greg had never felt so connected to a group of people and he knew it was all thanks to Colby. "He brought love into my life like I never have had it before. Because that's who he is: love."

Heather, 29. She mentioned how for most of her life she felt like shit. Her confidence was at an all-time low when she met Colby. He encouraged her to keep at it, to love herself and find happiness everywhere. And by spending more and more time with him, she did. She has never felt more confident about herself, her life, her direction, and Colby is the reason for that. The tone that took over her voice when she bought him up was odd. It was very similar to a partner describing the love of their life, almost like wedding vows. I asked her haphazardly about her love life, how that was going for her. And she told me she had been on many dates - something she never used to do back when she was younger or before Colby. But she did note that regardless of who she ends up with, she knows that a part of her heart will always belong to Colby. They were connected, forever. "Love and light and happiness is what I desired, and I got it - all because Colby exists in my life now."

It felt like I was getting nowhere with some of these interviews. Many said the same thing, Colby being love and light and blah blah blah. I wanted someone that wasn't gonna just quote to me whatever mantra he made them learn. And luck was on my side, because I was able to interview their newest member, Ash. They were 23, and very beautiful. There was an almost smugness about them, like they knew they were the shiny new toy on the block. The confidence only a young 20-something year old could have.

I asked them, point blank, about Colby. Be brutally honest. They told me he was hot, and that's what drew them to him. They liked the idea of living in a group setting, especially since they grew up with many brothers and sisters. They liked helping out, and they liked knowing that Colby was keeping an eye on them the most recently. I then followed up with how long it took for them to join the group. "Three days. That's how long it takes for everyone."

I questioned them about the "Colby is love" thing, and they agreed it was a bit strange, but they couldn't help but feel the same way as everyone else. They were like a moth to a flame when it came to him. Everything about him was hypnotizing, entrancing. It was like staring at the sun; even though you knew to look away, you just couldn't help it.

Then I had to know: were they sleeping with him? Most of these cults feed off of the leader fucking every person they wanted to and leaving other members high and dry. But for some reason, it felt as if Colby was sleeping with everyone with the way they all talked about him. Ash dissented, saying no one was sleeping with him. He didn't sleep with any of his followers. But they all shared a deep, sensual mental connection with him. They felt like, sometimes, he was in their soul. And that sensation alone was euphoric, bordering on orgasmic. They also knew that in another life, they would have been together, similar to what Avery said.

It was then I knew that this group was clinically insane, or just really infatuated by what Colby was selling. It had to have been some crazy brainwashing. But it was odd; people were allowed to leave, to see loved ones, to have lives outside of the compound walls. Hell, some had dating lives that included those not here! That's unheard of, and completely stupid on Colby's part if he wants to keep things going.

A cult leader that wanted to watch his world implode.... I had to meet him. I had to meet the myth that was Colby Brock. And tomorrow I get my chance to.

~~~~

Day 2 - Interview with Colby

I feel the need to explain that these are my notes, not really meant for anyone else to see. And really, the only reason anyone would be seeing this is if I disappear or got murdered.

So, I say all of that just so I know, for myself, that this is a safe space for me to express my truest emotions and thoughts after interviewing Colby.

And all I can say, honestly, is that... I get it. I understand it now.

I felt my nerves hit their break last night before going to sleep, unable to stop my mind reeling from what was to come. I ended up bringing along a bodyguard, or really a photographer. I had known Trey since I started working as a journalist, and I knew I could rely on him to get us out of the Empathic Love compound if anything went south. I wasn't sure what I was up against when I went to interview Colby, but God... I didn't think I was so underprepared.

I met him in his office, Avery walked me over to it. It was up in the attic of the third house. It overlooked the entire property with wide windows. For an attic, I expected it to feel dark and dusty, but surprisingly it was light and airy. Almost like being out in the woods and taking a deep breath.

Colby was sitting in his main office chair. He spun around to see us, a light smile on his face. I'll be honest - I was taken aback by his beauty. I understood Ash's whole spiel about him being attractive and looking at him was like looking at the sun. It was intense. He was intense. His blue eyes bore into me, almost like they could see through me. I felt chills, but they weren't of fear. It was out of... excitement, of awe.

He greeted me, giving me a warm handshake. I hate to admit that I almost blushed at the sound of him saying my name. I had to take a couple deep breaths before starting. Avery left the room, and Trey sat outside the door, in case of backup.

I recorded our interview, knowing that I couldn't keep track of everything he said. But listening back to it now, his voice.... it's like a song. A beautiful, spellbinding song. I could almost fall asleep to it....

I asked him about his life, and how he came to be a leader for a group like Empathic Love. He spoke of his upbringing lightly, barely scraping the surface. He talked about growing up pretty normally, having a loving family, a great friend group, and then one day realizing that he could make a change in the world. That many people loved him and loved being around him. And that's when he knew that if he could make their lives better, he would. So, he started Empathic Love. Originally, it was just gonna be a safehouse for those that needed it. But then more and more people joined and suddenly, it grew into what it was today.

I asked where his family was now. "In Kansas," he told me. He said nothing further than that.

He humbly spoke of all the love he received from his followers, or his "friends" as he put it. They all cared about him in a way that he only wished he could return tenfold. I questioned him about the whole "Colby is love" thing. "How come everyone says almost the exact same thing, like they've been brainwashed into saying it?" He didn't even trip over his words as he spoke matter-of-factly to me. "I didn't come up with that phrase, they did. You would have to ask them. I take it as the highest form of a compliment, truly. I'll be honest, it's a bit embarrassing at times when they call me that, but I can't help what they do. I appreciate their love, nonetheless."

I continued asking him about different topics, until finally reaching the one I was most intrigued about. "How many of your followers - excuse me - friends, have you slept with?" He smirked, smirked, at me and said "None. Did any of them tell you that we slept together?"

"No, but the way they talk about you like the sun shines out of your ass does seem a bit odd, don't you think?"

He looked unphased. God, he had an answer for everything. "I'll be honest with you, some of my friends might be in love with me. But I make it abundantly clear that while I love them, and love their love, I don't have feelings for them. I'm still looking for the one."

I remember holding back a glare, "So, you're celibate?"

"Now, I never said that." He let out a chuckle, then his eyes darkened. "Why do you care so much about my sex life? Unless of course, you want to join it."

I tried ignoring his gaze and his words but stuttered through my next question. “Then who exactly is the right one for you, if it's not one of your followers or friends?”

It took him a while to answer, he even closed his eyes for a bit. He sat up once he knew, sauntering over to his window that overlooked it all. "I imagine the one for me is someone that will bring peace to me and my life. Someone that for all my faults, can see who I am truly deep down. She will love me, and I will worship her. I will show her what true love feels like. Our souls will be one, because they always have been."

Something strange came over me. I don't know why I said it, but I uttered, "What about looks?"

Who cares about looks! Why did I ask about looks? I was a serious journalist, not a reporter for Star Magazine!

He looked over his shoulder at me, "Looks aren't that important to me. What matters is mind and soul. Who you are deep down. But if I had to pick… someone like you. I feel someone like you would be a perfect fit around here."

I wanted to give him the sassiest voice and rebuttal I could muster, but deep down I was shaking. Energy raced through my body, like I had been electrified.

He kept his back to me, staring out the window. “I'm not trying to be overly complimentary. I'm just being honest. But I can tell that you would do so well to have us around. To have... me, in your life. I bring a lot of love to people's lives, that's for sure. But I also bring a lot of drive, and passion, and intimacy.”

Intimacy?

“People open up when I'm around. They tell me everything, even things they never dreamt of telling another person. And I allow it, because clearly, they needed to express it. And once they do, it's like the floodgates open. Love and light just start pouring into them, into their life, and it's overwhelming - but so worth it. Doesn't that sound nice?”

I guess so...

“I bring happiness to so many. My friends have told me that they get jittery around me, I'm like a shot of adrenaline. And that energy, that power, courses through them. And when it gets expressed, it comes out in…” He took a long pause, turning back to me. The look in his eyes… I can remember it as if he was still in front of me. “Pleasurable ways.”

I hate admitting this, and it's embarrassing to say it even now, but I felt a jolt of... something, run through me. I won't even say what it was out loud, in fear of never being taken seriously again. But what happened after that, I don't know if words can even express it well.

Colby continued talking, but I couldn't pick up on any of it. He was talking up a storm, but I couldn't help the sensations I was feeling. Even in my wildest of fantasies, I've never felt anything in reality. It was all in my mind. But in that very moment, it felt like it was happening to me.

I felt lips tread up my neck, stopping just below my ear. A hot, low moan breathed into my ear. My spine tingled at the sound, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. If I didn't know any better, I would think Colby was behind me, making those noises. My hands suddenly felt hands on top of them. My eyes widened, looking down, but nothing was there. I couldn't really move my arms once the invisible hands were there. My whole body felt numb and heavy, relaxed. My mind was the one on edge, worried as to why I was feeling all of this.

I hadn't eaten or drank anything at the compound. Maybe it was being poured into the room by the vents? I don't know, but something was making me feel this way.

The invisible hands drifted up my arms, massaging my shoulders for a moment. My head lulled back, almost hitting the back of the chair. My mind was on high alert, but my body was about ready to fall asleep. The hands relaxed me so much that my eyes began to flutter.

But then... they drifted down my torso. They traced along my neck gently, drawing small, insignificant patterns. The hands grew lower and lower until they finally were on my chest. I felt the hands cup my breasts softly, my breath hitching in my throat. They kneaded my tits gingerly, my nipples hardening in my bra. I bit my lip, praying that I wouldn't make a sound. It was hard not to, especially when the delicate fingers of these invisible hands found my nipples, gently pinching them.

I remember closing my eyes tight. Trying to clear my mind. This wasn't actually happening to me. There was no way. This was a psychosis or a drug hallucination that was happening to me and Colby was doing nothing about it.

One hand drifted down my body, stopping right above my sex. I suddenly became very aware at how wet I was, my eyes widening. I felt a rush of blood flow through my cheeks. I was about to get caught. These invisible hands made me wet, and I couldn't stop them.

And the terrible thing was, I didn't want them to. I wanted them to finish the job. To get me off... in front of Colby. One hand rose back up my body, grabbing my neck and turning my face to look up at him.

A deep voice whispered harshly, "You want him, don't you?"

I didn't say anything, afraid of what would come out. But deep down, I knew.

"Say it, and it's yours. Say you want him. And he'll have you... forever."

I opened my mouth. I felt the words almost leave my lips. I stuttered out something. I closed my eyes, my body feeling high.

And then in a split second, it was all gone. The room grew quiet, and Colby cleared his throat. "Y/N, are you okay? You look flush."

I jolted out of my seat, being able to move freely again. I looked around and realized Colby was sitting once more, staring at me concerned. I finished the interview abruptly, saying I had everything I needed - even though I definitely didn't. And then he uttered words I wish I didn't hear.

"If you want, come back tomorrow. We are having a celebration here. I would love if you came by, even if for an hour."

I nodded, not even really taking in what he said, and left. Trey was confused as to why I bum-rushed out of the room, but I never told him the truth. How could I?

I knew deep down I shouldn't have said yes to go to the party. But getting that footage would be killer for my article. Interviews are great, but a party at a cult compound? That's bound to end terribly (for Colby, but great for me).

But something in me can't shake this feeling that I basically signed myself up for the end. End of what? I'm not sure. But I'll find out tomorrow.

~~~~~~

Stepping back onto the compound made my heart race. I was nervous as all hell, and just wanted this day to be over with already. Today was my last day doing this story. I was counting the minutes to when I could go back to my office and write about how this place was insane, or whatever narrative I planned to write.

I had enough proof that something was up here. All I needed to do was a bit more digging. And during the party is when I planned to do it.

Avery walked up to me, smiling brightly. "Hey, Y/N! How are you doing today?"

"I'm okay. I know it's a bit early, but Colby never specified when the party was going to take place." I replied.

"No, you're totally fine. The party is gonna happen later. Right now, though, we have something going on that you'll definitely want to see." She clapped excitedly.

"Oh? And what is that?" I questioned.

"We are inducting a new member!" she exclaimed giddily. "There's a whole process that we do, and everyone is involved. I imagine that will bode well for your article if you see it firsthand. It's all taking place in that tent."

I stared over at the huge tent, its plastic cover doors strangely inviting.

I hummed, "Sure, I'll be there in a moment."

Avery nodded, turning on her heels and prancing over to the tent, following in other members.

"What's happening in there?" Trey asked.

"Apparently they are inducting someone new into their cult." I informed him.

He blinked. "Group, you mean."

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, whatever. Make sure to capture as much as you can."

He shook his camera, giving me a wink, "On it."

We both walked in, many members still up and around, giving everyone hugs and chatting. Avery waved me down, patting the seat next to her. I walked over and sat. My body tingled in anticipation. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My breathing picked up as everyone grew silent, the doors opening. Colby walked in, and people rushed to their seats.

Colby called out, "Hello everyone, good morning."

"Good morning, Colby." Everyone said in unison.

Jesus, that was creepy.

"A lot of things are going to be different today. First, we have guests watching our festivities. Y/N and Trey. Everyone, give them a hand." He gestured to the two of us.

The tent exploded in applause, Avery evening rubbing my back sweetly. It felt like I was being congratulated on something I didn't achieve, my cheeks flushing at the acknowledgement.

"And secondly, sadly, the new member we were going to have decided not to stay." He frowned, his face dropping.

Members gasped, some audible "oh no" echoed around the tent. Colby nodded his head sympathetically. “I know, but fret not. I think this will be a learning experiment for our new guests. We can still do our traditional motions of having someone join us. But, imagine it as if it's a mock ceremony instead. Ms. Y/N, would you please step up here?”

My heart stopped when he looked into my eyes, the first time since yesterday. I glanced at Avery, who grinned enthusiastically. She pushed me out of my seat, my body following her lead. I gazed around, finding Trey, who pulled away from his camera with a concerned look. I stumbled up the walkway, stepping on stage with Colby.

Colby lowered his voice so I could only hear him, moving away from the microphone. "I know you wanted to know about how we induct someone into our little home, so I figured why not use you as an example? We aren't actually inducting you, in case you’re worried. This is just what would happen if you were joining. Are you okay with that?"

I gazed around the huge, white tent, making eye contact with many people in the audience. They all looked so eager, waiting to hear my response. Some were even shaking with excitement.

I stuttered, feeling Colby squeeze my hands to bring my attention back to him, "I-I guess so."

"Fantastic." He turned, still holding one of my hands, "Alright everyone, you know the drill."

The crowd cheered, suddenly many lining up to a microphone at the side of the stage. Colby lightly pulled me to a cushioned throne, sitting me down. "So here's what's going to happen. People are going to come up to that microphone, and they are going to give you plenty of love. Genuine love. And then the next person will go, and so on until everyone has spoken."

"Everyone here? Like, all hundred plus of you?" I whispered.

"Yes. It's gonna be a while, so get cozy." He laughed, rubbing my shoulders.

Time felt frozen as slowly everyone came up and said something nice about me. Some were quick, mostly just commenting on how nicely I dressed or how the stories I had covered in the past were interesting and thoughtful. But others, it's like they could see into my soul and point out the exact thing I was insecure about. Everyone was complimentary and it was nice, but exhausting.

The line had dwindled down, and the next person to speak was Avery.

She stepped up the microphone, giving me a huge smile. "Hi, Y/N. I know we don't know each other that well, but I feel like I've known you my whole life. These couple days of getting to know you, being interviewed by you, have just been the highlight of my life. You are such a lovely presence to be around, and you deserve all the success you've gotten these last couple years."

Lots of people in the crowd nodded, agreeing with Avery. She continued, taking a deep breath, "I wanted to add - you are so deserving of love. You are easy to love too, and I hope that you are surrounded by people that make you feel that way. I know that this is just a mock ceremony, but I truly believe you would be such a great addition to us. I know you don't trust us, but I hope that soon you will find that you have a safe place here. Even if you never come back here again. This is your home now, and forever will be."

My chest heaved suddenly, tears welling up in my eyes. What the fuck is happening right now? Why was I crying at what she said? Sure, it was sweet and kind, but... how did she know I needed to hear that?

I turned my head, wiping the tears before anyone could see them fall. The crowd clapped as Avery left, going back to her seat.

The last couple people were a blur, my mind still hanging onto Avery's words. Suddenly, a hand was placed on my shoulder, jolting me out of my thoughts. I gazed up, seeing Colby's beautiful face staring down at me.

"The ceremony is done. Now, time to party."

~~~~~~

It had been a couple hours since the ceremony, my body feeling almost numb but jittery all at the same time. It was hard to shake all the love and words that were thrown my way today. Sure, some were probably just lying and saying random things because they had to, because they were conditioned to. But it freaked me out how some just... hit the right spots, knew my insecurities.

The party itself was fine. Two of the houses had parties happening in them, and since all three houses were connected, you could leave one and walk into another. There was a dancefloor full of people, and multiple fully stocked bars. Tons of food was at each table. It honestly looked like an adult prom. But I wasn't in a partying mood. Trey, on the other hand, was enjoying himself immensely. Girls and guys surrounded him, laughing at his jokes and bringing him plates of food and wine. One girl kept rubbing his thigh, staring at him longingly.

I wanted to leave. I had had enough of today, and I just wanted to be as far away from Empathic Love as I could be. I decided fresh air was what I needed, so I got up and slid out the back door of one of the houses, taking a deep breath. There were still too many people around, but I noticed the last house, the one with Colby's office in it, had no lights on and no one around it. I walked through the yards, stopping once I was by the back porch of the third house.

I sighed, leaning back against a railing. I could still hear the party going on, almost getting louder now that I wasn't there. I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed.

“Hey, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here." Colby's voice broke through my thoughts.

I exhaled. “Hi, Colby.”

He cocked his head, “Are you doing okay? You seem... upset.”

I felt this sudden rush of anger, knowing in reality he was to blame for all of this. “No, I'm not doing alright. I want to go home, I'm extremely overwhelmed by this party and all the people around here. That ceremony was too much for me to deal with, and the only way for me to get out of here is Trey and he's getting rubbed down by your followers!”

He took a step back, putting his hands up defensively. “Woah, that was a lot. You must have needed that release.”

I glared, “You think?”

“Look, I get it. It's a lot to take in. I myself don't love going to all these parties. It can be really overwhelming and if I'm honest, it gives me a lot of anxiety,” he admitted casually.

“You get anxiety?” I scoffed, “How? Everyone here loves you.”

“I know. That's the stressful part!” He sat on the railing, turning to me. “I'm the leader of this family. I have to make all the right decisions, and sometimes that means upsetting some of the people closest to me. Not to mention, so many eyes are on me, and it's just all too much sometimes. Even if you think this group is a cult, I still care for everyone here. I make sure they are fed, have a job, and have a life outside of here. And that's a lot to take on.”

“How do you deal with all of it, then?” I questioned.

“Patience. And a lot of alone time when I can get it - through meditation, specifically,” he laughed. “I was actually going to go meditate before I found you. Would you like to join me?”

I shook my head. “No, I'm good.”

“Are you sure? Look, at the very least, it will get you away from the party and all the noise. You don't even have to join me, you can just... sit in the room with me while I do it.” He argued, shrugging his shoulders.

I gazed at the party, everyone had grew rowdier while we were talking, and I didn't even notice. But my head felt like it was spinning from the noise alone. I sighed, nodding my head. Colby smiled, opening the door to the house, and I walked in first. I followed him up to his office, sitting down on his couch as he sat in the center of the room on the floor.

I raised an eyebrow. “That's where you meditate?”

“Yeah, I know it's a bit silly. But I feel so much more grounded... on the ground.” He replied cheekily.

I snickered, sitting back and watching him. He crossed his legs, resting his palms on his knees. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took multiple breaths until they were low and shallow. I furrowed my brow, my eyes never leaving his form.

It almost seemed like he was asleep, or in a hypnosis of some sort. He was completely still and silent. A dull glow appeared at the top of his head, growing brighter and larger. I leaned away from him, my eyes widening at the sight. What the fuck is that...?

An aura grew around him, surrounding him completely. He didn't move, unfazed by it. His eyes remained closed, and with each breath it grew.

"How... are you doing that?" I uttered, my mouth a gape.

"Doing what?" He spoke in a monotone voice.

"That... aura. How are you doing that?" I pressed.

“I've always been able to do it since I was young. You can get closer if you want to.” He suggested.

How did he know I was still far away?

I stepped off the couch, moving closer to him. I kept my distance, but the aura was almost pulling me in. It was beautiful, the light reflecting and growing bigger. I was almost engulfed by it, but it stopped right before getting to me. I could feel its warmth, its energy. It was calling to me, beckoning me to step towards it.

The aura wrapped around me, filling me with light and love. Or at least that's what it felt like. I gasped at the sensation, my legs shaking underneath me. I breathed in deeply, my lungs filling up with fresh air. I didn't feel like I was in the room anymore. I felt like I was flying, the world almost zooming around me.

“Let your body relax, Y/N. I know it's so much to take in.” Colby’s calming voice spoke.

I felt my body give out on me, falling onto the soft rug. I laid down on my back, staring up at the ceiling. Visions began to swirl in my mind and around me.

How is any of this happening?

He answered, reading my mind. “Because of me. Because of us. Because of the connection you and I share.”

My body felt very heavy, unable to move even if I wanted to. I could move my eyes, and out of the corner of them, I saw Colby stand up. The aura remained around us, almost engulfing the entire room.

“You know, I knew the moment you stepped foot on to the compound's grounds, you were going to like it here. You were going to stay.” He smiled sincerely, gazing down at my body.

I blinked, confused. “What? I-I don't plan to-“

He cut me off, “This is the final step, Y/N. Everyone gave you love, people celebrated you, and now... I'm allowing you in.”

I wanted to shake my head, but couldn’t. “But I don't want to join.”

He chuckled, “Yes you do. If you didn't want it, none of this would have worked on you. You wouldn't be seeing what is directly in front of your eyes.”

The visions morphed around me, suddenly showing Colby and I. But we weren't us, we were different people, at a different point in time. But I could feel it was us. We were in love, growing a family together. Our lives were beautiful.

What the fuck is this?

“That is our past, or present, or future,” he winked. “The thing is, Y/N, I never seek out anyone. They all seem to find me.”

“That's not true, you emailed my boss about being interviewed.” I remarked.

"Oh, you are so forgetful, Y/N. You emailed us, begging to interview me and anyone else that said yes. I only agreed because I knew you wanted to meet with me. You sounded very eager to join in your email." Colby pulled out a piece of paper, reading from it happily, "Dear whoever reads this, I'm hoping to score an interview with your group, Empathic Love, for an article I am writing. I would love to meet Colby, and really pick apart his brain on why he created said group. Maybe I could even join if you guys win me over. Please let me know if any of this sounds of interest to you. Sincerely, Y/N of Global Gazette."

He leaned down, staring into my eyes mischievously, "Now does that sound like someone that didn't want to be here?"

My heart raced, suddenly scared. “Why don't I remember writing that?”

“I couldn't tell you. All I know is you wanted to be here. And there's a reason for it.” He sat down on the ground next to me. I wanted to get up and run, but my body stayed still, heavy. “Growing up, I realized very early on that certain people just... gravitated to me. A lot of women, yes. But really it was anyone. And not only did they gravitate towards me, they became obsessed with me. At first, I was confused, uninterested in ever going through that. Who wants someone obsessed with them? But then I realized how much good I could do with so many people rallying behind me.”

He continued, “As I got older, my ability, or power, or whatever it is - grew twice as strong. Suddenly, all the people around me followed me, did anything and everything I could ask for. Then, I began getting visions, and I understood why this was the case. Everyone here: we had a past life together. Their souls and mine have always been connected. They find me and then continue to stay. And almost always, they fall in love with me. It's just so glorious.”

“You're insane.” I mumbled.

He hummed, “Interesting, especially since you’re seeing the same things I am.”

It was true. The whole time he spoke, I saw vision after vision of our past lives together. We were always destined to meet, destined to be with one another.

“But the thing is, I know you're different from all the rest. You and I, we are meant to be together forever. You are meant to love me forever, and I am meant to love you. That's why my abilities affect you so greatly.” Colby divulged.

“What if I say no? What if I want to leave?” I grunted, trying to shake free.

“You've had the ability to go all this time. You just don't want to. You know how much love I can give you. You know how much pleasure I can give you as well.” He bit his lip, his eyes snaking up and down my body, “You've known that since yesterday, haven't you?”

Blood rushed to my cheeks, memories of yesterday played in my head.

“And do you know what’s crazy about that? That's not even half the pleasure I can give you.” Colby kneeled next to me, a devilish smile on his lips. His hand lightly brushed my face, cupping my warm cheek sweetly.

A burst of arousal raced through me, my body spasming in ecstasy. “Oh my God!”

“I know, it's a lot to take in. But I just want to make you feel good, darling. You deserve it.” He leaned in slowly, “You are mine, after all.”

"This is what your followers meant by a deep and sensual mental connection," I groaned, feeling hands all over my body, touching me in the most lustful of ways. "You got inside their heads and mentally fucked them."

“...That's one way of wording it. But if they didn't trust me, if they didn't already want me, it wouldn't happen.” He winced playfully, “So in reality, it's your fault.”

“Fuck you.” I growled.

“But baby, that's what's happening,” Colby laughed darkly. “Those hands, those kisses and bites... that's all mine. I can tell you're losing it. You want me real bad, but you don't want to admit it. I get it, you’re overwhelmed.”

I felt like my body was getting electrocuted with pleasure. My hips grinded into the air, needing some form of relief. My nipples strained against my bra, wanting any form of touch. I closed my eyes tightly, embarrassment rolling through me as I felt my damp panties against my sex.

Fuck, he was right. I did want this, and him.

I didn't even need to say it out loud. Suddenly I felt a cock slid inside of me, too easily from how wet I had become. I ripped my eyes open, looking around. Colby was watching me from his chair, smirking.

He palmed his hardening dick through his jeans. “Imagine how much better it would be if I was actually inside of you, filling you up with every. fucking. inch.”

I thought about screaming Trey’s name. Maybe he could help me.

He grimaced, rolling his eyes. “He won’t do anything for you, sweetheart. He joined our group just a couple weeks ago. Right around the time you sent the email. So really, you have all the more reason to join us.”

“Even if I join this cult, I will never stay here. I will leave here and never come back.” I hissed.

“And that is your choice to make. But Y/N,” his gaze lowered at me, his eyes intense. “You will never be satisfied. You got barely a taste of what I can offer you, and you're gonna want it forever. Just like everyone else here.”

“You're a- fuuuuuucckk!” I moaned, the cock inside of me hitting my spot deeper. I caught my breath, glaring at him. “Y-You're a freak.”

“Says the girl almost coming to my invisible dick.” He spat, clenching his jaw.

I bit my lip, annoyed at how right he was. The hands exploring my body gripped my ass, slapping it lustfully.

“Okay, okay. I'll agree with you. I am a bit of a freak of nature. But let's not act like I'm some monster. I let people leave. But they always come back because they choose to. I can't force people that far. Pinky promise,” He stuck his pinky out, and I rolled my eyes defiantly. He huffed, “It's not like this place is Scientology, for Christ's sake. We are love. I am love.”

“You are the most tainted form of love that I've ever met.” I retorted, gripping the rug to hide my building arousal.

He deadpanned, “Ow. That hurt.”

Colby strutted over to me, laying down right beside me. The pleasure grew more intense, my hips bucking desperately. His one hand hovered over me, never touching me. It didn't matter, because having him this close felt like his whole body was on top of mine, fucking me hastily.

“If you allow yourself to enjoy this feeling, you might actually come. Because I won't force you to. I'll just keep you here, for hours, riving in pleasure until your brain melts into goo.” He smirked, “How's that sound?”

"I-I hate you." I gritted my teeth. Why did I feel like I was lying?

"No you don't. But soon you'll be able to admit the truth." He leaned his mouth in close, his voice low and sincere, "I know that this place might not be what you imagined your home to be like, but it is. You will always have a place here. You will always be loved here. And I know that's what you want deep down. To be loved unconditionally. To have every fiber of your being satisfied. And if you let me, I will do that. I will please you every night, however you want me to. But for me to do that, you have to let me in. You have to let love in."

The cock inside of me pounded faster and faster. I could barely think anymore. The only thing on my mind... was him. The lives we had together, the life we could be having. I knew I shouldn't want it, but I did. I wanted him in my life, forever. He was what was missing, and I couldn't live one more day without him.

I mewled loudly, my hips thrusting up erotically. Colby's hand cupped my face gently, turning my head to look him in the eyes.

His alluring eyes stared deep into mine, his jaw clenched. "You will always be mine. I am love, and that is all you could ask for."

"You are love, and that's all I could ask for." I repeated mindlessly, grabbing onto his arm desperately.

His face softened, “That's right baby. You're such a good girl for me. My good girl, forever. You want that, don't you?”

“Yessss, please Colby. I want to be yours forever.” I keened.

"You will be. I promise, you will always be mine." His eyes darkened, the pupils almost completely blown out. "You will never leave."

"I won't!" I trembled, my orgasm building closer and closer to the edge.

“You wanna come, Y/N? Get close for me. Don't I feel so good inside of you? You like when I do this?” Colby's hand snaked down my body, rubbing my clit sensually.

I begged wantonly, dying to come. "Pleaseeeeee! Please let me come! I need it! I need you."

"Of course you do, baby. You and I need each other. Our connection is unlike anyone else's. Tell me the truth and I'll let you come." He leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear, "Tell me, baby. Say it..."

"I love you," I cried out, right on the edge. I direly wanted him to say it back, knowing it was already the truth.

“I love you too, baby,” he smiled sweetly, kissing my cheek. “Now, come for me.”

Hot, white pleasure shot through my body. I had the strongest orgasm of my life, my mind shattering as I rode every wave of pleasure that went through me. Colby stayed by my side, shushing me as my high lowered down more and more. He kept whispering 'I love you' repeatedly, my mind unable to hear or think anything else after a while.

I blacked out at some point but awoke when my body was lifted off the floor and placed softly into a bed. “Wha... happenin?” I slurred.

“Relax, darling. I just brought you to my bed. Well, our bed now,” he chuckled. “I want you to get your rest because tomorrow is a big day for you.”

“What's tomorrow?” I murmured.

“Your introduction to everyone as my soulmate.” Colby informed happily, tucking me in. “Everyone will be so pleased that you changed your mind about joining us.”

I nodded my head, snuggling deep into his bed. He dimmed the lights, whispering softly, "Welcome home, Y/N."

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Bunny - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

(Part 4)

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader

Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 9892

Warnings: Joker, lol

Summary: Poor Y/n let herself go while Joker was locked up, now she's sick and Joker's goons have to look after her

A/N: Took a while to get this one out (shocking) but got it done! a bit on the shorter side of my other fics, but I didn't really have much for this part, it's more of a little fun one

(Laptop was playing up again, so had to post from my phone, will fix later)

Hope you enjoy this part 💚

-

It had been an agonising week without Joker. Normally, this wouldn't have been a cause for concern, disappearing for stretches of time was just something he did. But this time was different. This time, she knew he was in trouble, and the weight of that knowledge pressed down on her like a vice. Her anxiety, already a constant companion, had become an unbearable storm of worry and dread.

The news outlets seized every opportunity to cover the story of Joker being locked up, using every scrap of information. While the police remained tight-lipped, determined to withhold key details, the public had ways of uncovering the truth.

Grainy cell phone footage of Joker in a shitty holding cell circulated online, and rumours spread like wildfire. Everyone seemed to have an opinion, their voices merging into a deafening roar that only added to Y/n’s unease.

Every time she passed a television or scrolled through her phone, there it was, his face plastered across the screen. Headlines blared about his arrest, speculating on his motives, his crimes, and what the authorities planned to do with him. Each broadcast felt like a punch to the gut, a painful reminder that he was out there, caged, while she was here, powerless to do anything about it.

She was surprised to see that his makeup was still intact. Whether the authorities hadn’t bothered to remove it or had tried and failed, it didn’t matter. His face remained as she remembered it, boldly painted and defiant, other than little empty patches here and there. Oddly enough, it brought her a small sense of comfort, a reminder that even in their custody, he was still him.

She couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. Her mind replayed their last moments together over and over, dissecting every detail, searching for some sign, anything, that he had a plan to get out of this. Because he always had a plan…didn’t he?

Y/n paced her small apartment, her nails chewed down to the quick, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She considered calling someone, Rocco, maybe, but what would she say? Who could she trust? And even if she found someone to talk to, what could they do?

The uncertainty gnawed at her. Joker’s absence wasn’t just a void in her life, it was a ticking time bomb, and she was terrified of what might happen when it finally exploded.

The days dragged on, blurring together as Y/n confined herself to her room. She couldn’t bring herself to do much of anything. Her appetite was nonexistent, and the thought of eating made her stomach churn. The only thing she consumed was water, and even that was more out of necessity than care.

The once-cozy space she called home felt suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on her. Her bed became her constant companion, the blankets pulled around her like armour against the world outside. She hadn’t bothered to tidy up or even open the curtains. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of her phone screen.

Her reflection in the mirror told a story of exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale and dull. She felt as though the weight of her worry for Joker had physically anchored her to the bed.

She didn’t want to see anyone. Avoiding her friends, ignoring texts, and letting her phone calls go unanswered, she kept herself isolated. Leaving her room felt pointless when her mind was consumed by thoughts of him.

Her chest tightened every time the news flickered on in her head, imagining the cold, sterile cell he was probably in. It was a mental loop she couldn’t break out of, and it left her drained.

Y/n’s neglect of herself was becoming painfully obvious, the toll on her body undeniable. Her once-vibrant complexion had turned discoloured and lifeless, dark shadows lingering beneath her hollow eyes. Her cheekbones were more pronounced, the lack of proper nourishment leaving her looking gaunt and fragile.

Her energy levels had plummeted. Even simple tasks like standing up or walking across the room left her feeling lightheaded and weak. Her muscles ached from lying in bed for so long, and her legs felt shaky when she did manage to pull herself up.

The dehydration was catching up with her, despite the water she drank. Her lips were cracked, her skin dry and rough to the touch. Her hair hung limp and dull, reflecting the lifelessness she felt inside.

Her immune system stretched thin from stress and lack of sustenance, left her vulnerable to every chill in the air. She must have developed a slight fever that she didn’t have the strength to care about, brushing off the sweat on her brow as just another inconvenience.

Y/n’s body was screaming for help, yet her mind remained fixated on Joker. It was as if she’d become a shadow of herself, physically and mentally drained, all because the one person she cared about most was out of her reach.

Y/n lay sprawled on her bed, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her arms felt like lead, barely able to reach the half-empty water bottle sitting on her bedside table. Her fingers brushed against it weakly, but even the small effort was too much. She let out a soft, defeated sigh, her dry lips barely parting.

Her gaze, blurred and unfocused, was fixed on the ceiling when the creak of her door made her heart skip. She thought it was just another trick of her mind, her exhaustion had caused her to hallucinate sounds before. But this time, shadows fell across the dim room, and she slowly turned her head.

Her vision was too poor to make out details, the figures were just dark blurs against the soft glow of the hallway light. Panic fluttered in her chest. Was she dreaming? Or had her mind finally cracked? She blinked hard, trying to clear her sight, but the figures remained.

Then one of them stepped closer, and a familiar, gravelly voice filled the room. “Boss sent us,” Rocco said simply, his tone gruff yet somehow grounding.

Y/n’s breath hitched. It wasn’t a hallucination. These were real people, they were in her room. She managed to push herself up on trembling arms, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. How had they gotten in? The door was locked...wasn’t it? How fucking shit was this dorm’s security?

Her bleary eyes darted to the second figure, standing just behind Rocco. She didn’t recognise him, this one was new. He stayed silent, his broad frame looming in the doorway, while Rocco stepped closer.

“Damn, kid,” Rocco muttered, his voice softer now as he looked her over. “You look like hell.”

Y/n didn’t respond, her throat dry and her mind too foggy to form words. All she could do was stare at them, trying to process what was happening.

The realization hit her like a jolt. Joker. Was he okay? Did he send them to check on her? Did this mean… he was still out there? Her hands gripped the sheets beneath her tightly, desperate for answers, but too weak to demand them.

Rocco stepped closer, crouching down so his face was level with hers. His sharp features softened slightly as he took in her dishevelled state. “You’re not taking care of yourself,” he muttered, a mix of irritation and concern in his voice. “Boss wouldn’t like this. He sent us here to make sure you’re still kickin’.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her head swimming with questions, but the mention of Joker made her heart clench. Her lips moved, though no sound came out at first. She swallowed hard, wincing at the dryness in her throat before croaking, “Joker...?”

The second man, the one she didn’t recognise, stepped forward now, his arms crossed. His gaze flicked over her like he was assessing her condition. “He’s fine,” the man said curtly. “But he’s got…other things to handle right now.”

Rocco shot the man a look, clearly annoyed by his lack of tact. “What he means,” Rocco said, his tone more measured, “is that the Boss can’t exactly walk through your front door right now. So, he sent us. He wanted us to check in, make sure you’re okay, and…” He hesitated, glancing back at the other man before sighing. “...and make sure you get back on your feet.”

Y/n felt a rush of emotions, relief that Joker was alive, frustration at her own helplessness, and confusion about why these two were standing in her room like they belonged there. “How…how did you get in?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Rocco smirked faintly. “Lock wasn’t much of a challenge,” he said, jerking a thumb at the other man. “Frankie here’s got a knack for getting through doors. Don’t worry, though. We’re not here to cause trouble.”

Frankie, so that was the name of the stranger, gave a curt nod but said nothing. His presence felt imposing, but he didn’t seem hostile.

Y/n tried to sit up straighter, her body protesting with every movement. Her head swam as she forced out another question. “Why…why did he send you?”

Rocco reached over to the bedside table, grabbed her water bottle and handed it to her. “Boss cares about you, kid,” he said, his voice a little softer now. “More than you probably realise. He doesn’t like the idea of you wasting away while he’s out there handling business. Said if you don’t start taking care of yourself, he’ll have to come sort you out himself. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

Y/n took the bottle with shaky hands, her eyes wide as she processed his words. The thought of Joker sending these two to check on her, even while he was dealing with his own problems, made her chest tighten. He cared. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way, he cared.

Rocco stood up, brushing off his knees. “We’re here to help, alright? Whether you like it or not. So, drink up and get moving. Boss wouldn’t want you like this.”

Y/n hesitated, then took a small sip of the water. It was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but it was the first thing she’d managed to drink properly in days. She nodded faintly, her voice still weak but determined. “Okay.”

Rocco’s patience quickly wore thin as he watched Y/n take another feeble sip of water and sink back into the mattress. “Alright, that’s it,” he said firmly, straightening up and rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a task he didn’t particularly enjoy. “You’re coming with us. Boss’s orders.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, panic flickering in them. “What? I can’t–” she stammered, but before she could finish, Rocco leaned down and grabbed her arm gently but insistently.

“You don’t get a say in this, sweetheart,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Boss wants you outta this bed, and that’s what’s happening.”

The other man, Frankie, sighed and moved to the other side of the bed, his expression unreadable but his stance ready to assist. “She’s not exactly in any condition to walk on her own,” he muttered.

“I can tell,” Rocco replied sharply. “That’s why we’re here. Now, up you go.” He pulled her up to a sitting position with surprising care, though his grip was unyielding. Y/n groaned, the motion making her head spin and her stomach churn.

“I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t even stand.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Rocco said as if it were the simplest solution in the world. “But you’re not staying here, wasting away. Boss ’ll have my head if we leave you like this.”

Y/n tried to protest, but before she could, Frankie slipped an arm under her knees and another around her back, lifting her effortlessly out of the bed. She gasped in surprise, her body trembling from the sudden movement.

“Don’t drop me!” she cried weakly, her hands clutching at his shirt.

Frankie scoffed. “Relax.”

Rocco opened the door, stepping out first to make sure the coast was clear. “Move it, Frankie. Let’s get her to the van.”

Frankie carried her out of the room, his movements steady but brisk. The cool air in the hallway hit her like a slap, and her already fragile state made it hard to keep her eyes open. Her head lolled against Frankie’s shoulder as they made their way outside.

The van was parked at the curb, its engine idling softly. Rocco opened the back door, gesturing for Frankie to set her down. “Easy now,” he said, his tone surprisingly soft.

Frankie carefully eased Y/n into the van’s backseat, her body slumping against the upholstery. Rocco climbed in beside her, positioning her so she wouldn’t slide around during the ride. He reached over to buckle her seatbelt, muttering, “Don’t even think about trying to wiggle out of this. Boss ’ll hear about it.”

Y/n didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head rested against the window, her body aching and weak, but somewhere deep down, a flicker of curiosity sparked through the haze of exhaustion. Where was she being taken?

-

The van rumbled to a stop in a dimly lit alleyway, the oppressive gloom of the Narrows seeping in through the windows. Y/n barely stirred, her frail body sagging against the seatbelt. Rocco turned to glance at her, his expression somewhere between irritation and concern.

“We’re here,” he muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt. Frankie was already out of the van, opening the back door and reaching in to unbuckle Y/n.

“C’mon, girl,” Frankie said, his tone gruff but not unkind. “Boss wouldn’t want you sitting out here all night.”

Y/n blinked slowly, her vision still a blur. She didn’t have the strength to protest as Frankie once again lifted her, cradling her like she weighed nothing. The cold night air nipped at her skin as they exited the van.

The building in front of them was dilapidated, its bricks cracked and stained, with faint graffiti scrawled across the lower walls. The windows glowed faintly from inside, casting eerie shadows onto the narrow street.

“An apartment?” Y/n mumbled weakly, her voice barely audible.

“Temporary safe house,” Rocco said curtly, leading the way to the door. “Boss’s orders.”

Frankie adjusted his hold on her as they climbed a narrow, creaking staircase that felt like it might give way at any moment. Y/n groaned softly, her head lolling against Frankie’s chest. The exhaustion in her body made the journey feel endless, each step rattling through her fragile frame.

On the third floor, Rocco stopped in front of a battered door with peeling paint. He fished out a key, unlocking it with a click before pushing it open. The apartment inside was sparse but clean enough, furnished with the basics, a couch, a small table, a kitchenette, and a bed tucked into the corner of the single room.

Frankie carried Y/n inside, laying her carefully on the couch. She let out a faint sigh of relief as her body sank into the mattress, her muscles aching from the short journey. Rocco lingered near the door, crossing his arms as he surveyed the room.

“Not exactly five-star,” Rocco said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “But it’ll do.”

“Boss said to keep her here and make sure she eats something,” Frankie said, stepping back and stretching his arms. “She looks like she’s about to keel over.”

“Yeah, well, she’s been like that for days, hasn’t she?” Rocco grumbled. “I’ll have a look. Can’t let her starve.”

As Y/n lay on the couch, barely able to keep her eyes open, a thought began to gnaw at the back of her mind. She hadn’t fully processed it before, but now, with Rocco and Frankie’s casual conversation, it became clear.

They were talking about him, Joker, like he was still calling the shots, like he was still in control, even though he was locked up and under 24/7 security. Her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of confusion and curiosity flooding her veins.

The implications of it all settled in her chest, heavy and unsettling. How were they in contact with him? Was he somehow orchestrating everything from behind bars? Was he pulling the strings while locked away, unable to move?

She tried to sit up, her body protesting the movement as if the world around her was spinning. The dizziness from the exertion made her head throb. She let out a shaky breath, trying to focus as she reached for the water bottle beside her. Her fingers trembled as she unscrewed the cap, the cold liquid soothing her parched throat. But the question remained.

How is he still in control? she thought, her mind racing. She hadn’t heard anything about Joker’s escape, nor did it make sense that he could have any influence from inside a high-security facility. So how? How were his goons able to move so freely?

She glanced over at Frankie and Rocco. They didn’t seem concerned, almost like it was business as usual. Rocco was leaning against the wall, checking his phone, and Frankie was off to the side, inspecting the small kitchenette. Neither of them gave any indication that they were afraid or worried about Joker's imprisonment.

Y/n felt a pit in her stomach. Was he that powerful, even locked up? She didn’t know what to believe anymore. The whole situation felt surreal like being stuck in a bad dream.

“He’s always had a plan,” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "He always has a way."

The weight of the situation settled deeper into her chest as she realized that Joker was always three steps ahead. Even now, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, Joker had found a way to keep his reach, his control, intact.

But how much longer could he stay in control from inside a cell? How much longer before something broke? Before she broke?

She closed her eyes, trying to push the fear away, but it lingered. It always did when it came to him.

Rocco reappeared from the kitchen, holding a paper bag that crinkled loudly as he walked toward her. He tossed it onto the table with a heavy thud, then turned back to the cabinets, muttering something to Frankie under his breath. Frankie came over to the couch and crouched in front of Y/n, his gruff face softening just a bit.

“You need to eat, girl. You’re lookin’ worse than a dead man,” he said, pulling out a plastic-wrapped sandwich and a juice box from the bag.

Y/n blinked at the items as if they were foreign. It had been days since she’d eaten anything substantial, and the idea of food felt distant, almost abstract. Still, Frankie didn’t give her much choice.

“Come on,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. He unwrapped the sandwich for her and held it out. “A few bites, at least. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

Her stomach churned at the thought, but she nodded weakly. With trembling hands, she took the sandwich from him and managed a small bite. The dry bread felt foreign against her tongue, and the first swallow was like pushing a rock down her throat. But then the second bite came easier, and the third after that.

Rocco turned back around, leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hand. “Gotta admit, didn’t expect you to be this far gone,” he said bluntly.

Frankie shot him a warning glare, but Rocco shrugged. “What? She looks like she’s been through hell.”

“She’s been through enough,” Frankie snapped, his voice lower this time. “Just shut up and let her eat.”

Y/n barely registered the exchange, too focused on the sandwich and the juice box that Frankie had handed her. The sweetness of the juice was a shock to her system, waking her up a little more as it soothed her dry throat.

“Better?” Frankie asked after a moment.

Y/n nodded faintly. “Thanks,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

“Good,” Rocco said, moving closer to the couch. He placed a bottle of water on the table beside her.

“You’ll need your strength. Don’t know what’s comin’ next, but Boss wouldn’t be happy seeing you like this.” Hearing that sent a pang through her chest. Joker.

Even when he wasn’t there, his shadow loomed large, dictating their actions. And here he was, using that power for her. Joker’s influence reached her even now, in her lowest state, orchestrating everything from behind the scenes. As unsettling as it was, a small part of her, a part she didn’t fully understand, felt comforted by it.

-

Y/n lay curled up on the worn couch, her body trembling despite the cheap oil heater buzzing weakly beside her. The warmth it offered was pitiful, barely taking the edge off the icy chill that had settled into her bones. Her skin felt clammy, her breaths uneven, and her forehead was hot to the touch. She was clearly feverish, and even in her half-conscious state, she could feel how badly her body was struggling to fight off the fatigue.

Frankie paced back and forth, running a hand through his greying hair. “She’s shivering like a damn leaf,” he muttered, glancing nervously at Rocco. “What the hell are we supposed to do? I don’t know nothin’ about takin’ care of a sick person!”

Rocco sat slumped in a chair at the dining table, his arms crossed. “What do I look like, a nurse?” he snapped, his frustration barely contained.

He glanced over at Y/n, her frail form looking smaller than ever under the thin blanket draped over her. He let out a long sigh and stood. “Alright, let’s think. Fever, right? You’re supposed to–uh–what? Cool her down? Or warm her up?”

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Both? Neither? Hell if I know! You think I went to med school?” He rubbed at his face, muttering under his breath, “Boss didn’t say nothin’ about this kind of situation.”

Rocco grumbled and approached the couch, peering down at Y/n like she was some fragile, alien creature.

“She’s shakin’ like crazy,” he said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “What if we just...I dunno...get more blankets? Or turn the heater up?”

He leaned down and gave the old oil heater a hard smack, but it didn’t do much besides rattle noisily. “Piece of shit,” he muttered.

“More blankets?” Frankie echoed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Yeah, great plan, genius. You wanna bury her in a mountain of old fabric and hope for the best? Real top-tier care there, Dr. Rocco.”

He shook his head and started rummaging through the cabinets, clearly searching for something that might help. “Maybe there’s medicine or some kinda first aid kit around here,” he said, opening drawers with loud thuds.

Rocco scowled but didn’t argue. Instead, he grabbed a glass, filled it with water from the sink, and brought it back to the couch. He crouched down beside Y/n, nudging her shoulder gently.

“Hey, girl,” he said awkwardly, his gruffness giving way to something softer. “You gotta drink some water. Can’t let you keel over on us, alright?”

Y/n groaned faintly, her eyes fluttering open just enough to see Rocco’s concerned face hovering above her. “Can’t...move,” she mumbled, her voice weak and barely audible.

Frankie returned, holding up a bottle of aspirin triumphantly. “Found somethin’! Says it’s for fevers,” he declared.

Then he frowned, looking at the label. “Uh...how much do you give someone? One pill? Two?”

“Well, what does the box say?” Rocco grunted.

“I don’t know, the instructions have been worn off,” Frankie said, squinting at the box.

“Just give her one to start. We don’t need to knock her out cold.” He turned back to Y/n and gently pressed the glass to her lips. “Come on, drink,” he coaxed. “It’s just water.”

With effort, Y/n managed a small sip, though most of the water dribbled down her chin. Frankie handed over the aspirin, and Rocco awkwardly placed it in her mouth, tipping the glass again to help her swallow.

When she finally did, Frankie let out a relieved sigh. “Okay, good. That’s somethin’, at least.”

But the two men were clearly out of their depth, and it showed. They stood by the couch like sentries, unsure of their next move.

Frankie scratched his head, mumbling, “We need someone who actually knows what the hell they’re doin’. This ain’t our thing, man.”

Rocco nodded, his usual bravado replaced with a rare flicker of worry. “Yeah, well, until then, we keep her alive. Boss would kill us if somethin’ happened to her.”

He glanced at Y/n, who had already slipped back into a restless sleep. Her shivering continued, even with their clumsy attempts to help. “We gotta figure this out,” he muttered.

Y/n stirred on the couch, her face scrunched up. Frankie, who had been pacing near the window, noticed immediately and groaned.

“Now what?” he asked, throwing his hands in the air.

Y/n grimaced again, her lips twisting in discomfort. “That aspirin…” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “Tasted...weird. Like...really weird.” She made a faint gagging noise and stuck out her tongue, clearly unhappy with whatever lingering aftertaste it left behind.

Frankie narrowed his eyes and turned to Rocco, who was leaning against the wall. “What the hell does she mean, ‘tasted weird’? You gave her somethin’ bad?”

Rocco straightened up, looking offended. “I didn’t make the damn pills, Frankie! I just gave her what you found!”

Frankie stomped over to the kitchen counter where the small box of aspirin sat. Snatching it up, he squinted at the faded label.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he muttered. “This thing’s...expired! Look at this! Says it went bad two years ago!” He turned the box toward Rocco, jabbing at the tiny print with his finger.

Rocco groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me,” he muttered. “Who keeps expired meds in their place? Like, throw it out already!”

“Apparently these guys don’t care about restocking the essentials,” Frankie shot back. He threw the box onto the counter with a loud thud. “And now we probably poisoned her on top of everything else!”

“Relax, Frankie,” Rocco said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced himself. “What’s the worst expired aspirin can do? Lose some of its kick? She ain’t foamin’ at the mouth or anything, is she?”

Y/n, still curled on the couch, managed a weak glare at the two men. “You guys…are terrible at this,” she mumbled.

Frankie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. We suck at playin’ nursemaids. But cut us some slack, huh? This ain’t exactly what we signed up for when joining Joker’s gang.”

Rocco shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Great. Boss is gonna love hearin’ we gave his girl bad pills. Just perfect.”

Y/n, too tired to engage further, closed her eyes and tried to ignore the bitter taste still lingering in her mouth.

Frankie and Rocco exchanged an exasperated look before Frankie finally grumbled, “Alright, that’s it. No more meds until we double-check this crap. I ain’t takin’ any more chances.”

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that,” Rocco muttered, though the jab lacked its usual bite.

-

Frankie and Rocco stood awkwardly around Y/n, who had drifted back into an uneasy rest on the couch.

Frankie pulled out his phone, scrolling rapidly. “Alright, lemme just Google this fever crap. Can’t be that hard, right?”

Rocco leaned over his shoulder, squinting at the screen. “What’s it say?”

“Uh…” Frankie squinted, reading aloud. “‘Keep them hydrated, plenty of water.’” He gestured at the half-empty glass on the coffee table. “Nailed that one already.”

“Barely,” Rocco muttered, rolling his eyes.

Frankie ignored him and kept reading. “‘Medications to reduce fever.’” He immediately grimaced and shoved his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, no. We ain’t doin’ that shit again.”

“Definitely not,” Rocco agreed, glaring briefly at the expired aspirin box still sitting on the counter.

Frankie pulled his phone back out, tapping on a new link. “Okay, here’s a blog post...‘hot soups help.’ See? We’re getting somewhere!”

Rocco folded his arms, unimpressed. “Hot soup, huh? What’re we supposed to do, whip that up in this dump?”

Frankie snapped his fingers. “Hold up! I saw some canned soup in the cupboard earlier. Gimme a second.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet, and emerged triumphantly holding a dusty can of chicken noodle soup. “Jackpot!”

Rocco pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Frankie, that thing looks older than the aspirin. You’re not feeding her that.”

“It’s soup! It’s basically immortal,” Frankie argued, waving the can around.

“No,” Rocco said firmly. “You’re not risking Boss’s girl on canned science experiments. Get your ass to the store and buy her some fresh stuff.”

Frankie groaned. “Man, come on! The store’s, like, five blocks away!”

“And?” Rocco crossed his arms, his glare cutting. “Go. And don’t come back with anything cheap.”

Muttering under his breath, Frankie grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. “This is ridiculous. First a nurse, now a delivery guy. What’s next, a fuckin’ florist?”

Rocco just waved him off, turning back to check on Y/n as Frankie disappeared into the hallway.

Rocco sat down heavily on the chair opposite Y/n, watching her shiver even under the blanket draped over her.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Y/n stirred slightly, cracking her eyes open. She looked at him, her expression groggy and confused.

“Where’d he go?” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rocco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Frankie’s gone to grab you some real food. Something to help with the fever.”

Y/n gave a weak nod, closing her eyes again. “Thanks…” The room fell silent except for the faint hum of the oil heater struggling to warm the space.

Rocco glanced at it, frowning. “Piece of junk,” he muttered, standing up to adjust the settings. When it didn’t do much, he huffed in frustration.

-

The door creaked open quietly, and Frankie slipped inside, juggling several heavy grocery bags. Y/n was finally asleep on the couch, bundled up in blankets. Rocco, who had been sitting nearby and keeping watch, stood up and stalked over, his brows furrowed at the sight of the bulging bags.

“What the hell is all this shit?” Rocco hissed, gesturing toward the bags as he took a couple to lighten the load.

Frankie scowled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I don’t know, man. I went to grab some canned soup like you said, but some old lady saw me standing there and decided to get involved.”

Rocco raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘got involved’?”

Frankie set the bags down on the counter with a grunt. “She started giving me a lecture about how canned soup isn’t good enough for someone sick, then walked me around the store grabbing vegetables and spices and crap. Kept saying, ‘Make her a proper soup.’ I don’t even know what the hell that means!”

Rocco stared at him, then at the bags now spilling over with carrots, celery, onions, and random herbs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “You mean to tell me, instead of just heating up a can, we now gotta make soup from scratch?”

Frankie shrugged helplessly. “Apparently. Look, she was scary, okay? You try saying no to someone’s grandma when she’s lecturing you in the middle of the store.”

Rocco jaw hung open, looking at Frankie. “You have a gun..you’re 6 foot fucking something…and some little old lady scared you into making soup..”

“Hey man, I ain’t never gon’ mess with an old lady…besides, she had a heart of gold,” Frankie pouted, looking absolutely ridiculous.

Rocco muttered a string of curses under his breath as he started unpacking the bags. “Great. Just great. Now we’re chefs.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said to get her the good stuff,” Frankie shot back, grabbing a knife and a cutting board. “Guess this is what the good stuff looks like.”

Rocco glared at the pile of ingredients like it had personally offended him. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. But if you screw this up, you’re eating it.”

Together, they fumbled their way through prepping the vegetables, with a hastily Googled recipe on Frankie’s phone that neither of them could agree on.

“This one says dice the carrots, but what the hell is a dice? Like cubes?” Frankie squinted at the screen.

“Cubes? What are we, making toys? Just chop the damn things,” Rocco shot back, already wielding a knife like it was a weapon. He hacked at an onion, the uneven pieces scattering across the cutting board.

Frankie grabbed a stalk of celery, holding it whole above the pot. “Do you think we can just throw these in as is? I mean, they’ll, like…dissolve, right?”

Rocco stared at him in horror and swatted the celery out of his hands. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just chuck that in like a log! Cut it into pieces!”

“Okay, okay, relax,” Frankie grumbled, fumbling for the knife and hacking at the celery with no regard for uniformity.

Rocco groaned, snatching the knife from him. “That’s not cutting, that’s mangling. You’re lucky she’s too sick to care what this looks like.”

It took twice as long as it should have, with constant interruptions of “Is this small enough?” and “Are you sure that goes in the pot?”

Eventually, they managed to get all the vegetables chopped into vaguely even pieces. By the time they added everything to the pot, they were both sweating and grumbling.

Frankie stirred the mixture triumphantly. “Alright, that wasn’t so bad.”

Rocco glanced over his shoulder at the recipe still open on the phone. His face fell. “You idiot. Did you even read the part where it says this has to simmer for two hours?”

Frankie froze, spoon in hand. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Two hours. Minimum.” Rocco threw his hands in the air. “We’re gonna be here all night.”

Frankie groaned, slumping against the counter. “How does anyone have the patience for this? I should’ve just stuck with the canned stuff.”

“Yeah, but now we’re committed,” Rocco grumbled, crossing his arms.

He eyed the bubbling pot, already dreading the wait. Despite their frustrations, neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt a little satisfaction in knowing they’d gone the extra mile. After all, they weren’t doing this for themselves.

-

The soup had finally been left to simmer, and the two men sat at the small table in the corner of the apartment, exhausted from their makeshift cooking adventure. Rocco had his arms crossed, leaning back in the chair, while Frankie tapped his fingers against the table impatiently.

“How long’s it been?” Frankie asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.”

Frankie groaned and leaned forward, resting his head on the table. “We should’ve just bought one of those instant soups. Heat it, serve it, done. Why did I listen to some random old lady?”

Rocco shot him a look. “Because you don’t have a spine, Frankie.”

The soft sound of mumbling caught their attention, and they both turned toward the couch. Y/n was stirring, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. She shifted slightly, curling up tighter under the blanket.

“Think she’s gonna wake up?” Frankie whispered.

“Not if we’re lucky,” Rocco replied, though his gaze lingered on her pale face, still marked with exhaustion.

A faint bubbling noise came from the kitchen, and Frankie bolted up. “Crap, is it boiling over?”

They rushed to the pot like a couple of amateur chefs, Frankie grabbing the spoon to stir while Rocco adjusted the heat.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Rocco muttered, glaring at the pot as if daring it to betray them.

Frankie stirred a few more times before stepping back, looking genuinely relieved. “Okay, I think we’ve got it under control. Now what?”

“Now we wait. Again,” Rocco said, rubbing his face. He glanced toward the couch. “She’s still out, so at least we don’t have to explain why the kitchen smells like…well…that.”

“Yeah yeah,” Frankie muttered, leaning against the counter.

The hours dragged on as the soup slowly came together. They took turns checking the pot and whispering arguments about whether it needed more salt or if the vegetables were soft enough. It wasn’t exactly gourmet cooking, but by the time the two hours were up, the apartment smelled surprisingly good.

Frankie grabbed a spoon and tasted it, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Hey, it’s…not bad. I mean, it’s edible.”

“Edible isn’t exactly a ringing endorsement,” Rocco muttered, but he grabbed a spoon and took a taste as well.

He frowned, then nodded reluctantly. “Alright, it’s decent. Let’s see if she can actually eat it.”

They carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, Rocco holding it steady while Frankie grabbed a spoon. As they approached Y/n, still curled up on the couch, Frankie nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Wake up, we’ve got something for you.”

Y/n stirred, her tired eyes blinking open. She looked up at them groggily, her voice barely above a whisper. “What…is it?”

“Homemade soup,” Rocco said, setting the bowl on the small table next to her. “Don’t ask how we made it, just eat it.”

Y/n stared at the bowl suspiciously, then looked up at them. “You made this?”

“Yeah, and it took forever, so you better appreciate it,” Frankie grumbled, but there was a hint of pride in his voice.

With their help, she sat up slowly and took the bowl into her hands. The warmth of the soup felt comforting, and as she took a small sip, her eyes widened slightly. “It’s…good.”

Rocco and Frankie exchanged a look, both pretending to shrug it off, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable.

“Damn right, it is,” Frankie said, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Now eat up. We’re not going through that again anytime soon.”

Despite her exhaustion, Y/n managed a faint smile as she took another sip. For the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t feel quite so terrible.

As Y/n slowly worked her way through the bowl of soup, the two men hovered nearby, pretending to busy themselves but clearly watching her every move. Frankie leaned against the counter, tossing a dishrag between his hands, while Rocco pretended to scroll through his phone.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Y/n muttered, her voice still raspy but carrying a faint note of amusement.

Frankie snorted. “Babysitting implies we actually know what we’re doing. This is more like damage control.”

Rocco smirked but didn’t look up. “Just eat. You’ve looked like a ghost for days, and it’s freaking me out.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but continued eating. The soup wasn’t just warm, it felt like it was slowly pulling her back from the brink. Despite their clumsy efforts, the two had managed to create something that didn’t just fill her stomach but soothed her.

When she finished, she set the bowl down on the table and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Thanks,” she said softly, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Don’t mention it,” Frankie said, quickly grabbing the bowl and heading to the kitchen.

Rocco sat down in the chair across from her, his arms resting on his knees. He studied her for a moment before speaking. “You’ve gotta start taking better care of yourself, you know that, right?”

Y/n cracked an eye open and gave him a weak glare. “Kinda hard when you feel like shit all the time.”

“Yeah, well, feeling like shit isn’t gonna stop the boss from tearing into us if something happens to you,” Rocco muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

The mention of Joker made her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes again, letting the warmth of the soup settle over her like a blanket.

Frankie returned from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. “Alright, since you’re fed, it’s bedtime. Doctor Google says rest is key or whatever.”

“Doctor Google?” Y/n mumbled, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah, and don’t laugh. It’s the only medical degree we’ve got around here,” Frankie shot back, tossing the towel onto the counter.

Rocco stood up, stretching. “He’s right, though. You need to sleep. We’ll be here, so don’t worry about anything, alright?”

Y/n opened her eyes briefly, glancing between the two. Despite their gruff attitudes and questionable bedside manners, she could tell they were genuinely trying to help.

“Alright,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Frankie grabbed an extra blanket from a nearby chair and draped it over her as she curled up on the couch. Rocco turned the heater up a notch, muttering something about the drafty apartment.

As they settled into their makeshift positions, Frankie lounging in the armchair and Rocco leaning against the wall, Y/n let herself drift off, the sound of their quiet banter lulling her to sleep.

For the first time in days, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

-

Rocco had just settled back into the creaky chair, giving Frankie a side-eye as he scrolled through his phone. The apartment felt oddly quiet for once, with Y/n asleep on the couch and the sound of the heater humming in the background.

But the silence was shattered when Rocco's phone rang, cutting through the stillness. He stared at the screen, confused by the number.

"Who the hell..." he muttered, before swiping the screen to answer. "Yeah?"

There was a brief moment of silence, then a familiar voice came through the phone, rough and slightly distorted, as if coming from a distance. "Rocco."

Rocco froze, eyes widening. His grip tightened around the phone. "Boss? Is that you?"

A low grunt came from the other end, the voice now unmistakable. “No, it’s Santa. Give the phone to her.”

Without wasting another second, he pushed himself out of the chair, walking over to Y/n, who was lying on the couch, her breathing slow and steady in deep sleep. He hesitated for a moment, looking at her peaceful face before shaking her gently.

“Hey, wake up. Phone’s for you,” Rocco said, his voice low.

Y/n groaned softly, stirring under the blanket, her eyelids fluttering open but still heavy with sleep.

“Mmhmm?” she mumbled, barely registering what he said, her voice thick with drowsiness.

“Take the phone,” Rocco said, pressing the phone into her hand with a small, apologetic smile.

Y/n’s eyes, still foggy with sleep, took a moment to process his words. But when she heard the familiar voice come through the phone, her heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, Bunny.”

Her eyes shot wide open at the sound of his voice, disbelief and relief flooding through her all at once. "J!" she gasped, sitting up quickly despite the remnants of sleep dragging at her.

“That’s right, Bunny.” Joker’s voice came through low, almost muffled. “Now, listen. I don’t have much time, so don’t say anything that’ll get you in trouble. No names, no details. Just keep it simple.”

“Okay...” Y/n whispered, almost in disbelief that she was hearing him. Her pulse raced in her chest.

“How you holding up? They uh..treating you okay?” Joker’s voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven in, something that made her heart swell.

Y/n paused for a moment, her thoughts racing. “Yes, they’re keeping me good...I had food, water, and sleep,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to worry him any more than he already might be.

“They feed you?” Joker repeated, his disbelief clear.

“Mhmm.” Y/n nodded even though she knew he couldn’t see her.

"And you lived?" Joker’s voice became incredulous, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“It was really good, actually! I swear!" Y/n chuckled softly, her mood lightening just hearing his voice, even if it was through a phone call. "I don't know what the hell they did, but it was, like...homemade soup or something.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Homemade soup?” Joker’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Jesus Christ, Bunny, what the hell’s going on over there?”

Y/n laughed again, feeling a little lighter as the conversation continued. She couldn’t believe how badly she’d missed him, how much she needed to hear his voice. Even with all the danger and chaos swirling around them, this small moment made everything feel somewhat normal again.

“What have you been doing, Bunny, hmm?” Joker’s voice dropped an accusatory tone, his words sharp yet tinged with concern. “Cause you ain’t been taking care of yourself.”

Y/n winced, guilt bubbling in her chest. “I know…I just haven’t been feeling great,” she muttered, her words barely escaping her lips.

“That’s no excuse to not look after yourself,” Joker snapped, though his voice softened quickly after, as if trying to hide the edge of frustration.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped, the weight of his words sinking in. “I understand…” She paused, looking down at the blanket wrapped around her, picking at the fibers.

“How is everything there?” she asked, wanting to divert the conversation away from her.

“How you’d expect a police station to be like,” Joker replied with a nonchalant chuckle, as if it was just another ordinary day. “No worries, Doll, I’m a frequent flyer here. They’ll ask me questions until they get tired, then send me right back off to Arkham.”

Y/n’s stomach twisted at the mention of Arkham. “What?” Her voice cracked, fear creeping into her chest.

“Don’t worry about it, Bunny,” Joker reassured, his tone light despite the underlying danger of his words. “I’ll be out before that happens.” He let out a chuckle, like it was all just a game, but it did little to ease the knot in Y/n’s stomach.

Her mind raced, trying to grasp the weight of what he was saying, but it didn’t add up. How could he sound so calm about all of this?

“What else is going on?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

“Well, they keep asking about your car,” Joker said, the amusement slipping into his voice again.

“They just won’t believe me when I tell them the car’s not being used for some heist or whatever, but my dear Bunny’s.” He lingered on the words, a playful hint beneath his serious tone. “They think I’m some kind of Joker.”

Y/n chuckled nervously, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Well, from their point of view, I get it,” she said, rubbing her temple in a half-hearted attempt to ease the headache that had been gnawing at her for days.

In the background of the call, Y/n could hear a voice growling from a distance. "Okay, that's enough phone time for you!"

"Ooh, looks like the coppers want me," Joker's voice rang through the phone, still light-hearted despite the gravity of the situation. "Take care of yourself, Bunny. Get Frankie to go buy you an ice cream, you deserve it."

Y/n’s heart sank a little, knowing the call was ending. “Okay, bye J…” she murmured softly, a twinge of sadness in her voice as she reluctantly let go of the connection.

“Mwah!” Joker’s voice perked up, the sound of a kiss sent through the phone before the line clicked dead.

Y/n stared at the phone in her hand for a moment, her chest heavy. She handed it back to Rocco without saying another word, her gaze wandering over to Frankie, who had been quietly watching her.

“Joker said you have to go get me an ice cream,” she said, almost sheepishly.

Frankie blinked, eyes wide in disbelief. “Come on!” he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “I’m ain’t your personal ice cream runner, you know that?”

Y/n let out a soft chuckle despite herself, the weight of the situation lightening just a little bit. “He said I deserve it,” she insisted, giving him a small, playful look.

Rocco snorted in the background, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, but Frankie just shook his head, clearly not amused by the sudden ice cream errand he was apparently now obligated to run.

“Fine,” Frankie muttered, clearly out of options, “But only ‘cause boss said so.” He turned towards the door, grabbing his jacket. "Don't expect me to get you anything fancy."

Frankie stormed out of the apartment with a grumble, muttering about how he was too old for this kind of nonsense. Y/n couldn't help but smile a little, even though the sadness still lingered in the pit of her stomach.

Rocco leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he observed her. "You good?" he asked, his tone soft but concerned.

Y/n nodded slowly, though she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. "I will be," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"Just…it’s hard, you know? Hearing his voice and then having to hang up." She paused, looking at the door where Frankie had just left. "I just feel…I don’t know. Like I’m just waiting for something to happen."

Rocco gave a nod, his expression unreadable. "I get it. But he’s not gonna let them keep him for long. You know how the Boss is." He seemed to try lighten the mood.

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch, wrapping her arms around herself. "I hope you're right," she murmured.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thoughts of Joker being locked up, of everything that might go wrong, out of her mind.

After a few moments of silence, Rocco sighed and walked over to the window. "You need to rest. Frankie will be back soon, and when he gets back, you can get some real sleep. We’ve got you covered here."

Y/n didn’t argue. The exhaustion was creeping back in, and the warmth of the couch was almost too inviting. "Yeah," she whispered, sinking further into the cushions, "maybe just for a little while."

Wasn’t long till Frankie finally returned, looking both annoyed and tired, two containers of ice cream in his hands.

"Alright, alright," he muttered, placing the tubs on the coffee table with a huff. "Ice cream, just like the Boss ordered."

Y/n blinked, her exhaustion making her movements sluggish as she looked at the ice cream. "Thanks," she said quietly, trying to muster up a smile, though still tired. "I didn’t think you’d actually do it. But…why do you have two?"

“Like hell I’m gonna do all this work without reward,” Frankie said, lounging back while opening his tub of ice cream.

"Alright, you two. Eat your ice cream, then you get back to sleep." Rocco said, pointing at Y/n.

Y/n finally allowed herself a tiny laugh, something genuine this time, as she took a spoonful of the ice cream. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough.

-

It had been only a few hours since Y/n had finished the ice cream and drifted into sleep. The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that settles in before something disruptive happens. Suddenly, the front door burst open with a thunderous crash, slamming against the wall so hard that it rattled the cheap picture frames hanging nearby.

Y/n jolted awake, heart racing as she instinctively sat up on the couch. Disoriented and still half-asleep, she blinked at the doorway, trying to process what was happening.

“What the hell?” she muttered, her voice hoarse from exhaustion and lingering sickness.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was the one and only Joker. His grin stretched wide, his green hair slightly disheveled, and his eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. He threw his arms out, as if putting on a grand show for an audience of one.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with that unnerving mix of charm and madness.

Y/n blinked again, certain she was either dreaming or hallucinating. “J?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

Joker’s grin widened as he sauntered into the apartment. “In…the…flesh, Bunny,” he said, spreading his arms wide before giving a mock bow. “Miss me?”

Rocco and Frankie stumbled out of the kitchen, both looking like they’d seen a ghost. “Boss?!” Rocco exclaimed, his voice cracking. “How the hell did you–”

“Details, details!” Joker interrupted, waving a gloved hand dismissively. “Do I look like a man who lets a little thing like prison keep him down?”

He spun on his heel to face Y/n again, his expression softening just a fraction. “But you, Bunny…you’ve been naughty.”

Y/n stared at him, still trying to wrap her head around his sudden appearance. “How are you here…?” she started, but her words trailed off as he strode over to her, crouching down so they were at eye level.

“Now, now,” Joker said, tilting his head as he studied her sickly face. “We’ll get to that later. First, we need to talk about you. You look like you’ve been run over by a bus, Bunny. Frankie and Rocco been slacking on their uh…babysitting duties?” He shot the two men a glare over his shoulder, making them both stiffen.

“Hey, we’ve been taking care of her!” Frankie protested, gesturing toward the empty ice cream container on the coffee table. “She ate, she rested, we even made soup!”

“Soup.” Joker repeated, raising an eyebrow. “My Bunny eating your soup. Yeah, I heard about that little endeavour.” He turned back to Y/n, his gloved hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “But still, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

Y/n felt her throat tighten as she looked into his intense gaze. “J, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker leaned in closer, his grin turning devilish. “Bunny, I told you before. I’m gonna come back for you.”

Y/n didn’t have time to process Joker’s words before he stood up, his energy buzzing like static in the room. He clapped his hands together, making both Rocco and Frankie flinch.

“Alright, boys, let’s have a chat,” he said, his tone shifting from playful to commanding. “What’s the state of this little hideout? Security tight? Supplies stocked? Or have you two been playing house while my Bunny’s been rotting away?”

Frankie looked at Rocco, who reluctantly spoke up. “We’ve done everything you asked, boss. She’s been fed, rested, and kept safe. No one’s sniffing around. We’re good.”

“Safe,” Joker repeated, his tone skeptical as he paced the room. “And yet my Bunny looks like she’s one sneeze away from passing out again. Safe doesn’t mean a damn thing if she’s not healthy.” He whipped around to face them, his eyes blazing. “So, what’s the plan, hmm? How are you two fixing this?”

“We’ve been doing what we can!” Frankie interjected. “Soup, meds, ice cream, what else are we supposed to do?”

Joker laughed, the sound sharp and grating. “Oh, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie…You don’t fix her with ice cream and soup. You fix her by making sure she never gets like this in the first place!”

He pointed at Y/n, who was watching the exchange in stunned silence. “You let her get sick, and that’s the problem.”

Y/n finally found her voice. “J, stop,” she said, her tone firm despite the exhaustion weighing her down. “They’ve been taking care of me. It’s not their fault.”

Joker’s gaze snapped back to her, his expression softening slightly. “Defending the little guys, huh, Bunny?” He crouched down again, his gloved hand resting lightly on her knee. “But you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Can’t have my Bunny falling apart on me.”

“I’m trying,” Y/n said quietly, her cheeks flushing under his intense gaze.

Joker straightened up, his manic grin returning. “Good. Because I didn’t bust out of that hellhole just to find you looking like an inch away from death.”

He turned to Rocco and Frankie. “You two, make yourselves useful. Get this place cleaned up, get some decent food stocked, and find a real doctor. None of this DIY crap.”

“Doctor?” Frankie repeated, wide-eyed. “How are we supposed to–”

Joker silenced him with a glare. “Figure it out. Or do I need to babysit you, too?”

The two men exchanged a nervous glance before scurrying off, muttering plans under their breath.

Joker turned back to Y/n, his expression unreadable. “Now, Bunny, let’s get you feeling better. And then…” His grin widened, full of dangerous promises. “We’ve got work to do.”

The apartment settled into an odd rhythm. Rocco was scrubbing dishes in the kitchen, muttering complaints about how Frankie always left things half-cleaned. Frankie lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, just waiting to jump up if Joker barked an order. Y/n, wrapped in a blanket, sat on a chair by the window, her fever finally subsiding.

Joker was at the table, sketching out something on a crumpled napkin, his gloved fingers moving with quick precision as he muttered half-formed plans to himself.

It felt oddly normal, like a strange little family of sorts. The heater hummed faintly in the corner, its warmth mixing with the faint scent of leftover soup lingering in the air. Every now and then, Joker would glance up at Y/n, his gaze softening before snapping back to his frantic scribbling.

But outside, across the street, perched on the rooftop of a rundown building, someone was watching. The figure was cloaked in shadows, blending seamlessly with the dark sky. Through binoculars, the scene inside the apartment unfolded in perfect clarity.

The faint glow of the heater, the flickering light from the TV, and the exaggerated gestures of Joker as he spoke animatedly to himself, all of it was observed in meticulous silence.

The man adjusted his grip, the faint outline of a gloved hand catching a stray glint of moonlight. A gust of wind ruffled the long edges of their cape, but they remained unmoving, a silent sentinel above the chaos below.

Their focus lingered on Y/n, her eyes closed as she slept on the run down couch. Then it shifted to Joker, who leaned back in his chair, throwing a mocking laugh toward Frankie.

A voice crackled softly in his earpiece, almost inaudible against the city’s distant hum. “Are you going to move in, sir?”

The man’s jaw tightened. No response.

His gaze returned to Joker, whose grin widened as he shoved his napkin sketch across the table for Rocco to examine. The man’s grip on the binoculars tightened, his shadowed silhouette growing even stiller, waiting for the right moment to strike.

-

A/N: Yep, very much on the shorter side, but got through it, lol.

I enjoyed writing this one, it was a little fun on to write for me, just Y/n getting treated by Joker's incompetent goons

Hopefully it will pick up in the next chapter (considering how I ended this one 👀)

Thank you for reading 💚

[onryosblade]

autistic hazel callahan hcs (ig?)

so . hm. hear me out. i have some random not only hcs but like "evidence" (just me rambling lets be real) of why hazel is autistic to me (or its just me projecting the recent diagnosis in my new comfort character whatever)

this is my first time doing a post so? yeah enjoy i guess :<

its a whole essay be aware!!

★THE ESSAY PART (?)★

• the way she doesn't get phrases and takes things literally like in that one scene when pj and josie are talking about the juvie thing and she is like "wait . you guys ate literal shit?" (that one scene people talk A Lot but there's more, like that one when she get "oh... so things about juvie werent real lmao ok why did u lie tho" and she seems genuinely hurt :[ oh god)

• that being said, she is easily gullible, really having the idea of "i wouldn't lie/mislead about something like this, so why would they?", the first instinct is to believe because it doesn't make sense to lie or mislead at all (exemple: the scene where the guy from the team i forgot the name tried to help her and she believe not only for this bcs because she was vulnerable, of course)

• speaking of lies, she really disliked the fact that the girls were lying to the club about what was iy really about (but that's just what every other person would think ig lol)

• she likes to organize things!!! like, the lists and every email and how she took the whole club activities so serious? omg i love her sm

• that scene where she is almost having a breakdown and doing noises and curling up in herself...

• she's stimming. all the damn time. I DONT MAKE THE RULES ITS THE TRUTH. like, literally.

anyways this is the ones i remember rn, let's go to some hcs shall we?

★AUTISTIC!HAZEL HCS★

★ ㅡ her favorite way of stimming, mainly in public, is to play with her rings or/and chain, crack her knuckles, fidget with the hem of her shirt, feel the soft fabric of her cardigan sleeves or just curl her fists around the ends of whatever long sleeve she has on that day.

★ ㅡ part of me thinks she really likes the texture of crochet or the kind of texture her clothes during the movie has, like, just sliding her nails at it almost scratching, but some days, she would absolute hate the feeling.

★ ㅡ she does have a special interest in how to make bombs but not only that, the crochet thing would be something she would really like to do, too.

★ ㅡ she likes to do lists for EVERYTHING, even silly stuff, probably does ranks of random foods once in a while out of boredom (that one is very self indulgent i must admit)

★ ㅡ when overstimulated, she usually curls into a ball and makes noises to try to self regulate (just like in the scene of the gif!).

★ ㅡ she is the type of autistic that is hyperverbal for sure, even more so with her special stuff like bombmaking ! if u want her to love you ask her about it.

★ ㅡ she have difficulty with maintaining relationships, not much starting them, so that's why she so glad she got the girls of the club to be alongside her.

★ ㅡ i like to thing the girls help her when she is in need of supporting, just like after she got beat up at the gymnasium and everyone showed up to help.

★ ㅡ moving her whole body and being overly expressive to release the pent up stress and kind of a way of stimming. her skipping everywhere would be a good one too :>

★ ㅡ she actually doesn't do that much of masking, only when very self aware like when she doesn't get a obvious joke or something, but ever since the girls became her friends, they try to help her and say "hazel... that wasn't serious, we were joking" or something along those lines and even try to explain it to her!

i think thats it for now?

i told you that was going to be long 😭 sorry i just needed to yap about my babie haze anyways thats it bye

[cassayeee]

IN THE FALLING SNOW (CORIOLANUS SNOW X FEM!READER)

warnings: this contains spoilers for The Ballads of Songbirds and Snakes, so read at your own risk. furthermore, this is smut - coriolanus snow smut. expect porn with a bit of plot, degradation, spitting, throat fucking, p in v, virginity taking, oral (m and f receiving), marking, idk just all of that good stuff. point is: mdni.

notes: this is like, really quickly proofread (and almost 8k words lol oops) , so apologies for any grammatical mistakes that pop up. also, this is the first time I've ever actually written smut so bear with me here. anyway, enjoy!

You were probably one of the only souls in Panem that knew the truth about the Snows. Shrouded in deceit of their true wealth status and fear of the truth being sung across the Capitol, you held onto their secret more closely to your chest than any of your own.

Having grown up on the Corso, practically next-door neighbors to the Snows in a penthouse befitting your own status, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be caught spending time between yours and the cousins almost every day. So much time, that the high society of the Capitol could almost always count on the L/N’s and Snow’s appearing at any event with the other in tow.

That was, of course, until the rebellion. While your parents had decided on siding alongside the president, the Snow’s had decided on another course, driving a wedge right through the once unbreakable bond between the two. And once the bombings had come and gone, you still had all your affluence and one less mother, but the Snow’s had found themselves even worse off.

However, you and Coriolanus Snow didn’t let any of that deter your own relationship.

---

“Coryo! Come on! Punctuality is a dish best not served cold.” You jeered over to your friend who had just exited his front door onto the wide and ever-expanding avenue.

His blue eyes locked onto your own as he made his way over to your car, the Avoxes in the front seat doing nothing more than staring straight ahead, ready to make the trip over to the Academy. As he entered, you made note of his blouse that could only have been touched by Tigris’ clever hand.

“Wow. Did Tigris do this for you? It’s beautiful.” Snow watched you dote on his reaping attire as he nodded ‘yes’ to your question.

“It was one of my father’s.” he finally replied as you contently sat back further into your family car’s seat.

“So,” you started. “How are you feeling about your mentorship for the Games this year?”

He raised a brow at you as he pondered your question. “In all honesty, I’m just hoping for a good tribute selection. 1 or 2 would be preferable, but even 4 or 11 would suffice. Someone with a chance of succeeding, I suppose.”

You inclined your head through his reasoning. It made sense, you had always known Coryo to be a competitive man – wanting nothing more than the control to make things go as he pleased.

“Well, with your charm and wits, I’m sure you could make any contender into a victor.”

---

And, oh, how right you were. Watching your Coryo more than triumph over his mentorship and even getting his tribute to win the Hunger Games had your own pride swelling in turn. This was all he ever wanted. To have his reputation goldened and his University spot secured, you couldn’t wait to see how he would blossom in the coming years.

What you were less than happy about, however, was how closely he and that District 12 girl had become. Sharing a picnic in that rat-infested zoo? Going to her for problems that he used to come to you about? Oh, your ego took a bruising after that.

Was she there for him after he lost his parents? No.

Was she there for him as his fortune declined? No.

Was she there to sneak food over to him to make sure the family didn’t die from starvation? No.

Was she there to hold him at night when he couldn’t sleep even after attempting to find solace in his mother’s compact? No.

What did she do? Sing a little song and twirl in her rainbow dress? Oh, please. You knew a flirt when you saw one, and did she ever fit the bill.

A part of you had even hoped that she died in the Games. Easy. Out of their lives forever and what was the biggest problem after that? Getting Coryo to University? With a little convincing you were sure you could’ve gotten your own father to sponsor him. Really, he needed to get over his little conviction with the Snow’s. It’s not like he didn’t owe Crassus more than that.

But besides that, you felt like you were losing your best friend. Had you been in love with him for years hoping he’d return your affections? Of course. Were you perfectly comfortable staying his friend and supporting him even so? I mean, not really, but sooner or later he would have realized that you were all he’d ever need.

If only that stupid little songbird would just fly away.

---

Arriving home from the Academy after the end of the Games, your feelings were twisted in a knot. More than anything you just wanted to climb into your room and sulk or find a way to get your father to cause an “accident” for that Lucy Gray Baird on her way back to 12, whatever would be more appealing at the time.

But, you knew you had to get over to the Snow’s to congratulate Coryo. Jealousy aside, you were still so proud of all he’d done and wanted to make sure he knew that.

Once you entered the penthouse, Tigris greeted you with a big smile and an even bigger hug.

“Oh, Y/N,” she sobbed. “I can’t believe he actually did it!”

You couldn’t help but fall further into her hug, genuinely happy in her arms. She was right. You were being selfish thinking about him and the girl at a time like this. Tomorrow you could be bitter all you want, but tonight, tonight was about Coriolanus Snow.

Helping her and the Grandma’am set up their old party favors and arranging the cake you brought over for him, you couldn’t help but wait for his arrival. Not being part of the mentorship, you had left as soon as the Games concluded allowing for Coryo to debrief with his fellow members and any newscasters looking for an interview.

Hearing the door turn, you all jumped up in celebration as you saw him enter. Noticing immediately that something was wrong with him, you dropped your arms as he burst into tears. Shocked, you started to make your way over to him as he ran into your arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he began to tell you about Highbottom and the Games.

And that’s when your world came crashing down around you.

---

You found yourself in Coryo’s room as he had his head placed in your lap, arms wrapped tight around your legs as you ran your hands through his hair. A position the two of you hadn’t found yourselves in for quite some time, but one that you both found nothing but comfort in.

“Maybe they’ll change their minds. Realize that losing you as a Capitol citizen is more a punishment onto themselves than for you.” You attempted to reason with him. To give him any sort of hope.

He only turned his head in your lap to face you. “Maybe if Highbottom didn’t hate me, but this feels more personal than even just being caught for cheating.”

“What about Gaul?” you tried, combing through his curly locks. “She seemed to have really taken a liking to you with all that extra essay work and singling you out whenever she could.”

“Gaul is certifiably insane and even more like her mutations than you’d realize.” He rebuked. “No, she wouldn’t even let me into the Citadel to try and reason with her. This is my only option.”

You both were silent for a stretch until you broke the silence with a hiccup. Feeling your body start to shake, Coryo rose from your lap to see you silently crying into your free hand. He reached for your head to bring into his chest, allowing you to release your emotions onto him.

“Oh, my Y/N.” The way he softly cooed your name made you latch your arms around him and cry even harder.

With a break in your hysterical state, you retreated your head away from his now tear-stained shirt and looked up at him.

“I don’t want you to go.” You confessed. “I want you to stay here. With Tigris. With the Grandma’am. With me. Please.”

His gaze softened while studying your features. He brushed back your slightly sweaty hair from your forehead as he placed a loving kiss upon it. You closed your eyes in the tender moment, never wanting it to end.

“I’ll always come back to you.” He asserted. “I promise.”

Trying your best not to lose your composure again, you buried yourself back into him, hiding your face from view. Tangling yourselves together, you attempted to find a semblance of sleep in his embrace, knowing that this may be the last intimate moment you get with him in years.

Eyes falling shut and breathing becoming labored, Coryo watched as you drifted asleep in his arms. His Y/N. His beautiful, intelligent, loyal Y/N. He knew he should have kissed you before. Told you that he’d only ever want to fall asleep in your arms, no matter what the news made of his and Lucy Gray’s relationship. But the good man in him knew that would have just made things worse for you, after he left, and he needed you to stay strong and become the powerful woman you were born to be.

And the not-so-good man in him reveled at the fact that you would always ache for more from him. Waiting until he returned. Loyal until the end. And if he returned to see you with someone else? Well, that would be sure to be remedied quickly. Because, as you were both severely aware, Snow lands on top.  

---

It had been months since you’d last seen him. And every day still hurt as much as the last. While you did receive letters from him, it was never the same as having him here. In person. Across the avenue and readily available at your beck and call.

With the worsening state of the Grandma’am and Tigris’ situation, you tried to help as much as you could, but your father strictly forbade anymore spending on the two after Coryo’s departure. He even threatened to send you to the Citadel for a “long-term internship” if only to keep you away. So, all you could do was watch the further deterioration of your family.

On a late day in September, you and your father were preparing to leave for the University for a pre-semester gala, attended by those in current attendance, and new studies joining in just a few days.

You smoothed down your blood-red, pin-straight formal gown, backless with a slit rising just up to your upper thigh, viewing yourself in your large vanity mirror white fixing your satin gloves. A tulle train adorned the back of your gown, wrapping around your waist and sparkling slightly with the gems attacked throughout it. Not as eccentric as some of the other Capitol citizens, you kept a rather minimalistic style, but you looked good, like, really fucking good. Hair styled in an intricate updo and makeup accentuating your features, you couldn’t help but enjoy your reflection. What was wrong with a bit of self-indulgence?

It’s not that you would describe yourself as vain or vapid, but rather know the worth in your own beauty. If you were to be a woman in a wolf-den of men, playing to your strengths and charms would be the only way to get anywhere, besides your self-assured intelligence, of course.

Breaking you out of your trance, you heard your father call from the foyer that the car had made itself around and was ready to depart. Taking a deep breath and checking your appearance once more, you began your trek into the snake pit.

---

Just as you had suspected, the hall was full of high-class society goers, along with many of the staff and faculty of the University. This was your time to solidify past Academy connections as well as create new ones as the environment called for. Knowing people was everything. And knowing people liked you was even better.

Making your rounds with your father, you stopped to chat with some of his associates and peers to begin your night. Already growing bored with the conversation, you stopped a passing Avoxes to grab a glass of posca to solicit a light buzz, making the night infinitely better.

Excusing yourself from the group to take a breather of business talk, you began to make your own way around to speak to some of your fellow Academy graduates among some influential figures in the University.

Currently speaking to Hilarius Heavensbee, the two of you were catching up on what you had both done after graduation, among small talk of the hushed Hunger Games.

“No, my parents were still pissed that my tribute only made it to 8th place, but how was that my fault?” he exclaimed. “The girl was already on her deathbed by the time she made it into the arena, and I couldn’t send her a miracle on a drone.”

You giggled at his exasperated state, slightly because of the posca you still sipped on.

“At least you got to mentor,” you bemused. “Fucking Persephone Price beat me out for a spot, so all I had was a good seat and an ability to bet.”

“Oh?” he said in a teasing lilt. “And did you place any bets my way, Y/N?”

You caught his eyes looking you up and down in a lustful gaze. You were always friendly with Hilarius back in the Academy, but never entertained much more than that, since your heart had always belonged to him.

But, as your body grew warm with the posca and need to feel wanted, you couldn’t help yourself from taking a small step closer to Hilarius, though still a respectable distance given the circumstances, while you dedicated a small giggle to him.

“Now, Hilarius,” you remarked. “If you wanted me to place my bets on you, you should have given me a little bit more to work with.”

He rolled his eyes at your slight jab, even knowing you were only teasing.

“Just because my tribute didn’t know how to please a crowd, doesn’t mean I don’t.”

The slight innuendo didn’t slip past you even in your hazy state. If anything, it only caused you to peer at him through your long lashes, blinking slowly as you licked your bottom lip. Before either of you could speak again, a murmur rushed through the crowd as you noticed people staring toward the entrance of the room. Turning to see what the commotion was about, you almost let the glass slip through your hands as you saw him staring right at you.

Standing shocked and immovable, all you could see was him, completely forgetting about Hilarius and your prior engagement. It was as if the commune around you was nothing more than a backdrop to your reunion. You watched as he greeted faculty and society members alike, never moving from your spot as he continuously flicked his eyes over to you.

He was back. Your Coryo was actually here. Suited in a black ensemble, he looked more handsome than you even remembered. How was that possible? He didn’t say anything in his last letter about returning home. Last you remember, he was still waiting back on his officer test results, so why the fuck is he at the University gala?

Whether it took minutes or hours, you kept your spot and waited for him to make his way over. And as soon as his full attention was on you, you couldn’t tell if you were going to sob, faint, or both at once. Long strides took him over to you, where he tilted his head down to view your frame.

Still stuck in a stupor, the best you could get out was, “H-hi.”

His mouth quirked up in a half-smile as he returned his own “Hello, Y/N.”

Your name flowing from his lips finally broke you out of the shocked state you were in as you grabbed his hand and made your way over to one of the balconies hidden behind a large curtain. With the fresh air giving you some reprieve from the heat your body was melting in, you enclosed him in a hug burying your face in his chest. Inhaling his rose scent, all your nerves relaxed. Something only he could ever do.

“Oh, Coryo,” you sighed. “I missed you so much. Every single day I missed you. What are you doing here? Why are you –“ Finally looking up to face him, all you saw was anger painted on his face.

Furrowing your brows, confusion clouded your features as you couldn’t understand why he was looking at you like that.

Jaw ticking, he stayed silent.

“Coryo?” you cooed like a child in trouble.

Something about the way you spoke his name finally had him relaxing his muscles, but still had a hard gaze on you. Quickly looking back over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking your way, he walked you backward toward the rail of the balcony. Arms on either side of you, he closed you in so that the only thing you could see was him.

“I get home,” he started. “Expecting nothing but a warm welcome from my dear Y/N, and what do I see? You looking at that Heavensbee trash like you wanted him to fuck you. Like you wanted him to touch what is mine.”

Surprise crossed your face as you placed your hands on the lapels of his suit jacket.

“W-What?” you stuttered. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me, Y/N. You think I don’t know what you were trying to do with him? Don’t forget who knows you better than you know yourself.”

He looked at you with a mixture of disgust and thinly veiled hate, like he wasn’t happy to see you at all. Like he didn’t miss you at all.

And you got mad.

“I don’t see how that is any of your business, Coriolanus.” You spat his name. “As it so happens, I’m a woman with womanly needs, and seeing as I can do as I please, I could go home with him right now and there wouldn’t be a thing you could do about it.”

He sneered at you with a laugh that had no hint of humor behind it. Tightening his grip on the rails he lowered his head down to your ear as you sucked in a quick breath of air at his closeness.

“Oh, Y/N,” he muttered. “You and I both know he’s not what you want. He just wants to get his dick wet and you, love, want mine shoved down your throat.”

Trying your best not to let him get to you, you utterly failed as a tiny whimper escaped the back of your throat and your thighs began to rub together.

Chuckling, Coryo lifted his head again to view your disheveled state. He caressed your neck with a callused hand, rubbing his thumb across your soft spot before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling your mouth close to his.

“He will not have you, Y/N L/N. You are solely mine, and whether I have to speak it, fuck it, or brand it into you, you will remember that. Now,” he released his grip on you. “Say your goodbyes, besides that imbecile Heavensbee, acquire your coat and meet me outside so I can finally stop this tiring back-and-forth and take what is rightfully mine.”

Pure lust layering over any coherent thoughts, all you could do was nod as you smoothed back down your dress and hoped that the cool air was helping your reddened cheeks from becoming too noticeable. Telling your father, you weren’t feeling well, he allowed you to take the car home and let you retire early for the night. Unknowingly to him, Coryo Snow followed you into the vehicle, one hand firmly planted on your bare thigh the entire ride.

---

Between the University to now, your heart rate had increased significantly from Coryo’s actions. You weren’t sure what exactly had gotten into him or what had happened to him since you last said your goodbyes, but the aggressiveness he showed you was an extreme you had never seen before.

Though, you couldn’t really be upset. After all, he had finally admitted to you what you had wanted to hear for almost two decades: he wanted you. And that excited you to no end.

As Coryo watched you fiddle in your seat, he couldn’t help but smirk thinking about how you were acting for him. A few sentences and you were reduced to mush in his hands, willing to do anything to get him back to your room. And it’s not like he was any better.

After his extravaganza in District 12, he realized just how much you meant to him. None of those deplorable District filth specimens could hold a candle to you. His Y/N. His pretty girl who would do anything for him and who he would do anything for.

How it angered him to see you talking to Heavensbee – like he was worth even a glance from you. You were supposed to wait for him, to be a good little girl, and refuse any suitors who tried to have their way with you. And you, you with your ‘womanly needs’ like anyone else would be able to take care of you like he could. No. No, he would make sure that after tonight you would remember who the fuck owns you.

---

After dismissing your driver, you made your way into the penthouse across from the Snows, opening the door and removing your coat, gloves, and shoes at the entrance. Coryo followed suit by unbuttoning his jacket and slipping off his loafers right by yours. Together. Yours and his – as they always should be.

Turning back around to face him, you saw the anger had faded a bit from his features, but a crease still lined in between his brows. He raised his hands to cup your face as he lowered his lips to yours.

This is heaven and I’m dead, you thought to yourself, still in disbelief that this was happening to you. You grabbed his own face in return with newfound enthusiasm as he groaned into your mouth, happy to have you reciprocating his own unhinged lust.

Tongues battling for dominance, you felt him tip your head upwards so he could completely devour your mouth – no question that he was the one in charge. Whimpering into him, he broke the kiss for just a second to see your fluttering eyelids open to him. Blue eyes peering down at you, he gripped open your jaw, spitting into your mouth.

“Swallow.” He commanded. And you happily obliged.

Placing his mouth on yours once more, he lowered himself to grip you behind the knees and lifted you around his waist. Dutifully responding, you wrapped your legs around as he began the trek to your bedroom, spit drooling from both your mouths as if you never wanted to be free from the other.

As he entered your room, you were becoming hotter by the second, needing to get this damned dress off of you. As he set you down on the edge of the bed, his nimble fingers reached behind you to slowly pull the straps down your arms, drawing out the action. He removed his mouth to quickly reattach it to your shoulder, following the line of your dress removal.

Getting to your elbows, you swiftly pulled your arms from between the strap openings, bearing your chest to him. Dilated eyes latched onto your breasts, with his mouth ferociously following suit. You moaned loudly into the room, encouraging him to latch his lips onto your nipple, running his teeth along the perked bud. Not wanting to leave one unattended, he lifted his hand to squeeze and tease your other breast, switching between the two as he saw fit.

“Fuck,” he groaned out as he pulled away. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

You whined at the confession. Wanting more, more, more of him. He chuckled.

Finally, slipping the rest of your dress from your body, Coryo growled as you saw you had no undergarments on. The amusement all lost from his face.

He slid his hand around your throat, putting a light amount of pressure on it as he pushed you into the bed. Your own hands went to grip around his wrist, hoping to relieve yourself somewhat of the constraint.

“The fuck, Y/N. What,” he snarked. “Are you some District whore begging for any scrap of dick you can get? Huh? Is that it?”

You attempted to shake your head as he still held you by the neck. “No?” he bemused. “Because walking around with this pretty pussy out on display doesn’t seem like something a Capitol purebred does.”

“Please, Coryo,” you squeaked out. His words were getting to you, along with the pressure still being applied to your neck, adding to your growing wetness. Attempting any chance at receiving friction, you rubbed your thighs together, drawing his eyes down to your ministrations.

“Awe,” he tutted. “Does my sweet little whore need some relief? Is that it?”

He cocked his head to the side, waiting for your impatient nod to come. As it did, he removed his hands from your throat. Feeling your release, you sat up to watch as he unbuttoned his dress shirt in front of you.

“Hmm. And what makes you think you deserve it?” He continued undoing each of the buttons while he raised a brow waiting for your reply.

You looked at him with a pout, widening your legs apart to give him a good view of your glistening pussy.

“Please, Coryo,” you begged once more. “I promise I’ve been good to you. Never even touched another man. Only ever thought of you. Only ever wanted you.”

He discarded his shirt as he listened to your own confessions.

“Only ever me?” he started working on his belt. “Tell me, love, did you think of me when you touched that dirty pussy at night? When you’d fuck yourself on your own fingers, disappointed they couldn’t fill you up enough?”

You were practically salivating at his words, voraciously shaking your head in agreement. You watched as he slipped his pants and socks off, only standing before you in his briefs. Looking low, you could see the bulge hiding behind the article of clothing, just begging to be set free.

Rising to rest on your knees, you looked up to him, eyes urging him to come closer. Doing as you so preciously asked, he towered over you, caressing your face. You practically purred in his hands, nuzzling further into them.

With your own hands free, you started palming at his covered cock. Coryo closed his eyes, pushing himself further into your reach. Enjoying the way you were making him feel, you felt the overwhelming urge to show him just how much you missed him.

“I want to taste you.” You pleaded to him, and his eyes immediately shot to yours as you began lowering the waistband of his trousers. He had an amused look on his face once more, watching his adorable little unsullied pet want to please him. With zero reservations, he let you do as you pleased.

With newfound confidence, you set his aching cock free. It stood straight like a good soldier –  with an angry red tip that was begging for your orders. He was larger than anything you previously experienced – not that you’d ever admit that to your Coryo. However, you didn’t actually get much further than oral activities with your former rendezvous’, hoping and praying that Coryo would be the one to truly mark your body as his. And thank fuck for that.

Bringing your attention back to your current situation, precum was pooling at the tip as you wet your lips in hunger. Gripping the base, you brought your mouth down to give kitten licks to savor his arousal, slowly starting to pump his cock in your hand. He groaned as you continued to give him just enough for stimulation, but not enough to bring him closer to that sweet relief.

“Don’t fucking tease me, Y/N.” he snarled. Grinning at his behavior, you finally enclosed your mouth around his member, eliciting a low moan from him as you took what you could into your throat. Slurping and sucking, the lewd sounds you were making only drove him further towards release.

Wanting to be good for him – only him – you hollowed your cheeks to attempt to take all those lovely eight inches from top to bottom. Breathing through your nose and working your way closer to the hair at the base of his dick, Coryo lost all semblance of his self-control as you sheathed his entire length in your mouth.  

Tearing your already loosening hair free from its previously styled updo, he replaced the pins and trinkets with his own hand, wrapping the strands around and pulling your head back so he could fuck into it.

“Fucking hell. Should’ve –“ He took a deep breath as your throat constricted around him. “Fuck. Should’ve done this years ago. You feel so good.”

You moaned around him, the vibrations bringing him even closer to that sweet peak. Letting him do as you pleased, tears pooled in your eyes from the abuse, but you loved every second of it. Having him lose his precious control around you was the biggest prize you could win.

And all that control was lost in the moment he finally hit his peak. Shoving his dick as far as he could into your mouth, he released every last drop of his spend into you. As he pulled out of you, you greedily swallowed everything he left in your spit-riddled mouth.

Coming down from his high, he flared his nose at you, watching you gulp up any remnants of his seed. He quickly gripped your jaw and pulled you close to his face. Aching from the brutal pace of his hips and now the snake-like vice he had on you, your jaw would sure to be sore for the next couple of days. Yet still, you whimpered up at him.

“Who else did you let do that to you?” Shaking your head, you tried to plead in your actions that you hadn’t – not trusting your own voice to keep your lies hidden. He would know as soon as you opened your mouth anyway.

“No one? You expect me to believe that?” He was growing angrier by the second. “Do you take me for a fool, Y/N?”

“No!” you immediately pleaded. You never wanted him to think you thought ill of him – not when he was your whole world.

“Then tell me.” His hold tightened. “Tell me so I can fucking ruin their meaningless lies for ever touching what doesn’t belong to them.”

You tried to shake your head again, but he held you still. His eyes bore into your own waiting for a reply. Realizing you weren’t going to mislead him any longer, you caved.

“Felix and Pup.” With eyes narrowing, his mouth lifted into a furious grimace. He threw your head backward as you hit the mattress in a puff. You took a deep breath and watched as he began to kneel on the floor by your bed, gripping under your thighs and pulling you until you hit the edge of the bed.

Inches away from your cunt, you could feel his maddened huffs of hot air escape from his mouth and onto you. Running a single finger through your slick, you gasped at the stimulation and threw your head back. Your fingers tangled in the sheets of your bed.

“You let those ignorant, dull bastards touch you?” He spat out. You lifted your head just enough to look at him before you felt him continue to play with your growing wetness, causing you to drop your head back down once more.

Not knowing what to say, you just continued to lay there, hoping that he’d continue to give you any sort of friction on your pleading pussy. Unamused by your silence, he stopped his musings and leaned back. You groaned into the air as you rose your head again.

“Yes.” You admitted. “But it didn’t mean anything! Please, Coryo. You know I’ve only ever needed you.” Attempting to play into his ego, you hoped that he would just get over it and go back to touching you.

“Yeah?” he said, still not touching you. “Then why should I even bother with a slut like you? Whoring yourself out to anyone who looks at you, huh?”

Getting fed up with still not being touched you threw your legs around his head, locking them at the ankles. Glaring down at him, he looked entertained at your angry state, even while still being in his own.

“Yeah?” you mocked back. “And what about you, Coriolanus?”

He raised a brow at your words, silently allowing you to continue your taunt.

“Whoring yourself out to District trash? At least I had the decency to suck a clean dick. What did you expect when you were running around with your precious little –“

Rolling your eyes back, your words died on your tongue as his own ran a strip up your now dripping pussy. Your legs attempted to close around his head, but his large, veined hands kept them apart.

Forgetting about whatever it was that you were mad about before, you started rubbing yourself on his face, whimpering every time his nose caught your clit. Without warning, he entered one of his long fingers into your hole, caressing your innermost parts.

“Fuck, Coryo,” you moaned out as your hands gripped onto the short strands of curls that were starting to return after his Peacekeeper days. Stretching you out even further, he entered another finger – curling it to reach a spot that you’d never been able to find yourself.

He suckled on your clit as he pumped faster, and you grew closer to your own climax. Squelching noises bounced around the room as your arousal pooled around his fingers – so, so, so close to a release.

“Please, Coryo. I’m going to –“ Before you could even finish the sentence, he withdrew his fingers from your heat.

“What the fuck.” You growled out, furious at the loss of your orgasm. But you couldn’t stay mad. Not when he was currently licking his fingers clean, eyes filled with pure bliss. Already, you could feel yourself growing wetter at the sight.

Popping his fingers out of his mouth, he rose to cage you onto the bed. He looked down on you as his arms were planted firmly on either side of you. He tilted his head, seemingly pleased by your struggles.

“Oh, love. Did you think I was going to let you come anywhere but on my cock?” He brought his head down close to your head, licking a stripe up from the base of your neck to the lobe of your ear. You shivered in delight.

“No, my dear. I’ve waited far too long for this to let that beautiful moment go to waste.” He spoke softly to you. “Though, while I do sit with the anticipation of how your release may taste on my tongue, I have the whole night for that. Along with the rest of our lives.”

Coryo softly caressed your face as a moment of vulnerability passed over his face, perhaps one of the rare times you would truly see the boy you fell in love with.

“She was never you.” He whispered.

And you melted. Tears started to well in your eyes at the sweet confession. While you were still upset at heart that he had ever chosen that whore Lucy Gray to begin with, you could live with the fact that he was here now. That he had chosen you now. And over your cold, dead body would you ever let him go.

Shifting your hands to hold the back of his head, you brought his lips down onto your own. Slowing down for just this moment, you tried to convey all your feelings for him in the movement of your mouth. And Coryo sighed into you.

He wasn’t a good man – you both knew this. He was controlling and obsessive and possessive, but he was yours. You weren’t that great of a woman either if you were being honest. Jealousy boiled deep in your veins alongside a pot of anger that constantly threatened to spill over your “kind” persona, but you were his.

In those tangled weaves of fate, you had both found each other, knotted up at the center. No person could come between that, and God help whoever tried.

Shifting your mouth so that he could more aggressively push himself onto you, you said goodbye to the tender intimacy and relished in the way he roughly handled you.

He continued to play with your swollen clit, readying your virgin cunt for his length. Oh, how he was enlivened at the fact that he would be the first, and only, man to sink his cock into your heat. This would bond the two of you even further than you already were, marking you as his forever.

Slipping off the undergarment that he still wore, you and he were now fully bare to each other – like the Greek sculptures of old. Lovers before the fall. Viewed as soft and malleable, but in truth were filled with the hardness of their years – ready to find solace in the only other being that could see them as they truly were.

Taking his cock in his hand, Coryo began to rub his cock up and down your wet pussy. You moaned each time he swiped over your pearl and even more so when he put a bit of pressure on your tight hole.

“Fuck, Coryo.” You cried. “Just put it in already. Please. I need to fucking feel you.”

Your sweet begging was like music to his ears, and the cut of his restraint. Wasting no more time, he slowly started inching his way into you. Grunting, he rocked himself into you as you grimaced from the pain.

“Shit.” He moaned out. “You’re so fucking tight. Just relax for me, hmm, love? You’re doing so well. My good little girl.”

His praises went right to your core as your body began to open up more for him. Sinking yourself further into the mattress, he took one more thrust to fill you up completely.

Looking at you with only a sliver of blue around his blackened pupil, he groaned low and deep from the back of his throat after being fully sheathed in you. You, on the other hand, were still adjusting to the intrusion, but soon the pain subsided and all you wanted him to do was move.

“I’m okay, love.” You whined, giving him the go-ahead to finally start rocking his hips against yours.

Ever so slowly, he ran his length in your heat, getting you both accustomed to the feeling – addicting yourselves to it, more like. And with every thrust, he began to lose that self-control once more, pushing harder and deeper into you.

“God, Y/N. You’re sucking me right in.” He clenched his jaw at the pleasure coursing through him as you moved your hands up to grip his shoulders, digging your nails into him.

All you could feel was him. In you. Around you. His smell flowed into your nostrils as sweat and sex filled the air around you. And you couldn’t get enough.

“Coryo. Coryo. Coryo.” Your brain was turning to mush the more you could feel him rib against your walls. His name a prayer on your tongue and his body a temple as you worshipped both and all.

“Fuck.” He grabbed onto the back of your knees to lift your legs above his shoulders. Switching angles, he could reach even more of you as he pounded you into the bed. Squealing from the stimulation and pure pleasure, you held onto the sheets in a vice, trying not to spiral away.

“Look at this pretty fucking cunt. All mine.” He started rambling as he became drunk on your pussy. “I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to– fuck. Who even looks at you. I’ll fucking send them right to Gaul’s fucking mutations and watch as they die. Shit. I’ll fuck you right next to their corpse. Have them drown in their blood and our cum.”

His thrusts became more rapid as your cunt squeezed around him from his words. You couldn’t help the whines and moans as you thrashed your head back and forth.

“Hmph.” He grunted. “Like that, huh? Good. My dark little seductress. My perfect rose. Mine.” He thrusted into you.

“Mine.” Thrust.

“Mine.” Harder.

“Mine.” Deeper.

“God, yes.” You cried. “All yours! Please, please, please.”

Your words started to become unintelligent after you continued to search for your high. Coryo, noticing your state, began to play with your clit once more. Aching for you to cum all over his cock.

His own eyes rolled to the back of his head as he got closer and closer to his own release. With a foggy head, he quickly pulled out before immediately flipping you onto your stomach as you huffed out a disapproving whine. Filling you back up, however, had you right back to your drunken state.

“That bitch from 12 could never compare to you.” His tongue loosened confessions as he kept ramming his hips into your ass. “Fucking– fuck. Only used her so she would win. So I could– shit. Could go with you to University.”

You were barely comprehending his words at this point. Moaning obscenities into the sheets below you, you let him ramble without complaint.

“Make sure you didn’t try to find someone else there. No one– fucking damn it. No one else can have you. Gonna fuck you full of my cum and make sure everyone knows that.”

He felt you groan into the sheets again in pleasure. Gripping your hair, he pushed you further down as your back arched higher into the air. Keeping one knee on the bed, he bent the other to reach as deep as he could to fill you up.

“Coryo.” You drawled out in a lust-filled, husky voice.  

“I know, love. I know.” He felt you starting to twitch as your orgasm neared. “Never gonna let you go. Never gonna let you leave me.”

“Fuck!” You gasped into the sheets as you felt that coil tighten in your lower stomach. Tingles shot from your toes to your head as you waited for it to snap.

“Coryo!” you whined once more. “Please, I’m gonna come. Wanna come on your cock so bad. Let me come, please!”

Grunting, he reached around your torso to find your clit. Wrapping himself around you, he began twisting and rubbing on your pearl, making your release come faster and faster until –

“Come on my fucking cock, Y/N. Come on pretty girl.” And through his words and actions, that wave finally crashed as you moaned his name loudly into the bed. Legs shaking slightly, you kept rocking your hips back to meet his, riding out the best orgasm you’d ever felt.

You could tell Coryo was getting close too, by the way his thrusts got sloppier and paced quicker. He kept groaning your name under his breath wanting nothing more than to fill you with his seed.

Leaning his head down on your shoulders, he bit hard into your soft skin, marking his territory. You whined into the sheets as you could feel another wave coming toward you. Feeling you constricting around him had him suckling on the skin all over your neck – making sure there would be no doubts about who you belonged to.

“Fuck, Coryo.” You said as that coil began to tighten once more. “I want you to come in me. Want to– hmph. Want to drip with your seed.”

Growling right by your ear, he pushed even deeper into you, as the both of you chased your highs.

“Gonna get you pregnant with my kids.” Closer the two of you were getting, that beautiful high right in sight. “See your stomach swell with my babes. Over and over again.”

You both moaned out, so close.

All it took was one more deep thrust until Coryo painted your walls white as the driven snow. Your own release followed shortly behind as your body began to slump from exhaustion.

Coryo was entranced by the ring of both of your cum around his cock, slowly rocking it back into you to make sure it took. He will have you with him when he rules Panem. He will have you carry his children and be there to take care of him, as he would you. And he will never let you go.

Both of you falling into a mess of limbs on your bed, you couldn’t help but admire the man who lay next to you, wanting nothing more than for every day to be with him. An adoring smile graced your face as you traced his features.

He watched you with curiosity, before pulling you in by your waist to be even closer to him. You snuggled into his chest as his strong arms wrapped around you, sighing contently. Ever so slowly, your eyes began to droop, heavy with sleep. But, before you surrendered to your slumber, you whispered out to Coryo.

“I love you.” And you fell asleep.

His eyes widened slightly with fear. He feared for not only your feelings for him but his feelings for you. He never truly loved Lucy Gray, but you. You were always the holder of his heart, and he knew that was dangerous in the games he would yet have to play.

But he was a selfish man. He wouldn’t be letting you go, and he wouldn’t let anyone else get their hands on you – lover or enemy. He would keep you close, always in his sight, always safe. And really, what did he have to worry about?

“I love you too,” he whispered to your sleeping form.

Everything would work out for you two, he would make sure of it.

Besides, he thought to himself,

Snow always lands on top.

[thejudeduarte]

‼️THE COURT OF SHADOWS HEADCANONS‼️

Liliver and Van would give Cardan regular updates on Jude during her exile because ofc he'd be worried sick abt her

Liliver, Van, Garret and Cardan would all play EXTREME truth or drink but because they can't lie is extra serious and ends up with a very annoyed Jude

Frequently during the exile Cardan would get super drunk and tell Liliver and Van about how much Jude means to him and when he got her the dress, write her name all over the paper and when they kissed in tcp ect ect. Liliver would probably end up crying herself to sleep that night (I don't blame her)

Liliver loves noodles and when she introduces Cardan to them he gains a new obsession with Chinese take-away

Liliver would make funny harmless bombs or potions to put people to sleep or something and plant them in Lady Asha's room. For fun, of course

Jude would braid or do Lilivers hair for her often

Cardan would help apply Lilivers make-up sometimes

Cardan insisted on putting on a party or celebration for Liliver and Van so he brought funny party hats and stuff from target and threw a party in their base

All the new recruits would be too scared to talk to Cardan (I know I would be)

The court got Cardan a pet snake/snake toy as a joke for his birthday one year and he wasn't very impressed

Liliver and Jude would often have 'girls night' but instead of doing face masks or whatnot they would throw daggers at targets and talk about the best way to kill someone with minimal damage. And gossip, of course

Cardan would go to Van for life advice a lot

I've never done hc so I hope you like them!! And I love the court of shadows so you knew they had to be my first lol

[mirandyficlists]

Hi hi! I’d like to know what your Top 10 Holy Grail fics are? Like I’m talking about fics you would reccommend in a heart beat, fics that you feel are written extremely well that they feel like they should be published or something, fics that have really good pacing, right amount of fluff, angst, or smut. Or even ones that are just silly and fun. It would be cool to read some of your favs!

Hey Nonnie

First my standard answer to the top ten query...10!!! 10!!! You think i can narrow it down to 10!! LOLOLOL

Secondly, I'm flattered you want to know my preferences as a guide...but then that's what my spreadsheet is all about I guess. lol

Okay I did manage to keep myself to 30 fics and I will say I would live quite happily if the first 10 were all I was ever allowed to read for the ret of my life. Just saying. Heh

I've also included my reviews of each fic from my Spreadsheet of 2250+ Mirandy fics to explain my love for the fics.

If you want the fics that are no longer online just message me privately with your email and I'll send my zipped file of deleted Mirandy fics your way.

Happy Reading Nonnie

All the Breast

XVNot15

Top ten and why?

The Lady And Her Dragons by Bearblue https://archiveofourown.org/works/21738811/chapters/51860098

(WIP) OMG!!!!!!!!!!  So amazingly wonderful and magical and well just damned hot!  Full of myth and magic, Miranda and Cruella are real Dragons and Andy is their Lady. Magical machinations and battles ensue. The story is compelling and Bearblue controls the content of magical information absolutely beautifully, you're interest is captured, but you're not over whelmed with more information than what is required for the story she is telling.  Again it has to be said. OMG!!! I have now read this fic over 500 times…and I mean that! Have read it once a week and sometimes 2 or 3 times a week for more than a decade.

Truth and Measure by Telanu https://archiveofourown.org/works/779826/chapters/1468543

The downfall of my anti Mirandy life that dragged me kicking and cursing into the heart of the Mirandyverse. This is what I call a Simchat Torah story. Much like the holiday in which the last chapter of Torah is read and then the first chapter immediately afterward to start the cycle again. And that's just what I did with this one. Miranda discovers after the separation with Stephen that she is pregnant and as she copes with that Andy helps her and eventually Miranda proposes a mutually beneficial relationship...which Andy then proceeds to turn on its head almost immediately. Excellently written and adored the characterisations of both women.

It’s All Relative by Hawkbehere https://archiveofourown.org/works/5884348/chapters/13561771

OMFG!! This is an amazing story. Well written and excellently paced as well. Post Paris H/C piece where Miranda is shot and Andy runs to her side to help and care for her.. A very complex and interesting characterisation of both M and A. The hints at Sub/dom with true love and respect were pitched absolutely meltingly perfect And the passion of Miranda's need for Andy is mind blowing.

Small Favors Series  by Chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/2793701/chapters/6270377

Andy wins a press award and sees Miranda. They talk and Andy acknowledges her feelings to herself. Andy sends a lily as a thank you. Hot first kiss in the conference room at the Mirror. The girls are very supportive as the relationship develops. INTERLUDE - Hot late night quickie in Miranda's office.  BEAUTIFUL THINGS - sees the development  of the relationship through some early rough spots. They're outed by Miranda's PR firm. Loved the twins with their pudding balloon bombs. HERE TO STAY - GOOD FORTUNE –

Fur No Thanks I’d Rather Go Naked by Writtensword (Deleted but I have the fic and can send it.)

Ooooooooooo so totally wonderful this story read it 3 times one after the other. Miranda is magically turned into a Mink and only Andrea can hear her speak and she takes care of her as they try to undo the spell. The characterisation of Mink Miranda is sooooooooooooooo terrific I want more Mink tales. heh  Lovely denoument when Miranda turns back to her human form.

Like Andrea Series by Ginstan https://archiveofourown.org/series/1940092

Ooooooooooooooo romance, mystery, intrigue and damn fine writing! Loved this fic! Andy is alerted to the fact that Miranda needs help when Runway does an edition where every single model looks like her. She comes to Miranda's rescue and their relationship develops super fast and super beautifully..  And beautiful mini FOL crossover! heheh I adore the characterisations of a vulnerable Miranda and a very soft butch Andy.

A Failure to Communicate by thelastgoodname https://archiveofourown.org/works/5300144

Miranda decides to Marry Andy and is busy dictating the plans to Andy just one problem... She hasn't actually asked Andy out on a date yet or anything else.  Cue a very confused Andy and a backpeddling Miranda. Ohhh my aching sides!!!! This is just soooooooooooo funny and sooooo well written.It's just brilliant!

Admiration by Punky_96 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936337

Swooooooooooon!! Total romance and way HOT sex too! Miranda has a secret (not to us though) admirer who is leaving her daily gifts and notes. She becomes smitten and isn't quite sure until the big reveal.  Beautifully written and I loved it, but it ends rather abruptly.

The Brutal Truth by Redcharcoal (Removed as it was published…both are AWESOME! FF is available in the FB Mirandy Group and in my deleted fic file.)

Wonderfully well written piece. Miranda claims to only want the Brutal truth and ends up having a bet with Andrea that she can't get an exclusive interview with a famous designer and the stakes are one day of absolute honesty for Andrea and one week for Miranda. Andy outs Stephen as a predator and Miranda fires her...but then she gets the exclusive interview with the Deuchamps and they become her friends.

Miranda’s Runway series by Jehc https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242412/chapters/2552452

Oh the joy of a well written and well crafted characterisation piece.  Love this 4 years post Paris piece with Andy having a daughter she has actually named Miranda but who she calls Mandy who is somehting of an artistic prodigy. Andy has written a series of amazingly successful books on fashion but remains anonymous until she trades her privacy to foil Irvs latest almost successful coups against Miranda.  Things follow on from there, when little Mandy meets Randa and they fall for each other as hard as Miranda falls for Andrea.  Amazing fic.

The Fall and the Landing & 90 Days to Glory by Brithna/Ash_Mountain https://archiveofourown.org/works/481161

Warning: Character Death. My God almighty what a powerful piece of writing! This is not fanfiction, this is life, this is the most skillful playing of all that it is to be human, fragile, and to hold friendship and love as the reward for the pain and challenge that those prizes intrinsically bring with them. Have tissues ready, and be prepared to read with your heart and know that love is the force that truly connects all life.

On a Tractor by Bearblue https://archiveofourown.org/works/11696331/chapters/26333922

OMG! Absolutely brilliantly written long post Paris piece. Andy lends up inheriting a farm which she decides to run and she becomes quite the nature photographer as well. Miranda wants her farm for a photoshoot and goes out to visit and things take their natural course. Bear's writing is incredibly fluid and tinglingly evocative. Love the characterisation of Andy in this one. A Simchat Torah - immediate re-reader.

Break it Down With Joy by Winter156 https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394080

A drabble that is sheer perfection. A and M are friends, Andy has declared her love but Miranda has stated that they will never have a physical relationship, Andy stays anyway, suffering the pain of incompleteness, until that moment of decision. Excellently written, and soooo poignant.

By Heart by Chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673044/chapters/5976851

Swooooooooooon, mushfest!! With lovely hot sexiness too. A H/C tale where Andy ends up with a broken leg on a ski weekend and Miranda cares for her in their cabin as they get snowed in for a couple of days and the heating fails heheh. But there is a fireplace and while 'keeping warm' one thing leads to another.

Basic Black by Beachbum https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045490

Brava BB, a lovely piece set post Paris. Nigel who has stayed friends with Andy decides to play matchmaker for the two women in his life. The description of Andy's suit was totally droolsome. And the love scene, wow, took my breath away. Loooooooooved the ending, god Miranda in nothing but a white dress shirt, but still so totally confident and in control of the situation. Yowsa!!

Disarming Athena by Politic X https://archiveofourown.org/works/11921940/chapters/26942895

Wonderful but sometimes distressing psychological exploration that occurs between Miranda and Andy. Many of the interactions take place in the elevator. Miranda appears to be torturing Andy with invitations and demands for her to touch her clothes but not her. Then she fires Andy and this behaviour continues as Andy works her notice.  Eventual happy ending.

Hidden Yet Bright by needled_ink https://archiveofourown.org/works/97340

Swoooooooooooooon, a beautiful and well written short of a developing friendship gently shifting into more but without strings. Loved the chartacterisations of both Andy and Miranda.

In Some Quite Casual Way by Winter156 https://archiveofourown.org/works/621060/chapters/1120824

Holy mother of mountains what a fic. From a request for a story that involved a character with wings. Miranda is a fallen angel of sorts and saves Andy when she falls out a skyscraper window. Declarations of love, and serious sweaty snugglebunnies followed by major storyline and escellent denouement. Gret writing, amazing story, just amazing.

Lost Treasures by Jazwriter  (Removed as it was published…both are AWESOME! FF is available in the FB Mirandy Group and in my deleted fic file.)

  Wow! Andy works as a sales clerk and then a Window dresser in  a small boutique. Her window designs cpature Miranda's attention and fascination. She takes Andy under her wing and mutual attraction sparks. Great little fic.

Objects and Space by Stormashke https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126698

Absolutely Stunning!!!!  Compellingly written with just the right meter and timing. Wonderful internal dialogue from Miranda's pov in an established relationship. She travels through the different rooms of the house noting the evidence of Andy's presence that still bug her…but also noting their indications of Andy's space in her heart and the twins heart and the things she will live with in that space of love.

Rebellious Lock & When Locks Get Locked by Quiethearted http://ralst.com/RebelliousLock.HTM

Ohh soooooooo funny!!!! Miranda's hair has a mind of it's own and it's concentrating on one particular brunette. This is comic writing at it's best. I'm still chuckling.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeee, sequel!  Woohoo, Miranda's hair has awakened an interest from Andy's hair and all is set for the clash of the tresses. Oh soooo wonderfully funny, I so hope this series continues, I want postcoital follicle frolics. Heheh

Sharp Relief by chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/2672990/chapters/5976701

AMAZING fic!!!!! Wow Andy gets a call reporting that Miranda has died in a car crash on her way to her weekend cabin. She goes into shock and faces the fact of how much she loved her. She helps with the twins and stays at the townhouse until there is another call that send her and the girls out into the night chasing a hope agaisnt hope.  So amazing this.

The Lily and the Crown by Telanu (now published) https://archiveofourown.org/works/750438/chapters/1400746

Andren is the reclusive daughter of one of the Empires most capable Station Masters. Assistant - her new slave is the dread space Pirate Queen Mir. Seduction, debauchery, abandonment and redemption in this Space Swashbuckler.Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Gaaawwwwwwwwwwwwwwdddddddddd!!!!!!!!!  Wow!!!! Fluids!!!!!!! This is just soooooooooooo wonderfully hot and romantic and hot and well good god I loved it. Okay, perhaps the Andren character was a little bit tooo clueless, but perhaps wonderfully evocative of another time. Still it was a great story and really interesting.

Unexpected Grace by Silverie https://www.fanfiction.net/s/9092005/1/Unexpected-Grace

Amazingly well written fic starting with amazing dream sequances of ancient days and a Goddess/priestess Miranda, perfectly mirrored in a waking world of events. Andy expands her life into music when she comes to own a beautiful guitar decorated with a dragon...linking to her desire for a certain dragon lady.  Lyrically written. Brilliant!!!!

A not exactly storybook romance by writetherest https://archiveofourown.org/works/923207/chapters/1793725

An AU where Andy is independently wealthy and owns a book store which Cassidy starts to visit daily as Andy befriends her. Eventually Miranda and she meet and after a bad decision it's a wonderfully sweet love story. Absolutely wonderful romance done here, adore the shier sweeter Andy.

Farsighted by emeraldorchids https://archiveofourown.org/works/6129537/chapters/14047437

Excellent mid length piece. All from Miranda's pov, chronicling how she and Andrea slip into a wonderful and easy friendship after Paris, that several months later morphs into more. What I love is the realness of Miranda in this fic as a full fledged human being all balance and counter balance with strengths and weaknesses.  And I enjoyed the reality check and stunned Miranda after Andy kisses her. As well as the gradual exploration afterward. The upshot with the page six comment picture in bed is a perfect ending.

Four Corners by Chillyflame https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039309/chapters/2073686

Truth be told, this is a ten star effort. I looooved it! A phenomonally wonderful piece, well written and amazingly characterised. All told from Cassidy's pov as she lives her parents divorce, the advent and demise of Stephen and the new and wonderful inclusion of Andy in her mother's and the twins lives.

Caught Between the Moon and New York City Series  by Punky_96 https://archiveofourown.org/series/1027544

Brilliant story of Miranda as a werewolf and pack leadercaptured by a secret research facility that captures and studies paranormal creatures where Andy works.  Grat adventure unfolds as they escape and Andy's true nature is discovered. Excellently written and intriguing backstory.

After Dark by LiteraryAssasin https://archiveofourown.org/works/20560673/chapters/48807857

A wonderfully characterised slow burn, friends to lovers fic. Well written and engaging of course, from an excellent bard. Andy grows a backbone in the best and most proactive way…almost swapping some of her softness for some of Miranda’s firmness so that they can both balance themselves and each other. I adored Miranda’s oh so careful way of helping Andy while trying also not to overwhelm her with that help.  A nifty little sub pairing of a mirrored couple is so seamlessly done it’s just amazing.  Also touches on an idea I’ve had for quite some time…may have to dust that one off.

If and When by Kamuraskan https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821418/chapters/29271045

WOOT!!! No greater love hath a Bard for another Bard than to make an offering in a completely unfamiliar fandom. (Thanks Gin.) Most wonderfully well written and amazing Disaster/survival fic. Andy uncovers a terrorist plot to blow up the EC building the night the VP is attending a party there. She isn't believed by Homeland security so she approaches the new CEO of EC...Miranda they manage to evacuate the building but are still on the 20th floor when the bombs go off....suspense, love and amazingness commence.

[kirkodiletears]

I wanted to answer this question: (it's only a speculation)

"How intense is Luo Binghe love for the original Shen jiu and why is he so damn fixitated him for is it his looks or personality lol ? I'v read so many fics of Shen yuan identity reveal with Luo binghe and the peaklords that always ended positively but do you think it'd be the same in the canonverse? Like if Shen yuan were to reveal he wasn't the original would they react positively or negatively?"

I think 1st thing he feel in love was SJ's looks

"Shang Qinghua: “What was your first impression of the other person?”

 

Luo Binghe continued to reminisce and lightly said: “An aloof and remote, distant and untouchable immortal.”

then he started to do anything to gain SJ's attention/favor... He befriended with SJ's favorite disciple NYY, even if she always got him in trouble, then after he was pushed down to the abyss he realized that SJ would never return his feelings so he decided to destroy him, meanwhile he started to cope with it and started to pretend that SJ was a scum villain who couldn't love anyone but himself (that's probably why he never seen SJ's memories even if he was able to do so) and when YQY died he and SJ's reaction finally shattered his illusions...

Well, in my opinion, you pretty much nailed it. Especially keeping in mind the original intentions of Airplane to write PIDW as a yaoi novel with SJ (SQQ) and LBH as a OTP.

P.S.: Apparently I better quote the text of SVSSS, chapter 81 to be precise, to avoid ignorant comments. There's a huge misunderstanding going on in the English-speaking segment, probably dew to an English translation of SVSSS. Some readers are mislead by two quotes, that they take as a contradictory, which in truth, they are NOT.

The first one is from a Chapter "The story begins". It is the last chapter of the novel, after this the extras start. And this particular chapter is a culmination: this is where the truth is reveled. Like in a detective story, where we finally find out, who the killer is. This meant to become a real "bomb", that makes a reader go WOOOW!!! And this is THE KEY for understanding the whole story: the plot and the characters, especially Luo Bing-mei (and Luo Bing-ge). And speaks about the intentions of the Airplane. (original scrapped outline(c))

The second quote on the other hand speaks of an EXISTING PIDW. (original outline(c))

The first quote, from the final chapter:

Shen Qingqiu looked him up and down. “You don’t look crushed at all after all this foolish messing around ended up completely changing your own novel.”

Shang Qinghua said, “You can’t say it like that ah. Maybe you think it’s just all foolish messing around that isn’t worth a damn, but for Bing-ge, your foolish messing around is probably the meaning of this entire world.”

... holy s***, Great God Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was able to say something like that?!

Shen Qingqiu was terrified. “F***. You didn’t turn back into the original character, did you?”

Shang Qinghua said seriously, “Don’t be like that. I’m also a young person with literary ideals. Of course, I have my own reflections and emotions.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed coldly. “What literary ideals? How come all I saw in the original work was shameless fanservice?” Not to mention his hand speed that could produce ten thousand words a day, and the courage to even occasionally explode with twenty thousand. If he didn’t have such equipment, there was no way 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 would have been able to hold out before it was serialized!

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. “You think that I always wrote shameless content that lacked any integrity from the very start? I’ve also written belles-lettres4 before, but they were all unpopular, so I had no choice but to go down a path that catered to the masses. It must be said that writing novels is a very lonely undertaking. Rather than writing a stallion male protagonist who’ll be stereotypical in the end, it’s more in line with my philosophy for writing to create the current Bing-ge━this kind of weirdo male protagonist whose character is a bit more complicated, has contradictions and conflicts, and has a rough destiny.”

Shen Qingqiu concluded, “So, your philosophy for writing is to write about gay guys?”

Shang Qinghua: “Do you look down upon gay male protagonists? Works of art and artists all like to create gay guys. Belles-lettres favors gays, do you know that?”

He waved his arms wildly and passionately. “Cucumber Bro, if the System hadn’t chosen you, this faithful die-hard reader, perhaps the plot wouldn’t have deviated so thoroughly, thoroughly to the point that it deviated all the way back to my original scrapped outline. Even though the me back in reality━who couldn’t endure the loneliness and was under financial pressure━chose to finish writing 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 according to other people’s preferences and what they found cool... now, all thanks to you, essentially everything that I wanted to write has already unfolded in front of my eyes. Cucumber Bro!”

He patted Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders with deep sentiment and solemnity. “You... are the chosen one; as for my career, I have no more regrets!”

... why did it sound like the System and this world were both products of Shang Qinghua’s resentment over scrapping that outline and going with what was mainstream?

Shen Qingqiu, who shamefully became this kind of “chosen one”: “Who’s your faithful die-hard reader?”

Shang Qinghua waved his hand and one-sidedly declared his victory. “I’m not going to talk to you; you’re an anti-fan.”

Shen Qingqiu was about to say, “I’m only an anti, not a fan!” when he suddenly heard Shang Qinghua starting crooning something like, “Emotions are warm, kindness hard to bear, lips moving together, desires turning the evening to the next morning, never resting from dawn to dusk.” The crucial point was that melody, which sounded extremely familiar to the point that it made Shen Qingqiu’s hands and teeth itch. He pointed at him and said, “Shang Qinghua, what are you singing?”

Shang Qinghua continued to croon. “The warmth of emotions makes gratitude hard to bear. Lips to lips, locked in a kiss. Let this night linger ‘til tomorrow’s dawn. Day after day, night after night; never to end. Will tomorrow be another today? When ‘til Zheng Yang reaches its zenith? As Zheng Yang ascends, the voice of Autumn stirs. A sheathless Xiu Ya, a spurt of cold nectar. Tragic pleas amidst choked sobs, thus in vain; for he rises again5...”

Shen Qingqiu was in disbelief. “F*** you—why don’t you just try and sing another line?”

Shang Qinghua said, “Great Lord Shen, why aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? You must never go around casually f***ing people. Bing-ge will go crazy. I’m telling you, this Resentment of Chunshan is equivalent to Shi Ba Mo6. You two are the legendary national homos, do you understand? I have no problems with you shutting me up, but ultimately it’s useless. You can’t possibly make all the countless people in the world shut up...”

The second quote, from the extras: "

System: 【Basic accomplishment of《Proud Immortal Demon Way》’s original outline, slight deviation of romance plot, objective accomplished. Function to return to original world download complete. Activate return home sequence?】

Basic accomplishment of the original outline, that he agreed with, all the holes which needed to be filled were filled. But, this “slight deviation of romance plot” isn’t quite right. Bing-ge is gay no━how can you say this is a “slight deviation”? Ay okay, okay. In fact, in his original outline, Bing-ge didn’t have a romance plot; he was doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever. If you insist on adding a plotline, that’s whatever, but he’s wasted this many words… you mean he can return to his original world?!?!"

The second quote is very poorly translated into English. What it actually means, is that Bing-ge does not have ANY SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIP, LOVE. Nothing to do with he amount of partners he fucks. And yes - the ending for the tyrant he became in PIDW is not happy in a slightest. This is how his relationship with the harem is described by the PIDW reader's forum in the novel:

"Airplane really doesn’t know how to write romance plotlines, best if he just doesn’t. I feel like Luo Binghe doesn’t have feelings for any of his wives, he just wants to use them. And I can’t see any of those women with real moving emotion for him. "

[okieedokes]

girl worth writing to | john egan x f!reader

summary : john pays you a visit while he’s on leave and things get melodramatic lol

warnings : brief mention of suicide, doesn't exactly follow the events of the show

word count : 888

The vibration of gentle snores rouse you from your sleep, your eyes search for the clock ticking away on your nightstand.

5:04 am

The sun had barely risen yet and you cursed yourself for being such a light sleeper, knowing the day you had ahead of you. However, the sight of shirtless John Egan dozing peacefully beside you was certainly one for sore eyes. You lifted a hand to his disheveled curls and attempted to stroke them back into place, whilst your mind replayed the events of the night before…

5:34 pm

You had just returned to your flat from another agonising day at the infirmary, to the incessant ring of the telephone. You are hesitant to answer, as you are sure it’s your head nurse, calling to inform you there’s been another emergency and you would need to return.

With a deep breath you lower yourself onto the edge of the bed and retrieve the telephone.

“Hello?…” You had meant to use a more formal introduction but simply couldn’t find the strength.

“Y/N?! It’s me, Bucky! You remember?” He teased.

You had half the mind to pretend you had forgotten the pilot after not hearing a word from him in almost six months.

“Unfortunately, I do remember.” You mask your tone with sarcasm.

“Atta girl!” He remarked and you found yourself repressing a smile as you imagined the cheeky grin on his face.

“I just completed my twenty-fifth mission today and it was frankly very nearly my last, so they’re graciously giving me the weekends leave!” He boasts sarcastically and you suppress a giggle.

“Lucky Buck!” You retort and hear him scoff.

“Anyways, I was thinking I’d come pay you and London a visit…that’s if you’d have me, of course.”

You take a pause, pretending you have a choice. Unfortunately the truth of the matter was that you’d take the Major in, always and forever no-matter the heartache, come his departure.

“Do you still remember the address?” You asked, placing a hand to your stomach in an attempt to ease the brewing butterflies.

“I couldn’t forget if I tried sweetheart, I’ll see you soon enough.” He teased playfully and ended the call.

You sighed at the realisation that you would have to spend all evening making your tired self presentable for the pilot, knowing deep down that for John it would always be worth it.

5:36 am

You jump at the feeling of his large hand wrap around your wrist that was still embedded in his hair. You feel your cheeks grow bright red as you push your body towards the opposite side of the bed.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean you scare ya.” He croaks in his deep morning voice that never fails to make your knees weak.

“That’s okay! I need to get ready for my shift anyways.” You stutter wrapping yourself in the bedsheet as you crawl out of bed.

“Y/N please…” Bucky groans and grasps at the sheet that is now tightly wound around your shivering frame.

“You always do this…it’s too early and it’s bloody freezing.” He pleads and gently pulls you back into the bed and his embrace, gently guiding your into head to the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry I scared you…twenty-five missions…it’s starting to get to me now, I think.” He admits whilst stroking a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I can only imagine the horrors you boys have endured…” You whisper.

“You would probably understand more than most Y/N…what with the hospital and all the bombings.” He adds, his tone soft and comforting as he continues to stroke your hair. This is not the witty and sarcastic John you were familiar with.

“I suppose you could say that.” You mumble as you fidget with the dog tag that hangs around his neck, a cruel reminder.

“I guess it doesn’t help that I have this American pilot of mine who when I’m sure has gone and died on me-”You attempt a teasing tone but it falls flat.

“What’s all this about me being a goner? Don’t you have any faith Y/N?” He interjects, his tone only half joking.

“Well you never write or call? What am I supposed to think?!” You feel anger boiling in your chest as you push yourself away from him.

“Or maybe I’m just not worth writing to!” You accuse before John had time to even consider a response to your sudden outburst.

“I promise it’s nothing like that Y/N… you know how I feel about you. Christ! I wouldn’t be using my weekend off like this if I didn’t have feelings for you!” He scrambles to defuse the situation, knowing your spirited ways.

“Oh really?!” You mock.

“Y/N these missions, they’re suicide! I couldn’t never let you get involved with me now! It would be cruel!” His statement cuts the conversation like a knife, silence falling over the entire flat.

A tear rolls down your cheek as you stifle a sob.

“I-I’m sorry John…but I think I’m already…involved.” You stutter.

The pilot sighs, using the bedsheet gathered around your waist to pull you back down into the mattress, so now you are pinned underneath him. There's nowhere to hide.

“If you only knew how many times I’ve heard your voice in my head or seen your face in a crowd…” He whispers whilst gently placing a kiss to each of your tear soaked cheeks.

“You’re my girl…I’m sorry I ever made your feel like you weren't worth writing to.” His tone is soft but sincere.

Without looking away, he reaches for a scrap of paper that was resting atop your bedside table.

“In fact I’ll start right now…My dearest Y/N…” He declares in a exaggerated british accent and you playful slap his shoulder, giving him permission to attack you with kisses again.

When he finally pulls away your eyes meet and you raise a hand to his cheek.

“Come back to me, Major Egan.” The words tumble out before you even able to acknowledge they are there.

“Always.” He whispers, before burying is head in your chest. It wasn't long before you feel his soft snores radiating against your body again.