#ce fanfiction

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 12: Eli the Elf

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 5394

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Note:  This fic was originally written for Fluffy Fridays in 2019

Emma collapsed onto the sofa in her living room.  Being the parent of a rambunctious, mischievous three-year-old was not for the faint of heart, that was for sure.  Not that she’d change her crazy life for anything.  Emma loved Hope Swan-Jones with all her heart.  After all the months and even years she and Killian had tried for a baby with no success, there was no doubt that Hope was their miracle, their second chance, their opportunity to be a family.   

As Emma’s maternity leave had neared its end, Emma and Killian had come to the decision that they wanted to be there for and with their daughter every hour of the day.  Daycare simply wasn’t an option for them, so they’d come to an arrangement: they’d trade off days.  One day Emma went into the station and Killian stayed home with Hope, and the next day they swapped.

Lately, it seemed like Emma was far more tired at the end of her days with Hope than she was at the end of her days as the sheriff.  Who would have thought those early months where Hope barely slept would actually end up being the easy parts of parenting? 

Hope was a good girl, sweet, affectionate, smart as a whip, but she was also the daughter of a pirate.  Seemed like Emma couldn’t turn around for a second without Hope making another mess or getting onto some sort of mischief. 

Emma let herself succumb to sleep while Killian put Hope to bed–no doubt with a thrilling, overly dramatic bedtime story, like he did nearly every night.  Hope adored his tales…and everything else about her Papa.  Emma knew her daughter loved her, but there was no doubt she was a daddy’s girl.

 The couch dipped beside her, waking Emma abruptly.

 “My apologies love,” Killian said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Emma yawned before settling into Killian’s waiting arms.  “Don’t worry about it.  I was just kind of resting my eyes.  Don’t want to sleep through the evening when we finally get to have a little alone time.”

Killian brushed a kiss against the crown of her head and tightened his arms around her.  “I worry about you love.  You’ve been so tired lately.  Are you sure nothing’s amiss?”

Emma kissed him gently.  “I’m fine, Killian, I promise.  Guess I’m just having a tougher time navigating life as a working parent than I thought I would.”

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” she said decisively.  “It’s just, we have a very busy, active toddler on our hands.  I love her like you would not believe, but by the end of the day, I’m so tired I feel like I could sleep standing up.”

Killian’s brow furrowed.  “The lass is three now, old enough to begin to understand consequences.  Perhaps we should begin discussing disciplinary tactics.”

“You know, I was thinking about that today,” Emma said, settling against Killian’s chest and resting her hand over his heart, loving the comfort his softly thumping heartbeat gave her.

 “Christmas is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I thought maybe we could make use of some of the traditions to convince her to work on her behavior.”

“Swan, if you’re referring to that Santa Claus fellow, I’m not entirely sure I approve,” Killian said, voice sternly disapproving.

Emma laughed.  “You are morally opposed to Santa Claus?  Why?”

“One cannot seem to patronize any establishment in this town without hearing his song,” Killian said, “He sees you when you’re sleeping.  He knows when you’re awake.  He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.  Swan, this Santa fellow sounds like one of the worst villains we’ve faced yet.”

Emma laughed again.  “Killian it’s just a song, and it’s all in fun.  Kids love Santa.  He’s the one who brings them presents.”

Emma could see in Killian’s face that he wasn’t convinced.

“Anyway,” she continued, “that’s not what I was talking about, not really.  There’s this other tradition parents do sometimes.  Called Elf on the Shelf.  You get this toy elf, and the idea is that it watches the kids and kind of reports to Santa.  Each night the parents move the elf, so it’s like it’s alive.  The fun of it is that the kid never knows where the elf is going to show up next.  Plus, knowing there’s an elf watching you, well, it’s extra incentive to be on your best behavior.”

“Are you daft, Swan?” Killian exclaimed.  “This ‘Elf on the Shelf’ sounds, if possible, even more horrifying than Santa Claus!  I’d rather not traumatize our daughter.” 

“Would you stop being such a drama queen?” Emma asked, laughter still evident in her voice.  “I promise you it’s all in fun.  This isn’t some Christmasy ‘scare the kid straight’ thing.   Kids love it.  It brings the magic of Christmas to life.” 

Killian was clearly still skeptical, but finally conceded.  “Very well, Swan.  We’ll try this Elf on the Shelf, but if it gives Hope nightmares, I must put my foot down.”

“Relax babe,” Emma said.  “If the elf gives Hope nightmares, I’ll personally lock it in our dungeon. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The next morning 

Killian stepped into Granny’s and made a b-line for the large booth at the back of the establishment, seeing David and Rogers already present. 

After the realms had combined, Dave had suggested he and Killian get together with Rogers, as the town decided to continue referring to his alternate reality version, to help him get adjusted to life in Storybrooke.  This get together quickly became a weekly thing.

Emma referred to their weekly breakfasts as the “brot3 convention.”  Killian hadn’t a clue what that might mean, but the phrase brought a delighted smile to Swan’s face, and that was enough to make Killian adopt the language.  There was very little he wouldn’t do to make his wife smile. 

“Hey Killian! Good to see you,” David said. 

Killian noted the fatigue in his father-in-law’s eyes and the yawn he was attempting to stifle. 

“The lass keep you up last night?” he asked sympathetically.

David and Mary Margaret’s daughter Ava was quickly approaching her first birthday.  She’d come as a surprise to the couple who’d believed their family was complete after the birth of Neal, but she was a very welcome and loved surprise. 

“Yeah,” David said, and then took a bracing sip of his coffee.  “She was up every two hours last night.” 

“I thought you said she’d finally begun sleeping through the night,” Rogers said. 

“She did,” David said, “but I think she’s teething.  Runny nose, running a bit of a fever, wanting to chew on everything.” 

Both Hooks nodded in understanding and sympathy.  “I don’t miss those days with my Alice,” Rogers said.   

Their conversation was put on hold as a waitress, wearing a festive Santa hat and necklace made of Christmas lights, took their order. 

“So how about you, Killian?” David asked after the waitress walked away, “How’s everything going with your family?” 

Killian frowned.  “I must admit, I’m a bit concerned about Emma.  She’s been so exhausted lately and a couple of times she’s gotten dizzy.  She insists it’s nothing, but I’m near to insisting she visit Doctor Whale.”

“Tired and feeling faint?” David asked.  “Any other issues?”

“It was the strangest thing,” Killian said, furrowing his brow.  “This morning I attempted to serve her her customary PopTart for breakfast, but she insisted she couldn’t stomach it.  She actually asked for boiled mackerel and grapefruit.” 

“Tired, feeling faint, and with significant changes in appetite,” David listed off.  To Killian’s surprise (and consternation) a grin covered his father-in-law’s face.  “I think Emma’s right.  I think you have nothing to worry about.” 

“Other than life getting significantly busier in eight or nine months,” Rogers said with a grin identical to David’s. 

It took Killian a moment to put the dots together, but then his eyes widened.  “You think Emma could be with child?” 

“I have very little experience with these things, my own daughter’s birth being so very….unorthodox,” Rogers said, “but it certainly seems possible.” 

Killian felt the joy bubble up in him.  Another child!  He and Swan may have another child.  It was a blessing he hadn’t even allowed himself to wish for, given the difficulties they’d had conceiving Hope. 

“I suppose there was that one weekend away we had just before Thanksgiving,” Killian said slowly, “when Alice and Robin stayed with Hope.  We did engage in copious amounts of intimate activities…” 

Rogers barked out a laugh and David groaned, reminding Killian of just how much his father-in-law did not want to hear the specifics. 

Breakfast was a joyous affair following the pregnancy speculation, the three men discussing their lives over the past week. 

Killian walked home with an extra spring in his step.  This Christmas was shaping up to be one of the best he’d ever had. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Grandma, what do you think about putting the wreath here?” Lucy asked, holding the Disney’s Captain Hook themed wreath against their front door. 

Emma laughed.  “Looks great kid.  It’ll get a good natured grumble out of your gramps every time he walks by.”

It was still weird to get used to being called Grandma, but Emma’s heart warmed at the thought that Henry was back to stay and that she’d have the chance to get to know her daughter-in-law and granddaughter in a way she’d missed out on over the first decade of Lucy’s life.

Lucy laughed, turning to Charming to ask him to hammer a nail for her so she could hang the wreath.

It had become a Christmastime tradition since the merging of the realms.  The whole family got together to decorate each other’s houses and then have dinner together.  This weekend, a mere two weeks before Christmas, it was the Swan-Jones household’s turn to host (and get decorated). 

Emma took a step back, watching as her family, her whole, big boisterous extended family worked to make her home look like something out of the Hallmark channel.  Regina and Zelena stood by the impressively large pine tree stringing garland, Alice, Robin and Rogers worked to make the hearth festive, Henry, Jacinda, Killian and her dad were braving the frigid temperatures outside to string lights on the bushes and the front of the house, Neal was occupying Hope in the playroom, Ava napped in the nursery and Snow worked away in the kitchen on what Emma was sure would be an amazing dinner. 

It was the type of scene you’d see in one of those cheesy Christmas movies.  Happy family enjoying each other’s company while they decorate for Christmas and listen to carols.  It was even picture perfect outside, with the snow gently falling. 

It was perfect, and Emma loved every minute of it.

While Hope was occupied with Neal, Emma grabbed the elf on the shelf, looking around for the perfect place to move him.  Maybe she’d put him in Hope’s room tonight. 

Emma wasn’t sure if the elf was all that effective as a disciplinary tool.  She hadn’t noticed a significant lessening of mischief since she and Killian had introduced “Eli the Elf”, but Hope certainly seemed delighted in looking for him every morning. 

And the joy on her daughter’s face was really what was most important, when it came down to it.  It was Christmas, the time for child-like wonder. 

Emma wandered into the kitchen, pausing for a moment and taking stock of her stomach.  Seemed like smells nauseated her at the drop of a hat lately—one of the main reasons her mom had offered to make the meal for their get together (the other being neither she nor Killian could cook worth a damn).  Emma sighed in relief when she noticed the smells elicited hunger rather than nausea. 

“Anything I can help you with, mom?” 

Snow turned from the stove where she was stirring something as it bubbled merrily away.  “You sure you’re feeling up to it?  I know how rough it can be in the early months.” 

Emma gave her mom an assessing look, subconsciously placing a protective hand over her belly.  “You know, don’t you?” 

Snow abandoned the pot on the stove and rushed over to give Emma a warm, motherly hug.  “About the baby?  Your father told when he came home from the last brot3 convention.  Oh Emma!  I’m so excited for you and Killian!  Is it official?  Do you know for sure?” 

Emma felt the familiar mix of anticipation, joy and fear bubble up inside her.  After his last breakfast with the guys, Killian had come home with a smile on his face. 

“What’s up with you?” she’d asked.  “I haven’t seen you so excited since they had that buy one get one special on rum at The Rabbit Hole.”

Killian had led her to the couch.  “It’s been some time since your last monthly, hasn’t it?”

 “Uh…yeah.  I guess I’m a few days late.  Why?”

“I was talking to your father and Rogers…”

“You were talking to my father about my period?” she asked, brows furrowed. 

He laughed. “Of course not, love!  I merely mentioned your fatigue and appetite changes.”

“Okay…..” 

“Your father…” Killian said, taking her hand, “your father raised the possibility that there could be a very specific cause for your symptoms.  Love, is it possible you’re with child again?” 

Emma’s eyes had widened, the possibility not even entering her mind before he brought it up.   

“With child?  Killian, we haven’t even been trying.” 

“No, but we’ve also not not been trying,” he said. “And I can recall a few very satisfying encounters over the past few weeks that could have very well resulted in a new life…” 

Snow tapped Emma on the shoulder, and Emma realized she’d spaced out, her face flaming slightly as her mind went to a few of those “very satisfying encounters”.  Killian’s skills as a lover were ridiculous.  She’d really hit the jackpot. 

“Uh…sorry mom,” Emma said, “what were you saying?” 

“I was asking if you got it confirmed.” 

“No,” Emma said, thinking of the pregnancy test currently residing in their bathroom medicine cabinet.  “I’m a little afraid to take the pregnancy test, to be honest.” 

Snow led Emma to a chair at her dining room table and urged her to sit.  “Why, honey?” 

Emma shrugged.  “What if it’s negative?  I mean I have all the classic symptoms, and this is exactly how I felt with Hope, but….I mean, we had such a hard time getting pregnant with Hope. What if this is just some weird flu or something?  Killian and I are already excited about Baby Swan-Jones #2.  If it turns out he or she isn’t actually on the way…” 

Snow reached over and hugged Emma.  “For what it’s worth, from what your father told me, I really, really don’t think this is a false alarm, but if it is…” Snow shrugged. “Well if it is a false alarm, you and Killian can have lots of fun trying to make it a reality over the next few months.” 

“Mom!” Emma said. 

Snow shrugged again, a wicked grin on her face.  “Remember, I know how much you and Killian enjoy…pancakes.” 

Emma made her hasty exit, opting to check on the kids before her mother started talking about her own taco sessions with David.

Still, apart from the very uncomfortable thought of discussing her sex life with her mother, Snow had a point.  What did she and Killian have to lose?  She resolved she’d take the pregnancy test the very next day. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The next afternoon, around nap time. 

Hope Swan-Jones was not happy.  

She wasn’t sleepy.  Why did Mama make her take naps?  Sleeping was no fun at all!  Uncle Neal didn’t have to take naps; why should she? 

She’d asked Mama that one day, and Mama said it was because Neal was twelve years old.  Twelve-year-olds didn’t have to take naps. 

Hope wished she was twelve.  Not three. 

Hope glanced over at the shelf high on the wall and noticed Eli the Elf peering down at her.  She stuck her small, pink tongue out at him.

“I’m not going to go to sleep,” she said rebelliously, “and I don’t care if you tell Santa!” 

Hope continued to look at Eli as her eyelids started getting heavy in spite of herself.  That was another thing.  Why didn’t Mama and Daddy ever let her play with Eli?  He was a doll just like the others she had in her play chest.  Why couldn’t she play with him?

Hope knew better than to leave her bed when Mama said to take a nap, but still, she reached out her hand as though to reach for the elf.  Suddenly she felt kind of funny, like there was something warm and bubbly just under her skin.  She watched in amazement as a beam of white light shot from her outstretched fingers, and suddenly Eli the Elf was zooming towards her, right into her arms. 

Did…did she have magic like Mama did? 

Maybe she should try again. 

She looked at the elf and then reached her hand out the way Mama did when she did magic.  “I want you to play with me, elf,” she whispered. 

The strange warm bubbly feeling happened again, and another burst of magic shot out.  

Suddenly Eli the Elf stood up on his own, blinked twice and then grinned at her in a way Daddy would have said meant trouble. 

“Eli the Elf at your service,” he said with a bow.  “So kid, you ready to have some fun?” 

Hope glanced toward the door, afraid Mama would hear.  “Shhhhhh!” she said. “We’re supposed to be asleep!” 

The elf rolled his eyes.  “Naps are for Grinches.  You’re not a Grinch, are you, kid?”

She shook her head no. 

“Good,” Eli said, “so here’s what I think we should do next….”

Eli the Elf went on to outline a plan of chaos that made Hope’s eyes widen.  Surely he wouldn’t dare! 

She shook her head.  “We can’t!  We’ll get in trouble!” 

“The threat of getting caught is half the fun,” Eli said, before jumping off the bed and making a dash for the partially opened door.  “I’m going to do it, whether you follow me or not.” 

Hope climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door.   She had to stop him!  She was going to be in so much trouble! 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

That evening 

Killian closed Hope’s door and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen where he set about preparing a nice steaming mug of hot cocoa. 

He had a feeling Swan would need it after the day she’d had. 

Killian had come home from the station, smile on his lips and spring in his step…only to find the living room in shambles and Emma on the couch crying. 

He’d rushed to her.  “Swan!  What happened?  Are you hurt?  Is Hope alright?” 

Emma swiped at her cheeks and got to her feet.  “We’re fine, Killian,” she rushed to reassure, stepping into his arms and burying her face in his chest.  “It’s just…I’m so damn tired, and she was supposed to be napping, and I come downstairs, and…well, just look!” 

Emma gestured to the living room.  The bottom half of the Christmas tree was completely bare, the baubles that had previously adorned its branches were strewn over the floor, a couple of the delicate glass ones broken against the hearth. 

His eyes widened.  Hope had done this? 

“Swan, there must be some mistake,” he said, “Hope is mischievous, to be sure, but she’s never blatantly engaged in destruction and she loves our Christmas tree.” 

Emma collapsed on the couch, pulling him with her.  “She was in here, Killian,” Emma said, one fat tear of exhaustion rolling down her face.  “I caught her red-handed.  Literally.  She was holding that stupid red Santa ornament in her hand when I showed up.  When I asked her what she was doing, she lied to me. Lied right to my face.” 

“That doesn’t sound like my lass at all,” Killian said, his brow furrowing as he wrapped his wife in his comforting embrace.  “I’ve never known her to speak a falsehood.  What happened?” 

“She told me…get this…she told me Eli the Elf did it!  That damn elf on the shelf was lying on the ground next to the tree.  Not only did she disobey me and leave her room during naptime, she somehow got her hands on the elf, went on a tree destroying spree, and then lied to me.  Killian, I don’t even know what to do with her anymore!” 

Emma started crying in earnest, and Killian hugged her to him, rocking her slightly and caressing her hair.  “Where is the lass now, love?” 

“She’s in her room,” Emma said, voice thick with tears.  “I…Killian, I kind of lost my temper.  I raised my voice a little.  She looked so surprised and almost, I don’t know, betrayed.  I sent her to her room, because apparently I can’t parent worth a crap, but I wanted a chance to cool down before I said anything else to her that I might regret.” 

“Sh,” Killian said. “Emma you are a wonderful mother.  Never doubt that.  We all lose our temper and have moments we aren’t particularly proud of.  We’ll sort this out.  Together.” 

He’d stayed with Emma a few more moments, holding her as she cried, and then he’d gone to have a talk with Hope. 

Now, 20 minutes later, steaming mug of cocoa in hand, he returned to the Christmas carnage that was their living room. 

Emma took the cocoa with a grateful smile.  “How is she?”

Killian’s brow furrowed.  “She’s settled for the moment, and she seems quite apologetic over what happened.  What say we put this tree to rights, aye?” 

“Killian, you don’t have to…” she called after him as he began gathering discarded ornaments and placing them on the tree.  “I can just zap it with my magic…” 

“Nonsense, love,” he said, “you’re exhausted and at your wits end.  Rest, let me handle this.”

He made quick work of righting the tree as he heard Emma sigh behind him.  As he worked, his brow furrowed.  He knew Emma was upset after her difficult day with Hope, but he knew Emma Swan-Jones, perhaps better than she knew herself.  There was something else on her mind, something else that was causing her significant distress. 

Killian set the last bauble on the tree and then sat beside his wife, opening his arms and waiting for her to settle against him before he spoke. 

“Swan, I know when your heart is heavy,” he said.  “Share your burden with me.  What’s amiss?” 

“Well Hope…” 

He stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips.  “Aye, she’s been rather difficult today, but there’s more isn’t there?”

She glanced aside, before reaching for the small box on the coffee table and handing it to him.   

He glanced at it, noting it was one of those wands that could tell if a woman was with child. 

“Swan…?” 

“I…I thought I should take the test,” Emma said, voice thick, “you know, to make sure we’re really pregnant like we think we are.”

“But it’s still in its box unopened.” 

“Yeah,” she said, glancing aside.  “I wanted to wait for you to take it, and then…” 

“Then?” He prompted. 

“Well I got scared.” 

“Of what?” he said, hugging her to him, “what frightens you?” 

She was quiet for a moment, taking the test back, and turning the box over and over absent-mindedly.  “What if it’s negative?” 

Killian rubbed her back in a comforting motion.  “Swan, we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.”

“But I know how excited you are already about this kid…What if…?” 

Killian stopped her with a soft kiss.  “Emma, I would be delighted to welcome a new wee pirate or princess into our home, but even if it doesn’t happen, even if it never happens, I will be perfectly contented.  I have a wife I adore, a daughter I love beyond measure, and a step son with a family to dote upon.” 

She sat up and looked carefully at him.  “Do you really mean that?” 

“Aye,” he said with a decisive nod.  “But I can see the toll this uncertainty is taking upon you.  Perhaps it’s best if we find out once and for all.”

Emma took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself for whatever was to come, and then she got to her feet, taking the box with her.  “Okay, I’m going to go take the test.  Wait here.” 

Emma padded to the powder room off the kitchen, emerging two minutes later, pregnancy test in hand. “Okay, babe, moment of truth,” she said, handing him the small, white wand.  “I can’t look.” 

Killian took a deep breath and then looked down. 

Two pink lines.

“Swan,” he said, smile suffusing his whole face, “it’s positive!” 

She reached for the device, looking for herself before letting out a joyful shout.  “Positive!  Killian, we’re gonna have a baby!” 

Killian got to his feet, enveloped her in his arms and swung her around, both of them laughing and crying.  Emma leaned down and captured Killian’s lips with her own, pouring all of her joy and relief into her kiss.  They collapsed back onto the couch, the kiss continuing as they smiled against each other’s lips. 

Suddenly a shout pierced through their haze of love and happiness.  A shout coming from the direction of Hope’s bedroom. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Hope swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks.  It wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair!  Eli the Elf was the one who did the bad things and she got in trouble for it.

No one believed her.  Not even Daddy.  Oh, he wasn’t as upset as Mama was, but he didn’t believe her either; she could see it in his face. 

And he was disappointed in her.  That was the worst. 

She wished Eli the Elf had never come here!

As soon as she’d followed him from her bedroom and saw him about to start messing up their pretty tree, she’d tried to stop him.  She’d tried to use her magic like Mama did, but it hadn’t worked.  Maybe Hope sized magic wasn’t as powerful as Mama sized magic.

When her magic hadn’t worked, she’d tried to catch him and make him stop, but he was too fast for her. 

He wouldn’t stop until Mama walked into the room.  Then he played dead and let Hope get in trouble. 

“How long you gonna let them keep you couped up in here, kid?” Eli asked from the shelf where Mama had tossed him when she marched Hope to her room.  “The Christmas tree was fun, but there are lots of bigger and better things we can do to shake up this place a little.” 

“Don’t you dare!” Hope growled at him under her breath.  “You already made Mama yell at me and cry.”

Eli shrugged, and hopped down from the shelf, opening her drawers, rifling through, tossing toys and clothes every which way. 

“You stop that right now!” Hope shouted. 

The little imp ignored her, continuing on with his perusal of her things.

Hope was normally a good tempered child.  She rarely got upset, but now, finally this elf had gone too far.  She was not going to get in trouble again for something he did!  She closed her eyes, concentrated as hard as she could and then thrust her arm toward the elf.

Hope knew her magic was working even before it shot from her fingers, the warmth and electricity flowing from her surrounded the elf, wrapping him in light magic bands, like a glowing rope. 

“There!” she cried triumphantly.  “Now I’ve got you!” 

Eli the elf grinned.  It was not a pleasant sight. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Eli said in a smug voice.  “You see kid, your magic brought me to life.  It can’t stop me.  It can only make me stronger.” 

Hope watched in horror as Eli puffed himself up until he got bigger and bigger and bigger.  Soon he was almost as big as Daddy. 

“Mama!  Daddy!” Hope screamed, knowing things had gone completely out of her control. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Killian burst through the nursery door, his hook at the ready, prepared to battle whatever foe was menacing his daughter. 

Or so he thought. 

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the Elf on the Shelf not only alive but gigantic.  For a moment, he stood frozen in the doorway, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide, and then he jumped into action, bursting through the door, putting himself in between Hope and her elf. 

“Cygnet go!  Get to safety!”

The elf laughed, knocking Killian aside as though he were merely a ragdoll.  “You think you can defeat me?” the elf taunted.  “You think you can…” 

But before he could finish his thought, suddenly he shrunk, eyes becoming glassy, body turning back to cloth and cotton.

“Yeah, I’m sure he could have,” Emma said, stepping into the room and kicking the elf she’d just turned back into a toy, “but he doesn’t have to.  I’ll take great pleasure in kicking your…” she glanced toward Hope “butt all the way back to the North Pole.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Several hours later, Emma climbed into her big, comfortable four-poster bed and burrowed into her husband’s warmth. 

“So, never a dull moment in Storybrooke is there?” she said, deadpan. 

Killian laughed, rubbing comforting circles along her back.  “Final battle won, final villain defeated, and yet it still seems there’s more excitement in this small burg than in any of the realms.”

Emma chuckled and then sobered.  “I didn’t believe her, Killian.  My own daughter, and I didn’t believe her when she told us the truth about what happened.  What kind of a person does that make me?” 

“A human being,” Killian said gently.  “Her story was rather outlandish.  I had my doubts as well, if you’ll recall.  Hope is resilient love.  She knows how much you love her, and she’s forgiven you already.” 

After she’d zapped the elf, turned it back into an inanimate object and then locked it in their creepy Dark One dungeon that they kept padlocked until they could figure out how to turn it back into a normal basement, Emma had returned to Hope’s bedroom and given her a long, comforting hug, feeling her toddler sniff against her as the fear and excitement of the day slowly receded. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Emma murmured into Hope’s riotous blond curls.  “I should have listened when you tried to tell me the truth.”

 “It’s okay Mama,” Hope said.  “It was my fault Eli comed to life.”

Hope had gone on to explain the whole story to her stunned parents. 

“We really did make an amazing kid, didn’t we?” Emma said.  “How did it never even occur to us that she might have magic?” 

“A terrible oversight on our part, love,” Killian said, chuckling.  “She’s the second generation product of True Love.  Of bloody course she has magic.” 

“We need to talk to Regina, have her train Hope, get a handle on this thing,” Emma said.  “Magic’s great, but man can it go wrong if you don’t have it controlled.” 

Killian kissed her.  “Aye.”  Reaching down, he cupped her still-flat stomach, caressing their unborn child in the only way he could at the moment.  “What do you think are the odds this wee one will have magic as well?” 

Emma groaned.  “We’re in for a wild ride with two of them, aren’t we?” 

Killian laughed.  “That we are, Swan, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.  Together, this family can handle anything.” 

Emma hummed in agreement, and for a moment they fell silent, and then Killian chuckled.

“What?” she asked, noting the mischievous look in his eyes.

“I think it would only be good form, love, for you to admit that I was right about the Elf on the Shelf.” 

Emma rolled her eyes with a grin.  “And you’re never going to let me forget it, are you?” 

He shook his head.  “Never.” 

Emma sighed.  “There’s going to be no living with you after this.  I dread the moment you learn about the Easter Bunny.”

NEXT CHAPTER->

[krirebr]

Luck Be a Lady

Pairing: soft!dark Curtis Everett x female reader

Word Count: ~10.1k

Summary: Desperate for money, you accept a job as a cocktail waitress at an underground casino. You think you know what you're doing, but when you meet Curtis, will you realize you're in over your head?

Warnings: Mob AU, violence, allusions to murder, explicit language, dubcon touching, noncon touching (not Curtis), willfully oblivious reader, SMUT - facefucking, dirty talk, light d/s dynamics, praise kink, other explicit sexual content. This is definitely on the darker end of the soft!dark spectrum, so proceed with caution! All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Masterlist

A/N: And here it finally is! This is my first real attempt at soft!dark. I hope I did it right! 😂

This was inspired by two things: 1) me going to a rep screening of Goodfellas and spending the entire time wondering why I hadn't done a mob au yet and 2) @bigtreefest saying "enforcer!Curtis Everett and mob boss!Andy Barber" in my general direction. Thanks for the inspo, friend!!

And big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who not only came up with Curtis's name for reader but also offered heaps of encouragement and was a great sounding board. And thanks to @stargazingfangirl18 for helping me figure out how exactly we'd get to the smut. Thanks Siri!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Please come scream at me about this! 😄 As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You fruitlessly tug down your very short skirt as Holly talks at you. You’re both standing in the corner of the bar’s basement waiting for the night to start in earnest—your first night.

“Lloyd’s not so bad,” she says of your boss, the man who runs this little underground gambling ring. “You’ll have to split your tips with him at the end of the night, but he doesn’t take that much, and you’ll make enough that you won’t really notice. As long as you do that, he’ll mostly keep his hands to himself.”

You nod along, glancing at the mustachioed man conferring with the bouncer at the door. The interview process for this job had boiled down to a thorough once-over that’d made you feel naked in your jeans and t-shirt and a “You’re not too stupid to take a drink order, are you?” and then you had the job.

Holly had vouched for you. Neighbors for almost half a year, she’d come home early one morning last week and witnessed you trying to convince the landlord that you were good for your past-due rent. She’d taken you for coffee and told you she might be able to help if you were good at keeping your head down and mouth shut. And now you were here.

“The customers, on the other hand,” she continues, smacking her gum, “you’ll have to let them touch, at least a little bit. Within reason, you know? But if anything gets out of hand, you can just tell Jake at the door and he’ll take care of it.”

“Within reason?” you ask, voice shaking, just the littlest bit, as the pit that started forming in your stomach when you agreed to this grows a little more.

The look she gives you verges on exasperated. “Well, you want to make money, don’t you?”

Yes, you do. Very much so. It’s a need, not a want. So you nod and try to listen as she keeps giving you the rundown. 

Before you’re ready, the first patrons start trickling in and then you’re off to the races. It’s not too bad. No one’s orders are too complicated, mostly just bottles of beer and glasses of straight whiskey. The bartender, Colin, is friendly enough, although you learn that he’s another person you’ll need to split your tips with. 

As for the touching, there are hands on your hips, pats to your ass. But you’re rewarded with folded-up bills held up between fingers or tucked into the strap of your top. Or, twice, slid behind the waistband of your skirt. Once you realize that the majority of these bills aren’t ones or fives, but twenties, you care about the touching that comes with them much less. Plus, you’re too busy to really think about it that hard. 

You can’t believe how busy it is for a random Tuesday night, multiple games of poker, craps, and who knows what else all going at once. But when you mention that to Holly, she just laughs and shakes her head. “This is nothing,” she says. “On the weekends there’ll be three more of us and another one of Jake. Things get wild.” 

You don’t have time to decide whether that makes you nervous or excited before someone is signaling for your attention again. You manage to suppress your grimace when he slides his arm around your waist to tell you what he needs from the bar. You’re rewarded for your troubles by a wad of twenties. You aren’t sure who these men are to tip so freely, but you know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s an hour or two later that Lloyd calls you over to where he’s speaking to a large, impossibly broad man, dressed in a soft-looking henley under a leather jacket with dark jeans. There’s dark ink all over his hands that disappears up his sleeves and reappears on his neck in intricate lines. He’s got close-cropped hair and a full beard that’s neatly trimmed. His deep blue eyes drill into you right away and you do your best not to shiver.

“Got a new girl tonight, Everett. Still learning the ropes, but she’ll take good care of you, won’t you, Cupcake?” 

“Yes, of course,” you say, before Lloyd wanders off to check on one of the poker games.

The man, Everett, lets his eyes rove over you. “Cupcake, huh?” His voice is deep, gritty, but there's something there that's much gentler than you expected.

You give him what you hope is a coy smile. “Sure. If you want.” Lloyd was treating him like he's important. You hope important means deep pockets.

He hits you with a penetrative stare, so strong you almost have to take a step back. “No,” he finally says. “I don't think so. I'll find something more fitting.” Then he turns and starts to walk away, before calling over his shoulder. “I'm gonna get dealt in. Bring me a whiskey once I'm settled.”

You watch him go for just a moment, and then head to the bar, asking for a whiskey. 

“This for Everett?” the bartender, Colin, asks. When you nod, he grabs a fancy bottle off the top shelf. “This is all he drinks. And he doesn't pay for it, alright? Don't ever think about giving him a bill.” 

You look back at the man in question, seriously looking at the cards he’s just been dealt. Who is he???

You collect his whiskey and move back to him. As you set it down, he turns to you. “How about this?” he asks as he holds up a crisply folded hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Your eyes widen at the money. All you’ve done is bring him one straight pour. “There’s another one of these in it for you if you make sure I never see the bottom of this glass tonight. Sound good?” And then he folds the bill one more time in his thick fingers, before sliding it under the low-cut neckline of your blouse. Your skin tingles where he brushes against it.

“Yeah, you got it,” you just breathe out, a little shocked you’re able to form words. He gives you a smug smile that you can only describe as shark-like before turning back to his cards, and you understand it as the dismissal that it is. 

You move around the room, collecting empties, getting refills, trying to goodnaturedly accept unsolicited touches. The whole time you feel eyes on you, but whenever you glance Everett’s way, he’s focused on his poker game.

Eventually, a down moment finds you catching your breath against the wall. The moment Holly sees you standing still, she’s quickly making her way to you. “You need to be more careful around Curtis,” she hisses, lowly.

You look at her, confused. “Curtis?” Jake’s at the door. Colin’s behind the bar. You don’t know a Curtis.

“Curtis Everett!” You glance at the man at the poker table. He’s running a poker chip across his knuckles mindlessly. Then he looks up and you briefly make eye contact before you quickly look away. Holly is staring at you and she looks worried. But the name still doesn’t mean anything to you, so you shake your head and shrug. She groans as quietly as she can. “He’s Barber’s top enforcer!”

This whole conversation feels so out of the blue that it takes you a minute to catch up. Barber. Andrew Barber. The most feared mob boss in the city. Probably the state. Maybe even more. Ruthless and exacting was how the papers described him. He’d been the subject of multiple stings and taskforces and whathaveyou but nothing ever stuck. “He works for Andrew Barber?” you ask, shocked and a little appalled.

Holly stares at you in a way that you can only describe as dumbfounded. It takes her a few moments to find her words, then, “Bitch, you work for Andrew Barber!”

Everything stops. “What?” you gasp.

“Oh my god,” Holly groans. “This was such a mistake. It’s an underground card game in his city! Who did you think was running things?”

“I– I don’t know,” you stutter, stupidly. The god’s honest truth is that you’d never really stopped to think about it. You’d been staring down an eviction, struggling to afford groceries. Unable to make ends meet no matter what you did. When Holly told you about this job, all you saw were dollar signs. You didn't think about anything further. Of course, you’d known these games were illegal, but it seemed so minor in the grand scheme of things. You hadn’t connected it to anything bigger because you just hadn’t wanted to.

But now– Now that you know the truth, what are you going to do? You know what you should do. You should walk out the door right now. You should find some other legitimate way to pay your bills. It’ll be safer. It’ll be better. It’ll be so much harder.

As you bite your lip, trying to process all of this information, Holly continues. “Listen,” she says, “still get him drinks, be friendly, whatever you need to do. But keep your distance however you can. Don't encourage him. He's just– He's really dangerous. They don't call him Barber’s attack dog for nothing, ok?”

“Yeah,” you say. You start to look back in Curtis’s direction but stop yourself. You think about the hundred you already have and the one promised to you at the end of the night. You think of how empty your pantry is. But then you see the genuine fear in Holly's eyes. You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I got it. Thanks.”

“He doesn't even come in here that often. I'm surprised to see him tonight, so I'm sure it’ll be fine,” she says, but you can tell she’s nervous.

You nod, absently, finally letting yourself glance over at him. His drink is getting close to the bottom. “Shit,” you mumble. “I gotta get him his refill.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Holly asks. 

You should let her do it. You absolutely should. But you just can’t give up on that tip. You shake your head. “No, I’ll be fine. But thanks.”

You head back to the bar and grab Curtis’s top-shelf whiskey of choice from Colin, then make your way to his table. You set it down next to him, hoping to move away without him even noticing, he’s so engrossed in the game. But as you take a step back, his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. He holds it tightly until you meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you can’t help the sharp intake of breath or the way you feel his words in your knees. He strokes his thumb down the inside of your wrist, then abruptly lets go, pushing his chips to the middle of the table. You step away, gathering yourself as subtly as you can, and get back to work.

The rest of the night goes quickly. The crowd gets a little rowdier as they drink more, but you find that it’s nothing you can’t handle. The reality of who these people are, what they’re connected to, never leaves your mind. But really, they’re not so bad. None of this feels so bad at all. And soon, people start heading out. You’re beginning to clean up, when a recognizable voice rings out, “Bambi!” You turn and lock eyes with Curtis. He crooks two fingers at you and you quickly make your way over to him.

“Bambi?” you ask.

He grins at you and it feels more than a little predatory. You’ll never admit how much you like it. You try to keep Holly’s warning at the forefront of your mind. “Wide eyes and just getting your legs under you,” he says. You instinctively duck your head at that, which earns a dark chuckle. “Here,” he continues, as he pulls a genuine, fat money clip out of his back pocket. You’ve never seen something like it in real life before. He peels off two bills and holds them out to you. “This is what good girls get,” he says, a low rumble in his voice.

You swallow as you take them from him. Two hundred dollars. Twice what you were expecting. “Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He shakes his head. “You earned it.” Then, after one last long look at you, he turns around and leaves.

You stand and stare after him. You don’t doubt anything Holly said, but three hundred dollars, just for bringing him drinks. He doesn’t seem that bad, not really. A little intense maybe, but there’s some sort of interest there, and it can’t be that bad to encourage it, just a little if it earns you these sorts of tips, can it??

Any hesitance you have about this entire endeavor completely disappears as you count your money at the end of the night.

Your first week flies by. You're starting to get the hang of the job. You get along with your coworkers. You get to know the regulars. You like it. Even Lloyd isn’t so bad as long as you give him his cut at the end of every night.

And you’re making so much money.

In your downtime, you pay your landlord what you owe him. You go grocery shopping without scouring for coupons first or calculating exactly what you can afford beforehand. You make a Pinterest board of what you want your apartment to look like now that you might actually be able to buy things to fill it. For the very first time, you’re thinking about things you actually want, not just desperately trying to figure out how you’ll pay your bills. You’ve never felt this calm, this relaxed, this free before. It’s an incredible feeling.

And Curtis. Despite Holly’s reassurances that you wouldn’t see him much, he seems to be there whenever you are, trying to capitalize on his winning streak at the poker tables, you assume. His tips are still insanely generous. You don’t think he carries anything less than hundred dollar bills. 

And there’s just something about him. The way he looks at you. The way he touches you. It’s not like the other men here. His touch is like fire, warming from the inside. There’ve been times when his hand on your hip has almost made your knees buckle. That doesn’t happen with anyone else here.

But you’re being smart and you’re being safe. You are. You’re going to set a savings goal, you think. And once you hit that number, you’ll be out of here, onto something more legitimate. And until then, you’ll just keep your head down and mouth shut, like Holly said. You haven’t even really seen anything. It’s a good plan. It’ll be fine.

She’s right that the weekends are wilder. Even with three additional girls working the room, you’re kept running. You do your best to keep an eye on Curtis’s drinks, but it’s much harder than on weeknights. And you aren’t really able to pause when you drop them off. It’s one of these times, as you’re pulling away from the table as soon as you’ve set his glass down, that you’re stopped short by his hand on you. He pulls you back in by the wrist and says, “They’re just running you ragged tonight, huh, Bambi?”

You smile and shrug. “It’s busy.”

He holds out a bill and you try not to smile even wider as he slips it into the waistband of your skirt. “For all your hard work.”

You bat your lashes a little. “You spoil me.”

“I like spoiling you,” he says, lowly. 

“You’re too sweet,” you say softly. Then, pulling your arm away with a wink, you add, “Gotta run,” and you’re onto the next table.

You’re getting good at this, figuring out what level of harmless flirting is just enough to keep the money flowing. And you’re having fun. You’d never expected that.

Holly and two of the other girls, Jane and Kristi, are congregated at the end of the bar, waiting for drinks, when you join them. They’re all watching you warily. “So, uh,” Jane starts quietly, “you seem to be getting pretty cozy with Curtis.” 

Before you can respond, Holly scoffs behind her. “I’ve tried to warn her but she won’t fucking listen.”

You roll your eyes. You’re tired of hearing this. “I seriously don’t get what the big deal is. He’s nice and he tips well. It’s harmless!”

Kristi just gapes at you. “He’s nice?!”

Holly slams the drinks she was waiting for onto her tray. “Whatever,” she grumbles. “It’s her fucking funeral.”

You shake your head as you watch her go. It’s fine. You can take care of yourself.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. You don’t get much of a chance to talk to Curtis, but you feel his eyes on you before he disappears a little before closing.

At the end of the night, once you’ve helped clean up, you cash out with Colin and Jake and then go to find Lloyd in his office. You think it’s kind of ridiculous that you’re basically paying him to work there, but it is what it is. And Holly was right, you’re making so much that you barely even notice. 

Lloyd is sitting at his desk, looking a little more disheveled than you’re used to. He startles at your approach, which is also new. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, with slightly rounded eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You look at him, a little confused. “Just here with your cut,” you say as you hold out his money.

His hands immediately fly up to his chest, palms out. “No, no,” he says. “You made that fair and square. You just– you keep what you make from now on, Cupcake. Sound good?”

You swallow and nod, preparing yourself for whatever other price you’ll have to pay for keeping your job, mentally calculating what you’re willing to do. But Lloyd doesn’t do anything, doesn’t make any move to get closer to you. Just stays there at his desk, turning back to his work. “You have a good night,” he says, clearly dismissing you. 

You leave confused, but richer, telling yourself not to question it too hard.

Things go so smoothly for a few weeks that you’re a little shocked when the bubble bursts. 

It’s a relatively quiet weeknight. There are a few games going, but nothing compared to the weekend. The pace of the night feels leisurely. It’s nice.

It’s maybe the first night you haven’t seen Curtis there. It feels weird. He’s become such a part of this place for you. A fixture, like the bar or the carpet. Just one of the elements that make it what it is. But it’s fine. Of course, he doesn’t come every night. He probably has a whole life outside of this. He must’ve gotten bored of playing cards. Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

You’re passing the time talking to one of the regulars at the bar, Vinny. He’s in his fifties, you think, with gray hair and laugh lines. He’d gone bust at the poker table (or maybe it was craps tonight) earlier and then had moved to the bar to drink away his sorrows and bad luck. That was how his nights tended to go.

He’s sitting on a barstool, his arm around your waist where you stand next to him. He’s a little close for comfort, but he’s always just been a friendly guy, so you’re alright. Which is why you’re so surprised when, in the middle of a story about the good old days of the Copa Cabana, his other hand suddenly finds its way between your thighs. You freeze. For just a second. Then you force out a laugh and try to push his hand away. “Bad boy,” you try to tease, your voice shaking. His hand will not move. What is happening? “Come on, let’s keep our hands to ourselves.”

Instead of doing what you’ve asked, his thumb briefly brushes the inside of your leg and then his whole hand begins moving higher. You stop breathing. You push again but he won’t budge.

“You’re such a pretty doll, aren’tcha?” he says. 

Tears start to gather in your eyes. You look around wildly to see if anyone’s noticing what’s happening. Colin’s busy making drinks. Jake and Lloyd are talking by the door. Everyone else is engrossed in their own business. “Vinnie, stop, please,” you whisper. You don’t know why you can’t get your voice to work, can’t get your body to move.

“Come on,” he cajoles, “I’m being nice, aren’t I?” 

Then his thumb brushes against your panties and your entire body jolts into action. You wrench your leg out of his grasp and take several steps away from him. Your whole body is shaking now. “I gotta–” you start, trying to keep your tone casual and failing miserably. “I gotta get back to work, Vinny.” Then you grab your tray off the bartop and walk away as fast as you can.

You don’t really have a destination in mind. You pick up a few empties as you wander between tables. You can feel his eyes on you, following you. You try to take a deep breath, calm yourself down. It isn’t very helpful. You look up to see Jake by himself now. You make your way over to him, Holly’s words on your first night in your ears. That was out of hand, wasn’t it?

He looks up as you approach. His big golden retriever smile on his face. “Hey, what’s up?” Then he actually takes you in and his smile drops. “What happened?”

“Um, Vinny, he, uh–” You feel a few tears fall down your cheeks and you just shake your head.

Jake’s face darkens. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No, uh, he– he just–” You shake your head again. “No, he didn’t hurt me.”

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you. There’s something about the way he does it that makes you think he understands everything you just can’t say. He nods once. “Alright. I’ll take care of it. You go take your time in the back. Do what you need to do. He’ll be gone by the time you’re done.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, thank you,” you say so quietly. Then you get yourself to the back room as quickly as you can.

It’s really more of a hallway than a room, small and narrow. All of the storage space for the building is in the legitimate bar upstairs. But there’s enough room for you to crouch down, your knees pulled up tight to your chin. You bury your face in your thighs and let the tears you’ve been holding in finally fall. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re fine. 

You don’t know how long you’ve spent trying to calm yourself down when a large shadow suddenly looms over you. It takes you a moment to gather your strength to find out who it is. You hope it’s Jake telling you Vinny’s gone. You’re afraid it might be Lloyd, here to tell you to get back to work. There’s a slowly building terror that it might be Vinny himself.

After a deep breath, you look up to find Curtis staring down at you, concern on his face and fiery anger in his eyes. “What happened?” he growls.

You shake your head and turn away. He crouches down in front of you. “Are you alright?”

A humorless, uncontrolled laugh escapes you. Once you finally stop, you ignore his question and ask your own, “Why are you here?”

It takes him a very long time to answer. He just looks at you seriously for several moments. Then, finally, “Jake called me.” While you try to figure out why on earth Jake would do that, he continues, “I'm sorry I wasn’t already here.”

“Why?” you blurt out without thinking. 

He looks away without saying anything. You both just sit in the silence for a few moments. Then, you try to change tactics. “Where were you?” you ask out of morbid curiosity. You can't imagine what his life is like outside of here.

“Working,” he says curtly. He plays with a ring on his middle finger and the movement draws your eyes to his hands, specifically his knuckles. They're scraped and caked with dried blood. 

You swallow and you catch how his eyes track the movement. His eyes are always on you. He catches everything. 

“Someone touched you?”

“Lots of people touch me,” you say, flatly. “It's part of the job. You touch me.”

His eyes narrow at that. “But this was different.” It isn’t a question.

You look down at your hands in your lap and don't say anything. 

“Tell me who it was.”

“No,” you say instinctively, something about the moment feeling incredibly dangerous. 

He huffs in frustration. “Are you trying to protect him?”

“No!” you say, sharply. “I’m protecting myself.”

“You don’t have to do that. Not from me. Not ever.”

You don’t know how to tell him that every atom in you knows that that isn’t true. You can’t explain it, and it wasn’t until the moment he joined you in this little closet, but you’d swear that he’s a danger to you. You just can't articulate how, but you feel it in your bones. And still, here you stay.

At your silence, he grits out, “If you don’t tell me who it was, Jake will.”

Jake probably already has, that’s what you’ve figured. “Great,” you say. “Then you don’t need me to say it.”

“Bambi,” he lets out in an exasperated growl. “I'm trying to help you.” 

You just look at him and then figure you may as well ask the main question that's on your mind. “Why did Jake call you?” 

He ignores you and stands up. “Come on,” he says and extends his hand, “I'm taking you home.”

You just blink up at him. “My shift isn't over.” 

He shakes his hand at you impatiently. “It is now. Come on.”

You shake your head. “Curtis, this is my job. I can't just– Lloyd will–”

“I'll take care of Lloyd. Let’s go.”

You think about going home. About sitting alone in your small apartment. At least here you'll have something to do, things to focus on, to keep you busy. At home, there'll be nothing to think about other than that hand between your legs and– “No,” you say as firmly as you can manage. “I'm staying here. I'm finishing the night.”

His jaw ticks but he doesn’t say anything, just tries to stare you down. You stare right back. You will not concede this. 

Finally, he exhales through his nostrils, then growls out an unhappy “Fine. But I'll–” He's interrupted by his phone ringing in his pocket. He takes it out and glances at the caller ID and sighs. “I have to take this.” He steps away as much as he can in the tiny area and answers with a curt “Everett.” There's a slight pause. “Yeah, I took care of it.” Another pause that has him glancing at you. “No, something else came up.”

You don't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. You take the opportunity to go back to the main room and get back to work. 

You don't see Curtis again that night. You don't spare much thought to where he might've gone. You're too focused on getting through the remainder of your shift. When it's done, Jake insists on seeing you home. You don't ask why. You already know who's behind it.

The next few days are fine. You try to put what happened behind you, doing your best to ignore it. But that becomes impossible when three days after the incident you watch Vinny walk in. You can’t help the little burst of panic you feel as you warily watch him sit down at his usual table and get dealt in. 

As subtly as you can, you make your way over to Jake. You don’t even say anything before he’s looking at you, chagrined. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I had to let him in. I promise it’s all going to be taken care of. It’s just– You can ignore him tonight, ok? Just trust me. You don’t need to worry about him. I promise.”

“Ok,” you say reluctantly, trying to resist looking back at Vinny. “I just– I didn’t think I’d have to see him again.”

“I really think that after tonight you won’t,” he says sincerely.

You don’t really understand what that means, but you nod anyway. “Ok,” you say. “I, uh, I should get back to work then.” 

He just nods after you, looking a little concerned and a little sad. But the room is filling up, so you don’t have time to delve into it.

Sometime later, as you’re taking a brief moment to idle by the bar, a strange hush descends over the room. You’re facing away from the door, away from the rest of the room, but you see Colin take in whatever it is that’s caused this. His face pales and he lets out a quiet, urgent, “Shit.” 

You turn around to see what on earth could be going on and you immediately freeze. Curtis is here. But that’s not what’s garnering all of this attention. Well, not all. Because he’s not alone, there’s a man with him. A little shorter, not quite as broad. But you’d be able to feel the power radiating off of him, even if you didn’t recognize him. Soft dark hair, thick beard, an immaculately tailored suit. You’ve seen him in the papers, on the news, but in real life, he’s even more intimidating. Andrew Barber.

Barber leans in close to say something to Curtis, who nods, eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Your breath catches, but luckily Colin calls your name behind you and you have an excuse to turn around. He places two glasses of dark liquor on the bar. “Everett,” he says, gesturing to one, then “Barber,” while waving his hand over the other. “Got it?” You nod and place them on your tray. They’re identical to your eyes except for the fact that Barber's has a muddled black cherry at the bottom of the glass.

You carefully bring them over, trying to force yourself to breathe. Curtis intercepts you and grabs the drinks when you're a few steps away. “Thank you, Bambi,” he says, lowly. 

Barber perks up. “This is Bambi? Really?” He extends a hand and you have no choice but to take it. “Andy Barber,” he says with a disarming smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you finally.”

His handshake is firm, demanding. He is terrifying in his friendliness. And he knows who you are. Has known, for who knows how long. You glance at Curtis, but he's just calmly drinking his whiskey. You don't know what to say, what are you supposed to say?? So after too long a pause, you practically whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Barber.”

He chuckles lightly as he takes back his hand. To Curtis, he says, “You're right, Bambi does suit her.” Then he turns back to you and adds, “Andy, please.”

“O– Okay, Andy,” you say, with what you desperately hope is a benign smile. You look over at Curtis, you’re not entirely sure why, but out of these two dangerous options, he, at least, is familiar. “I should get back to work.”

Curtis is staring at you, but it’s Andy who answers. “Mmm, and we have a game to join, don’t we?” Curtis nods but still doesn’t break his gaze. Andy smirks, “No rest for the wicked.”

You have no idea what to do with that sentiment, so you take the opportunity and get out of there. You walk through the tables, checking to see if anyone needs anything, but the mob boss’s physical presence seems to have ground all action to a halt. The room is collectively holding its breath. 

You go back to the bar for want of anything else to do. Colin is standing ramrod straight, coiled in case he needs to spring into action. Lloyd is sitting down at the end of the bar, drumming his fingers, eyes moving all around the room. You settle next to Holly, who looks just as scared as she did that first night when she was trying to warn you off of Curtis. “Is this,” you start to ask, your voice shaking. “Is this normal? Does he come here a lot?”

“No, never” she shakes her head. “Why would he come here? He has real clubs and restaurants. He doesn’t need to hang out in a shit hole like this.” She shakes her head again. “He’d only come here for a reason.”

You turn your head back to the room and find that Andy and Curtis have settled at Vinny’s table, joining his game across from him. Your heart lands in your throat. That can’t– No. You’re just some cocktail waitress. Even with Curtis’s obvious interest in you, you aren’t important enough to bring the most powerful man in the city here. You’re nothing. He must have other reasons.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop as everyone waits for something to happen, which is why when Andy does start speaking, you don’t have to strain your ears to pick up every word.

He looks at his cards carefully, then over at Vinny. “You know, Vinny, you’re a hard man to track down.” His voice is so calm, it sends a chill up your spine. “You don’t go home, we can’t find you at work. I was starting to get worried.” He runs a few chips through his fingers before tossing them into the center of the felt. “That’s why, when I heard you were showing up here, I sent my best man to investigate,” he nods towards Curtis, “just to make sure you were ok.” 

You don’t have a great view of Vinny from where you’re standing, but you can see how stiff he is, how silent. But he still calls when it’s his turn.

“You can imagine my relief when I found out you were alright. Except,” he raises again, a few more chips into the pot, “you’re losing a lot of money, aren’t you? Now, this upsets me. Not because you’re losing your own money. But because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

Vinny finally tries to pipe up. “Andy, hold on. I can ex–”

“You owe me $150,000, Vinny. With interest, that total’s climbing every day. And yet, you sit here and you just keep losing, don’t you? At my own game. What would you do if you won, huh? Would you really try paying me back with my own money? I thought maybe you’d at least have the smarts to cross the border and try this at one of Roger’s casinos. Huh? Paying me back with my enemy’s money, at least that I could respect. But no, it’s only me you think is stupid enough to fall for your bullshit. So now I’m here to give you the chance to fucking do it to my face.” With that, he violently pushes all of his chips into the center of the table. 

Everyone else has folded. It’s just Barber and Vinny now. You’re not sure Curtis even actually played. He’s just staring Vinny down, although occasionally his eyes will flick up and meet yours. You hate feeling like you’re a part of this, but you don’t know what else to do besides watch it play out.

Vinny is just spluttering, while Andy calmly looks on. It’s all the expected, cliche stuff you’ve seen in gangster movies. He’s got the money, he swears. He just needs a little more time. Andy has to know he’s good for it! You want to roll your eyes right along with Andy.

“Call, Vinny,” Andy cuts him off, sternly. “That’s $150,000 I just put in the pot. Call. And if you win, we’re even. Your debt’s erased. But if you lose, well then that’s $300,000 you’ll owe me. And you know I won’t be able to tolerate that. So call. And let’s find out where we stand.”

You can’t see what Vinny’s doing, but you can imagine the way his fingers must be hovering over his chips, his eyes moving down to his cards to check, one more time, if they’re as good or bad as he remembers. You know there’s no way out for him either way. He’ll have to call. He’s just delaying the inevitable.

You feel like you can't breathe as you wait for him to just finally do it, but Andy cuts in again. “The thing I can't understand, Vinny, is why you kept coming here after Curtis showed up. Either you're very stupid or really fucking greedy.” He looks at Vinny carefully. “Maybe a little of both. I hear you've been touching something that doesn't belong to you.”

You gasp. No one notices, but you do. He can't be talking about you. He can't. He can't. 

Vinny seems even more confused than you. “What are you talking about? I haven't touched anything!”

Andy continues to ignore him. “So you're stupid and greedy. That's why you aren't afraid of him like you should be. They call him my attack dog, did you know? Have you heard that? Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe you think he’s some puppy that follows me around. You’d be stupid to underestimate him, underestimate me. But maybe you only do that because you've never seen my dog off his leash.”

Curtis springs into action, lunging across the table to grab Vinny by the collar, and then slams his head into the felt. Before there’s even time to react, he’s stood and he's picking Vinny back up and hurling him onto the floor. Curtis comes around the table to stalk after him and the look on his face has you gasping for breath. You've never seen Curtis like this. There's a glint in his eye that might be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Who is this man? What is he capable of?

Vinny is dazedly trying to crawl away, but Curtis catches him easily. He grabs Vinny’s collar and hauls him back up, delivering two punches to his face in quick succession. The sound it makes. There's no other sound in the whole room. No one's saying anything, no one's doing anything. Everyone's just watching, hypnotized. You turn away, your stomach churning. Your eyes catch on Andy, sitting back in his chair, placidly drinking the whiskey you brought him, completely relaxed, like he's watching anything else. You can't look at him either. 

The room is completely silent except for the crunching of bones, Vinny’s whimpers, and Curtis’s grunts. You look up again to be startled by eye contact with Curtis. His eyes are wild, unhinged. Feral. But there's something else in it, like all of this is for you. That all of you are there, everything is happening, because Vinny dared to touch you. It takes your breath away. It’s mesmerizing.

Andy finally stands and strides over to where Curtis is holding Vinny up in the middle of the room. He looks down at Vinny, then spits in his face. “I'm tired of trying to draw blood from a stone,” he says. Then he turns to Curtis and finishes, “Get rid of him.”

Curtis gives you one last long look, his face unreadable. You feel it in your knees. Then he drags Vinny out, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

The moment they're gone, it's like the entire room can breathe again. “Lloyd,” Andy calls out. “How ‘bout a round for everyone? On me.”

Lloyd nods to Colin who hurriedly starts pouring drinks. And you, so grateful for something to do, instead of just standing there, shaking, start loading the glasses on your tray.

As you begin to pass them out, Andy of all people, pulls you aside. “Bambi,” he says quietly, “I hope you know now, we take care of our own.”

You gaze at him, shocked. It feels like a comfort and a threat. But why? It's not so much the implication that this all had something to do with you, but you can't for the life of you imagine what you've done to get yourself to a place where Andy Barber might consider you his, however distantly. It can't just be that you work here. You can't picture him doing something similar for Holly or Colin. Once again, this all feels so incredibly dangerous. 

While you're struggling to come up with anything to say to that, he grabs a drink off your tray and downs it quickly. Then, with a wink, he turns and leaves. You’re left staring after him until someone calls after you and you're scrambling to pass out drinks again. 

The night ends quickly. No one seems eager to stay and drink and play after everything that's happened. Not when there's still blood on the floor.

You do what you can to help clean up, but when you stare at the stain helplessly, Lloyd tells you not to worry about it. He's got a guy.

Colin walks out with you so you aren’t in the parking lot alone. You're grateful. You're still so shaken. As you approach your car, your beater that you still don’t quite have the money to replace, you see someone leaning against it. You stop short, looking to Colin for help, but he just keeps walking to his own car, his head down. That’s when you know it’s Curtis. 

You take a deep breath and then force yourself to keep walking towards him. You can't begin to parse how you feel to see him now. Your keys are ready in your hand like you might just get in and drive off without speaking to him. You know you won’t.

When you reach him, his voice is rough as he asks, “Are you ok?” He’s cleaned up. There’s no more blood on his hands, his clothes have been straightened.

You open your mouth to answer, even though you have no idea, so instead what comes out is “Did you kill him?”

“Did you want me to?” is his immediate reply.

It stops you in your tracks as all sorts of feelings come bubbling up, ones you can not, will not examine. This is about his propensity for violence, how terrifying he became, not– No. “Did you?” you insist. 

He looks at you carefully then shakes his head. “I don't think you actually want me to answer that.”

“But you've killed before?” You can't stop yourself from pressing, from pushing. You don’t know why. 

He just sort of smiles, gently almost, in a way that is deeply unsettling. “You need to stop asking questions you aren’t ready for me to answer, Bambi.” And it’s the way he says the nickname, like you really are that babe in the woods, just born with no knowledge of the world around you, that has your hackles rising.

“Andy called you his dog,” you say, like he should be offended.

To your surprise, he laughs, his head thrown back. Then he takes a step closer to you, and you take the opportunity to sneak in behind him, get to your car. You realize your mistake immediately when he turns back around and cages you in, your back pressed against the driver’s side door. “Everyone calls me his dog. Because he’s the civilized man in the designer suit, and I’m the animal just begging for a reason to slip my leash.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. You should get into your car. You should drive away as fast as you can. You should never come back. But you don’t. “You did it for him,” you say, mustering all the strength into your voice that you can. “You didn’t do it for me.”

He leans over you, the space between you shrinking rapidly. “Yeah, he asked me to do it,” he nods. “But if he hadn’t, I still would have done it. For you.”

 You try to shake your head, to tell him that that can’t be true, even as a wild, loud part of you starts to rise up and claw out of your chest. You try to tamp it down, deny it, but before you can, Curtis is leaning in further, his whole body pressing against you, and then he covers your lips with his.  

There’s a heat that comes up out of him that fills you, the instant his skin touches yours. His hands are on you, your neck, your hip. You can’t keep track, can only say that his hands are there, everywhere, that his body touches all of yours, that his lips and his tongue are demanding, unrelenting. You are burning up from the inside.

Too soon, but ages later, he pulls away. His eyes are on fire as he looks at you. Then he tears his gaze away, and hits the roof of your decrepit car twice, looking at it disdainfully. “You get home safe,” he says, then steps back to allow you the space you need to get into your car.

You do what he wants you to do. You get in your car, sit in the driver’s seat, and then stare blankly out the windshield. You’ve never felt so out of control in your life. How did this happen? You were flirting for tips, that was all! You encouraged it for money, that was it, and now– You press your thighs together, trying not to pant. You will not be unmoored. 

A slight movement in your periphery makes you notice that Curtis is still standing just to the side of your car, watching you. You turn your keys in the ignition and shift into drive.

It doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything it doesn’t mean anything, you chant to yourself all the way home.

It’s your next shift back, and everything seems to have changed. You don’t understand it. You keep doing laps of the room, keep sidling up to regulars you were so friendly with just a few nights ago, but now, they won’t even look at you, let alone touch you. No one’s ordering anything.

Or at least, they aren’t ordering from you.

Holly has been running around nonstop all night, basically having to take care of the entire room by herself. You watch man after man after man slip her little bundles of money. 

You want to scream. What the fuck happened? What did you do? What are you going to do?

You go to stand by the bar to wait for something you can do. Colin gives you a brief nod of acknowledgment but that’s it. He’s been cold, too. No. Not cold, distant. You don’t understand what’s changed.

You take a deep breath. It’s one weird night. Things will be better tomorrow.

Things don’t get better. The next night is the same. You’re starting to panic. This job was supposed to be your lifeline. Without it, without the money you were making, you’re not sure how you’ll survive.

Curtis comes in after a couple of hours of nothing. You could cry you’re so happy to see him. But terrified too. If he gives you the cold shoulder, this job really is over. But you have no idea how he’s going to act, not after what happened last time. You’re not sure how you’re going to act either. You can still feel his lips on yours.

You bring him his whiskey immediately and he greets you with an arm around your waist, pulling you in. “Hey Bambi,” he says quietly. Then he gets a good look at you. “What’s wrong?” 

You look at him carefully, not sure what to confide. You aren’t even sure what the problem is. You shake your head. “Not my best night,” you say with a tired smile. “But I’m fine.”

He stares at you for a moment, then stands up. “Come on,” he says, grabbing your hand and leading you to the little back room. You feel eyes on the two of you the whole way there.

Once he’s closed the door behind you both, he asks again, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh. “The last two nights have been weird here. I don’t– I don’t know. I’m just worried. I don’t know what happened but I’m not making any tips. No one’s treating me like they used to.”

“Mmm,” Curtis hums thoughtfully. “I think,” he says as he takes two steps closer to you, which in this small space is significant, “everyone else here has figured it out.”

It’s suddenly a little hard to breathe with him standing over you like this. His presence, his attention is always so much. “Figured what out?” you ask, confused.

“That I have lost my patience for watching other men touch you.” 

It hits you like a freight train. “What?” It comes out in a whisper.

“I’ve let this go on for too long,” he says, his voice is calm, casual. “I don’t want you working here anymore. This is done.”

“I– What? Curtis. What?! I have to work! I have to pay my bills! I don’t understand. I don’t–”

He takes one last step forward. You feel the heat coming off of him. “Shh,” he soothes, cradling your cheek in his hand. “It’ll be alright. I’ll take care of you. I take care of what’s mine.”

You pull your face away, even as the urge to nuzzle into him is so strong. You feel like you’ve missed something, a thousand things. You feel too many steps behind. “Curtis, I’m not– I’m not yours.”

Something comes into his eyes and you’re reminded of him standing over Vinny, covered in blood. His hand travels down from your cheek. He strokes your throat once, and then his hand closes around it. “Look me in the eye,” he growls, “and say that again.”

His hand is firm, snug, but it doesn’t tighten. But you can imagine so easily how it might. You look him in the eye. You open your mouth, ready to say it again. But then– then you see it. In the way he looks at you, the way he’s always looked at you. You feel it in his grip on you, now. You can’t deny it anymore. 

Curtis shoves you into his bedroom. You’re panting already. You need his hands on you, right now. You don’t have to ask for it. He gets you to the center of the room and yanks down your skirt, tearing it in the process. You step out of it and take your blouse off, throwing it on top of your skirt. Curtis’s eyes are cataloging your body, the swell of your breasts spilling out of your bra, your soft tummy, thick thighs. His gaze, as always, takes your breath away.

You reach out for Curtis’s shirt, but he grabs your hands. “I want you on your knees,” he growls and you immediately kneel for him. He throws off his shirt, revealing the expanse of his chest, the muted blacks and grays of his tattoos. You’re desperate to run your hands over them, trace the art, but instead, they just twitch at your side. He'll tell you what you're allowed to do.

He begins unbuttoning his jeans and your mouth drops open. He chuckles darkly. “Perfect little slut.” He takes his phone out of his back pocket and aims it at you, taking a picture as you gaze up at him under your lashes, your mouth wide open. “I've been dreaming of getting you on your knees for me.” He puts his phone on his dresser, then continues taking off his pants. “You ready to choke on my cock, baby?”

“Please,” you whine. You're practically salivating now. His bare thighs are as thick as tree trunks, the muscles corded. His abs ripple as he moves. His shoulders, his back. You want.

He frees his cock and rolls his black boxer briefs down his legs, stepping out of them. It's long and thick, just like the rest of him. Your breath catches. You don't think you've ever taken something that big before.

He takes a few steps so he's completely in your space, his cock bobbing right in front of your face. He takes it in one hand, the other firmly on the back of your head and slowly feeds the tip into your mouth. You taste his musk on your tongue. As he rocks into your mouth, going a little further each time, your hands come up to grasp his thighs. On his next thrust in, you run your tongue along the underside of his dick. His movements stutter just a little and then he looks down at you, a smirk overtaking his face. It's just a touch mean, in a way that has you soaking your panties. “You ready?” he asks, his voice rough. And then without waiting for the answer, he thrusts in all the way, making you take him deep in your throat.

You flail, slapping his thigh as you try to swallow around him, breathing frantically through your nose. After holding you there for a moment, he sets a brutal but steady pace. It takes you a moment, but you find your rhythm, your panic subsiding. Once you feel steady, you lift one hand from his thighs and bring it up to cradle his balls. “Fuck, Bambi,” he grinds out. “You're gonna– I– fuck!” His hand moves from the back of your head down to the back of your neck, which he grips firmly, pulling you off his cock. As you cough and splutter on the floor, he growls, “The first time you make me come is gonna be inside that perfect cunt.”

He helps you stand on wobbly legs, then shoves his hand between your legs, cupping your pussy over your panties. “Shit, fucking soaked just from deepthroating me?”

You let out a needy little whine, trying to push further into his hand, but he withdraws it, instead settling on your hip. “Well,” he grins, “if they’re ruined anyway…” then uses that hand to rip the black lace down the side, letting them fall to the floor. He makes quick work of your bra as well, then takes a step back and sighs, “Shit, Bambi, look at you.” It’s the reverence in his voice and on his face that has you launching yourself at him, unable to keep from kissing him any longer. He lets you, quickly taking control, letting you feel all his hunger, the want he’s kept barely bottled up since he first laid eyes on you. You understand it all now. His erection brushes against you, and now it’s his turn to whine, just a little. 

He pulls away, brushing a hand down your cheek, then says “Get on the bed, on your stomach.” You quickly comply, laying in the center of the bed with your knees pulled up and spread beneath you. He brings his hand down on one asscheek harshly and you can’t help the lewd moan that escapes you. He chuckles, “Oh, I will definitely remember that for later.” He grabs your hips and cants them up, then whistles at your exposed cunt. “I knew it. Absolutely beautiful.” Then he unceremoniously shoves two fingers into your hole and you choke on nothing. “Shh,” he coos. “You can take it. My cock’s gonna be a lot thicker.” 

As he starts scissoring his fingers inside you, you can’t hold it in any longer and start babbling. Mostly a combination of “please,” and “Curtis,” and “I need,” over and over.

“I know, baby,” he says as he pulls his fingers out of you. “I’ve got what you need right here.” You have a brief moment to feel the tip of his cock on your pussy lips before he’s thrusting it into you, as far as he can go without making it hurt. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, pressing your forehead into the mattress and balling his dark blue sheets in your hands. You feel so full. It’s so good. He’s working himself into you as quickly as he can, desperate now. You both are. Once he bottoms out, fully seated in you, he pauses. Then with one hand on your stomach and the other around your neck, he pulls you up onto your knees, your back flush to his chest. You cry out at the new angle; he’s somehow even deeper now. He starts thrusting up into you at a punishing pace. You’re bouncing up and down in his firm grasp. The hand on your neck turns your head to face him, his lips brushing against yours. He holds eye contact with you as the hand on your stomach snakes down your pelvis so his thick fingers can begin circling your clit. “Fuck! Curtis, please!” you shout. 

“Yeah, come on,” he breathes, “you can let go. You can do it. Come for me like a good girl.” It’s those words that send you careening over the edge, your cunt pulsing around his cock, squeezing him until he’s coming too with a grunt, filling you up until both your cum is leaking out around him. 

He holds you there, on your knees, as you both come down, your twin pants all you can hear.

You wake up slowly, the sun shining on you through the soft drapes. You start to shift then groan at how stiff you are. The night before comes back to you. Curtis took you two more times before you both collapsed in satisfied exhaustion. He’s still out like a light beneath you. 

You take a moment to look at him. It’s odd to see him so peaceful, so still. There’s nothing of the feral predator he projects to the world. It makes you feel oddly close to him, seeing him like this.

You carefully get up without disturbing him and begin collecting your clothes. You put on your bra, but there’s no saving your panties. Same for your skirt; it’s ripped along the seam. So instead you pick up Curtis’s t-shirt from last night and put it on. It smells like him. You breathe it in shamelessly knowing there’s no one to witness it.

You savor the soreness as you move out of the bedroom. It’s like you can still feel him inside you, how much he wanted you, needed you. It makes you feel a little powerful, having that effect on a man like him.

You make your way into his living room. You didn’t really have a chance to look at his house last night, as determined as he was to get you into the bedroom. If you’d ever thought to picture it, this wouldn’t be far off. It’s all rich blues and greens and grays, leather and dark wood. Masculine. It suits him. 

As you’re admiring the room, you hear footsteps behind you and then two big arms are encircling your waist, pulling you into him. “Good morning,” he rasps. 

You turn your head to him. “Good morning,” you say with a smile.

“Fuck, Bambi, you’re even hotter in my shirt than you were last night.”

You smirk at him even as your face heats. “Mmm,” you hum. “It’s comfy. You might not get it back.” He nuzzles into your neck as you continue. “I was hoping you might have something I could wear for bottoms, too. You destroyed my skirt.”

His beard roughly drags against your skin as he asks, “Why the hell would I let you wear bottoms?”

You laugh. “Because I have to leave the house, Curtis.”

“No, you don’t,” he says as his hand begins to move between your thighs.

You playfully swat him away, even as you feel yourself getting wet again from his attention. “I have to go home.”

“Why? You’re staying here.” It’s how certain he sounds that has you turning around in his arms.

“What?”

“I don’t like your building. It isn’t safe enough. Now that I finally have you, of course, I’m going to keep you here with me.”

Once again, you feel too many steps behind. You just blink at him, confused. How does he even know where you live??

He takes your chin in his hand, his fingers gentle. “I told you, Bambi, I take care of what’s mine.”

Tag list

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @roxyfan14-blog @darkserenity24 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @ronearoundblindly @brandycranby @midnightramyeoncravings

[bigtreefest]

Whatever You Need

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: You want nothing more than couch cuddles with Ari after a long day

Word count: 1,628

Content/warnings: non-sexual nudity, sad vibes but it gets better, comfort, fluff, Ari being so sweet and understanding, soft glances, minimal dialogue

A/N: Literally after two days at my big girl job, I feel dead. This is what I wish I had. Dedicated to all my besties out there who relate.

Comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

You walked through the door Friday evening after what felt like the longest day ever. It wasn’t even a particularly hard day, but you just felt like it was dragging on and on and on, unending, which led to suffering.

You threw your keys unceremoniously on top of your bag, which you had let slip off your shoulder and drop onto the floor, too tired to move with grace. Your shoes had been toed off and kicked any which way, askew in the hall and nowhere near their usual spot.

Without even looking at Ari, you went straight for the bathroom to freshen up and wash your face, clearing the film of the long day away. The small reprieve was hardly a match for the way your feet were swollen from the long time on them, or how your hamstrings ached from the periods of sitting on a chair that seemed to be designed by satan himself in between.

Nothing all day had been comfortable, and at this point, that was all you wanted: comfort. Moving from the bathroom into the bedroom, you stripped each piece of clothing off, leaving them strewn in a path to the dresser where you tried to find something to wear that wouldn’t make you want to try to wiggle and writhe your way out of existence. Something actually comfortable, and soft, and not scratchy, and not tight. As you searched through the drawers, it felt like every single article of clothing you owned was ready to start a fight right now.

At this point, the potential of feeling fresh and clean began to seem elusive, so you dragged your feet over to the hamper, plucking out the oversized sleep shirt from the night before that was still laying on top. You were pleasantly surprised when you gave it a sniff to find it still decent, smelling like your sheets, with a small remnant of Ari from the way you clung to him in bed.

You slipped it over your head, a small glimmer of contentment seeping into you body, along with a fresh pair of undies and socks.

Ari hardly heard you shuffle into the house over the sizzling of the skillet in front of him. Usually, he’d be inclined to treat you to going out on a Friday night, but from your uncharacteristically short texts when leaving work, he knew leaving the house once you got home wasn’t in the cards. He didn’t mind making dinner at all, then, so it would be just about ready as you got home. All he wanted to do was care for you, cater to you on days like this.

As you walked through the door, he turned away from the stove, watching you walk in and drop your things, not even sparing him a glance as you made your way down the hall. He only turned back around to quickly switch off the burner as he waited for you, hips perched against the island and arms crossed, hoping you’d emerge soon. He knew sometimes you just needed time and space, so he would give you for now.

When he heard the soft padding of your socked feet move from bedroom and into the living room, his eyes continued to follow you. He watched you flop down onto the couch, still completely disregarding him. Seeing your legs fly up as your face smashed against the cushions was what he took as his signal to finally approach, very carefully.

Ari walked around the side of the couch, crouching down next to your sprawled form, your one arm and leg hanging off the side, while your face was nuzzled in the crack between cushions. He figured you could hear his steps towards you, but just in case, he took a deep breath and gently placed a large hand on your back as to make you aware of his presence in a non-startling manner. He began rubbing slow, warm circles against your back, over your shirt until you finally tore your head from its hideout and faced him, immediately dropping it back down.

You could see the soft smile on his face that you assumed was an attempt to conceal the worry underneath. His eyes lit up just slightly when they met your one that wasn’t smushed against the plush material.

“Hey, sugar. You okay?”

You lips had been shut from your silence since you’d left work, making you reluctant to unsettle the concealment, so you simply nodded, even though it was far from accurately conveying your true feelings. You watched as Ari’s brow furrowed, belief in your reaction almost nonexistent, but he didn’t verbally say anything, although his face said it all. The corner of his mouth turned up in a tight-lipped quirk, halfway to a grimace of concern. You watched as his deep blue eyes searched your face in contemplation of what to do next. He hated seeing you like this, and the solution to it depended on the day.

“You want dinner? Would that make you feel better? You need to eat?”

This time you actually shook your head, before lifting it once more and turning back to smush your nose flat against your face into the couch. You words came out from the corners of your mouth, slightly muffled but not enough that he couldn’t decipher them.

“No offense, because I’m sure it’s delicious, but I absolutely cannot stand the smell of the kitchen right now. Food is the last thing I want.”

He nodded, his thumb still slightly rubbing your shoulder, hoping the physical touch was doing something to soothe you. What was the next move of things you’d want when you got like this?

“Okay. I can pack it up. We don’t have to eat that. And especially not right now. You want a bath? I can get it started.”

Another shake of the head.

“No. Don’t wanna be wet. Don’t wanna move.”

Ari hummed in thought. You still hadn’t complained about his hand that was now rubbing up and down the expanse of your back.

“Okay, give me a second.”

You simply grunted in recognition, unmoving from your spot as he went to clean up the kitchen and return. You hadn’t even shifted, as he heard no movements besides his own in the quiet house. Ari returned to your side, but didn’t crouch this time.

“Alright, sugar. Turn over.”

He could see you slightly tilt your head towards him, your only visible eye squinting skeptically with a tilted brow, but you complied. Ari moved smoothly, but slowly along with you, lifting your arms up and over his shoulders, and tucking his own hands under the small of your back, trapping his arms against the couch. He moved his hips in between your legs and snuggled in on top of you, placing his ear against your sternum. His head bounced slightly with your scoff of amusement. Good, that meant this was working.

Your arms moved from his shoulders, one going up and the other sliding down until you were petting over his silky hair and scratching his back. It was more of a self-soothing practice than for his enjoyment, although he’d never complain about the feeling of your fingertips roaming over him.

You could feel the rumble of Ari’s chest against your lower stomach as he spoke up again.

“Is this better?”

You just nodded, even though you knew he couldn’t see the reaction, but hopefully he could feel the slight movement that came with it.

Your roaming hands began pulling up his shirt, dipping underneath and caressing the the broad, muscular expanse, needing to feel his skin against yours more than you realized. He didn’t judge you though, instantly raising himself so you could pull the fabric the rest of the way off over his head. Sitting on his knees between your thighs, he looked at you again, eyes filled with softness.

“You want me to make you feel good?”

Your response was almost totally wordless again as you shook your head, before you sat up just enough so he could have room to help you remove your shirt, too, your body heavy with reluctance to peel away from the cushions. After he shimmied the soft material over your head, you put your arms under his, pulling him up your body and closer to you. You broke your silence once again, your voice hardly projecting from your throat in a rasp.

“No. Not like how you’re thinking.”

You pulled him down more to settle against you again. This time, his head was tucked into your neck, beard scratching slightly in contrast to the way the soft, bare skin of your torsos was pressed together.

Your hands slid down his back, until they met two plump butt cheeks you were delighted to squeeze. You held them for a second before contentedly drumming in a rhythm only you knew. Ari huffed a laugh, the breeze moving against your hair.

“I don’t think anything could make me feel better than this, right here.”

Your hands traced upward again, one between his shoulder blades, the other scratching his scalp, rewarding you with deep rumbles and soft groans in your ear. It’s not like Ari had anything else planned for tonight, but even if he did, he’d be more than happy to cuddle on top of you with his head tucked in your neck if that’s what you needed.

As he continued to make the delicious moans of satisfaction, a smile finally started creeping onto your face. Feeling him relax in your hold caused you to do the same.

As your eyes finally started fluttering shut from the comfort, no longer blankly staring at the ceiling, you sighed in relief, almost. “Yeah, that’s the stuff.”

Bonus A/N: Am I ready to start my first full week of my job? No. Will posting this make me feel better? If you comment, then yeah, probs.

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[gaylittlerichie]

crosseyed & painless

6/6 chapters, 58k words

If he were the kind of person who analyzed these things, Richie would clock that he’s getting kind of depressed. Like, actually depressed. But even then there wouldn’t be much he could do about it. There’s no way to express ’Mom, Dad, being cooped up with jack shit to do is killing me, seriously killing me, let me out for a little White Widow and a couple rounds of Missile Command at Bill’s or send me to the rubber room’ and not sound like an idiot baby. Especially given his proven idiot baby tendencies.

[yourangle-yuordevil]

BLACKBIRD

“Ti amo” pensò di dirgli, ma il suo cuore era ancora un codardo “Ti amo, ti prego resta… anche se sono l'opposto di ciò che tu sei."

Le parole continuavano a ribollirgli nel petto come lava, senza mai emergere in superficie. Avrebbe di nuovo fatto un disastro, confessandosi?

Il rifiuto dell'ultima volta ancora lo terrorizzava.

… ma Aziraphale conosceva tutte le lingue del mondo.

Il francese… non proprio. Tuttavia aveva imparato ad interpretare i silenzi di Crowley, i suoi gesti attenti, il suo linguaggio segreto.

Le sue dita si insinuarono sotto il colletto della camicia di Crowley lasciando una traccia bollente sulla sua pelle. Scese piano, carezzandogli la schiena… ticchettando sulle scapole.

"Ti andrebbe di liberare le ali?" chiese all'improvviso.

Aziraphale x Crowley | Rating arancio | Post Stagione 2

su Ao3 | su EFP

[jamielea81]

Just Friends

One Shot - 2,700 words

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: A little heartbreaky. A little sweet. A lightly funny. Fluffy. My usual.

Notes: This is just for fun. I know nothing of the private life of Mr. Evans, so take with a grain of salt. This is a little self indulgent as the reader is tall, but it’s only mentioned like twice. No use of Y/N. Enjoy my lovelies. 

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated but never expected. They do keep me fueled though. 

**

It was ridiculous. Utterly and completely ridiculous. Chris was being a butthead. Plain and simple.

He was the best person you knew but, also the most aggravating person you knew. And he was pissed at you. Not the kind of pissed where it’s forgiven in a day over a beer. No, he wasn’t speaking to you and frankly you didn’t care.

Okay, you did care. But you were pissed at him too. If he hadn’t of asked for your opinion several of times, you wouldn’t have been forced to tell him the truth. He knew better than to ask you five times in one night what you thought about Amelia, especially when you had been drinking.

Amelia was an airhead. She thought too highly of herself and it wasn’t warranted. She didn’t deserve Chris and that’s exactly what you told him. Yes, it was blunt, but he asked you five times. Five. You could only lie so much. And why did he care so much about your damn opinion anyway?

Was your crush on Chris part of the reason for not liking Amelia? No. She really wasn’t a great person and, in your defense, your crush on Chris was new.

It wasn’t one of those “I’ve loved him my whole life” kind of crushes. The kind that you torture yourself with for years. No. Chris had always been your buddy. Your pal. Kind of like a brother to you. Only that had changed in the last year. Honestly, you never thought of him more than a friend. Of course, you had always found him attractive, but you knew lots of guys that were attractive.

Your feelings had changed for him after a night of trivia. It amazed you that you were able to pinpoint so easily when your feelings for him changed.

It was game night at Chris’ place and the two of you partnered up and decided to call your team Whiskeypedia. {Your idea, but he took the credit.) Hugs seemed to last longer than normal that night. Shoulder bumping nudges were frequent, and high fives turned into handholding that made your tummy do flips throughout the evening. These new feelings made you extremely happy and terrified all at the same time. Often you felt yourself shake. Like your nerves, heart, and head could not take it.

Something had changed between the two of you in a few short hours, but you didn’t act on it. You couldn’t. This was Chris! And you, well, you were you.

You were a guy’s girl. Everyone’s buddy. Everyone’s wingman. It has always been that way, even before high school. Always a bridesmaid, but never a bride in a sense. You were too tall at nearly six feet and had curves. And not just in the chest or ass that guys often used to describe a curvy girl. No, you had legitimate curves. Even though you were confident in who you were, you found yourself shrinking down when meeting new people. Hunching your shoulders, and hugging yourself in an attempt to always make yourself smaller.

Men were always a bit intimidated of the tall woman. But with Chris, you were yourself. Never shy about getting in his face when he was being a shithead. Always the first one to have dance off with him when he was being goofy. You were just the real you around him.

The two of you had been friends for a decade and hadn’t gone more than a week without talking, until now. Now two weeks had gone by without a single word from him. You hadn’t picked up the phone either, so that was on you too.

He said some pretty harsh things. Called you too judgmental and selfish. Said you didn’t like when anyone else was happy. That one hurt the most. The words really made you re-evaluate your life and your friendships. You didn’t feel that way. You had been happy most of your adult life. Always celebrated your friends and family’s accomplishments.

He was wrong. The words did not make sense and they really hurt. Especially coming from Chris. From someone you felt knew you so well.

Amelia had come into your life two months ago. Chris had always been quick to fall in love or maybe lust, so when she was suddenly around your friend group all the time, you weren’t surprised. It was something you were used to. He dated a lot and that was just the way it was.

You treated her like you did any of your friend’s significant other’s. You were friendly and welcoming and if you didn’t hit it off, you remained polite.

So, it had been two weeks. Two weeks of trying to keep busy. Two weeks of visiting your parent’s place way more than normal. Thankfully, they weren’t questioning it. Two weeks of feeling pretty low and spending too much money on things that made you feel pretty. New shoes, new clothes, fresh seafood, organic veggies from that upscale grocery store. If anything, this was a life detox. And maybe you needed this break. After all, the crush you had on him for the better part of a year had not dimmed.

**

Another four days had passed without word from him. But in the midst of water boiling and bacon sautéing in a pan, you heard the doorbell ring. You clicked the Nest icon on your phone which pulled up the front door camera. It was Chris. Chris with his ballcap on backwards, dressed in a sweatshirt and joggers. Despite how good he looked in a backwards cap, he looked rough.

You clicked out of the app and decided to ignore the door. This did little to get rid of your unplanned guest as the doorbell rang again followed by a text message.

Chris: I know you’re home. When you’re out, you leave the outdoor lights on. Let me in.

You replied almost immediately.

You: I’m busy.

You: And frankly, you should have called before coming.

Chris: We don’t do that. You and I have an open-door policy. Don’t make me use my spare key.

“Fucker,” you muttered as you walked to your front door. You turned the lock and walked away, not bothering to open it for him.

The door opened softly and closed with a click. Back in your kitchen, you poured the pasta into the pot, and added a touch more salt to the water.

“Smells good,” he said, as he pulled out a bar stool from the island.

You hummed in response and pulled out two beers from the refrigerator. You placed both in front of him; the unspoken rule that he would uncap the bottle for you.

He tried again. “What are you making?”

“Bacon mac and cheese,” you replied softly before you took a long pull from your beer.

“Do I get to sample this delicacy?”

You shut the burner off where the bacon was cooking and moved the strips to a plate lined with a couple of paper towels, ignoring his question.

“You look like shit, Chris.”

“I feel like it. And thanks,” he said with a smirk.

You shrugged a shoulder and took another pull from your bottle. You busied yourself with wiping down the already cleaned counter and after a few minutes drained the pasta water. You added cream to the pot, salt, pepper, and a little flour. “Make yourself useful and chop up that bacon.” you nodded to the plate.

Chris didn’t object and got to work on his task. He sampled a couple of slivered slices of bacon, but you let it slide.

Once the pasta was finished with way too much cheese, he passed you the plate of chopped bacon and you mixed it in, sprinkling more on top of the completed dish. You grabbed two plates from the cupboard and dished up a large portion for each of you. Picking up your plate, you brought it to your dining table knowing Chris would follow behind you.

Once you both were seated and you had eaten a few bites, you looked him in the eyes for the first time that night. He really did look a little worse for the wear. Dark circles under his eyes with hair mussed after a bit of scratching after he pulled his hat off. “What are you doing here, Chris?”

He exhaled and set his fork on his plate. His hand trailed down his face stopping in his scruff. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out before taking a deep breath. “I’m here to apologize.”

“Apologize for what exactly?”

Were you being a bit of a snot? Maybe. But you were hurt and didn’t know where your friendship stood. He wasn’t getting off easy.

He took a breath and scratched at his scruff again. “For being an ass to you. For saying things I should have never said to you. Things that aren’t true. Really.” He nodded his head once and took another breath, keeping his eyes on yours. “I’m sorry. I’ve been miserable these last couple of weeks without you.”

You pushed your plate away and stood up, downing your beer as you walked back to the kitchen. You grabbed two more bottles and placed them in front of him to open. He did and passed one to you.

“I don’t know what to say. I’m miserable too but you really hurt me. Like this is soul crushing and I’m angry and I’ve never been angry at you. I’ve been mad at you before and you’ve ticked me off, but nothing like this.”

He smirked. The fucker smirked. “Just a time or two.”

“So, I don’t know what to do here, Chris. How do we move on or move forward?” you asked.

It was his turn to stand. He abandoned his beer and went to the living room making himself comfortable on your large sofa. You stood up leaving your beer for a moment before turning around to grab it and bring it with you. You took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa and turned your body to face him.

Chris took a ragged breath and sat forward in his seat. “I think I’ve fallen for you.” He turned to face you, scooting one seat closer, but leaving one cushion between you. He shook his head. “I have feelings for you. You’re my best friend and this scares the fuck out of me.”

Your stomach dropped and it felt like it ran to your bathroom where it was certainly emptying itself. God did you feel like you could puke. This isn’t real life. He has feelings for you? Since when? Why? How? You couldn’t get the words out but the tears sure chose to drop from your eyes at that exact moment.

“Say something. Anything. Please sweetheart.” He reached for your hand and you let him take it.

Sweetheart. Something you have heard him call the women he has dated, but never you. What was happening?

“I – I don’t know what to say.” You shook your head and blinked the tears away. “You have feelings for me?” Anger edged your voice. “Since when? What about Amelia?”

He scooted closer again, using both hands to hold yours now. You yanked yours away and it stunned him for a second.

“I think,” he began “I think I was seeking validation from you when I was asking what you thought about Amelia. I wanted you to tell me she was great and that we were good together.” He licked his lips and grabbed your hand again and you let him. “I think I’ve had feelings for you for quite some time. But we’ve never been that way. We’ve always been friends, so when things started to change for me…”

“When?” you interrupted. “When did your feelings start to change?”

“Whiskeypedia.”

You nodded your head. “Me too,” you whispered.

His eyes widen and he gripped your hand tighter. “I lashed out when you told me how you really felt about her. I knew you weren’t wrong, but I wanted something to work. At least one relationship to work. I screw things up, relationships, I mean. Always have. But I can’t do that with you. I can’t. You mean too much to me to fuck up what we have. But I cannot pretend I don’t want something more.”

“What do you want to do? I can’t stop being your friend, I don’t know how. But now that this is out here in the atmosphere, I don’t know how to go back to that.” You squeezed his hand and let your other hand land on his arm. “I’m scared, Chris.”

“I think we try. I think we go on being us but we see what more we can become,” he said. “It’s us. We can be smart sometimes. Mainly you, but I try.”

You gave him a smile and he used his thumb to wipe away the fresh tears from your face. “Okay... I agree. I guess I did make you dinner after all.”

Chris chuckled and then shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me that feelings had changed for you?”

“Me?” you questioned. “Chris, come on. Look at you and then look at me.” You shook your head. At this rate you would have a major headache for the next several days. “Look at the girls you’ve dated. All gorgeous.”

You stood up and walked to the dinning room, grabbing both plates and then bringing them to the sink in the kitchen to rinse. Chris followed behind you, letting you place the plates in the sink before grabbing your arm and turning you around to face him.

“You are gorgeous. You are smart. You are hilarious. You are caring. You’re my best friend and you are everything.”

Suddenly he was so close to you that his breath kissed your face. The two of you lined up perfectly, eye to eye.

“I came here thinking I’d lose you. I’d tell you I wanted something more and you’d tell me I’m crazy and just your friend. That I would have to go on and pretend I’ve gotten over you and that I could just accept that,” he said. Chris moved a strand of hair behind your ear and held his hand in place while his other hand rested on your shoulder. “Can I kiss you? Please.”

The tears were back. You were scared to death. Scared he would change his mind and realize you were better off friends. Scared his feelings would change and you would lose your friend. Scared he would find someone that would fit the type of woman he normally dated. But you needed to try. You had to try for you and for him. A year of hiding your true feelings and the two of you dating people just to pass the time wasn’t doing either of you any favors.

“Yes,” you whispered.

Chris leaned in slowly. One armed wrapped around your waist bringing your body flush against his while the other held your neck. Both of your hands hugged his waist as you let him take control. It wasn’t rushed. It was in slow motion. His eyes crinkled and he smiled as your noses bumped. You closed your eyes just and your lips brushed against each other’s. Neither of you pulled back, you just held your lips together for what felt like a minute. He pulled back slightly before kissing you again. And again. You smiled against his lips and attempted to pull away but he chuckled and kissed you again. Both your hands traveled up his waist to his ribcage and then to his shoulders as the kiss intensified. One of your hands slipped into his hair and scratched lightly. He let out a little groan and you smiled against his lips again. Chris took this as an invitation to stroke his tongue into your mouth causing a moan of your own. He chuckled and kissed your lips softly before pulling away. His kissed your cheek and pulled the two of you into a hug.

“Maybe we should stop. I don’t wanna, but we probably should. You should probably let me take you out,” he said.

“I probably should, huh? Don’t want you thinking I’m that type of girl.”

“Sweetheart, you couldn’t convince me you aren’t the best type of girl even if you tried.”

**

Tag list: @mustangshelby04 @bellaireland1981 @carolina-thiell @@denise1605 @mcuclintasha @iam-cj @trynnabemultifandom @chrisevansforever @kelbabyblue @broadwayandnetflix @kyjey @i-just-feel-like @daddieslittlefangirl @stankface @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @whymalu @the-doctors-fallen-angel @tessabb7 @thinkxlovexloud @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @greyeyedsmile14 @ripvandrinkle @bitterstar88 @zestygingergirl @onceuponathreetwoone @supraveng @michelehansel@agirlcanstilldream @what-is-your-plan-today @jessyballet @capstopavenger @titty-teetee @twittytelly @princessmisery666 @tanelle83 @pinknerdpanda @allaboutthebooz @patzammit @xoxabs88xox @heartislubbingdubbing @ab-baybay​ @xostephanie @smoothdogsgirl @maeleeme​ @denisemarieangelina​ @rvgrsbrns​ @icanfeelastormbrewing​ @kitkat1690​ @smilexcaptainx​ @dwights-new-plague​ @dont-need-another-fandom​ @chrisevansforever​ @bitterstar88​ @squirrelnotsam​ @kitkatd7​ @marvelislove10​ @hista-girl​ @cocomel0613​ @also-fangirlinsweden​ @lovebittenbyevans​ @blacktithe7​ @itsmycorneroftheinternet​

[manglechan1204]

Avant d’avoir les résultats et qu’on ait tous envie de crever, j’ai voulu faire un tour des fanfics sur la politique française ( a des fins scientifiques bien entendu ) et oh boi y’a des trucs à dire

Sur Wattpad :

-Il y’a plus de 270 fanfics Bardella x Attal ( Les gars ?? Je comprends amour haine tout ça, mais wsh )

-J'en ai trouvé aucune sur le Front Populaire ou la gauche en général ( ce qui est une bonne chose ? je suppose ? )

-Par contre j’en ai lu une ( pour la science toujours ) où ils sont des persos secondaires 🤷‍♂️

-Antoine Daniel a fait des dégâts irréparables au milieu des fanfics shitpost /pos

AO3 :

-Y’a un tag populaire " RPF Political " ( Je dois vivre avec cette info maintenant )

-La tendance est beaucoup plus au ship Macron sur ce site bien que tjr pas mal de Bardellattal ? *Ugh*

-Toujours aucune du Front Populaire mais j’en ai trouvé avec Mélenchon qui datent toutes de 2017/2018

Voila

Si vous vous voulez plus de détail hésitez pas 👍

[sinvulkt]

✯✯✯ ꒰ঌ ⚔ ໒꒱ ✯✯✯ Chap 2 Chap 3

Edmond entrouvrit les mâchoires crispées de l’Abbé Faria et en retira le tissu qui avait servi à étouffer les cris de ce dernier. Puis, il y glissa dix gouttes du miraculeux liquide qui avait ravivé l’Abbé lors de sa crise précédente, il y a plusieurs années de cela. 

Le liquide coula le long de la gorge du mourant, secouant de violentes convulsions l’homme qui avait été le seul compagnon d’Edmond pour les douze dernières années. Une fois ces dernières passées, l’Abbé Faria s'immobilisa dans une torpeur morbide. Edmond essaya de ne pas s’en inquiéter.  Comme la dernière fois, il attendit patiemment au chevet de son seul et unique ami, ailes plaquées nerveusement contre son dos, guettant chaque bruit, chaque tressaillement qui pouvait annoncer sa résurrection. 

Les seuls bruits qui resonnèrent entre les murs furent les cris lointains des autres prisonniers : les porte-clés commençaient leur ronde. Edmond ne s’en soucia pas, trop occupé par l’état critique de son compagnon. 

Faria avait tenté de le prévenir qu’il ne survivrait sans doute pas à cette troisième crise. Il mourrait, tout comme son père avant lui, et le liquide opaque qui était autrefois si efficace, ne pouvait maintenant plus rien y faire. Malgré tout, Edmond se refusait d’y croire. Il prit les doigts glacés de l’Abbé dans ses mains, priant à qui voulait bien l’entendre de sauver cet être si gentil, si sage, qui n’avait jamais rien fait pour mériter ce triste sort.

L’espoir était tout ce à quoi il pouvait se raccrocher désormais.

Quelques minutes passèrent. 

Puis dix. 

Puis vingt.

Sous la paume d’Edmond, les doigts glacés de l’Abbé restèrent immobiles.

“Revenez, mon père ! Revenez !” il murmura, désespérément penché au-dessus du corps crispé. Ses plumes, herissées par sa détresse, retombaient de par et d’autre du vieil homme tel un doux linceul blanc.

Mais le temps passa, et l’Abbé resta de marbre. La demi-heure atteinte, Edmond prit la fiole dans ses mains tremblantes. Elle était encore au tiers pleine. D’après Faria, c’était son ultime chance.

Il s'apprêtait à en verser le contenu dans la bouche encore entrouverte de son ami quand des pas retentirent au-dessus du cachot. Trois coups suivirent bientôt. 

“Vivant ?”

Edmond sursauta. La fiole lui échappa des mains et se brisa à terre, déversant son précieux contenu sur le sol rugueux de la prison. Le porte-clés avait du finir son tour des cellules, et atteint les cachots. Par chance, ou par malheur, il avait commencé par l’Abbé.

Edmond n’eut pas le temps de céder au désespoir que le cliquetis de clé qu’on tourne dans la serrure résonna. 

“Eh l’Abbé ! Vivant ?”

Des années de pratique guidèrent Edmond à se cacher dans les tunnels, tout comme son esprit qui tourbillonnait furieusement pour trouver une solution. L’image de la fiole brisée dansait devant ses yeux, et il semblait à Edmond que juste en tendant la main, il pourrait modifier la cruelle réalité et remonter le temps.

“L’Abbé ?” le porte-clé appela une nouvelle fois.

Edmond avait refermé le passage juste à temps, car le geôlier avait passé sa tête par l’ouverture de la cellule. N’entendant toujours pas de réponse, et ne voyant que le vieil homme allongé, immobile sur son lit, l’homme descendit dans le cachot. Edmond l’observa par une petite ouverture entre les pierres qui scellaient le tunnel. Son cœur battait à tout rompre. Le porte-clé avait-il entendu les cris étouffés de Faria durant sa crise, ou les murmures de détresse d’Edmond qui s’étaient ensuivit ?

Le porte-clé s’approcha prudemment du corps de l’Abbé, puis, voyant qu’il ne bougeait toujours pas quand il l’appelait, le secoua. Ni secousse, ni injonction n’eurent de succès pour ramener le vieil homme parmi les conscients. À la différence de celui-ci toutefois, sa réaction ne fut qu’un juron, suivit d’une courte prière dans sa barbe, et d’un grand cri destiné à ces compagnons. 

“L’Abbé est mort !”

Un second geôlier descendit. 

“Ah ! Le pauvre bougre. Ses histoires de trésor vont me manquer.”

On fit venir le médecin, pour qu’il confirme cette mort. Ce dernier ne trouva pas de poul. Il était alors coutume de vérifier que le prisonnier n’avait pas faussé sa mort par un coup de fer rouge. Bien que réticent à brûler le corps présumément mort d’un vieil homme qui n’avait, de toute manière, aucune intention ou capacité de s’échapper, le médecin s'exécuta. 

L’odeur de brûlé monta furieusement aux narines d’Edmond. Elle resta coincée au fond de sa gorge, étouffante, écoeurante, tel un liquide mousseux qu’on aurait avalé de travers. Pendant un instant, Edmond crut qu’il allait vomir. Ses bras et ses ailes s'enroulent autour de son torse dans une vaine tentative de barrière contre le crépitement de la peau qui fond, mais le regard d’Edmond resta fixé sur la petite ouverture qui lui servait de fenêtre, comme hypnotisé par l’horreur de la scène qu’il épiait. Il frémit. Ses pensées retournaient sans cesse à la fiole brisée, à ce fol espoir qui lui avait simplement glissé des mains. 

Les porte-clés descendirent un sac - “le plus beau linceul du château d’If”, dirent-il, puis, une fois l’Abbé enfilé dans son cercueil de fortune, comme c’était l’heure du déjeuner et qu’ils avaient fort faim, optèrent pour se débarrasser du corps une fois s’être remplis la panse. Une fois qu’il furent parti, Edmond s’approcha du sac de tissus rêche qui cachait son ami. C'était si facile d’imaginer l’Abbé simplement endormi sous cette paroi de coton, et non parti au point de ne même plus ressentir la douleur du fer.

Un tiraillement déchira le cœur du jeune homme. Il se souvenait avec douleur des premières années passées seul, isolé dans quelques mètres carrés avec pour unique partenaire de conversation un mur de pierre, des ras, et une porte vivante— tel qu’il surnommait son geôliers. Sans l’Abbé, Edmond serait devenu fou. Et fou il deviendrait, s’il restait ne serait-ce qu’un mois de plus emprisonné dans la plus profonde solitude, si loin des grandes étendues maritimes qu’il ne voyait plus que dans vagues songes remontant de ses souvenirs. Il eût préféré mourir que de se retrouver à nouveau dans cette glaciale pénombre. Après tout, n'avait-il pas déjà abandonné la vie, quand il entendit Faria pour la première fois ?

Comme une poussée de fièvre, la soif de liberté dévorait le jeune homme. Ses ailes, trop grandes pour la petite pièce que formait la cellule de l’Abbé, se déployèrent à moitié, comme par anticipation de sentir le vent jouer dans ses plumes. Son cœur pleurait la disparition de son ami, mais sa raison lui assurait que s’il ne tentait pas de s’échapper maintenant, tout le savoir que l’Abbé lui avait confié serait en vain.  Faria n’aurait-il pas voulu qu’il fusse libre, qu’il récupère son fameux trésor? N’avait-il pas donné à Edmond des noms, des responsables aux quatorze années de souffrance passées ?

Il y avait, bien sûr, le plan alternatif de fuite que l’Abbé avait évoqué. Il était possible qu’une fois le cachot voisin vide, les geôliers y enferment un nouveau prisonnier. Mais, celui-ci serait-il vraiment aussi innocent qu’Edmond ne l’avait été ? Écouterait-il son plan pour s’enfuir, ou le vendrait-il aux porte-clés ? 

Non, il était bien trop dangereux d’attendre ne serait-ce qu’une seconde de plus. Edmond devait s’enfuir tant qu’il en avait encore l’opportunité. Et puis, s’il se faisait prendre, il n’avait de tout façon pas grand chose à perdre. La mort offrait une douce délivrance à l’enfermement à perpétuité. 

Edmond défit aussi vite qu’il put les nœuds du sac rêche. Si c’était là le meilleur linceul du château d’If, c’est que de linceuls, la prison n’en possédait pas. Portant avec difficulté le corps encore surprenamment chaud de son ami à travers les tunnels qui séparaient leur cellules, il compta les secondes. Il n’avait que très peu de temps avant que les gardes ne reviennent.

Plus d’une fois, les rochers acérés de l’étroit passage mordirent son plumage et lui raclèrent la peau. Edmond ne s’en soucia point. Son esprit était ailleurs, porté sur les milles façon dont sa tentative d’évasion pourrait se finir, tant en bien qu’en mal. Si les gardes l’enterrait, Edmond se laisserait couvrir de terre, ne s’enfuyant qu’une fois ces derniers partis. Si les gardes le jetaient à l’eau, Edmond utiliserait le couteau pour déchirer le sac de l’intérieur et nagerait jusqu'à la rive.

Tout à sa tâche, Edmond ne remarqua jamais comment les membres d’abord glacés de l’Abbé semblèrent se réchauffer sur le temps du trajet. Il ne remarqua pas le battement de cœur ; si faible que même le médecin n’avait pu en discerner le pouls qui pulsait pourtant sous ses doigts. Il ne remarqua pas la respiration tremblotante qui s’était emparé du corps paralysé et qui, silencieusement, discrètement, l’avait ranimé.

Simplement, il déposa l’Abbé sur son lit, déposa un doux baisé d’adieux sur les rides plissées par l'âge de son front. Une larme coula silencieusement le long de sa joue. Puis, Edmond reparti avec la vivacité de la jeunesse dans les tunnels pour se placer dans ce même sac dont il avait retiré son ami un peu plus tôt, récupérant le couteau de cartilage que l’Abbé lui avait appris à fabriquer au passage. Il recousu l’ouverture de l’intérieur de telle sorte qu’on ne distinguait pas le changement qui s’était effectué. Edmond passa l’aiguille dans le dernier trou juste quand les portes-clés, enfin repus, retournèrent au cachot.

Puis, comme une araignée-loup qui guette sa proie, il attendit.

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

Vous pouvez aussi trouver ici un prequel, avec la pousse d'ailes d'Edmond.

Et un wingfic fanart inspiré du film.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Choice Encounter Masterlist

Description

Chapter 1: Seeing Colors

Chapter 2: Everything But One Thing

Chapter 3: First Impressions

Chapter 4: Affected

Chapter 5: Growing Impatient

Chapter 6: Last Minute Courage

Chapter 7: Second First Impression

Chapter 8: Let’s Try This Again

Chapter 9: Interruption

Chapter 10: The Truth

Chapter 11: Controlling The Frustration

Chapter 12: Waiting

Chapter 13: Not The Right Call

Chapter 14: Guns Blazing

Chapter 15: Starting Over

Chapter 16: One Night, Two Nightmares

Chapter 17: The Future

Chapter 18: Mrs. Lessons

Chapter 19: Move-in Day

Chapter 20: First Official Outing

Chapter 21: *Successful Party 🌶

Chapter 22: Perfect Morning

Chapter 23: *Late to Our Own Party 🌶

Chapter 24: Engagement Party

Chapter 25: Failure

Chapter 26: Not Giving Up

Chapter 27: Daddy Dearest

Chapter 28: To The Rescue

Chapter 29: Fatherly Interrogation 

Chapter 30: Mafia Peace

Chapter 31: *Wedding Bells 🌶

Chapter 32: First Morning as Husband and Wife

[krirebr]

More Than This Masterlist

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, the slooowest burn - See each chapter for individual warnings. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Series in progress

Related Drabbles & Headcanons

I Could Feel at the Time

Ransom's POV of their first meeting.

Ransom and Lola

Moodboards

Steve

Lola

[bigtreefest]

A What in Church?

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader (can be read as a continuation of Meet The Parents or alone)

Summary: Ransom comes with you and your family to church…and then comes with you at church 🥴 (I’m sorry, but I had to)

Word count: 2,728

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, SMUT, near-fingering, p in v unprotected sex (pls, for the love of all that is holy, wrap it up), sex in front of a mirror, sex in a church😬, creampie, established relationship, swears, Ran is a sneaky li’l gaslighter but not towards you, lying in Church?, kissing, pet name usage, choking on one’s own saliva, implied female reader, li’l belly bulge

A/N: I hope God forgives me for thinking this up during church…

This is for the Cum Together: A Community Revival Extravaganza set up by @labella420 and @stargazingfangirl18 with the prompts of characters cum together at the same time and praise.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

It was early Sunday morning when you dragged Ransom out of bed.

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale, come on. You have to get up. We’re already running late and I’m not dealing with disapproving looks from my parents for punctuality. It’s already bad enough every time the church ladies give me a side eye when I show up.”

He sighed as he rolled over in his high thread count sheets, the sunlight now hitting his face causing him to squint. He looked at you through one open eye as he made a light scowl.

“Sweetheart, come back to bed. It’s too early. I promise I’ll make it worth it.” A sly smirk crept onto his face as he reached out and pulled your hips closer to the bed.

You put a hand on his forehead, trying your best and failing to push him away. “Ransom, no. The only reason I stayed over was to make sure we got there on time. My parents think you’re picking me up right now and neither of us are even showered. If you get up now, maybe I’ll let you join me. Then we can get going.”

His arms snaked from your hips and around to give your ass a squeeze. “Hm….deal.” He rasped out in his groggy voice before shifting to get up.

“Whose idea was it to join your family at the 8am service of church this week, anyway?” Ransom threw the covers off the side of the bed in a mini tantrum before rising on his knees on the mattress to be face-to-face with you. You ran your fingers through his hair, slightly smoothing out the bed head before giving him a peck.

“Yours, baby. That’s what you get for trying to impress my mom.”

You fixed your makeup in the mirror of Ransom’s Beamer and smoothed down your baby blue linen dress after Ransom parked in the church parking lot. You turned to look at him as you straightened the collar of his shirt that peeked over his sweater.

“You look absolutely dapper. The church ladies are gonna love you. Probably enough for them to keep their judgy eyes off me. Now let’s just hope they don’t start asking my mom about a wedding date.” You grumbled the last part as you brushed imaginary dust off his shoulders before leaning back towards your own seat again and placing your hand on the door handle.

Ransom didn’t move a muscle as he sat there, leaning over the center console, with a look as deep at the ocean. That was weird. You’d expected him to have his cocky game face on, which he did, but his eyes showed something different.

“What? Is something wrong? Do I not look okay? Are you regretting agreeing to come along today?”

He sighed and shook his head before holding out his hand for yours. “No, you look heavenly. I am regretting sleeping in because if I wouldn’t have, maybe you would’ve actually let me touch you in the shower. I thought a shower with you meant with you, but you tricked me, you minx.”

You softly smiled at the beginning of his statement, placing your hand in his. As he kept going, you rolled your eyes before playfully shoving his shoulder. “Oh please. You and I both know you wouldn’t have gotten up for anything else. And if I would’ve let you touch me, we’d still be at your place.”

He shrugged before pulling you closer for a final kiss before heading in. It was the kind that left you breathless and speechless, and a little dizzy when he pulled away, but that could have been due to skipping breakfast, too. Your eyes were still closed when he spoke against your lips. “Don’t think you’re getting away with this that easily, though. Now stay here while I get your door. Gotta make sure the church ladies see me treating you well.”

Your jaw dropped as he gave you a smirk, fire rising in his gaze as he slipped out of the driver’s side and over to yours.

Ransom held your hand as he walked into the church, sliding into a pew near the back where your family had saved the two of you a seat. It was just in time for the service to begin. You were simultaneously filled with relief for not being late, but also anxiousness. You knew that when he held that look in his eye, Ransom was up to no good.

If someone had asked you what you’d gathered from the sermon so far, your answer would be ‘jack shit.’ You were too focused on Ransom, and the way his hand was creeping up your leg as he stared straight ahead. He looked enthralled by whatever the preacher was dragging on and on about, but you knew better from the way his lips curled just slightly at the corners and his ringed pinky finger was sliding under the hem of your dress. The cool metal gave you chills. Your breath hitched, just as you were salivating, imagining what Ransom could possibly have in store for you. Unfortunately, that didn’t make for a good combination, as you choked on your own saliva.

You tried your hardest to hold in your coughs, eyes watering, until you couldn’t take it anymore. They burst out of you and the sound of your coughs, one after another, echoed through the nearly silent room as you scrambled to get up and into the hallway. Ransom shot your parents a sympathetic look before wordlessly gesturing that he was going to check up on you. They nodded in response, glad you had found someone so caring and responsible.

You burst through the doors at the back of the room with Ransom hot on your heels. You fast walked into the family restroom and Ransom slipped in behind you. He locked the door and made his way to your hunched over form, your arms bracing you against the sink as you continued coughing and heaving, trying to catch your breath. Ransom rubbed your back in soothing circles until you took a final gasp for air and looked up at his reflection in the mirror with a scowl.

“You did this. This is your fault, Mr. Handsy.” It came out with the slightest rasp. Ransom’s face morphed from slight concern into suggestion. Now that he had made sure you were okay, he was more than happy to have you exactly where he wanted you all along: alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not the one out there snorting my spit. I could probably successfully swallow, unlike you.” He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to rile you up so you’d give in to him now since you didn’t earlier this morning. You’d never outwardly crumble that easily, though. Where was the fun in that?

“First off, you should be the one to know I’m great at swallowing. And secondly, if you believe you did nothing wrong, I think we should find you a neurologist for those wandering hands. Maybe the rings are causing nerve damage and cutting off the feeling in your fingertips.” Ransom couldn’t help but let out a small chortle at that. Good one, babe. But he knew what could push you a little farther. He knew how much you really did love the way his hands wandered, even if you’d say otherwise. He could tell right now even, as he shifted to stand behind you, soft fingertips tracing up the front of your thighs and under your flowy dress. His hand was in between your thighs, creeping dangerously close to your cotton panties. He used his grip to pull you back against him, eyes never leaving yours in the mirror.

“Oh honey, I don’t have to be able to feel my fingers to know how good they make you feel.” He ran his fingers over the dampening fabric as your breath hitched. Finally.

His grin grew wide as he slipped his pinky finger under the gusset of your panties and pulled it to the side, exposing your glistening folds to the cool air.

You hissed at the sensation as Ransom began running a finger through your wetness. If you were anywhere else but a church bathroom, he would have worked to pull even louder sounds from you than the tiny breaths and moans you were already making, but that’s not something that could be afforded right now. As his one hand continued to tease your entrance, the other moved to cover your mouth.

“Quiet, Sweetheart. You make a noise and I stop. Don’t want anyone to find out what’s going on in here.” You nodded in acknowledgment and Ransom was satisfied with that response, kissing your temple that was collecting a thin shimmer from sweat already. Just as he was about to dip a finger in, though, the two of you heard music start. That meant service was almost over. They would play a few songs, and then everyone would rush out the doors, making it impossible for the two of you to leave the bathroom undetected and unsuspected of what was going on right now.

Ransom didn’t waste a second, though, pulling his hands off you to unzip his slacks and pull them down just low enough. His eyes locked in on yours in the mirror again, deep blue irises thin around lust and mischief-blown pupils.

“Sorry, sweetie. Don’t have time to prepare you. But you can handle that, right?” You didn’t have a chance to reply this time, as his hand found it’s place over your mouth again at the same time he fully sheathed himself within you.

The little squeak you made into Ransom’s hand when you were trying to hold back was music to his ears. Oooo, he liked that. He was gonna make sure to do whatever he could in the future so you’d make it again, but he didn’t have the time for it right now.

His hand that wasn’t over your mouth snaked to your tummy from where it was gripping your hip. Ransom could just barely feel the bulge pushing against your softness with each thrust and it drove him wild, as he sped up his thrusts and babbled into your ear.

“Yeah you can. You can take it. Look at you. Taking this so well. Being so good for me. I’d say you were an angel if we weren’t fucking like two whores in church right now.”

His vulgar words always did something to you, causing your eyes to roll back and your pussy to clench. That was Ransom’s favorite, especially when he found it out that his sharp tongue was something you actually enjoyed and rewarded him for, instead of punished. Despite his hand on your mouth, you were still working hard to keep yourself quiet, only letting out a low moan in response.

“Fuck, so good. So, gah-tight. You’re so perfect. I’m gonna take my hand off, okay? You gotta keep it down and I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You gripped harder against the sink as Ransom removed his hand, using it to hike your leg up on the edge of the counter, his hand that was previously on your stomach moving to rub your clit.

You gasped for air, before moving your own hand to your mouth. If you were at home, moans and curses would’ve been profusely spilling out of your mouth with how near your were to the tipping point. Ransom’s grunts in your ear we’re pulling you even closer to the edge when he licked your neck, the sweet taste of your perfume mixed with salty sweat hitting his tongue, and the debauchery of the gesture tossing you over the edge of your orgasm. Your knee gave out as you came, Ransom’s strong arms holding you up against the sink as you felt him swell and release in you at the same time, still rubbing your clit and shallowly thrusting for both of you to come down from your highs.

“That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart.” His breath was hot against your neck, but you were both pulled out of the post-orgasmic bliss by the sound of the music changing. The last song of service was playing and within a few minutes, everyone would be emerging into the hall.

Ransom pulled out of you faster than he had before, both of you moaning with oversensitivity and the abruptness of the action. You gained composure on your jelly legs before pulling your panties back into place and doing your best to fix your makeup in the mirror. Luckily, the smudges could be attributed to your coughing fit earlier, but Ransom’s rogue hairs that had flown forward and stuck to his forehead couldn’t. You quickly pushed them back into a decent position and straightened his collar before rushing into the hallway and taking a seat at an old pew that was next to a table with water bottles and cookies on it, set out for the social hour that always happened after service. Ransom grabbed a bottle and quickly chugged it down halfway, handing it to you just as the last song was ending.

“Here, hunch forward like you’re still recovering. And take this.” He was too good at convincing people of the scenes they had walked into. But how could you complain when it had gotten you out of trouble with the cops more times than you could count? Including after the two of you had been parked somewhere a little too long having car sex, or when he had driven just a little too recklessly while fingering you in the passenger seat. He always knew exactly how to manipulate the scene in his favor, convincing others to not believe their own eyes, but the stories he presented them instead. But he didn’t do it to you, never to you. He learned that the hard way, it’s better to be honest and do it with you. You were his teammate, who better to use his skills for than the one he loved? Bring it up though, and he’d deny it.

So you and Ransom sat there, your elbows on your knees and him rubbing circles on your back with his large, warm palm. Sure, it was performative, but it was also extremely comforting and reassuring, especially with the way he just rocked your world in the bathroom.

The church-goers began to file out of the double doors and into the hall. You looked up through your eyelashes to be greeted by your parents. They looked at you with confusion and a hint of concern when your dad crouched in front of you and your mom sat next to Ransom.

“Everything alright?” Your dad looked up into your eyes and you managed a nod, taking a sip from the water bottle and clearing your throat.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Got into a coughing fit and couldn’t shake it. Much better now.”

Ransom heard the clarity with which you spoke. If he really wanted to be convincing, he should’ve had you suck him off. There wasn’t really the time for that, though. As much as he loved watching your lips wrapped around him, he came way faster inside you, and how could he allow for the evidence of scuffs on your knees when you were wearing such a pretty dress? Maybe next time, when you were in jeans.

Ransom was pulled out of his thoughts when your mom and dad spoke, thanking him for checking up on you.

“Oh no problem, don’t worry, I took good care of your girl. I always will.”

They smiled, and must’ve believed the scene in front of them, as the topic swiftly changed to what they wanted for brunch plans. Ransom met your gaze, giving a quick wink for only you to see before kissing the top of your head and giving his input to the conversation.

That was the last you saw of him for half an hour, though, as the church ladies descended, squeezing themselves between the two of you, oohing and ahhhing over your sly boyfriend. Every now and then, as they’d ask him a tidal wave of questions, his eyes would seek you, full of fire, secrecy, and love, paired with that signature smirk on his face.

Bonus A/N: I think something that this extravaganza has taught me is that I have a thing for mirrors….and that scares me. It’s so hot in fics, and sure, every time I walk past a mirror in real life, I’ve been told I stop, but I wasn’t aware of what a dangerous combination that made until now. Lord save me, but he’s probably too angry at me now bc I wrote this.

[gaylittlerichie]

chapter 6 is now out! the fic is finished!

Pairing: richie tozier/eddie kaspbrak

Word count: 58,156 (6/6 chapters)

Winter 1993: between being grounded for a month, Bill roping him in on his super 8 werewolf movie and Eddie getting a girlfriend, Richie’s one step away from blowing his fucking stack.

thanks for reading :’)

[billfinarts]

RvB: Towards the Sky

Trouble Finds Me Not - Pg.14

Looks like Sarge told off West for being a jerk

[yeowangies]

Close Encounter

❧

PAIRING: Raditz/Reader RATING: Explicit CONTENTS: Explicit sexual content, little plot, attempt at humor. WORDCOUNT: 5370

Summary:

That was not a meteor. You were too close to see it wasn’t. You’ve never seen one during the day, so there was a chance you were wrong. But what you saw was clearly some kind of ship. An extraterrestrial ship.

This is how DBZ should have started

Notes:

This is supposed to be ridiculous and silly and even a little dumb (though the smut part should be sexy), not really meant to be taken seriously, so if you laugh that's alright. It's my attempt at humor.Also, this might be a good idea for a low budget porn film too if you think about it.

*I know that's not how the armor Raditz wears works, but I didn't want him to take it off, let's be honest that's part of what make the Saiyans hot. So I just made it a two piece armor.

I got some inspiration from some of FunSexyDB's comics.

Raditz would technically die after this, and I felt bad thinking about it so. I might write another chapter for this. I most likely will. But since I haven't started it yet, I'll just mark this as complete for now.

That was not a meteor. You were too close to see it wasn’t. You’ve never seen one during the day, so there was a chance you were wrong. But what you saw was clearly some kind of ship. An extraterrestrial ship.

Any encounter with an advanced species or civilization had ended poorly for the least developed one, at least that was the case in human history. And if space travel was a thing for this visitor’s species, then the Earth was done for.

You gulped. Well, if this was the end of humanity or something, you wanted to see it with your own eyes. Hopefully you were just making stuff up in your head, and this wasn’t the end of the world.

Walking through the open field and following the trail of smoke the mysterious falling object left, you finally found the crater it created when it reached ground. You couldn’t help but gape at the size of the cavity. You approached the edge slowly, settling your eyes on what was now obviously a spaceship, though not a big one, and you thought it was weird that it looked like a giant baseball.

You crouched down near the edge, staring at the ship with caution, too nervous to get closer to the craft. What kind of alien would step out of it? What would they look like? Your only references were the aliens in the movies, and you never bothered much to create your own illusion about it, so you were expecting a thin green body with a big round head and black eyes, too huge for its face. The idea of that species being human-eaters occurred to you, and you flinched instantly, but you discarded it quickly, trying not to shit your pants when you haven’t even seen anyone or anything come out of that ship yet.

Needless to say, you were stunned when the door of the spaceship opened, and a man stepped out of it. He looked human. Way too human. And a handsome one, nonetheless. 

You flushed at your own thoughts. You weren’t sure anymore if this person was an alien or a human. Maybe there was some experiment going on nearby, by a scientific or military base. A tall, sturdy man was not what you were expecting at all. What was odd was his long dark hair, and his attire, some kind of armor that showed too much skin, which only made you blush harder at the sight of such strong thighs. 

You yelped when he suddenly leaped in the air and landed outside the crater, just a few feet away from you. 

Well, he wasn’t human, alright.

He seemed to not have noticed you were near him at all, though you figured he must have known by the surprised noise you let out when he jumped. He looked around, muttering something to himself. 

You froze when he turned to you. You pursed your lips, trying to be as quiet and still as you could until you figure him out. He approached you slowly as he tapped a device he had on the side of his head.

“A power level of only 5?” 

His words didn’t seem directed at you, though his tone was scornful. His voice was deep, and it made your stomach somersault involuntarily. 

He stood directly in front of you, staring down at you with a contemptuous smirk. From where you were cowering, he looked massive. Even if you were to stand up at full height, he would still tower over you by a lot more. 

That was certainly the wrong time to be aroused by a man who not only looked like he was going to eat you, but also strong enough to easily snap you in half; though the thought only made your insides stir more. You facepalmed yourself mentally, embarrassed.

I could die yet here I am, drooling about an ALIEN man. 

Still, you didn’t dare to move an inch but you managed, in a very tiny voice, to at least ask the only question on your mind.

“Are you here to destroy this planet?”

“Not currently,” He scorned, not taking his eyes off you. “But we are considering it.”

“We?” 

He chuckled, but didn’t reply. You heard a voice coming from the device he was wearing but you couldn’t catch any word. 

“Hold on,” He replied to whoever was talking to him through the gadget, “I just found something tasty.”

You stared at him with eyes like plates. 

“You- you are not really gonna eat me, are you?”

You slowly backed away, but you ended up falling backwards on your butt. 

“Is that what Earthlings are into? Being eaten?” He was clearly teasing you, a wide grin on his face, but you still felt a shiver going up your spine.

“What?! N-no!”

When he laughed mockingly, you scowled at him. Whether or not he was going to eat you or kill you, you didn’t like that he was making fun of you like that, as if you were beneath him.

“What are you doing here? What do you plan to do?” You practically yelled at him. 

“Why should I tell you?” 

He took a couple more steps until he was looming over you. You could see every muscle tense in his body, and you gulped, feeling both afraid and turned on. It was wrong to feel like that at such a moment, but he was handsome and big. 

An idea occurred to you. Maybe that side of you that liked these kinds of men could help you. He may not be human, but if he was a man, you could try to entice him. For the benefit of the Earth, of course.

“Because if you promise to not attack this planet, then maybe I can help you.”

“And how would you do that?” He sneered.

“I can… do something for you.” It was his turn to scowl at you, clearly confused at what you were offering him. “I mean, you are cute, and you just said I was tasty, so…”

He seemed taken aback by your implication, but did not move an inch.

“Unless you literally want to eat me…” You quickly clarified, trying not to let your fear show on your face.

“Are all human females this crude?” He asked, and by the tone in his voice, you could swear he seemed a bit abashed by your insinuation. “Are you really offering yourself to me, woman?”

“I don’t offer myself to just anyone!” You replied, assertive. “And I’m doing this for the Earth!” 

“Of course you are,” He snorted, amused. “You’re quite feisty, aren’t you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the device was making noises again, and very loud ones. Whoever was talking on the other side seemed to be yelling, and the man in front of you furrowed his brows. 

“I will only delay my stay for a short while. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.” He responded, annoyed.

He took off his gadget and discarded it on the floor. Angry voices were still coming out from the speaker, but he didn’t pay them any attention.

“Very well, I won’t say no to something this tempting.” 

This time his words were directed at you with a wide smirk. 

You froze. Were you really going to do this in the middle of an open field with a literal (very handsome and intimidating) alien?

Apparently yes. And you couldn’t contain the excitement bubbling up inside you.

You gasped when you saw the furry belt around his waist stir and move, realizing that, in fact, it was not a belt. 

“Y-you have a tail!”

The appendage moved closer to you and slid up and down your leg, making you flinch as he chuckled at your reaction. The situation was getting weirder and weirder, but you wouldn’t relent. You didn’t want to relent. 

The only thing that might make you back out was hidden underneath that armor. And you hoped to God that he was somewhat human underneath his attire, or else you wouldn’t know how to get out of that one.

You sat up and got on your knees in front of him, locking your eyes into his, showing how willing you were. His tail slowly moved towards your face, surprisingly caressing the skin on your cheek. You quivered and looked at it curiously, still not used to something like that touching you, but you turned your attention back to him. 

He may not even care, but you still gave him your name before asking for his.

“Raditz.”

You thought it was funny how it sounded like ‘radish’ but you didn’t comment on it. 

“Can I see you now?” You asked, poking the lower portion of his armor. 

“Aren’t you eager?” He said, pulling down and removing the lower part of his protection.*

“Well, I’m… hoping you don’t look like a squid in there.” You choose to reply sincerely.

Raditz laughed genuinely, and you were startled that it didn’t scare you. Quite the contrary, you felt your stomach flutter, and your face heated up a little subsequently. 

Warm expectation bloomed inside you when he pulled down his trunks, exposing himself to you. He snickered when you gaped at him. Raditz was a large man, and his cock was commensurable to his body. Still, you couldn’t hide your shock. Would that actually fit inside you? Or in your mouth?

Not only did it look human, but it was also incredibly enticing. 

“I assume this is what you were expecting.” He said, smiling smugly.

The gleam in your eyes when you looked back up at him was your answer. 

He was half hard, and you carefully slid your fingers up his thighs, aiming for the prize. He wasn’t as patient, and he took his dick in his hand, pumping it a few times until it stood at full size. It was hot when you finally wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it softly. Raditz groaned, but he didn’t take his eyes off you. 

You looked him in the eye when you darted your tongue to lick at the underside all the way up to the tip. He cursed under his breath, not breaking eye contact when you lapped at the head. You ran your tongue up and down again, placing open mouth kisses along the way, and you could tell he was already having a hard time keeping his eyes open, struggling to give in and just feel the pleasure you were giving him. 

When you finally wrapped your lips around his cock, Raditz threw his head back, grunting loudly. One of his hands rested on your head, threading through your hair, but he didn’t push you, which you appreciated. You stroked the rest of his dick that wasn’t in your mouth, gently sucking at the head. 

“Are you teasing me, woman?” He asked, with a light breathy chuckle. 

Raditz was obviously enjoying the slow build up, and you were glad he valued your expertise. You flattened your tongue on the slit as thank you, and he groaned in response. 

You didn’t actually want to do this fast; you wanted to enjoy yourself as much as you could as well. It was a weird situation to be in, but it was strangely exciting. His face was manly and attractive, and at that moment, contorted in pure lust. You felt proud you could make him feel that way, and it added to your own arousal, already feeling your panties and shorts sticking to your skin. 

Encouraged by the reaction you were earning from him, you tried to take more of him in, steadily sliding your lips up and down his cock. You pulled back a few times to lick at the tip, trying to relax your throat before taking him in again. His hips bucked slightly into your mouth as you fit him more and more inside, and when the head grazed the back of your throat, Raditz growled, low and deep. 

His grip on your head tightened, and while he didn’t push you down onto his dick, you knew he wanted to. You pulled off him almost all the way out, and quickly swallowed him once more, fully relaxing your throat. You flattened your tongue on the underside and moaned purposely around him. He must have felt the vibration of your voice because the groan he let out was so deep, it was music to your ears.

“Fuck, you sure know what you are doing…” His voice was hoarse, and his eyes were completely unfocused. 

You hummed, bobbing your head up and down, and his hips snapped once more. 

By the way his cock was starting to twitch and how loud his groans were getting, you knew Raditz was going to come soon. His hips kept moving, and you kept your hand at the base to keep him from pushing in too roughly, and you hollowed your cheeks, sucking hard. He grunted, spilling curses with every single one of your moves. 

You bobbed your head, moving up and down his cock, until he suddenly shoved almost all the way inside, hitting the back of your throat. Raditz came with a guttural growl, his dick pulsing inside your mouth, and you tried hard not to choke, swallowing down as much as you could. His hips moved slowly, riding out his orgasm, and you dug your nails into his thighs, struggling to breathe, until he finally pulled out, a couple of cum drops falling from your lips onto the ground and your shirt.

His hand didn’t leave your head, trailing down and softly stroking your cheek as you tried to catch your breath. You were surprised he wiped away the few tears welling up your eyes. While he didn’t seem like a gentle man, some of his actions certainly were. 

“I’ll give you credit where credit is due.” Raditz looked lost, yet his eyes were even darker than before. “That mouth of yours is sure worth more than this planet.”

You looked at him quizzically for a second, as he kneeled down in front of you.

Oh, right. You were doing this for the Earth. 

“Does that mean you are gonna spare us?” You cleared your throat, and he ran his thumb over your chin, wiping away the remains of his load on your face.

“I haven’t decided yet.” Raditz leered at you, his eyes traveling down your body slowly, taking you in. “I still have to taste you.”

“Huh?”

With a finger against your forehead, you were suddenly pushed on your back to the ground. You cried out, surprised that he had taken you down with only a finger. You shrieked again when he suddenly pulled your shorts and underwear down in one move. 

“Why are you yelling?” Raditz asked with a sneer, throwing your clothes behind him haphazardly. “Is this not part of the deal?”

“N-no, I was just surprised-” You gasped when he suddenly opened your legs, staring directly at your exposed sex, and you felt your face heat up abnormally under his gaze. 

You were obviously turned on, you must have been wet, you knew you were. But you didn’t want him to look at you in broad daylight, completely exposed. Though you seriously doubt he cared whether or not you were fully shaved or if your thighs were a little chubby, you were still self conscious. 

The look in his eyes confirmed that he didn’t give a shit about whatever insecurity you had about your body. He looked hungry, and you wondered briefly if he wasn’t going to literally devour you. 

“You are not… going to actually eat me, are you?” You asked, staring at him with a slightly worried expression.

“Of course not,” He snorted, his eyes settling on yours for a moment. “If I wanted that, I would have already done it.”

“That does not sound reassuring at all…”

You yelped when he suddenly bit down on your thigh, not hard to pierce the skin, but enough to make your body jolt. You gasped once more when he licked and sucked on that spot, surely leaving a bruise there. There was a tingle growing between your thighs as Raditz raised your leg, licking and nibbling at your bare skin. He took his time exploring both of your limbs, kissing, nipping and sucking various places he could reach, and you couldn’t help the moans spilling from your lips the closer he got to your entrance.

You were certainly not expecting this kind of foreplay. Especially not from a handsome alien who seemed to be there to wipe out humanity or something.

When he settled on a particular spot on your thigh, near your core, you whimpered pitifully. There was going to be bruises all over your legs and Raditz had taken his sweet time marking you, and yet he still hadn’t reached your most sensitive part. He chuckled darkly at the sounds you were making, apparently taking pity on you. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” He said, pulling away. “You must taste good if you smell this tempting.”

His words confused you, but you didn’t have time to dwell on them. He sat up, and you thought he was going to ease his cock inside you. Your breath got caught in your throat when he suddenly lifted your hips, bringing them up towards his face and bending you over with your legs up in the air, your upper back pressed on the ground. You couldn’t flush more even if you tried, your core was practically in his face as he wrapped his arms around your hips to keep you in place. You felt completely vulnerable, and you covered your face with your hands, almost ashamed at how aroused you felt by basically being at the mercy of such a man. 

“Are you really blushing, girl?” He snickered, his eyes looking at you from between your thighs. “Weren’t you begging for this?”

“I wasn’t begging!” You cried out when his breath ghosted over your lower lips, making you flinch. “Please stop playing with me…”

You wailed when his tongue traced your folds, slowly all the way up to your clit. 

“I thought you weren’t begging.” He mocked you, before licking inside you once more.

You whined weakly, too lost in the sensation of his mouth against you to even pay attention to what he just said. His tail wrapped around your waist, and you gasped when it squeezed you, finding the gesture reassuring. 

Raditz practically buried his face in between your legs as he devoured you. He messily dragged his tongue everywhere he could reach, not leaving any trace of your entrance untouched. He was gauging your reaction, paying attention to every sound coming from your lips and every move of your body. While every place he touched felt incredible, when his tongue flicked over your clit, you moaned louder and your legs twitched in response. He hummed, smiling against your skin, now focusing on lapping at your clit thoroughly. 

It was an uncomfortable position to be in; you placed your hands on his thighs, gripping onto him tightly, trying to find something to anchor yourself with as he dived into you. Your hips bucked as a reflex from the stimulation, but his arms around you kept them in place. Your legs flailed and twitched every time his warm tongue flattened on your clit, but you wished you could actually wrap them around his head to squeeze him. You were completely at his mercy, bent over and utterly devoured, all you could do was moan, your vision turning blurry around the edges. 

When Raditz suddenly eased two fingers inside you, you whimpered, feeling as if your entire body was on fire.

“Oh, God!” You moaned loudly when he pumped his fingers, feeling warmth in your belly growing tighter and tighter with each passing second.

He chuckled darkly against your skin, continuing to lick at your clit with precise pressure, his fingers curling inside you, touching where you needed him to. You couldn’t control your legs from jolting wildly, as your mind began to go blank.

You felt suddenly empty when Raditz removed his fingers and pulled his mouth away from you, making you whimper as the heat inside you slowly decreased. You were in a haze, breathing heavily, too overwhelmed to ask him why he stopped before you could reach your end. Trying to focus your eyes, you looked at him as he eased your hips back down, feeling the muscles of your back relax as you touched the ground.

“You taste so much better than I imagined,” Raditz wiped away the wetness from his face with the back of his hand, and he spread your legs open to settle in between them. 

His eyes were intense, blown by desire, as he looked into yours. You felt small in a delightful way; if he wanted to swallow you whole, you would let him gladly.

He leaned in and kissed you hungrily, tongue intertwining with yours immediately. You wrapped your arms around his neck, the cool material of his armor creating goosebumps all over your skin. His hair was surprisingly soft when you pet him, and you swore you heard him make a sound similar to a purr against your lips. 

You threw your head back, gasping and breaking the kiss when you felt his cock pushing into your entrance. Raditz grunted, burying his face into your neck, obviously feeling how tight you were around him. You clung onto him until he was fully sheathed by your warmth. It was a delicious stretch, with a tinge of pain that set your nerves ablaze. 

“Fuck, you’re tight…” He whispered against your ear, grazing his teeth on your earlobe. 

He pulled all the way out before slamming hard into you. You screamed, feeling him all the way inside you. You didn’t get a second to catch your breath as Raditz set up a harsh pace, thrusting into you roughly. 

Closing your eyes tightly, the dull ache of the stretch of his cock inside you began to fade with every snap of his hips against yours, until there was nothing but pleasure. Your gasps soon turned into moans, long and loud as he kept sliding into you deliciously hard. 

With his size and the rhythm of his thrusts, it was impossible for his dick not to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. The noises spilling from your lips got louder, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist to keep him as close as possible. Raditz groaned against your ear, nipping at the skin of your neck. 

“Feeling good?” The tone in his voice was meant to be teasing, but you knew he was too lost in the sensation of his cock wrapped around your wet warmth to truly mock you. 

You still nodded desperately, afraid he would stop like he did earlier. 

“I love it! Don’t stop!” You begged him, your grip around his shoulder tightening. 

Raditz groaned, pushing inside you almost violently, making you cry out. 

The world shrunk as Raditz kept ramming inside you, his dick opening you up with every move. You had quickly forgotten you were in an open field. Animals roamed those lands, and even people passed by every once in a while. You had no doubt anyone could see you or even hear you with how blaring your screams were, and even more so, the sound of skin slapping against skin was loud enough to catch anyone’s attention. 

But you didn’t give a shit at that moment, too busy feeling pleasure building back its intensity inside you with every slide of his thick cock into your core. 

You gasped, surprised, when he pulled out suddenly. Raditz turned you over in the blink of an eye, and you were face down on the ground as he lifted your hips up, gripping your flesh tightly as he plugged inside you swiftly. You wailed, his dick seemingly sliding more deeply into you from that position, reaching new places that made you see stars. 

The wind was knocked out of you and your whole body trembled when you felt one of his hands sneak around you to rub at your clit.

“You enjoyed being touched here?” He growled, thrusting into you in sync with the strokes of his fingers.

A stuttered moan was your answer.

You weren’t used to it being so rough. You weren’t sure if any human could actually be so rough. That must have been why it felt the way it did, so brutal yet so good, it was addictive. You didn’t want him to stop, you wanted to feel his cock pulse inside you when he came. 

Raditz grabbed your hips hard, most likely leaving marks on your skin, as he kept ramming into you at an almost violent pace. Your face was in the dirt, scraping against the grass, and your knees were starting to ache from being pounded so roughly from behind, but the pleasure was so good, so thrilling, it only added to your current state. 

You felt his tail take the place of his fingers, caressing your clit instead, and you dragged out a long moan. He was relentless as kept thrusting into you, but you noticed his hips faltering. He was getting close, but so were you. In fact, you weren’t sure you could put it off any longer. It was an incredible fuck, you didn’t want it to end just yet. 

You dug your hands into the ground, like trying to get a hold of something while his hips kept snapping against your ass, faster and harder. His tail increased the speed of its strokes on your clit, and you soon felt on the edge, ready to tip over.

“Oh God, fuck, fuck, please-!”

The words coming out of your mouth soon turned into indecipherable sounds when your orgasm washed over you. It was so intense, like electricity passing through your veins, as your whole body shivered and your toes curled. 

His rhythm faltered, Raditz feeling how you clenched around his cock when you came, and he groaned, holding onto you tighter, chasing his own climax. The way he kept slamming into you only prolonged your release, your walls still clamping around him, and you started whimpering.

With a growl, and his tail wrapping tightly around your waist, Raditz came inside you. He thrust into you hard, his dick throbbing and filling you up. His hips jerked forward a couple of times, riding out his orgasm, and your body quivered underneath him. 

You were both panting hard as you slowly came down from your high. He didn’t pull out immediately, and his body shifted behind you, his hands letting go of your hips. One of them sneaked around your neck, pulling you back from the ground to press you against his chest, and you gasped, still feeling his cock inside you.

“Fuck, girl, you did it, you have me hooked.” Raditz murmured into the skin of your cheek, voice hoarse. 

He turned your head to kiss you, sloppy and messy, and you tried to kiss him back, but you were still too far gone to properly do it. He broke the kiss but lingered on your lips, looking at you like he was still hungry for more.

“I want to have you more,” He said, running the back of his hand over your cheek. You were amazed; he was getting the dirt off your face. “Once I’m done with my mission, I’ll come find you.”

You blinked a couple of times, still in a haze. Was he actually saying those words?

Raditz pulled away then, and you hissed when he slipped out of you. You yelped when his hands squeezed your ass, before he stood up, rearranging his clothes and putting his armor back in place. You turned to lay on your side, still a little weary to get up, and you watched him curse under his breath as he grabbed the device he had discarded earlier. Voices were still coming from it, and he grimaced when he put it on his ear.

“Shut up, I’m going now!” He exclaimed to whoever was talking to him on the other side of the line. He gave you one last look before turning around.

You sat up, trying not to get yourself dirtier than you already were, and gasped when you saw him suddenly launch into the air and fly away. You stared blankly at the spot that was Raditz until you couldn’t see him anymore. 

He had actually flown into the sky. You weren’t exactly sure if you were dreaming or not. Everything was too crazy, even the sex had been crazy. Albeit crazy good, but still unbelievable. 

You gathered your clothes, putting them back on rapidly, trying to somehow shake the dust and dirt off of it, though you knew you would need to wash them and take a shower yourself. You looked for your phone that had fallen out of your pocket, quickly dialing a number on it. 

“Bulma, pick up!” You exclaimed, turning around and walking fast from where you came from. “You will shit your pants when I tell you what just happened!”

*

“That son of a bitch! He actually fucked an Earthling woman!” Nappa exclaimed, frustrated. 

Vegeta grunted, annoyed that a man could be so weak. No wonder he was a second class soldier. He didn’t use the right head. 

“And she sounded really spunky too!” Nappa went on. 

Vegeta didn’t even turn to look at him, going to sit on a fallen branch, on the planet they just purged. 

“Get a hold of yourself!” He yelled at his underling. “Raditz was an idiot for being so easily swayed by a female.”

“I know. But she did sound fun. You heard the noises she made.”

Vegeta growled. Of course he heard. He hadn't meant to but it was impossible not to when the noises coming from the scouters were so damn loud. He didn’t want to think that a woman would so easily offer herself like that, with such a vulgar display. What kind of disgusting people even inhabited that planet?

He shifted, readjusting his position to hide his erection. 

“Maybe we should go visit that place,” Nappa tried again. He did not try to hide his fascination over that encounter with an apparently hedonistic race. “There must be a reason why Kakarot decided to stay there all this time after all.”

“Are you insinuating we mate with those lowlifes?” Vegeta snarled. 

Nappa snorted and smirked.

“Not mate, but have fun. We can always purge that planet afterwards.”

‘Have fun’. How crude. At least Vegeta knew how to control such basic urges. 

“We’ll wait until Raditz finds his idiot brother.”

“Very well.” Nappa paused for a moment before speaking again. “Some of the inhabitants of that planet, the humans, are similar to our race in anatomy.”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow, waiting for his subordinate to continue.

“We could attempt to reproduce and bring the Saiyan race back to its glory.”

“You’re overstepping,” Vegeta grunted, angry that Nappa would propose such a repulsive idea. “Our blood will lose its honor if we mix it with an inferior species. Our power might even weaken. The offspring could have a ridiculous appearance, pink or even blue hair for all we know, it would be a disgrace.”

“Maybe you’re right. I would still like to stop off there.” Nappa smirked, licking his lips. “Raditz gave in easily, but there must be a reason for it.”

“He’s a fucking idiot.”

“Not all alien women look remotely close to us. Most of them are hideous. If he gave in, she must have been really attractive.”

Vegeta groaned, infuriated that the few Saiyans left were so stupid and lecherous, they would lose themselves so quickly into whatever pussy crossed their path. He ignored his own hard-on; if he got aroused it was simply a biological reaction. He would never succumb like that.

He did not comment anything else regarding the matter, and focused on Raditz, who seemed to have found his brother from what they could hear from the scouter. 

[ultra-violences]

les gens qui jouent le ship larry sur les rpg en 2023, grow up vraiment

[beastsovrevelation]

I have this yearning to drag the characters and ships I hate through the dirt on my blog, but I just... I have no energy to waste on drama. And, I know it feels vile, I'm not really on a crusade to hurt others.