#fuckin lit as all hell my lord

[sttoru]

ahh i just cant stop thinking of sukuna's fav concubine getting injured from the other concubines but she hides it because shes scared of being weak (in sukuna's eyes) and/or a burden ☹️☹️

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. fluff, sprinkle of angst n comfort. size difference. reader gets called ‘brat, woman, little one’ — ig this is a bit early in their relationship

“i’ve arrived, my lord,” you announce your presence once you step into sukuna’s quarters. the dimly lit room removed all the stress you currently had in your system—the knowledge that you’re safe in his space causes your shoulders to drop.

sukuna turns his head to look at you while he’s laid back on his bed, topless. all four of his eyes roam over your body, which isn’t anything unusual for you. he always does that.

“tch. took ya long enough,” the king of curses scoffs before gesturing for you to come closer, making that familiar motion with his fingers, “when i order y’ to come, you’re supposed to drop everything and rush to be at my service, woman.”

you hurry over to his side of the bed with a nod. “my apologies,” you mutter. you can’t tell him why you’re late, because hell would break loose within these walls. and also because you’re scared of what his reaction would be.

before being called over, you were in the kitchen, peacefully trying to get a snack, when two other concubines entered the room. you tried ignoring them, but that didn’t seem to be the smartest move. it wasn’t long before they threw derogatory remarks at you.

of course, you stood up for yourself and yelled some back. that’s when one of them pushed you backwards, causing the skin near your hand to get slightly burned by the fire on the stove.

if it weren’t for the maids around that went to report the ruckus to uraume, god knows what more would have went down in that kitchen.

“oi,” sukuna grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. he can immediately notice the vacant look in your eyes, which is unusual for you. you snap out of your trance and set the nasty memories aside—ignoring the impulse to scratch the injury on your wrist.

“i’m sorry, my lord,” you say again before slowly undoing your obi. you figure that is why sukuna had called you over, to do your job as his concubine. you halt your movements when you realise that undressing meant that he’s going to see the wound on your skin.

you hesitate. that same instant of hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed by the king of curses. a large hand of his moves to stop both of your wrists from pulling off your robes.

“. . .i’m giving y’ three seconds of my time,” sukuna narrows his eyes after allowing you to speak up and tell him what’s on your mind. he hears you whimper in pain when he holds onto your wrist, your facial expression clearly uncomfortable. “spit it out,” he impatiently huffs. he wants to hear you say what’s wrong.

you desperately shake your head, biting your bottom lip. you don’t want to tell him—even though you know you’re obligated to.

denying an answer to sukuna was your next big mistake.

“fuckin’ brat,” the pink-haired man grunts. he yanks your arms up to his face, harshly pulling down the sleeves of your kimono. all four of his red eyes immediately fall onto the wound on your wrist. you obviously hadn’t treat it yet, even though you should have done so long ago.

there’s tension hanging in the air almost instantly after your little secret gets revealed. sukuna’s grip on your hands tightens which causes you to flinch. you close your eyes and expect the worst. you can already hear the insults he’ll throw at you—how he’ll call you useless, weak, stupid and all that.

“look up at me,” his voice rings out in a firm tone. you don’t want to anger him more than he already is, so you obey. you open your eyes and glance upwards, your worried gaze meeting his.

sukuna takes a deep breath to contain the bubbling rage inside of him; a rare sight indeed. he doesn’t want to unnecessarily lash out at you when it isn’t needed. however, he can’t deny that itching urge in his chest, to get mad at whoever caused your skin to get tainted like that.

sukuna stares at you with an intimidating glare. when you expect him to yell profanities at you, the unexpected happens.

“who did this to you?” he asks, voice strained like he’s trying to hold himself back.

you blink a few times. the king of curses sounds pissed off, and when he’s in that kind of mood, you know he’s not to be played with. you look the other way and try to think of a proper answer.

will you snitch and cause unnecessary bloodbath, or will you spare the lives of the concubines who hurt you and lie?

you’re scared of being seen as useless by sukuna if you tell him the truth. if you lie, he’ll probably call you weak and stupid as well. it’s a lose-lose situation, you conclude.

you swallow the spit that has gathered in your mouth before parting your lips.

“m-miko,” her name echoes in his ears. you decide to be honest, because you know that there’s no fooling the ryomen sukuna. a second of silence follows and when you look up at him, he stares back at you with furrowed brows.

“ah,” you then realise that he doesn’t know his concubines by name. he has way too many women at his disposal and doesn’t find them worthy enough to remember.

however you have heard from uraume and the others that he does know your name—only yours. it makes you feel special.

you try to describe the concubine you’ve tussled with, “s-short blonde hair, uhm, mole under her right eye.. brown colored eyes—“

sukuna thinks for a moment before clicking his tongue once he faintly remembers who that’s supposed to be. without a word, he stands up and wraps one muscular arm around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you under his armpit like some package.

“uraume!”

his voice is loud enough to make the walls shake and it carries a clear hint of pure rage. everyone in the estate should have heard him by now, which means that they know what is going down in a couple seconds.

sukuna sounding this angry only means one thing; someone is going to die today.

the servants hurriedly scurry around, deeply bowing as he walks past them in the hallway with you still tucked underneath his arms. you let yourself be carried while your heart beats uncontrollably fast in your chest.

you feel your hands shake a bit. seeing someone like sukuna be this mad for your sake—to the point that he’s ready to turn the entire area upside down—is somehow thrilling. though, you can’t help but feel sick because of your own thoughts.

someone is going to die and there you are, cheesing about the king of curses.

you see the white-haired chef appear from a corner, their steps hurried. they glance at you and then back at their master. it’s like they immediately connect the dots.

“treat her in my quarters. don’t let her leave until i come back,” sukuna commands without even looking at uraume. he’s staring ahead, with an ominous aura emitting from his body, one that somebody can sense from miles away.

he puts you down next to uraume before glancing your way one last time. he lets out a deep sigh as he sees the worried expression you’re making. he lowers his head to your level so you’d be face to face.

“and you,” his warm breath hits your cheeks and sends a shiver down your spine. you gulp as sukuna’s hand reaches up to firmly tug at your earlobe, “i’ll deal with your ass later, yeah? i’ll make you feel what it means to hide stuff from me, little one.”

that sentence makes you even more nervous. you know you won’t be able to avoid the punishment sukuna has in mind, so you simply nod. “understood,” you reply in a squeaky voice. you don’t have the guts to disobey him—he’s already out to kill someone and you don’t want to be the next victim.

sukuna straightens his back again and continues his journey towards the concubines’ quarters. every heavy step makes the floors and walls shake, a sign of his unstoppable rage that’s about to be unleashed.

you feel slightly puzzled. you didn’t expect this outcome when you revealed your injury to the ruthless man. you expected to be belittled and mocked for not being able to prevent a wound from being inflicted on your body.

instead, there he goes, off to get revenge in your stead. you feel a twisted sense of satisfaction after seeing sukuna be this protective over you. actions like these demonstrate more than his dull words can do, even if it may seem like he doesn’t care about what could happen to a human like you.

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

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[big-greer]

I know i dont usually post stuff like this, for the longest time if you had asked me what my gender was id say i was a regular guy..but in truth i say that but i never really felt like i "Fit" with the term guy. Like in my brain whenever i think of myself i never really think specifically about being a male. Before i just assumed "oh its cause i am one, obviously i wouldnt consciously think of that. its sort of a given" but looking back that clearly wasnt the case, always joked how i barely counted as a guy and most people either would laugh like its a joke but a few days ago a coworker asked why..and i sort of froze up cause i had never really stopped and asked myself why? Like i knew i didnt act like a normal guy, i didnt think like one, i never had that attachment to the title of being male. so i always felt this disconnect from manhood, and even when my father tried to teach me to be a man it always felt like i was just an outsider looking in and learning a lesson through a window or something. he tried all kinds of stuff you would expect a "manly" guy to know, hell he even taught me how to track through a forest (would cut notches in trees and we walked from the top of a mountain to the bottom and had me lead us back following the marks he made. yeah dad take your like 14 year old to the fucking bottom of a mountain and make me track cut marks like some legendary hunter lol). and he would always explain what manhood was and i just....it never connected to me you know? i always chocked that up to the fact my dad was never really around (after he and ma divorced he sorta slowly dissapeared from my life till he was dead one day) and so i figured i wasnt like a regular guy cause i was raised by like, 95% woman only so i thought that might be why? but as ive come to realize it isnt that and ive just never really vibed with the idea of being just a guy, its never clicked for me.

Now dont get me wrong, the idea of using she/her pronouns actually is uncomftorable to me so now i feel like im sort of just floating here? in between gender in my own sort of like...little world and im worried about doing it right. Yeah i know "oh i want to do good at gender which is a logical and reasonable thing that can be done" i know i know. But like, i dont want to wear makeup and dresses and stuff (though nail polish would be nice, perhaps a good black would be cool.) and i feel like i dont particularly want to wear any womans clothing? i like guy clothes, there comfy, fit me nice, and for obvious reasons they are all i got lol. Also i like having my goatee and facial hair so thats also a thing. i just worry that after browsing the nonbinary tag that cause of stuff like this i wouldnt be good at being nonbinary, or that i would do it wrong. OH also that i would still be comfortable with people using he/him pronouns as well as they/them but wouldnt feel comftorable with somebody using she/her ones (perhaps this is just cause he/him pronouns are all ive known my entire life and thats why im more comfy with them). yeah all that makes me worried id be doing nonbinary wrong, which i know is a dumb sentence cause nobody can do gender "wrong" and that its a personal thing that is up to only the person whose gender its about feelings on the situation. but that lingering doubt is still in my mind, that i will be some sort of fraud or not ACTUALLY nonbinary and stuff. cause lord knows alot of tumblr views nonbinary as just "WOMAN 2" and if you arnt some hyper androgynous person you arnt actually nonbinary and i know i know, i shouldnt care what fuckin morons on tumblr say.

But gender stuff is new to me, VERY knew. Lord knows i still have strange feelings towards being ace and sometimes worry im not "ACE" enough to be considered ace. so im def still fighting some internal demons about this stuff. But having good friends around is helping out alot and i cant even imagine how id handle dealing with this sort of stuff alone (cause lord knows what little family i got left wouldnt be the most...supportive) anyway uh, gender is fuckin wild and confusing and stupid and simple and everything and nothing and lord does it give me a headache.

[eusuntgratie]

Fic Pride Weekend

thank you for the tags @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @bigassbowlingballhead <3

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

this could be a disaster, taynick, rwrb rpf

disaster my slutty slutty baby. there's a lot in here i'm proud of, but the moments nick lets us see how much taylor cares about him are some of my very favorite. it took me way too long to pick a bit from this fic!

“You’re really good, Nick,” Taylor tells him, like he can see all of his insecurities lining themselves up in his head. It zings through his brain and body pleasantly in a way he doesn’t expect. He wants to make a joke, but he swallows it down, and mutters, “thanks,” to the floor at Taylor’s feet. Before he knows what to do, Taylor’s wrapping him up in a hug, tight and warm and perfect. “I’m so glad you’re my Henry,” he murmurs, and Nick thinks he could probably melt into the floor.

give it to me easy, tknp, men's hockey rpf

happy retired pat fic my beloved <3

It’s always been easier with TK. Like he bullied his way into Nolan’s life while he was distracted with proving himself on the team and before Nolan knew what was happening he was letting TK tie his tie and come over when he was laid out with a migraine and telling him how much he hated his fucking head back before he’d talk to anybody.

stetson, firstprince, rwrb

i love this fic so much, and this bit is probably my favorite

“What’s the matter, baby?” Alex asks, voice gone deeper and a little raspy. Henry wants to drown in it. Wants to sink to his knees and get his hands on the denim stretched across Alex’s thighs, wants to choke on his cock, wants Alex to shove him backwards with his boot and fuck him on the floor until he cries.

forgive me, father, sidgeno, men's hockey rpf

this is one of the fics i've most proud of in general. it was a huge departure for me thematically and writing about catholicism was challenging but cathartic, i think. writing sid as a priest was a fuckin trip.

That night, he sinks to his knees and asks the Lord to protect John Francis, to give him the strength to be what the town needs, to guide His people into the light and away from the Devil. He sleeps fitfully, plagued by confusing dreams - strange amalgamations of things he’s seen and tempting imagery sent by the Devil. The dead Deacon, faceless and cold, in the bed Sid now sleeps in. The cross he saw on his way into town, lit up in flames. A beautiful, tempting face with big eyes and a mischievous smile, whispering, “hello, Sidney. I’m glad you’re here.” Visions of the town, sinking down to Hell, calling out to Sid who is powerless to help, chained by his own failings, his sins, his shortcomings.

bruises on both my knees for you, dumotanger, men's hockey rpf

i fucking love these two i should poke at my omegaverse fic for them

Brian’s embarrassingly hard to just be kneeling on a crusty floor with a dick barely in his mouth, but everything about Kris seems to make him want him more.

hold me like i was forgiven, tknp (kinda, more like a tk fic), men's hockey rpf

i love this fic it hurt me so bad to write it it's one of my favorites. this scene made me cry writing it and i still love it so much.

Travis takes in every detail of Rhett’s sweet face, suddenly afraid this is a dream he’ll wake up from. He knows people love their kids, that he loves kids, but watching Rhett’s face smashed up against his chest, drooling into his shirt, he’s overwhelmed by the force of his love for him. “He's beautiful, Karly.” She smiles like she can’t help it. “He really is.” “He looks like me.” Her smile falters a little. “I know.” “I love him,” he says, tears spilling over and onto his face. “I love him so much.” Her voice shakes this time when she answers, “I know. I know you do.”

liar, sidgenotanger, men's hockey rpf

i'd love to write a sequel to this. i love their dynamic in this one!

Kris starts to argue but Zhenya cuts them both off. “Sid. Be good.”

can't help it i want you, sidgenoanna, men's hockey rpf

Sid sighs. He's the captain. And maybe if things were different, he’d have a girlfriend or a wife who would notice and do for Anna what Sid always does for the rookies. But he doesn’t. What he has is a bad habit of fucking around with his alternate captain and a mostly-manageable load of guilt about it.

i am not a woman i'm a god, allison/erica but really nogitsune/erica, teen wolf

i had to get at least one teen wolf fic and one femslash fic in here! this one was fun to write.

The thing that looks like Allison, pretty dimples out of place on the cruel face, is on top of her in an instant, boxing her into the seat where she slept. She hates that she freezes, that not-Allison is bringing out the sad, scared, embarrassed sick girl that she tries to pretend was killed by the bite.

tagging @lostcol @voxofthevoid @jbarneswilson @taste-thewaste @dreamsinthewitchouse

@sheepywritesfics @matriaya @puckingfabulous @oxfordslutphase

[book51ut]

Mary Magdalene

JAS A Golden Shovel After Clarice Lispector

I do not know what I write or why I write to

you. Both for you and for me it is not particularly comfortable.

I'm sorry but I don't apologize and I don't believe I can stop. The whisperers beg that I impart my secrets but I do not have faith in their confidences.

So I must write it down instead Because it must come out some way or another and I use the page to metallize the words and they become immobile and then I become myself.

again and I feel fine for a minute but then again, inevitably, I'm not safe not Comfortable

then I must write for my own salvation and for you for your prosperity and also for your downfall or for

the voices in my head that tell me; it will never end unless my Faith grows stronger. The Word of God bursts

forward into the ether and I am grasping at the strings of all of space and time to finally get some sleep. I cannot think of

another way to do this because it comes from the depths of Hell and journeys into the day. So I write what I must because I must and unfortunately you

deserve it anyway and I deserve some sleep. will He forgive me for my sins? I know not of that or of anything else really. I was told that Jesus loves me

And that Mary Magdalene was a Whore. Is there somewhere in the shadow where she can rest her weary head? Maybe in the parking lot of

the 7/11 on Northern Blvd. I heard she was tired of the bullshit sermons that Jesus rambled on about every day. He pretends to be straight as an arrow but keeps his dick wet and his nose runny. That son of a bitch has

just got no fuckin' class. I nod in agreement and see she has been hit by the latest Matthew Mark Luke or John. 99¢ Arizona held to her face. Its cool exterior dulling the swell of the eye which was the target. I don't know how I

even get into these situations. She knows that everyone shall whisper around her because she claims to be Holy but He only lies next to her in the dead of night. But he lies vainly to the rest of them during the day. He tries to grasp

at their throats when He speaks and I've personally always seen it as a narcissistic undertaking. The Son of God should live in shadow like the rest of us. I am certain that He is no better than me. He takes

His Art from sweet Mary and vomits it up In grotesque parables. The Lord Our Savior and I are very similar we spend nights in a room which is not our own. We believe in

the power of the Word in space, we are liars like our mothers, and we do not take our medication nearly as often as we should. What do you know about my writing because I barely

know anything about it and certainly none of it matters to anyone but you? But I cannot live without it. It is the Narcan to the opioids that were in the communion wafer. I am now in withdrawal from the dart.

Which struck my shoulder and filled me with the Fever. I have been a woman of God or some construct since I was baptized as a babe when the fire of the Holy Spirit caused something to be lit inside of my soul and now I can never be free of the urge or of

the dramatics of Catholic aestheticism. Don't come near me I think I will explode and probably be filled with lust or some sense of forgiveness that you-

do not deserve. Maybe I will feel guilt for all of this I probably won't because I am a fool who is convinced that she is Never at fault. My eyelids are heavy. I need my freedom

I must be rid of you and that seems impossible. Mary Magdalene leads me forward and gently guides my hand down to her own death.

[pricetagofficial]

Pair of Aces -H.D. [18+]

Warnings: Language, I made Harvey too hot for words, NSFW smut, drinking, smoking, car sex, self sex, oral sex, sex sex,  Harvey is a gift giver, I don’t make the rules, fluff, raunchy jokes and humor, sexy drink names

Paring: Harvey Dent x Reader

Masterlist

Part One Part Three

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: This is the official/unofficial part two to Baby Doll. You can find it in the link above! After writing the first one, I had so many ideas that I wanted to do so I made another and here we are folks. 5.6k words of complete self indulgence. Blame Elle, (who also made this fabulous banner for me, love you!)

Harvey had his arm draped over your shoulders, keeping you within reach. Sure, this was supposed to be a friendly poker game but that didn't mean he trusted these fuckers with being within ten feet of you. 

It really didn't help that you dressed the way you did. The short leather skirt alone was enough to kill him. But when he saw the white sleeveless crop top with a golden chain laced across exposing your breasts, he swore his heart stopped.

Pressed close to Harvey's side, you shivered feeling the chain brush against your skin. You could feel several pairs of eyes trail over your body, only making Harvey tighten his hold on you.

The game was supposed to be between Harvey, Roman Sionis, and Oswald Cobblepott. Once a month, the three men put aside their differences for a couple of games of poker. No business was allowed, except potential info against a common enemy usually centered around a particular bat-obsessed freak.

The door at the end of the hall had several men standing guard, looking down at you and Harvey.

“There was nothing about bringing a guest,” one said. 

“Didn’t want to leave her all alone, thought she could learn something tonight,” Harvey explained, tightening his grip on your waist. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, daring the guards to try and pry you away from him. 

The larger one huffed and crossed his arms, a grin on his face. “We’ll have to pat you down before letting you in.” 

Releasing his hold on you, Harvey stepped forward with his hands up as the guard patted down his chest and legs to make sure he isn’t hiding anything suspicious. Finding the gun in his coat, the guard gave Harvey a look before he raised a brow. 

“Gotta protect my girl somehow,” he said, looking at him. “You never know the kind of creeps are out there.” 

The guard shrugged and let him pass, putting a hand out to stop you from following him. 

“Hey! You did your inspection, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guard’s grin got wider, his eyes hiding something malicious in them. “I said I had to pat you down, both of you.” 

“That’s a load of fucking bullshit,” he growled, stepping back to protect you. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you kissed his cheek. 

“Relax baby, I’ll be alright,” you assured, stepping back and putting your hands in the air. You felt the guard’s hands start on your waist and make their way up your torso, moving to grab your breasts. Before he could, you lifted your foot and slammed the heel of your stiletto into his foot. 

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” you frowned, listening to the guard hiss at the pain before finishing up and letting you through. 

Harvey chuckled, watching you handle yourself before grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest. Placing a kiss on your lips, he opened the door and led you in. 

The room was filled with smoke from cigars and cigarettes galore, and there was a bad smell in the air that reminded you of the gym locker rooms. It smelled of sweat, meat, and something else you didn’t want to linger on. 

Harvey’s eyes raked the room, eyeing Roman and Oswald already sitting in their chairs having what seemed to be a friendly chat. Walking further into the room, Harvey pulled out his chair and sat. 

“Sorry it took so long boys, had some personal matters to attend to,” he said, unbuttoning his coat and pulling out a cigarette. He looked at you, an expectant look on his face. 

Rolling your eyes, you leaned over his body the leather skirt riding up your ass. Reaching into his coat, you pulled out the lighter and lit the cig in his mouth. He knew you hated it when he smoked, but he couldn’t deny how unbelievably hot it was to watch you light them for him. 

Taking a drag, he blew out the smoke, his eyes not leaving you. “Thanks, baby doll,” he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. Glancing to the side, he didn’t miss the looks Roman and Oswald were giving you. Wanting to prove that you were untouchable, he reached forward toying with the golden chain of your top. 

“Why don’t you go get daddy a drink?” he asked, brushing the skin of your breasts with his finger ever so lightly. 

“Yes sir, Mr. Dent.” you winked, standing straight. As you turned to pour him a drink, Harvey grinned and slapped your ass, earning a light squeal from you. 

Roman’s eyes narrowed in on the sway of your ass as you walked, what he wouldn’t give for an hour alone with you. Leaning on the arm of his chair, his gaze raked over your body lingering on your exposed breasts. He swore Dent brought you along just to brag, not that he would complain. The sweet image of you bent over the arm of the chair was enough to satiate his wants for the time being. 

Harvey narrowed his eyes, “Something on your mind Sionis?” 

You walked back over, Harvey’s scotch in your hand not ignoring the looks all the men in the room were giving you. Taking a sip of it yourself, you handed it to him, your lipstick staining the glass. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing with an ugly bastard like Harv?” Roman asked, a grin forming on his face. 

“More than you could ever imagine,” Harvey responded, glaring him down. 

Roman leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes watching you intently. Snapping his fingers to get your attention, he grinned. “How about a Kinky Blow Job, princess.” 

Harvey looked as if he was about to explode, gripping the arms of the chair he was in. Roman caught his gaze, not missing your flustered state at his bold request. “I mean the drink, Dent. Your girl should know how to do a Kinky Blow Job right? Or were those personal matters over a Juicy Pussy?”

Not wanting to be rude, you walked over and made the drink Roman requested. If you weren’t so well versed in various drink names this would have been a very awkward position. Mixing the pink drink, you put a straw in it before making your way over to Roman. 

His gaze alone was enough to give you shivers, Roman watched your movements like he was waiting for the right time to strike and make you his meal. 

“Here you go, Mr. Sionis.” 

Roman reached for the drink, his cold hand brushing yours ever so slightly sending shivers down your spine. “What’s the matter, princess, too cold? I know a way or two to warm my fingers up.” he winked. 

Pulling your hand back, you could feel Harvey burning holes into Roman’s chest as he continued to openly flirt with you not bothering to turn his gaze away from your exposed chest. 

“Will that be all, Mr. Sionis?” you asked, clasping your hands behind your back.

Deciding he had enough fun, he waved you away before looking at Harvey. “Such a polite little thing, how long did it take you to train her?” he asked, sipping his drink. 

The second you were close enough, Harvey grabbed your waist and pulled you down to rest on his knee. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he threatened, placing a kiss to the back of your throat. Your hand came to rest on his knee, squeezing gently as he bit into the soft flesh of your shoulder enough to leave a mark. 

“It’s a joke, Dent.” Roman chuckled, “Lighten up some,”

You felt his hand wrap around your middle, securing you against his chest resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Both of ya, shut the ‘ell up and play the fuckin’ game!” Oswald snapped, dueling out the cards. “Buch o’ bloody wankers.” 

Picking up the cards dealt to him, Harvey kept you close. There was no way in hell he was letting anyone, especially Roman get their grubby hands on you. Looking at his cards, he reached into his coat and pulled out a wad of bills. 

“Put half of that on the table for me baby doll,” he said, eyeing you as your body arched over to toss half the wad on the table. Handing it back to him, he took the bills, grinning as he stuffed them into your top. “Why don’t you keep that safe for me?” 

“Yes, sir Mr. Dent.” you breathed, feeling his fingers lightly brush against your nipples through the top.

Content with your reaction, Harvey leaned back in his seat as you turned and draped your legs across his lap. Placing his hand on your knees, he pulled you close. Watching his hand, he glanced at the other two before setting his cards down. 

“What’s with that look Dent, confident or scared you’ll lose?” Roman called, glancing up from his cards. 

“What, worried you’ll lose to me?” 

“I thought you liked to leave things to chance or was that all an act?” 

Harvey didn’t like the fact Roman was trying to goad him into betting more money. Looking at his cards again, he still had a high chance to win. Turning to look at you, Harvey slid a finger into your top and pulled it back enough to pull out the bills and toss them onto the table. 

You weren’t happy he fell for Roman’s obvious ploy at trying to rile him up. These poker games were meant to be simple fun between crime lords, but you knew how dangerous they could be. One second they were betting money, and the second someone’s ego got fluffed they gambled away their firstborn child. 

Hours passed, and you watched as they played through three games already and dealt out the fourth and final round. Each man won a round each, and this one was to take home the cake to prove who was the best poker player. Roman had a dangerous glint in his eyes, and you didn’t like the results that could come of that.

Oswald was oddly the most generous of the three, offering you free champagne and even a platter of sandwiches that were prepared just for you. 

Harvey however, refused to let you off his lap. He worried the second he let go, you would disappear. It said a lot when he didn’t trust his own men with you, but he trusted Roman and Oswald’s men even less. 

“Final round boys, ‘ow ‘bout we up the stakes?” Oswald asked, tossing the final few cards. 

Roman grinned, his teeth a shocking white against the dark of the room. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a folded piece of paper with his handwriting scrawled across it. “One free night with any girl of your choosing from my club.” Tossing the paper onto the table, his gaze turned to Oswald. 

“Up that, you old bird.” 

“Shut up!” Oswald thought long and hard, he didn’t have anything like that to bet. He didn’t dabble in sex clubs or prostitutes. He had more class than that, but he did have something a lot of people sought after. 

Pulling a piece of paper out, he wrote his offer illegible from your distance. True to form, Oswald Cobblepott had chicken scratch handwriting. 

“One free night, in the private secluded box in the Iceberg Lounge. Enough for you and two guests.” 

Nodding appreciatively, Roman smiled and turned his gaze to you and Harvey. His smile didn’t waver one bit, as if he knew what was about to happen next. “What are you going to bet, Dent? It seems money isn’t an option, fuck knows we have plenty of it.” 

“He could bet tha’ little ‘ore of ‘is?” 

Harvey’s grip tightened on your waist, holding you protectively against him. 

“What’s the matter Dent, I thought you were confident in your card skills?” Roman grinned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. 

“No.” he growled. “She isn’t for sale.” 

“Oh come on Dent, why don’ you let the coin decide?” Oswald chuckled, knowing full well what Harvey would do. 

You watched as he reached into his pocket, toying with his coin between his fingers. 

“Harvey, you can’t be serious?” you asked, muttering into his ear. “I thought you said I wasn’t for sale, remember?” 

“Relax doll,” he said, turning his gaze to you. Harvey knew it was reckless, but he couldn’t refuse what the coin decides. “Have a little faith in me,” 

You watched with wide eyes as he set the standard. Heads, it was a no. Tails, you were to be placed on the betting table. The deal was one night, equal to that of the others and you had more than monetary value to Harvey. Or so you hoped. 

Flipping the coin, you held your breath watching as he caught it and flipped it onto the back of his hand to reveal the damaged side of his double-sided coin. 

Your voice died in your throat, looking at him with a concerned look. 

“You fucking asshole,” you snapped getting off his lap to stand behind him. There was no way you could watch this hand play out, not when your virtue was on the line. 

“Now that the bets have been placed, let’s play some cards, boys.” Roman grinned and began the round, his eyes not leaving your figure once. 

The next twenty minutes were some of the most agonizing twenty minutes of your life. You watched in worry as Harvey played the game. His hand was pretty good, but did that mean it was better than the others? At some point, you had to stop watching, the anxiety making it too much to bear knowing your fate rested in the cards. Biting your nail, you watched as they finally folded and waited for the results. 

Oswald flipped his card, showing that he had a full house. Not bad, but there were higher hands to play that could win.

Roman chuckled, flipping his cards over to reveal a four of a kind all in diamonds. That was a pretty damn good hand, if Harvey didn’t have a better hand it seemed you would be going home with Roman Sionis spending your night filled with Kinky Blow Jobs and Juicy Pussies. You couldn’t deny the man oozed sex appeal, but you wanted it on your terms and not from a fucking poker game. 

Clenching your fists, you watched as Harvey tsked and turned his cards to reveal a straight flush. “Sorry boys, but Y/N is going home with me tonight.” 

You watched Roman clench his jaw, irritated at the fact he lost a night with you all to himself. Getting from his seat, he put a hand in his pocket and adjusted his cigar. “Well played Dent, next time maybe you won’t be so lucky.” 

Both Oswald and Harvey got to their feet and shook hands. “Good game gentlemen, same time next month?” 

Harvey put all of his stuff into a bag before walking over to you. He didn’t miss the glare you were giving him, nor did he miss the way Roman sauntered up to you taking your hand and pulling you closer. 

“Such a shame to miss out on a night with you, princess. Maybe Dent will bring you along again next time and we’ll see what happens then.” He pulled your hand up to his lips, placing a kiss to your smooth skin. 

Giving him a hard glare, you bit your cheek. “You may be nice on the eyes Mr. Sionis, but you might want to remember you can’t buy the best things in life.” you snapped, pulling your hand away. “And I don’t come cheap.” 

Harvey bit his lip to hide his chuckle at the sight of Roman’s face. Walking over he wrapped an arm around your waist, planting a hand firmly on your ass. He knew you were pissed at him, it seemed he had a lot to make up for. 

“Later boys,” he called walking out with you on his side. As a silent promise, his large hand gripped your ass roughly while you walked, the skirt riding up to expose the underside of your cheek and black thong. 

“That fucker,” Roman growled, walking out himself. 

***

Harvey led you back to the car, where your driver and security detail waited. 

“You have a lot of groveling ahead of you Dent if you even think about sleeping in the same bed tonight.” 

Leaning to press soft kisses to your throat, Harvey wrapped both arms around you as he kissed your collar. “How about I start right now,” he muttered against your skin. “I know how much you love being fucked in the backseat.” 

Gripping his hair, you tipped your head back breathing heavily from his onslaught of kisses and public display. His hands wandered lower, toying with the bottom of your skirt as he pressed you against the car door. 

“You’re lucky you’re hot.”

Harvey grinned against your skin, before looking at the driver. “You go ahead with security, I have some business to attend to.” he grabbed the keys and unlocked the door, pulling away long enough to watch you slide in and spread your legs for him to see your dripping cunt on full display to him and anyone else around. Sucking in a harsh breath, he dove in after you and shut the door, locking it behind him. 

His lips were on yours in an instant, hips prying your legs further apart, the skirt bunched up to give him access. Harvey mumbled soft apologies against your skin as he left open-mouthed kisses across your collar. His hands danced across your thighs, as they made their way up to your pussy. 

Letting out a sigh, you arched your back feeling him swipe through your folds moaning at the sudden contact. His fingers entered into you, quickly stretching your hole to accommodate his cock to impatient to take his time with you. 

Gripping the leather of the seat, you moaned his name. “Harvey! Please!” 

Hearing your cries, his hand continued to thrust in and out of your pussy before pulling back and undoing his belt. Quick to pull out his cock, he fisted it several times watching you writhe and drip onto the leather beneath you. 

“Hold on baby doll,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you.” Gripping your hips, Harvey pushed your thong to the side and thrusted into you, bottoming out in two strokes. 

Your body spasmed, trying to take in all you were feeling. Sinful moans left your lips feeling him stretch you perfectly as he picked up the pace. All you could hear over your ragged breath was Harvey’s hushed apologies as his hips rutted into yours followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

You could feel the car rock back and forth from the force of his thrusts, Harvey desperate to make you cum. Reaching down, his thumb played with your clit making you tip your head back and kick against the door. 

“Oh fuck, Harvey!” you cried, gripping the back of his shirt. “I-I’m so close, baby. So close.” 

Hearing you gasp for air, Harvey thrusted harder into you knocking the air back out of your lungs watching as silent moans left your perfect lips. Your jaw was slack and your eyes rolled back at the feeling of Harvey driving into you. 

Swearing as your walls clench around him, Harvey moaned your name, continuing his pace. “You look so perfect,” he praised. “So fucking perfect as your pretty pussy takes my cock.” 

Feeling the build-up, your thighs tensed around his waist while you clawed at his shirt. 

“Fuck! Harvey, I’m gonna--” your words were cut off by a loud moan as you came on his cock, feeling it drip down your exposed ass. 

Thrusting into you twice more, Harvey buried his cock inside you as he came, marking you as his as your mixed juices pooled beneath you. The smell of sex filled the car, as he continued to place kisses all over your body. 

Panting heavily, you pulled his head up to kiss him. “Oh fuck…” you muttered, resting back against the car seats. Harvey looked down at you, pressing kisses to your cheek. 

“Let me take you home doll, really make it up to you.” 

Barely hearing his words, you nodded and closed your eyes. Feeling him pull out of you, you whined at the loss of contact before feeling his lips on your neck. Letting out a hiss, you tilted your head to the side feeling him suck the skin between his teeth really marking you as his this time. 

Tucking himself back into his pants, Harvey climbed into the front seat and started the car before driving off. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw you splayed across the back seat recovering from the orgasm he just gave you. He saw your lipstick smeared across his lips, chuckling at the thought of how fucked out he must look. 

You could still feel the ache Harvey left between your legs, begging to be used again. Reaching down, you slipped two fingers into your pussy trying to convince yourself that it was Harvey. The ache resided some, but it wasn't enough. 

“Harvey…” you whined, bucking your hips into your hand. “Please!”

Glancing at you in the mirror, Harvey swallowed hard as he watched your toy with yourself while begging for him. “I’m going doll, wait until we get home.” his voice strained, trying to keep himself from driving into traffic. 

Sliding a hand up, you gripped your own breast and played with your nipple through the top, continuing to finger yourself. “I want to feel you, baby, please! It’s too much!” 

Going faster than the speed limit, Harvey palmed his growing bulge as he listened to the squelching of your fingers pumping your mixed juices back into you. With every whine and moan, his pants got tighter until it was so painful he couldn’t focus. 

Pulling into the garage, he all but jumped out of the car before walking over to the door and pulling it open to see you fucking yourself until you came. Loud moans left your lips, echoing across the garage as Harvey watched you pull your fingers out and lick them clean. 

“Holy fucking shit doll,” he muttered, pulling you out of the car. Kicking the door shut, he helped you balance on your feet before leading you up to the bedroom, his hands not leaving your body once. 

“When we get there, I’ll make it all up to you,” he promised, muttering against your shoulder. “I’ll worship every inch of you, give you a special gift and everything.” His hands roamed your body, reveling in the way you shivered under his touch. He’ll make you forget all about his stupid bet, and make you feel so good you won’t want to leave the bed.

Leaning into his touch, you walked with him as he opened the door. “You still have a lot of apologizing left to do, better get started.”

Harvey hummed into your shoulder, leading you towards the bedroom of your lavish apartment. Entering the room, he led you to the mirror and held you against his chest. You watched his hands as they traveled up your body before grabbing your breasts through your top and giving them a tight squeeze. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night with this fucking top,” he grumbled, listening to your airy breaths as he played with your breasts. “Who the fuck thought it was legal to sell you this shirt?” 

“The sales per-person,” you gasped, leaning into his touch. Feeling him pinch your nipples, you hissed pressing your ass into his crotch. 

Keeping a hand on your breasts, the other slid down your body sending little bolts of electricity everywhere he touched you. “And this fucking skirt, so fucking tight around your little ass everyone was looking at what belongs to me.” 

His lips trailed from your shoulder up to your cheek, not taking his eyes from your flustered form. You could see his eyes burning into yours as you turned your face to meet his lips in a passionate kiss.

You felt his hands slide the skirt off of you, the leather pooling at your feet. Trailing over the soft skin of your stomach, he pulled at the top trying to get it off you. You could tell Harvey was getting impatient, so you pulled away from the kiss and guided his hands into taking it off your body. 

Standing in front of the mirror in nothing but your black thong and heels, you couldn’t help but admire Harvey’s hands as they traced over every inch of you he could reach. Slowly, you stepped out of your heels as Harvey’s fingers dipped into the straps and began to pull the thong down your hips. 

Kneeling as he pulled it down, Harvey nipped lightly at your ass causing you to jump in surprise letting out a little squeal. Chuckling at your surprise, Harvey got back on his feet turning you to look at him. 

“How about a present for the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen?” he asked, holding you against him. 

Biting your lip, you gave him a nod as he led you over to the bed and made you sit. 

“Stay put,” then he walked off and disappeared to get whatever it was he was going to give you.

It took a few minutes for him to come back, holding three boxes all wrapped in deep red bows. What could Harvey have gotten you this time? The last time he decided to give you something, it was the deed to a whole island that he named after you. 

No one got to see this side of Harvey Dent, the side that truly loved you and strived to prove it with extravagant gifts, expensive trips, and more. 

Giving him a playful look, You watched as he knelt before you and placed the boxes at your feet. Pressing a kiss to your knee, he handed you the first box. “Go ahead, open it.” 

Taking the package from his hands, you lifted the top off and pushed back the tissue paper. Pulling the item out, you saw that it was a black and white lace lingerie set, complete with garter belts. Holding it up, you looked at Harvey to see his delight in you liking the first gift. 

“Oh Harvey, it’s beautiful.” you praised holding it against the expanse of your body. 

“I’d say try it on, but why don’t we save it for another night?” he chuckled, watching you move the box to the side only for him to place another on your lap. 

Giving him a look, you could tell this one was heavier than the last and that probably meant it cost more. Pulling off the lid and unwrapping it, you saw that it was a beautiful necklace with several strands of pearls strung across. 

You gasped, holding it up and looking at him. “Harvey, what did I say about expensive gifts?” 

“That cost nowhere as much as the island.” he smiled. “I thought I could get some pearls for my favorite girl.” Leaning up, he took it from you and clasped it around your neck watching as they cascaded down your chest and over your breasts. 

“Perfect,” he muttered, kissing your cheek. 

Turning your head to meet his lips, you pulled him into a kiss running your fingers through his hair. The cold pearls sent shivers across your body as Harvey pressed himself against you. “Baby doll-- fuck.” he chuckled, feeling your hands trail over his chest trying to unbutton his shirt. “I still have one more present for you,” 

“That can wait until you’re done apologizing,” you grinned, sliding his shirt off his shoulders. 

Harvey gripped your waist, lifting you higher onto the bed as he crawled over you. “I was hoping you’d use it as an apology,” he groaned against your lips as you continued to undress him. 

Your fingers danced along the waist of his pants as you unbuttoned them, sliding them down his legs. Raking your nails over his exposed skin, you helped him out of his pants and boxers moaning as you felt his mouth kiss everywhere he could reach. 

Moving down your body, he kissed every inch until he got to your hips. Nuzzling your skin, he bit into you leaving teeth marks on your hip. Harvey loved to see you all marked up, further proving that you belonged to him and no one else. 

Making his way further down, he propped your thighs over his shoulders and sucked on the supple skin enjoying the taste of your mixed juices and sweat. Leaving a trail of bruises up your thigh, Harvey licked between your folds holding your hips down as you cried out.

“Oh, Harvey!” Your hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer as he continued to lick you clean. Your hips continued to move against his face, as he brushed your clit with his nose. 

Harvey’s tongue sent jolts all through your body, overwhelmed by the feeling of his ministrations through your folds. Your toes curled, feeling him enter a finger into you slowly pumping it in and out of you. 

Moaning against your cunt, Harvey added a second finger pumping them in and out of you at a sensual pace wanting you to feel every bit of it. 

“Please!” you gasped, pulling at his hair. “Please don’t stop,” 

Hearing you beg made him chuckle, the vibrations against your clit sending you closer and closer to the edge. Between his warm tongue and cool fingers, Harvey had you dangling over the cliff as if he was daring you to let go. 

You let out a scream feeling him brush the bundle of nerves with the pad of his fingers, massaging it until your throat was raw from your screaming. Glancing up at you, Harvey grinned seeing you so lost in the pleasure he was giving you. 

“Fuck!” you tugged on his hair harshly, earning a soft moan from his lips sending more little shocks into you as he laid claim to your pussy. “Harvey! Baby-- oh! Don’t stop!” you pleaded, digging your heels into his back. 

Curing his fingers again, he felt your walls spasm around him as you came coating his hand and face in your juices. Your voice echoed around the room from crying out his name, relaxing back into the bed. 

Harvey’s face was still buried between your thighs, refusing to quit. 

“Come on doll, cum on my face again.” he groaned, peeking up at you. You looked to see your cum smeared across his lips and chin, continuing to finger you trying to coax your body into another orgasm. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, getting back to it. You couldn’t hear much over the ringing in your ears, but you swore you heard the words ‘favorite meal’ leave his lips as he licked you clean. 

“H-Harv-- oh fuck! I-I can’t..” you whined, feeling yourself being brought up again. 

“You can do it, I know you can baby doll.” he muttered against your body, “Give me another, and I’ll fuck you properly until you beg me to stop.” 

His words made your head swim, the thought of his cock buried within you while feeling like this was enough to make you cum again, screaming his name. 

Harvey lapped up every drop he could, making sure he licked your pussy clean only for him to defile it again. Unable to take anymore, you pulled his head up and over to kiss you. You could taste your arousal on his tongue as it mingled with yours in your mouth. 

His hands placed themselves on your breasts, kneading them as the pearls rolled around his hands and towards your cleavage. Harvey enjoyed seeing you wear nothing but the pearls, as they bounced around your breasts while you moved.

Not wanting to waste another second, Harvey lifted his hips before thrusting into you again. Your tight cunt was enough to make his hips stutter, feeling your velvet walls wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck doll,” he muttered against your lips. “You feel so fuckin--” his breath caught in his throat feeling you pulse around his shaft, cutting off his words before picking up the pace. You were nothing more than a blissful fucked out mess as Harvey continued to drive his hips into yours. 

Feeling the ecstasy build up, you dug your nails into his back leaving marks that would last for days. 

“Harvey!”

Not able to get out anything but his name, your body succumbed to the intense feeling as another orgasm took over you leaving you gasping for air. 

Burying his face in your shoulder, Harvey continued to thrust into you before cumming deep within you. Unable to take anymore, he let his body collapse against yours, melting together covered in sweat and cum. 

Brushing your hair out of your eyes, he cupped your face and looked at you. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and Harvey would never understand what you saw in an asshole like him. Carefully, he lifted his hips and pulled out before lying next to you. 

Turning your head, you gave him a soft smile and kissed his lips. Wrapping his arms around you, Harvey pulled you close enjoying the warmth of your body. 

“Did I do good enough?” he asked, brushing his lips against yours. 

“Apology accepted,” 

Taglist: @catxsnow @niggxrette @subtleappreciation @littleredwing89 @offendedfishnoises @angstigone @batarella @alienstardust @illzarr @foenixphire​

[blonde-toddy]

Random and Not So Random thoughts while watching Bridgerton: Season 1, Episode 4

Oh they're at court.

Also she's not a commoner. She's the daughter of a Viscount.

Another Daphne brag moment, but homegirl really got the juice. She's bagging mfs over hand holding and dancing.

Violet dgaf. She's hungry now, damn it!

Oh he's buying jewelry already.

Ooooooh the way she imagines the Duke behind her. Honey yes. That scene was hot.

Too bad she came back to reality.

Hyacinth is my spirit animal.

Lady Whistledown ain't ready to write Simon off yet. She's waiting on the Dukes Hail Mary.

Shit. So am I.

I have never seen someone look so depressed in such an exquisite piece of jewelry. It's like the necklace chokes her. Testament to the acting and script for that though. It truly represents a trap.

Awww Simon is wearing that heavy bag out. I would say poor Simon, but he made this damn bed.

I love Alice and Will. They are the kind of wholesome love I need to keep my heart steady watching this damn show. She's his rider and I love it.

Alice roasting Simon over Daphne. Get. Yo. Girl. Mane.

I always cringe when a man tells a woman to smile.

Poor Marina. Portia is determined to find her the oldest mf. She's playing smart though.

Those damn dingbat sisters.

Maybe Penelope does care.

Well at least the least mean sister got a caller. They're awkward/cute.

Eloise girl, I love feathers in hair. Your one dimensional preaching is wearing me out again.

A boxing match date? I'd be down.

The prince legit seems like a nice guy. And Daphne is trying....but she's CLEARLY hung up on Simon.

Oh look Simon's losing focus on his friend because he's too focused on Daphne and the prince.

Ok mf! Take that shit off and roll them sleeves up. It turns me on too sis!

Oh look at the sweet family talk with the prince. Girl he'd give you any and everything you wanted.

But you and the Duke are just ATE TF UP about each other!

Mondrich for the win!!!!

Oh Benny. You've got a new friend. But what kind of friend? Give me more of this.

Well Anthony is smug and pleased as punch. Simons courtship of Daphne has ended. She has her perfect suitor. And Simon is leaving England to go rake and fuckboy about.

Though Simons hard slammed shot when the prince approached says he's anything but happy.

Violet always worries about the wrong shit.

Hyacinth always wants to know the good shit.

Be Hyacinth.

Oh fuck the prince is ready to propose. That shit escalated quickly.

SIMON!!!!!! Now would be a good time for that Hail Mary.

Good job Anthony. Way to realize that the women in your life have agency over THEMSELVES.

Violet always beating around the damn bush.....but she is still 100% #teamduke

Aw Daphne you're gonna break down snitching on yourself.

If it wasn't real with Simon you wouldn't be so ate up about it, and you would be rocking tf out of that necklace from the prince instead of crying.

There's a reason for the black in her outfit. For Daphne, who is normally all pastel blues, that black is her mourning. It's her 'attempting' to put to death her feelings for the Duke. And also I think mourning the loss if the bond they shared. Maybe I'm reading too much into it. But this seems like a very deliberate show with it's details.

Danbury ripping Simon open before she sends him off. Big energy.

She knows everything you thick headed mf. Why won't you just listen?! You letting your rank ass daddy live rent free in your soul.

He's so jaded it hurts.

Ayyyye this Trowbridge party looks like the real deal.

Oh gawd. Marina and the old man.

Mr. Finch and the cheese frock. Jesus who wrote this. I love it

Cressida you have been Daphnes biggest hater all season and now you're mad that she's with the prince. He was never gonna marry yo basket headed ass anyway.

Oooooh shit Simon sees the 'intimate painting' and has 2nd thoughts.

Go. Get. Yo. Girl.......Bitch.

Ooooh Benny's at the new homies spot and it's lit!

Naked models, easels, mingling between the classes. Yes indeed.

2nd sons having fun. Hell yes.

Damn Even Sienna at the ball...as a performer of course.

And Anthony looking tongue tied.

Violet....you need to chill. There take another sip.

Portia trying to shade Lady Trowbridges style is comical. Both of y'all bitches gaudy as hell.

Oh shit Phillipa lost her man.

Wtf is wrong with Lord Featherington?

And wtf are you doing Eloise?

Ayyye she just let her have it. You think servants have the time to be Lady Whistledown? I'm dead.

"Get out."

Ok Penelope with your saucy ass.

Well fuck! You just pushed him right to Marina. You played yourself boo.

Oooh the prince is about to shoot the big shot and Daphne keeps running away.

She done spotted Simon. Its over.

Fuck off Cressida.

Rip that mf necklace off girl.

Simon followed her ass outside.

"Miss Bridgerton." Motherfucker, call her Daphne.

"I came to say goodbye." Man. Go to hell.

Daphne serving those barbs. You not ready to keep playing with her.

Damn, Simon. If you're not gonna give her what she wants, get out the way.

Tell his ass sis.....even if you don't believe it yourself.

Really Simon? You stand there quiet as a mf church mouse whiles she's pleading with you to say something.....then you take off after her once she walks away from your shit

I swear.....men.....yall mfs really do shit like this. Speak up! Or...LET. ME. GO.

She's really cracking on his ass and I'm here for it....but wtf us up with his "I forbid you." Who tf are you to me? I'm glad she ain't playing with his ass.

Ooooh he called her Daphne and grabbed her.

Oh honey this is what fulfillment feels like, isn't it?

He's definitely fulFILLing her all the way up!

Oh shit Anthony caught them.

At least he finally landed some decent blows on Simon.

This RAKE ass mf still won't marry her.

Oh Simon.....for once.....Anthony is in the right and you the wrong. You are really about to die over your fucking daddy issues. Boy bye. Again.

Poor Daphne.

Wait, how did Cressida know she was in the garden?

That can't be good.

At least Benny is having a good time.

Dearest Portia, when you go looking for shit, it usually falls in your lap.

Marina keeps carrying on about Colin and Penelope is crushed.....or scheming....or both.

Aww Penelope let her hurt feelings cause a fight with her bestie. Her jealousy is seething.

Daphne still out here having to educate Anthony....though I get the need for the duel. And he still thinks he's running something.

Ooooh this is why they brought up 2nd sons.....Anthony is prepping Benny to take over. Well Benny, at least you had one good night out.

Colin caring for drunk Violet is parenting goals one day.

Oh great, now yall wanna bring Colin into the shit.

Simon raiding Wills spot for booze was so uneccesarily loud.

So Berbrooke alludes to her dishonor and Simon caves his fucking head in. Simon legit dishonors her and he's just like ,"Kay, guess I'll go get shot now." Someone get this man some therapy.

Oh great Anthony is back at Siennas door with more of his bullshit. Girl. Close that door.

No, not after you've let him in and climbed his torso. I guess y'all fuckin again.

He lost all the money and now he's fucked up.

Her face while he cried, is literally the face of every woman sick of a mediocre man's shit.

Oooh now they're all riding off into battle like the fucking idiots they are.

Colin is so pure.

I knew that Cressida shit would come back.

Well at least Anthony was willing to care for Sienna in his death....but damn mf, treat me right while WE'RE here.

Oh the dramatics of drawing a gun.

Nobody is here for Simon's weak ass apologies and I'm okay with that.

Hurry hurry Daphne.

Daphne down....but she's alright.

Call them idiots just like they are.

Simon still being a hoe about this shit. You really about let her be ostracized because you're a fuck boy.

Ultimate fuck boy line...I can't be with you because I love you too much. Fucking hell.

They do obviously love each other though.

Hold up.......you CAN NEVER, or WILL NEVER give her children. Don't play this like you have a reproductive issue.

So your reason for not marrying her is that you "can never" give her children and you know that's what her heart desires.

You playing with fire, Simon.

I wonder how much shit I let slide with his character just because he's portrayed so well by the phenomenal Regé-Jean Page.

No, I do love Simon's damaged ass. He just makes me so mad.

So the duel resumes......or not.

Daphne said, "Fuck them kids, give me my husband." Or something like that.

Well. This us an uncomfortable arrangement even though both of these idiots are in love.

Simon's evasion will most certainly come back to bite him in the ass.

But I'll be here with my popcorn and tissue, rooting for these cool kids to make it!

[soc-characters-as-songs]

the ocs as Cardi B songs

this was,,,,,a wild adventure

I'm so sorry

no im not

yes I am

jkfhgjvekrhfv

ivy: lit thot ("deal with them no-no/deal with them I can't/peanut butter ass work/fuck around and get jammed/cardi in this bitch, you better understand/I flip the script and kill shit/now they want to hold my hand")

meredith: sauce boyz ("I hate when I'm using a guy and shit/and they start catching feelings and like no matter what I tell them/like they just don't stop liking me/like I be like, "listen I'm a hoe, I don't cook, I don't clean/like trust me you don't want me to be the mother of your kids/I don't like mother-in-laws", and they just be on some, "so you don't gotta meet my mom"")

diana: leave that bitch alone ("leave that bitch alone/you knew that I was crazy/why the fuck you took her home?/now I'm goin' through your phone/seein' all these hoes/you knew that I don't like her/what type of crazy shit you on?/you want me to come to your crib and get comfortable/what if I wanna move in and shit?/I will show up on some random shit/don't let me catch a bitch, you wanna chance that shit?/you should just dead it/I swear to God you gon' regret it/watch when I start askin' you/why the fuck you take so long to answer my message?")

alassie: bronx season ("how many shows I gotta sell out 'fore y'all get the cost?/why they really tryna front like I ain't hit the charts?/all these labels, throwin' deals from left to right/but I ain't givin' in until they get them numbers right/all these people think that this shit happen overnight/all that flexin' they be doin', shit is all a hype/no tolerance for a hatin' bitch talkin' shit/only time I hold my tongue is when I'm suckin' dick/so when I see you in the streets, yeah, it's fuckin' lit/and don't be talkin' all that sorry shit, don't flip the script/I see the lights, I hear the hype, I hit the mic")

ramona: be careful ("the only man, baby, I adore/I gave you everything, what's mine is yours/I want you to live your life of course/but I hope you get what you dyin' for/be careful with me, do you know what you doin'?/whose feelings that you hurtin' and bruisin'?/you gon' gain the whole world/but is it worth the girl that you're losin'?/be careful with me/yeah, it's not a threat, it's a warnin'")

rhea: get up 10 ("look, they gave a bitch two options, strippin' or lose/used to dance in a club right across from my school/I said "dance" not "fuck", don't get it confused/had to set the record straight 'cause bitches love to assume/mama couldn't give it to me, had to get at sue's/lord only knows how I got in those shoes/I was covered in dollars, now I'm drippin' in jewels/a bitch play with my money? might as well spit in my food/bitches hated my guts, now they swear we was cool/went from makin' tuna sandwiches to makin' the news")

cornelia: I do ("I'm in a boss bitch mood, ay/these heels are Givenchy, hoe/these are some boss bitch shoes/if you ain't no boss bitch, move, ay/for the record, I set record, record sales/I like ****** that been in and outta jail/they said by now that I'll be finished, hard to tell (I can tell)/my little 15 minutes lasting long as hell, huh?"

kaden: foreva ("I pull up on that check nothing less that's all I do/10 bands 50 bands ain't nothing new/I see some people who still worried about my revenue/I'm eating good you wish you could don't worry about my food")

andreia: I gotta hurt you ("loneliness/it fulfills my sorrow/you may think/you may think I have no tomorrow/it's easier to die/than to live/but I will show you/that I'm strong enough/to use you and abuse you/and I'm gonna live/and I'm gonna win")

suzy: pull up ("I heard you talkin' crazy, I know you hella fake/you better pull up on me/I hope you feel the same when you see my face/no, I don't think they know/they don't know how this go/they think I'm broke/what a fuckin' joke/when I walk in the door, I get my dough/then a bitch get low")

samuel: never give up ("I see the pain in your eyes/and truth is, only the strong survive/and you still here, so from here you only gon' rise/spread them wings so they can tell you how far you gonna fly/you don't gotta pop them pills/I know just how you feel/I know there's a lot of fake love/but there's love that's actually real/but that can't stop you now/you're already on the battle field/took everythin' that came your way/almost at the top of the hill, fly, baby, fly/never give up")

bianca: trust issues ("ny cardi next in line/yeah it's my time real hittas gonna respect mine/I got deadlines/I'ma hit the headlines ain't no bed time/young boss ***** I ain't lying/I fuck shit up then I come for my checks/what you expect cardi in full effect/I see they mad/I see they vexed/but it's not my fault when I shoot it's all net")

archibald: trick ("rule #7 when you take me out to eat after that day you can't see me for the week/rule #8 you can't call me babe boy we don't relate let's get that shit straight/rule #9 I ain't tryna wine and dine I'm just tryna shop bust a nut then goodbye/rule #10 when that bank account ends I find a new trick let the new games begin/I'm such a hoe ass bitch")

raphael: selfish ("I gave you more than I give myself/so loyal to you that I betray myself/well, I guess I'ma wither away/you a snake and you chose to slither today/I gave my all my love and my trust but/I guess my all just wasn't enough/yeah, there's something 'bout you I can't help it/but I'ma do for myself I'm being selfish")

[kyber-kisses]

Hymn (Part 4)

Winchester Brothers x Sister!reader

Wanna start from the beginning? Here is the Masterlist!

Warnings: a good amount of feels and angst. . but there is fluff!

Summary: Y/N Winchester has wrestled with demons ever since her mother died, but when her younger brothers lives are in danger it’s their souls she fights to save, because isn’t that what a big sister should do? (Based on the song Hymn by Joel Porter) 

A/n: *Throws chapter at you and runs away* Have fun! (gif created by the lovely ellen-reincarnated1967)

“What do you think your doing?” Your voice slightly raising as you stepped back into the motel room, shutting the door softly behind you with a loud click.

“Definitely . . . Not jumping on the bed?” Dean tried, both him and Sam staring down at you from their perch on the nearest bed.

“Wow. I’m convinced.”

“It was Deans idea!” Sam quickly pointed, his little hand lightly smacking against Deans face as he did.

“I leave for three minutes and you guys go crazy? Now I know I can never leave you guys again, which is disappointing-“ you sighed. “Seeing as I was gonna give you guys this extra bag of funyuns.” You slowly pulled the bag out of your hoodie pocket, instantly making Dean freeze.

“Okay, wait we’re sorry.”

“Oh are you? I said no funny business while I was gone.”

“Yes! I’m sorry! Can we have them?” Dean was practically vibrating at this point, teetering on the edge of the mattress.

Narrowing your eyes, you let a silence fall between you before giving in and toss the bag onto the other bed. “Fine, go to town. No crumbs on the bed.” It didn't even take a second before the middle child was vaulting over the space between the beds and ripping the bag open.

Sam grimaced, not making a move from his spot at all. “Funyuns are gross.”

“Yeah, well that’s why I got you this-“ being a subtle as you could, you passed Sam the candy bar you had grabbed from the vending machine with a quick wink, his eyes lighting up as he grabbed it.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“Yeah, don’t tell Dean.”

“I won’t.”

“Pinkie promise?”

He linked his small finger with yours. “I pinkie promise.”

*. *. *. *. *. *.

“Sam? . . . Sam!”

Suddenly snapping back into reality, Sam whipped his head around took at his brother. “What?”

“I’ve been talkin to you for the past five minutes, have you even heard a word that I’ve said?”

“. . .yes?”

“Wow, you are a terrible liar. What the hell were you even thinking about?”

Pressing his lips together the younger Winchester contemplated whether or not to say anything. You were always a risky topic . . . Especially to Dean, and seeing as his brother had been in a decent mood most of the drive he really didn’t want to take that away.

“Dude, seriously. Tell me what’s going on in that weird head of yours.” Flexing his hands on the steering wheel, Deans eyes bounced back between the road and Sam.

“Y/N. . . What else do you think I would be thinking about right now?”

Dean sucked in a breath before he nodded his head in understanding. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. She’s gone. What’s it matter?”

He expected Dean to snap, lash out- like he did when they were younger and the wound still fresh, but instead he was silent. . . Only because he was trying to remember everything he could about his sister, both good and bad. He needed something to keep him grounded. For instance, You had been good at making people laugh, you’d take things in directions people wouldn’t expect- lewder, darker, more absurd— then ambush them into responding. Some of Deans humor stemmed from your own, he liked to think it was his way of keeping you close. Along with a love for old western movies and a passion for classic rock.

Happy thoughts. Just keep thinking happy thoughts, Dean. Just because Sam brought up Y/N does not mean you need to get bitter.

Turning his attention towards the radio, the hunter played with the volume until it was a soft hum that could easily be spoken over.

“You remember when Y/N used to play music in the mornings while Dad was gone on hunts?”

Sam let out a soft chuckle as confirmation. “You mean with that dinky old radio she got at a yard sale for like three bucks?”

“Yes! That’s the one!” Dean snapped his fingers, a grin tugging on his lips. “And it wasn’t even the good music we usually listened to in the car. . . It’s was like shitty upbeat soul and R&B.”

“You know she would probably smack you on top of the head if she heard you say that, right?”

“Yeah, probably-“ Dean chuckled, flicking on the turn signal as he turned onto a narrow two lane street. “Anyways you know how’d she dance around to it too? For like the soul purpose of embarrassing is even though there was no one else around?”

“Yeah, and she couldn’t dance worth a shit.” Sam added, smiling as he slowly began to remember.You were always doing stuff to get them to smile or laugh because you knew that in a lifestyle as dark as your families, you needed to keep something lit.

The rest of the drive felt lighter. . . Easier after that small conversation. Even after decades of absence you somehow still managed to put smiles on their faces.Still working hard even in death.

And then Dean pulled into the cemetery and that light and happy feeling he had had moments ago flickered and faded like a dying candle and he could feel his insides slowly beginning to twist as his face dropped. He turned off the engine and barely got two steps from the car before the feeling was too much and it felt like he was being crushed.

“Dean?”

“You know what? On second though this was a terrible idea. Why did we do this? We shouldn’t have done this. Why the fuck did I suggest this?” He quickly rambled, backing towards the car and reaching for the keys again. “Let’s- lets just go home and forget I ever suggested visiting this place-“

The older Winchester didn’t get very far before his brother was letting out a sigh and pushing him forward again. “We drove all this way. You’re not backing out now.”

“Sam-“

“Dude, we both agreed we would do this. Let’s start with just a minute and go from there.”

There was silence for a moment before Dean huffed and stopped resisting his brothers pushing. He felt like a kid again coming back here. Hell the last time he had been here he still was one. Even though they never found a body, their dad was decent enough to pay for a headstone, a place to come back to.

And then they never did.

The cemetery was cool, dew still on the grass as the morning sun began to peak through the trees and light haze. The place was empty except for them. . . Because who visits a cemetery at 6:30 in the morning? Dean sucked in another breath of fresh air, jamming his hands into his pockets despite it growing warmer out as the sun began to rise.

“You know, we probably should have brought mom with us. It’s kinda a dick move on our part to do this and not tell her.” Dean grumbled, eyes already glued on the headstone ahead.

“She’s still on that hunt with Jody. I didn’t really want to bother her.”

“Oh yeah, you’re totally right.” Dean snarked. “Would hate to remind good ol’ mom that her first born has a headstone right next to hers.”

“Why are you being such a dick? You suggested we visit.”

“It’s nothing, Sam. Just drop it.”

Gripping his brothers shoulder suddenly, Sam halted Dean in his tracks. “Nice try. Tell me what’s going on. You were fine ten minutes ago.”

Dean gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before letting another sigh sleep through his lips. “Do you remember that case we worked a few weeks ago with the psycho spirit that caught us?”

“You mean reverend Johnson? Yeah, why?”

“I keep thinking about what he said-“

“Dean, he was a vengeful spirit. He was crazy.” Sam shook his head, dropping his hand from his shoulder. But Dean squeezes his eyes shut as if trying to forget. The words from the reverend still banging around inside his skull. Bad guys really needed to stop it with their monologues.

“What I’ve seen is that the lord provides for those who need it. If you don’t have something, that generally means you don’t need it, or you don’t deserve it.”

At first it had made perfect sense and Dean had just gone with it. He didn’t have his sister because he didn’t deserve to have one.

But then again, by that logic, they didn’t deserve a home when they were younger, and they didn’t deserve to love their sister and be safe. Y/N didn’t deserve her life.

“You’re right.” Dean nodded, in hopes of getting Sam to back off. “You’re right. Dude was crazy. Just hard to get those fuckin words out of my head.” He mumbled, the two of them somehow turning in unison to look at your headstone a few yards away.

It was like the granite slab was staring them both down. The two brothers both afraid to get closer. . . Because to Dean it was like having to face the truth all over again. You were gone. Here reality was set in stone (Pun intended). But then his legs were moving before his brain was and he was kneeling down the wipe the dirt and dust away from your name, calloused fingers smoothing over the engraved letters.

“Why’d you have to go be a hero, huh?” He whispered under his breath, feeling the sudden and familiar sting of on oncoming tears.

He could remember it all so clearly still, how you had thrust your rifle into his hands and quickly tugged on your oversized canvas jacket. How the wind had whipped at your partially pulled up hair when you swung the door to the motel room open. How you told them you’d be back and then never were. Dean wondered if you would still be the same now. Back then he was still too small for his flannels and still wasn’t sure how to aim a gun properly. If you were still alive what would you have looked like now? Would you be taller? Would your hair be longer? . . . And would you have recognized what he and Sam had become?

Would you recognize them at all?

“We shoulda brought flowers or something.” He mumbled, picking the few stray weeds that had grown around the base of the stone. He was fidgeting. He did that when he was uncomfortable.

“We can always go get some. We ain’t too far outside of town.”

Dean mumbled a soft I guess as he rested his chin on his knee, arms looping tightly around his leg as if trying to mimic a hug.

“I think I’m gonna call mom. She would want to be with us for the next stop we make. . . We can always come back here too if she really wants.” Sam spoke up, extending a hand to help pull his brother up.

“Do what you think is right or whatever. I’ll be in the car.” rising to his feet, Dean wiped the dirt from his hands onto the front of his jeans. If he stayed here another minute he was bound to start crying. As He began the trek back through the maze of headstones, his fingers absentmindedly tugged on the piece of fabric on his wrist. The bit of flannel gave him a sense of comfort, because sometimes a bit of cloth could feel like love, and that was all he really wanted right now. It was one of those moments in which he realized how many things he had lost that mattered. Dad. Bobby. Y/N. Sure he had lost mom, but she was back. The rest were still gone.

All he wanted was the chance to see Y/N again, to hear her say I missed you, and I've come home.

SPN Taglist:

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[verai-marcel]

Possession & Punishment (RDR2 Fanfic, Morgan Twins x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: The twins told you not to go on a job without one of them to protect you. But you're an independent woman, you do as you please! Or so you thought. When two possessive men find out you've disobeyed them, will you be ready to face the consequences? 

Author’s Notes: Had an idea and went with it. This hearkens back to my older work, where Arthur was angrier, more possessive, more rough. If you’re not into some hardcore rough sex, you best be leavin’ now.

Tags: angst, smut, double penetration, spanking, anal sex, rough sex, punishment, light bondage, aftercare, D/s tones

AO3 Link is here, darlin’.

Word Count: 4848 

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

"It'll be real easy. We'll be in and out before t'ey know it. And Karen will keep watch, won'tcha, darlin'?" Sean caressed her elbow lovingly. 

Karen smiled at him and nodded before looking back at you. "So will you do it?" 

You weighed your options. Since the Morgan twins had claimed you, they very rarely let you out of their sight. One was usually around camp, and if they were both out on a job, Grimshaw made sure you were helping out with something that kept you busy until they returned. It was starting to get a little bit stifling.

But today, both Morgans were gone and Susan was busy yelling at the other girls. Perhaps you could sneak away for just one little job. You felt like you weren't contributing to the gang as much as you once did, although Dutch did casually mention that the twins seemed a lot calmer these days, especially Thorne.

You looked at Sean and Karen, their eyes brimming with hope. 

"Alright, I'll come with. Just don't let Arthur or Thorne know. And we have to get back before they do."

They grinned.

***

"You really rushed back there."

"We got out of there just fine, didn't we?"

"Don't mean we can take chances like that!" 

"Fuckin' hell, Arthur, get off my back already."

"You just want to get back to camp."

"So do you."

"I do. And I want to get back alive."

Thorne rolled his eyes and hitched his horse. 

And immediately he knew something was wrong. 

"Where is she?" Arthur asked, hitching his horse and coming to stand next to Thorne. 

Thorne looked around the camp, spotted Dutch, and stormed away. 

Arthur quickly followed him. 

"DUTCH!" Thorne roared; everyone in camp knew that tone and steered clear. 

Dutch looked up from his book. "Now there is no need for all that hollerin'. What is it, son?" 

Thorne could barely keep himself from growling as he asked where his woman was. 

Arthur, meanwhile, had stopped following Thorne and had gone to Susan. After asking her where his lady was, she quickly realized she had lost track of her a few hours ago. She also mentioned that she hadn't seen Karen and Sean in a while. 

Arthur and Thorne came back to their horses at the same time. 

"She's with Karen and Sean," Arthur said. 

Thorne nodded. "Dutch told me where they went. I'm going after them. You stay here in case she comes back."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but seeing the meaningful look on Thorne's face, he nodded in understanding. 

Don't let her run away. 

Thorne took off down the path out of camp at a gallop, leaving Arthur to wait for their beloved to return. 

***

The job should’ve been easy. It should’ve been a quick in and out.

Instead, a deputy patrol had come by and seen Karen drinking outside with a gun, and though she tried her best to be charming and shoo them away, Sean had picked the worst time to trip and fall on his face as the two of you were sneaking out the back of the house.

Which, of course, led to a mad dash to the horses and a crazy chase through the forest as the three of you raced away from your pursuers.

“Split up!” Karen yelled as she veered right and took off, firing her gun into the air to confuse the lawmen behind them.

You took a hard left and rode fast into the night, until the moon had traveled halfway across the sky and you heard nothing but the wind and panting of your horse. As you left the forest, looking for a path, you checked your compass and started traveling back to camp, hoping that Arthur and Thorne weren’t back at camp yet.

You had a sinking feeling that you may have tested your luck too much today.

***

Arthur looked up at the sound of galloping hoofbeats coming up to camp. He dropped the horse brush and started stalking towards the rider coming to the hitching posts. Squinting in the predawn darkness, he noticed that it was Ennis coming back to camp, with a tired Sean riding him.

“Sean!” Arthur barked.

Sean saw Arthur and immediately paled. “Hey, King Arthur,” he greeted nervously as he got off his horse, keeping his back to him.

“Where are the ladies?” Arthur growled.

Sean turned to face him. “They haven’t come back yet?” he asked, surprised. 

Arthur was about to let him have a verbal beat down, but was interrupted by the sound of another horse charging into camp.

Karen nearly fell off her horse trying to get down, but Sean quickly came over to help her. 

Arthur’s ire was not contained at seeing her disheveled state, however. He growled out his question again, only mentioning his lover’s name this time.

“She took off in the opposite direction,” Karen said, glancing at Sean. “I thought she’d be back by now.”

Arthur gave the two of them one final glare before storming off. Making his way to John, he grabbed the gun from him and told him to get some rest before taking his place, pacing ferociously at the lookout campfire.

An hour passed, and Arthur’s agitation only grew worse.

Then a third horse came cantering back to camp.

“Who’s there?”

“Thorne, you idiot.”

Arthur walked up to Thorne as he slowed his horse. “You find her?

Thorne shook his head. “She didn’t come back neither, huh.”

Arthur shook his head in confirmation.

The two of them looked at each other, the worry reflected in both their eyes.

“Should we both go look for her?” Arthur finally asked.

Thorne nodded, just as they heard another horse come into camp, a familiar name being announced by a familiar voice. Distracted, they let the rider fly past them. Once they had gathered their wits, Arthur quickly hopped on the back of Thorne’s horse and they followed.

***

You were ecstatic. You had made out like the luckiest bandit at the last minute, coming across a little cabin tucked away on top of a hill. Taking a little-used horse trail back to camp, you had spotted it and decided that checking it out for the future was a good idea.

Turned out that the cabin was ripe for the picking, looking abandoned, but seeing where there were clean spots on the dusty floor, you found a hidden lock box filled with goodies. You stuffed the money and jewelry in your satchel and took off, hoping that whoever had hidden it would not find out until much later. But just in case, you rode off the trail, into a river, went in a few circles to hide your tracks before coming back to camp.

You were so excited that you blasted past the guards at camp, who were clearly talking and not paying attention to you. They didn’t even call out to you as you announced yourself, but you did hear them gallop after you, so they’d find out soon enough about your good fortune. 

Hopping off your horse and hitching it quick, you ran towards Karen and Sean, who were drinking at the campfire. When they saw you coming, they both lit up in relief.

“Oh thank the lord, we were worried about you!” Karen exclaimed.

“Look, look!” you chirped as you pulled out the money and jewelry from your satchel. “Came across an abandoned cabin on the way back, found these under the floorboards!”

They both looked happily at you, then paled and took a step back away from you.

“What..?” You asked before you noticed that they were not looking at you, but behind you.

You turned.

Thorne and Arthur towered over you, both of them looking pissed off. You swallowed and took a step back. “Hi fellas... welcome back,” you said, your voice cracking.

Thorne said nothing. He only glared at you for a moment longer, his eyes roving over you for a few moments before he turned and stormed off.

You started to follow after him, but Arthur put his arm out in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. Turning to him, you saw the same anger in Arthur’s eyes for a brief moment before he blinked and looked at you with a little more kindness.

But not much.

“Let him be, darlin’,” he murmured before guiding you to their tent. “He just needs to cool down.”

You followed Arthur meekly, glancing towards where Thorne had stalked away. Arthur led you into your shared tent, closed the flaps, and without a word, started to get you ready for bed. Like a rag doll, you let Arthur take off your outer clothes and tuck you into the blankets. He took off his outer clothes, his boots, and his hat, and crawled in after you, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly. He was tense as he held you, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with you right now. But he still held you, and eventually, you fell asleep, exhaustion overcoming everything else, even the unsteadiness of your heart.

***

A full day passed. You hadn’t seen Thorne at all, but Arthur told you it would be fine, that Thorne could take care of himself. 

All the while, Arthur was a little standoffish, speaking curtly with you, giving you orders to stay within his sight. Usually you would argue, you would pout, you would flippantly tell him that you were a grown woman who could take care of herself.

But today, you were obedient. You wanted him to stop being so cold. The aloofness in his eyes when he looked at you was more painful than the anger. It hurt, being shut out like this, as if he had just left you outside during a blizzard.

And you were worried about Thorne. Why hadn’t he come back yet?

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you saw the water in your wash basin ripple. You had stopped moving, just stared into the water as if it would grant you the answers to everything if you only looked long enough.

“Sweetheart.”

You looked up, startled. You hadn’t heard anyone walk up to you.

“Thorne…” you whispered.

His eyes didn’t show their usual teasing twinkle, nor did his lips curve in their usual seductive smile. He looked serious. Seriously angry.

“Pack your things.”

Your heart clenched. Was he kicking you out?

“We’re goin’ on a trip.”

You blinked in confusion. “We… we are?”

“Go. Don’t question me.”

You swallowed and nodded, rushing off to gather a few things. As you entered your tent, you noticed Arthur was already putting some of your items into a bag.

“Here,” he said, handing you the bag. His eyes were still distant.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, taking the bag before quickly turning and running out of the tent.

It hurt to look at him. It hurt so much, like a knife piercing your heart over and over, mercilessly, without end, without hope. You took a shuddering breath. You weren’t sure what was about to happen now. You didn’t know why Arthur was still so cold, why Thorne was still so angry. You had brought back so much loot, and you had been safe. Sure, you had disobeyed them, but you had apologized to Arthur after you had woken up, and all he did was sigh and walk away from you.

What more could you do?

***

Thorne led the way out of camp, with you following quietly on your horse. You didn’t even attempt to make conversation; you could feel the silent waves of anger radiating off of him, and a single word from you might spark a blow up that you didn’t want to hear.

A few hours later, you had reached your destination; a small cave in the mountains, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, off the beaten path by miles. You wondered at how Thorne had found such a place. 

You also worried about why Thorne had brought you here. The twins would never hurt you. But they had both been angry with you, and you feared they might leave you here for a few days as punishment for defying their orders.

You watched quietly as Thorne hitched his horse and yours before walking towards you and holding his hands out to you.

“C’mon,” he said.

You gripped his shoulders and slid off your horse into his arms, his hands gripping your waist harder than usual. He paused for a moment when he brought you down to the ground, looking down at you, the emotion in his eyes flickering into something more, something unknown, before the anger returned. After you grabbed your bag from your horse, he took you by your wrist and all but dragged you into the cave.

Lighting up a torch at the entrance, he led you inside, down a side pathway and up a ladder to a wide, flat area with torches set around the perimeter. There was a small camp set up here, perfect for a little getaway.

Or in your case, probably temporary imprisonment.

You stepped forward into the space, looking around the little camp to see a coil of rope, a satchel filled with herbs and a few jars wrapped in bandanas to protect them from clinking together.

“Strip.”

You turned to see Thorne walking towards you, and you froze like a startled deer. Taking your bag and dropping it to the ground, he gripped your chin firmly. “Did you hear me?”

Lost in his steely gaze, you could only open and close your mouth like a fish gasping for air. You were frozen in place, your mind so clouded with uncertainty that you didn’t know what to think. 

Thorne let go of your jaw, caressing your cheek gently. "Sweetheart," he said, his tone softening. He started to unbutton your shirt, his movements slow, deliberate, as he kept glancing up to make sure your eyes were still focused on him. As your shirt fell from your shoulders and down your arms, he took a step back.

"You can take off the rest," he said. 

You slowly nodded, your mind still trapped in a haze. You removed the rest of your clothing, one by one. Focusing on this one simple task made it easier to clear the fog in your head.

Once you were nude, he gestured at the bedroll. “Kneel here,” he commanded.

You knelt down on the bedroll. You watched him walk around to the coil of rope and pick it up, coming back to you with a determined stride. 

“Hold yer hands up.”

You held your hands above your head. He tied them securely, just tight enough so you could not escape. He let go of your hands, letting you bring them down into your lap.

“Bend over.”

You rested your weight on your forearms. He walked around, knelt down behind you, and tied your ankles together.

Then you felt his hands trailing up your calves, up your thighs, until he gripped your ass and squeezed your flesh. You moaned softly.

“I’m goin’ to punish you. But we ain’t leavin’ you alone, if that’s what yer worried about.”

“Alright,” you said quietly, relieved that they weren’t going to abandon you here. 

Thorne ran his hands up and down your back, soothing you. “Count fer me, baby.”

You counted each spank. Each slap on your backside landed on a slightly different spot, the sting slowly melting into an overall feeling of heat.

“Twenty.”

“That’s enough,” Thorne said softly as he smoothed his hand over your warm rear. His fingers grazed your slit, wet from his punishment. “You need my cock, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, please,” you begged.

“You have to earn it first.”

Thorne got up and walked around to stand in front of you. He gestured with his fingers for you to get onto your knees, and as you did so, he unbuckled his belt and set it aside. 

Then he looked towards the cavern entrance, which made you look as well. In the distance, you could hear footsteps.

Thorne stared into the darkness for a little bit before letting out a breath. “Took you long enough.”

As the figure rounded the corner, you could see that it was Arthur carrying a torch, a grim look on his face.

“Arthur,” you said, reaching out for him as he climbed up the ladder to the camp. Thorne quickly grabbed you by the neck and held you in place.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

You looked back at Thorne, confused. Why was he keeping you from going to Arthur?

It wasn’t until Arthur had set his pack down and come up to stand next to Thorne that you noticed something was different. The coldness in his eyes was gone, replaced with a burning passion, as if suppressing his emotions for the past two days had only stoked his inner fire to a breaking point.

Arthur leaned down and caressed your face, his hand shaking with barely restrained control. "Do you understand why we brought you here?" His sonorous voice sounded even more imposing as it echoed lightly in the cavern. 

"Because I didn't listen?" 

Thorne shook his head. "That ain't it."

You tilted your head in confusion. 

Arthur sighed, the same sigh he had made when you had apologized for the same reason. He got down on one knee so he could look at you, eye to eye. “How do you feel when we don’t come back when we say we will?”

You bit your bottom lip. “Worried. Afraid that something might have happened to you.”

“So how do you think we felt when we came back to camp and you weren’t there?” he asked, taking you by the shoulders and pulling you closer.

“Oh,” you slowly said in comprehension.

He tightened his grip on you, making you squeak.

"You have any idea how scared we was of losin' you?" he snarled, his voice rising as he shook you slightly with each word.

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed. “I… I didn’t realize...”

Thorne clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. His grasp on you loosened, and he slowly stood up and stepped back, his fingers trailing off your skin as Thorne pulled him away from you. Arthur’s eyes on you were still just as heated, a wild, uncontrolled look.

You had never seen Arthur so out of sorts before. He was usually the calm and collected one, the voice of reason compared to his hot-headed brother. But now you watched as Thorne held Arthur back.

“You’re goin’ to scare her,” Thorne said quietly.

Arthur looked at you, really looked at you, with clearer eyes. You were trembling, distraught that you had caused them so much worry. It wasn’t that you had disobeyed. It was that you had put yourself in danger and they were afraid that you were hurt, or worse, dead.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, truly understanding what you were apologizing for.

Arthur moved towards you once more, Thorne letting go of him so he could kneel down in front of you. He pulled you into his arms, embracing you tightly, burrowing his face in your neck, his hand going to the back of your head as he quietly held you.

“Darlin’, promise me you’ll never put yerself in danger again. If you want to go out, just ask us. We’ll protect you. We’ll keep you safe. Just please. Don’t go without us.”

You nodded against Arthur’s shoulder. Hearing the pleading tone in his voice, a new wave of emotion gripped your soul, and you reached up and grabbed his shirt, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. When he finally let you go and looked at you, he finally gave you a smile. You smiled back at him, reaching up, your bound wrists keeping your hands together as you cupped his face.

His eyes heated immediately at your touch, and he laid you back down onto the bedroll before undoing his belt and his pants. Impatient, he stroked his cock, looking down at you, all tied up and at his mercy.

“Arthur—”

“Shut up, Thorne. I need her now.”

Thorne raised his hands in surrender. He knew better than to get in Arthur’s way when he was like this. He casually stepped back and sat on a rock, watching as Arthur crawled over you like a beast in heat, his cock in one hand as he took your bound ankles and slung them over his shoulder. 

“Mine,” he growled as he pushed into you, harder than he normally would. He invaded you ruthlessly as you mewled, helpless under him until he was completely sheathed inside of you. You swear from this angle he felt bigger. When he pulled out and slammed back into you, you screamed.

“Did that hurt, darlin’?” he asked, breathless.

“No,” you assured him. “Just… surprised.”

“Goin’ to be rough tonight. Need you too much,” he grunted before he pounded into you, holding you by your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he bucked his hips, losing control inside of your delectable heat. “My sweet darlin’, can’t ever get enough of ya.”

Thorne chuckled in the background. “Don’t wear yerself out too soon. She needs to be punished. Thoroughly.”

Arthur slowed his thrusts, looking down at you, the intensity in his stare almost too much for you. He made your heart stutter, your core clench hard around his shaft inside of you. 

Thorne got up and made his way over to you. Kneeling on the bedroll above your head, he gestured at Arthur, who pulled out of you and flipped you over, and together they got you on your forearms and knees. 

Arthur slipped back inside of you as Thorne pulled his cock out of his pants and gave you a smug grin. “Give me yer mouth, sweet girl.”

You gladly opened up for him, letting his cock glide in. You wrapped your lips around him and sucked noisily, letting your tongue slide around his length, listening for his hitched breaths and lustful moans.

“Yer the best, truly,” Thorne murmured as he gripped your head and started to roll his hips, taking your mouth to his liking, making you his. While Arthur gripped your hips, fucking you from behind, you could only stay still and make lewd noises, drowning in pleasure from being used by your favorite men.

Then Arthur and Thorne both pulled away from you, leaving you bereft. You whimpered, but Arthur quickly wrapped his arms around you and lay you down on your back before untying your ankles.

“There, there,” he crooned. “Spread yer legs for me.”

You obeyed, letting Arthur stare at you, feeling more embarrassed with each passing moment.

You heard the sound of a jar clinking, and you glanced over where Thorne was. He had shed all of his clothes, and was spreading some ointment on his fingers. He looked over at you and grinned. “Hands and knees, sweetheart.”

You rolled back over and stuck your ass up in the air. You felt Arthur pull away and heard the sounds of clothes coming off while Thorne knelt behind you and softly caressed your backside. He spread the ointment around your tight ring, stroking you to relax your muscles before slipping a digit into you.

“Ahhh!” you cried out as he worked you open slowly, fitting in another finger, then another. Then he removed his fingers and began to push the head of his cock into your ass.

“Shhh,” he hushed as you made desperate little cries, wanting him to be deeper, wanting him to fill you. “Hafta be slow, sweetie. Don’tchu worry, you’ll have me soon enough.”

It was slow torture, feeling him inch his way inside of you, his panting turning you on, knowing that he loved feeling your tight rear entrance around his shaft, squeezing him. When he was all the way inside of you, he leaned forward and covered you, his arms caging you in as he began to move his hips. 

“Feelin' good, baby girl?” Thorne murmured in your ear.

“Yes, yes,” you babbled.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He continued to fuck your ass, covering your body with his and peppering your ear and cheek and neck with sloppy kisses.

“I think she needs a good fillin'.”

Thorne laughed darkly as he thrust into you one more time before he pulled out of you. He stood up and stepped away as Arthur, gloriously naked, moved to stand before you. He helped you stand, then he took your bound wrists and looped them around his neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he easily lifted you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. With your arms around his neck, he could switch his grasp to your ass, squeezing your cheeks as he lifted you just enough for him to aim his cock at your wet pussy. 

Arthur moaned as he slid back inside of you, holding you tightly to him once he was completely inside. "Perfect. Just perfect."

You felt Thorne's hands slide up your thighs as he stepped closer, his cock nudging your ass once more. Arthur's hands on your ass spread you open for him, and soon you could feel Thorne's thick member filling you up. 

Thorne's hand wrapped around your neck and pulled you backwards until you could feel his chest against your back, his beard tickling your face as he nuzzled you. "Just the sweetest little fuck toy, ain'tcha?" 

You didn't even have a chance to answer before they began to take you, both of them pulling, pushing, fucking you, using your holes for their pleasure. It was pure hedonism, the way you leaned into their every touch, the way you cried out without shame with every thrust. 

The way Arthur looked as he embedded himself so deeply inside of you, his face flushed, his eyes darkened with need, his moans laced with desire, and the way Thorne held you, his hands a steady support, his dirty words in your ear driving you higher and higher, it all drove you to your peak. 

"Come for us, sweetheart. Goin' to fill you up so much…"

You cried out, your body electrified as you came undone between them, helpless in their arms while you writhed and leaned into their embrace. Thorne grunted and tightened his hold on you before spilling inside of you, gasping curses with his last few thrusts. 

As he stepped back, he nudged you back into Arthur's arms, who took your whole weight in his muscled grip, still thrusting, never wanting to stop.

"Darlin'," he murmured. You looked at him, and the raw emotion you saw gripped your heart like a vice. "I love you," he whispered before he held you tight and lost himself inside of you. He pressed his forehead against yours, taking deep shuddering breaths, all the while holding you up steadily with his immense strength. 

After a blissful few moments of just being one, the two of you started to feel the strain of being in your current position. As you unwrapped your legs from Arthur, Thorne helped you down to the bedroll, your muscles trembling with aftershocks. 

Arthur plopped down next to you, laying on his back, his arms resting on his stomach. "Damn," he muttered. "Needed that."

You were currently sitting in Thorne's lap as he untied your wrists. The rope was soft, but you still had red marks on your skin. He kissed your wrists and rubbed your muscles, soothing you with murmurs of affection.

Arthur finally sat up, reaching for his satchel that he had dropped earlier. He pulled out a can of apricots and cut it open. Taking one of the delectable juicy halves, he turned to you and smiled. 

"Open up, darlin'," he said softly. You opened your mouth and accepted the fruit, licking the juice from his fingers. 

"Arthur," you said after a while. "You really hurt me, being so distant."

"I'm sorry I was cold to you before," he said contritely as he fed you another half of an apricot. "I didn't want to scare you with how mad I was. Turns out I went too far the opposite way."

You nodded. "I understand now, though. I won't put myself in danger, but you have to trust me. Let me go on jobs sometimes. You can't keep me cooped up at camp all the time."

Arthur leaned in and kissed your cheek. “I know, I know.”

Thorne kissed your other cheek. “We just don’t want nothin’ to happen to ya.”

“Yer our treasure,” Arthur continued. “If anythin’ happened to ya…” He stopped and looked away, swallowing hard at the thought.

“We’d feel like dyin’,” Thorne finished Arthur’s sentence.

You shifted off Thorne’s lap and wrapped one arm around him, the other around Arthur, hugging them tightly. “Thank you for caring so much, my dears.” You gave them each a sweet kiss. “I love you both. I can’t believe I’m so lucky to have you two.”

“We’re all yours, darlin’.”

“‘Till the end of time, sweetheart.”

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

End Notes: Did I go overboard with the angst? They were pretty angry, not gonna lie. Hope you enjoyed another Morgan Twins story! Will there be more? Maybe, if there is enough interest. Show your support through comments & reblogs!

[bcdwclves-a]

*Slaps Valentino’s ass*

There’s a tense silence that follows with the resulting slap given to his rear. It was as if the world, itself, stood silent for all of Hell to give an ear to the reverberating silence. Enough that when the Pimp Lord finally relaxes his shoulders, it’s as if everybody was allowed to breathe once again before the Overlord turns to face the other that gave him such a greeting.

    “Well, FUCK, baby, comin’ on a lil’ strong there, ain’t we?” He purrs out in his unusually deep voice, sounding like gravel rumbling in his throat, as he almost stalks and sashay’s his way towards where they stood and wraps a long arm around their neck and leans down, giving a fanged smile, almost too casual, too friendly, TOO calm, before he speaks once more, “Shit, no one’s ever given me one of those, especially in my own place. Fuck, little man, I should give ya’ a job here just for how big yer balls are,” he laughs out his response, sounding like two rocks grating against each other with each chortle, before another arm pats the other on the back, too rough with each slap against their back.

Once, twice, three times, with each slap becoming a harder strike.

     This is when Valentino, who used to be all smiles and dagger-sharp laughs, suddenly wretches the grey-face up off of the ground briefly, before slamming them roughly into the wall, causing various pictures and plaques to come crushing to the ground. Plaster cracking under the weight and ferocity of the slam, as a hand holds the other by the scruff of their collar, before another of his hands comes to reach into his coat pocket and pull out a freshly rolled cigarette. A lighter comes from his other hand as he places the cigarette between his lips and begins puffing the cigarette as its lit, bright, red smoke escaping with each puff before he finally takes a painfully long drag of his cigarette before blowing a plume of smoke into their face, enough for them to begin coughing and feel like their lungs were seizing with each lungful of breath they took in to compensate for their lack of oxygen.

“Now, let’s seeeeee heeeeere,” he says with a drawl, hand coming to reach up and push their head back into the plaster as another hand reaches up to pull back their eyelids apart, exposing their erratic and panicked eyeball looking all around the room, back to the others watching him and back to him and finally, back to his encroaching hand. “I think, for the bullshit, y’ jus’ pulled, baby, ah’m gonna take somethin’ from ya’, jus’ so you can learn from this. Because,” he places his pointer finger and thumb against the corners of their eyesocket, directly at the sides of their eye, “remember, baby, yer makin’ me do this to y’,” and in that tense moment, panicked gasps and the useless struggle of feet crashing against the plaster in panic, is when his fingers dig into his eye socket, feeling the eye move around against his fingers frantically, blood gushing out from the sudden entry with each panicked twitch and scream, before, with a last fanged smile, the eye is suddenly wrenched from its socket and he merely drops them onto the ground. 

    He walks back to his desk, dropping the bloodied eye into the hands of one of his girls, and says, “Take that shit and feed it to the dogs outback, they’ve been starvin’ for a new snack,” before he sets his perfectly shaped ass onto the edge of his desk and sighs. 

This is when he begins laughing, laughing with everything he’s got, suddenly and without warning. Almost as if he became possessed, chest aching with each guffaw and sadistic laugh of utter joy that wracks his body with utmost satisfied jolts of pure fuckin’ pleasure. “Fuckin’ look at you, like an injured puppy! NOT SO FUCKIN’ COCKSURE NOW, ARE WE?” 

[svtskneecaps]

Rules: answer questions and tag blogs you are contractually obligated to know better!

so @kwonthefire tagged me thank u for giving me an excuse to talk about myself you KNOW i will jump on that shit with absolutely no hesitation you’re incredible

Name/nickname: vic

Gender: woman babey

Star sign: cancer

Height : HAHA TALLER THAN MY OLDER SIBLING S H O R T  L M A O

Time: 5:50 am don’t tell my friends i’m going to bed when i post this i swear

Birthday: july

Favourite bands: seventeen, and i vibe to like, panic!, twice, does the cast of newsies count as a band?

Favourite soloists: listen i’ll vibe to anybody with solid lyrics or a good melody so like, halsey, carrie underwood, taylor swift has been a big one recently, anna nalik, miranda lambert, yknow. all the shit i listened to like six years ago has returned to my playlist cause i’m Stressed tm (ngl the house that built me came on and i actually started crying in the middle of making enchiladas w my entire family like i went straight from DOUBLE BUBBLE DISCO QUEEN to sobbing in the sauce)

i mean not actually the sauce you know what i mean

Last movie: ah shit probably like. pollyanna or something. NO WAIT IT WAS THAT FUCKIN SECOND BORN ROYALS MOVIE ON DISNEY+ THAT MY FAMILY WATCHED WHILE SORTING ALL THE OLD CLOTHES WE DON’T FIT ANYMORE

Last show: shit uhh i think it was like. the three caballeros yknow that animated series with donald duck it’s on disney+. unless we count my mom’s episodes of criminal minds that she watches in the room next to me

Song stuck in my head: an absolutely bizarre combination of that “she’s a wh*re” song clip from tik tok, “the world will know” from newsies, the rock violin cover of the phantom of the opera from the umbrella academy, and like. the twelve days of christmas as sung by straight no chaser, specifically the section where they start doing africa. i don’t know what’s going on either.

When I created this blog: idk a while ago. like three years? four years?

Last thing I googled: ah shit. probably something for premiere pro, adobe software sucks it’s the least intuitive shit i have ever used literally the program i used to write in java worked easier than fucking premiere pro

Other blogs: @ismyreadinglistgoodenoughforyou and i have a couple more but those are classified by order of [redacted]. i can reblog onto @tctwriters but that’s not technically mine it’s OURS anyway follow tctwriters

Do I get asks: nah dude which sux cause my favorite thing to talk about is me l m a o

Why I chose my url: dude i don’t remember i wanted to rebrand from the god awful ‘ismycapsloudenoughforyou’ so i think we went, ok, so seventeen. svt. and my discord status was probably “stop bullying jeonghan’s knee >:(” so they were like, ok knees. and i went ah SHIT, KNEECAPS and then i just. did that.

Following : my guy do you think i know

Followers : like a graduating class worth

Lucky numbers: idk like 12 and 7 and maybe 32

Avg hours of sleep: o jesus well uh. anywhere between 4 and 12 it depends on if i have something to do the next day

Instruments: i can play viola and some flute, i’ve briefly dabbled in piano, ukulele, harmonica, and accordion

What I’m wearing right now: haha state football merch and socks that clash very drastically bc it’s goddamn cold in my house fuck

Dream trip: honestly any trip is my dream trip as long as a couple specific people come. like literally a trip to the grocery store could be my dream trip as long as these specific people are there yknow. people make the trip more than the actual places, for me

Favourite food: o i forgot to answer this one uhhh dr pepper isn’t a food but i don’t eat and my veins run with the stuff

Nationality: american ahaha

Favourite song: ah shit dude it depends on my mood i can’t answer this rn i literally just got “WILL WE LET EM STUFF THIS CROCK O’ GARBAGE DOWN OUR THROATS” stuck in my head and now i can’t actually remember any other songs anyway it’s Home Run stream Home Run by Seventeen guys stream Home Run it’s a fucking bop and the music video is absolute quality i literally didn’t listen to another song for a week and a half after it dropped and i’m not kidding in the slightest stream Home Run by Seventeen guys.

Top three Fictional Universe: it has been so long since i’ve experienced anything that’s original fiction i mean like, jowling kowling rowling is a fucking terf and we hate her LMAO so the only harry potter universe i can vibe with is one that’s thoroughly headcanoned to squeeze all the bullshit out of it, but i vibe with those kinds (i’ve written those kinds, or tried anyway lmao).

also i couldn’t actually read the Lord of the Rings series bc Tolkien’s prose was just way too dense for me to enjoy without it feeling like i was reading a textbook, but i read the Hobbit and i talk to my dad about it sometimes cause he listens to a podcast where they analyze it, and literally the absolute care and time he put into making every section of that world feel alive is absolutely buck fuckin wild to me i mean fuck it up Tolkien that’s fucking incredible. that is batshit insane you incredible man, godspeed.

and doctor who is lit as fuck, tbh i vibe hard with the rtd era shit, they kind of lost me at eleven and also took that shit off amazon prime before i was done watching shitheads but like you have to admit that’s a giant fictional universe and it feels Alive as hell and i vibe with that hard like i vibed so hard i fuckin started writing my own goddamn season just bc i wanted to play around in that lovely lovely sandbox so kudos to them i guess

not in that order

anyway idk who to tag so if you’re seeing this from tctwriters and actually have notifs on for that blog, you’re up dummy i love you. i’d say anyone who wants to take it but nobody ever does so this is for the tctwriters i’m calling you out SPECIFICALLY.

[singingaboutwishingx]

my Thoughts and Opinions on mad men

this is quite disorganized and very long. contains spoilers for all seven seasons after the cut.

-though i think don was a good character, he was such a shitty person!!! cheating on every partner he ever had? bad! being an asshole to everyone and getting away with it because he’s handsome? also bad!

-but also like... just to put it out there, jon hamm can do literally anything he wants to me. good lord, that man is attractive. 

-there was literally a point where i hated every character except peggy, betty, and sal

-speaking of sal, HE DESERVED BETTER. i genuinely almost cried when the fire alarm went off. he was so happy for like three seconds and then SOME MOTHERFUCKER lit something on fire (i don’t remember exactly what happened).

-FUCK lee garner, jr. 

-i ended up having such complicated feelings about betty. on one hand, she was cheated on and emotionally abused and gaslit, so i can absolutely understand why she became harder as the seasons went on. on the other hand, she didn’t treat her children so well and idk how i feel about that. i do feel so, so bad for her regardless.

-bert cooper was honestly such a baddie, though. he got heated sometimes during important plot points, but his general “i’m old, i don’t give a shit” vibes were excellent (i also watched this whole show in less than two months, though, so please forgive me if i miss details)

-like when harry crane was too afraid to say the wrong thing about bert’s red rothko and bert was just like “bitch shut up about my painting, no one cares”

-and his “the best things in life are free” after he died was so good. i was personally offended that they took his name out of the opening credits afterward

-peggy. my sweet girl. arguably the best character. this girl’s transformation made me so damn proud. the iconic scene where she walked through mccann with the octopus painting and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth was just everything. 

-i really didn’t like stan at first, but he grew on me. mostly i’m just a hopeless romantic, so i was very, very happy when he and peggy ended up together.

-i didn’t hate abe, but i was VERY relieved when they broke up

-poor, poor michael ginsberg. i hope that man gets some help. that’s really all i have to say. 

-pete campbell falling down the stairs made me laugh for like an hour because he just sucks so much. he did NOT deserve trudy. also vincent kartheiser is DAMN lucky he has good hair, because shaving his hairline is a serious gamble.

-pete is such a shitbag. i’m so sorry. i just dislike him so much. i remember watching the second season and thinking if he and peggy ended up together, matthew weiner was going to be the recipient of a very angry letter lmao

-did he have *some* growth? kind of. does that mean trudy made the right decision to go with him to kansas? mmmmm probably not.

-joan definitely grew on me. i did not like her at first, but her character arc was so damn satisfying. holloway harris productions? freaking incredible. her son is cute, she’s her own boss, and she doesn’t end up with someone controlling. we stan. 

-i really hope her lesbian roommate from the first season found a girlfriend. that poor girl pined for years, and hopefully she ended up with a girl that loved her

-i feel so bad for lane pryce. that man did not deserve what he thought he did. was it bad to steal from the company? of course. he did not need to kill himself, though. i was fr so upset. the man knocked out pete campbell, which clearly makes him the best. 

-the sheer giddiness that flooded my body when lane fired them all from the og sterling cooper was incredible. it was a great, great decision. 

-pete campbell can go to hell

-every time glen bishop appeared onscreen i was afraid. i just thought “oh my god, this bitch gonna grow up and become a serial killer.”

-watching sally grow up was so great. she was still so bratty up until henry told her that betty had cancer, but the second she knew, she was ready to be there for her family. she did also say some rather iconic things. i love kiernan shipka haha

-they got the cutest freaking babies to be on this show. especially tammy because her little cheeks were just so chubby and i loved herrrrrrr

-it really didn’t end the way i thought it would, but it makes sense. the hug between don and leonard was EXCELLENT

-i know this is so specific, but every once in a while there would be a shot that was just perfect. like the one at the end of season five where joan and sterling/cooper/campbell/draper were all standing facing the window on their second floor of the time life building— that was beautiful. sterling and cooper, the older generation, on one side, campbell and draper, the future, on the other, and joan in between them. truly, she was what held every single thing in that office together and i cannot get over how freaking incredible that shot is

-i didn’t really love betty and henry. every marriage has problems, but betty and both of her husbands had serious problems.

-speaking of marital problems, megan and don were a disaster. i was so confused when he proposed after having sex three (3) times and going on zero (0) dates????? donald what the fuck

-i loved ken cosgrove’s tap dancing, i didn’t love ken cosgrove. i do feel bad for what he went through w the jaguar account (and also in general), but he was kind of a bitch in the earlier seasons

-i did not care for harry crane or paul kinsey. sorry bout it

-i hope kitty romano finds someone who can love her the way they’re supposed to. i do think sal loved kitty platonically, though. honestly though it would have been excellent if kitty was a lesbian and they were just married to avoid questions. i mean, obviously they weren’t, but i would have LOVED to see that storyline

-megan was a very interesting character. she was just so childish. she was very sweet (mostly) and i think don kind of fucked her over emotionally (like definitely in every way except financially, but like... i have a feeling that she’ll never be the same because of him)

-also marie calvet straight-up taking all of don’s living room furniture was so funny

-i do not like roger sterling either. he cheated on both mona and jane!! sure, maybe he didn’t love them, but what gives, dude? we don’t stan.

-also he did blackface, which is a big yikes from me. yeah, it was the sixties, but also fuck that shit.

-another thing about don is that this man’s libido is just fucking WILD. i mean, he has no goddamn shame.

-fucking his secretary? did it at least twice, married one of them. his child’s teacher? great! he’ll be over soon! his neighbor’s wife? all good until sally catches them. his quasi-niece is maybe 22? he’d hit that!

-seriously, he just doesn’t care at all and it’s fascinating.

-when ida blankenship died it was like... but you did this... for what? watching them roll her fuckin body out of the office covered in the afghan during a meeting was actually quite funny though

-every so often my brain will just go “sterling cooper draper pryce cutler gleason and chaough.” that’s not a thought. sorry lol

-also they fucking took it off of netflix so now i can’t rewatch it! mean as hell, netflix, mean as hell.

-in conclusion: fuck peter dyckman campbell.

[jedi-mabari]

Moonshine: Still Sabotage

Word Count: 1566 Warnings: Violence, graphic death. A/N: I started this as part of a challenge I think, but my computer had a mental breakdown and couldn’t work on it. But Now that my laptop is working again, I finished it and am presenting it to you.

Summary: Danny is tasked with running the competition out of the area, and she tried not to get caught while she works.

________________________________________________________

Danny curled into the warm body next to her, draping her arm over whoever was next to her. She must have had too much to drink the night before because she couldn't quite put a name or face to the person in her bed. A freezing breeze blew in through the open window, and Danny turned just enough to glare at it.

She vaguely remembered that she was too warm before going to bed, so she opened the window for some fresh air. She got up, pulling herself from what she realized was a woman in her bed, to go close the window. When she turned back, the woman had stirred enough to sit up, and Danny smiled at the beautiful red wrapped up in her blanket.

"Good morning," Danny said, reaching down for her under things. "Did you sleep well?" She slowly got dressed as a large smile spread and lit up the woman's face.

"Well, what little sleep I actually got," she said, her Irish accent and wide smile making Danny blush. "You are quite a woman," she said, reaching off the edge of the bed to grab her own undergarments. Danny laughed  through a grimace and reached for her shirt, carefully pulling it on over the still healing burn that curled up her side.

"From what I remember, you aren't so bad yourself," they both shared a laugh as they got dressed. "Do you need help getting home?" Danny had just finished tucking her shirt into the waist of her jeans as the Irish woman was pulling her red curls up out of her face.

"I should have no trouble getting back to my camp," she said, smoothing a few wrinkles out of her skirt. Danny opened the bedroom door and smiled at her. "I should thank you for the good time," she chuckled softly, leaning into Danny. She smiled sheepishly and shrugged. She opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped by the Irish woman's lips pressed against her own.

Danny hesitated for a moment before placing her hands on the woman's waist, pulling her closer as she deepened the kiss. She leaned into her, pushing so that the red head was pressed into the door frame. They only broke apart because Maggie cleared her throat, jarring them both out of whatever mood had taken them.

"I should go," the redhead said softly, her cheeks flushing red. She darted out of the shack, leaving Danny and Maggie alone to discuss the day's business.

"Having fun, I see," Maggie said as Danny took a seat by the door. Danny shrugged and let out a light chuckle, checking the door half hoping the woman was going to come back.

"I wish I could actually remember if it was fun. I suppose I should stay away from the strong stuff huh?" Maggie shook her head and stood from her spot behind the desk. She leaned heavily on her cane as hobbled around the room.

"So long as you aren't drinking the competitions crap, I don't care what you do." Danny laughed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"What do you have planned for today?" Maggie shrugged, tapping her fingers on the handle of her cane.

"Someone set up a still over in some abandoned cabins just west here. My best guess is Caton and that Braithwait bitch are trying to elbow us out. Why don't you go pay them a visit, see about convincing them that it's a bad idea." Danny laughed and grabbed her gun belt off the back of the chair, securing it in place around her hips.

"I guess I could drop by," Danny chuckled, shaking her head. "But I'm not promising anything." Maggie rolled her eyes and shook her head, moving back to her spot behind her desk as Danny marched out the door.

Danny strode over to Tank, mounting him quickly. She knew the cabins Maggie was talking about, and even if she took the roads it wouldn't be a long ride, but the area usually had at least two grizzlies roaming about. But, maybe Caton's boy scared them off. She rode towards the cabins, carefully guiding Tank over fallen logs and around hidden rocks.

She dismounted when she could hear the voices of the other moonshiners, tying off Tank's lead. She didn't need to kill them, tainting the batch of shine should be enough to put the message across that they weren't welcome in Tall Trees. There were two men standing by the still, and everyone else was milling about keeping guard. She had to watch patiently for one of the stillers to move before she could get close enough.

Danny lingered by the window, carefully checking over her shoulder to make sure she was still hidden. It was more than a half hour before the second man wandered off to join the rest of the guards, giving Danny the opportunity she needed. She crawled in the window, wrapping her arm around the distiller's neck, choking off his air so he couldn’t scream for help.

“Oh, merciful Lord, may you guide this lost soul to your side,” Danny mumbled, carefully laying the mans lifeless body on the ground in front of the still. She reached into her satchel, pulling out the small flask of fox pee. She covered her mouth and nose so she didn’t have to smell the foul urine as she spun the cap with one finger. She quickly dumped the contents of the flask into the still and quickly capped it back up, letting out a quick chuckle.

“That oughta run you off,” she said quietly to herself. She poked her head out of the window, making sure the coast was clear so she could sneak back out of the camp. She had one foot out of the window when she heard the door open behind her. “Fuck,” she mumbled as the heard the hammer of the man’s revolver click back.

“Who the fuck are you,” he snapped as Danny pulled herself back into the small shack. She turned and looked at the man, looking down the barrel of his gun with a frown.

“I’m so fuckin’ sick of people shovin’ guns in my face. That’s who I am.” A look of confusion crossed the man’s face, giving Danny enough time to knock the gun aside so it wasn’t aimed at her. She closed the distance between them so the gun would be useless to him. She felt his fist strike her side, disturbing her burn. She hissed between her teeth, and she pulled her hunting knife from its place on her belt and shoved it into the soft place just under his chin, putting all of her weight under it to shove it through the soft and hard pallets of his mouth. He seized for a moment before his entire body went limp.

Danny pulled the knife out of his head, grimacing as blood spilled onto her hands. She shook her head, wiping his blood off of her knife and onto her jeans. She put it back into its sheath and went back to the window, waving her hand to try and flick some of the blood off of her hand. She once again made sure it was safe to slip out of the camp. She jumped out of the window, heading for Tank.

It wasn’t long before Danny was back at her own moonshine shack. She led Tank to the small stall Lem had helped her build, carefully removing his tack and brushing him down before feeding him. After she was done taking care of her horse, Danny walked to the back of the shack, bending over the wash barrel. She was in the middle of washing her hands when Marcel stepped out of the back door, a cigarette and a match in his hands.

“You look like hell,” the Frenchmen said with a laugh, lighting his match on the side of the shack. Danny chuckled and shook her head.

“Yeah, well, you try poisoning a still and killing two men and we’ll see how you look afterwards.” Marcel laughed a deep belly laugh, placing his cigarette between his lips.

“I’ll stick with making white lightning,” he said, laughing out a large cloud of smoke. Danny shook the water from her hands, using some of it to slick her hair back out of her face.

“I’ll go tell Maggie that we won’t have to worry about them undercutting us. If they even think about selling it, the customers are going to come running back to us in a second.” She patted Marcel’s shoulder before ducking back into the shack. She walked into Maggie’s office, her fingers working on loosening the buckle on her gun belt. “It’s done.” She hung her gun belt on the back of her chair, flopping down to kick off her boots. She noticed Maggie’s good eye notice the blood on her jeans, and she let out a sigh.

“One of them noticed me before I could sneak away. I didn’t have another choice.” Maggie shrugged and looked back down at the ledger.

“So long as the batch was ruined, I don’t really care,” she said, smirking. Danny rolled her eyes and shoved her sleeves up her arms.

“Great, well, if you need me, I’m going to be downstairs.” She stood up and headed down to the saloon, ready to drink away the memories of the day.

[spotlessvast]

searching for the ends of the earth

   (Content warnings: mentions of suicide, animal death, murder, body horror, and blood. On-screen peaceful death.)

  Lukewarm dry grass scratches my bare feet at every step. I’m alone. The sky is dark, cloudless, and I’m far enough away from any air pollution to see the stars. I don’t need my walking stick, but I drag it along anyway, because no one’s here to see me use it. It puts my hands to good use in the meantime.

   I’m definitely being watched.

   I drag the stick behind me. It’s more like a branch, actually. I forgot what kind of tree it’s from, but from the looks of it, probably oak or cedar. I don’t know that many trees. The grass is still scratchy and my feet are numb. No one is behind me, but I can’t shake that feeling off my back. It’s unnecessary and is getting in the way of enjoying my travels to the fullest.

   If it were just a big cat, I wouldn’t really mind. This wasn’t a big cat, though.

  I remain careful not to wake up any sleeping creatures that surround me. Nearing the edge of this cliff, I look behind me to see the forest’s entrance. I half-expected the source of this looming feeling to reveal itself, but there was nothing. I hold up my walking stick parallel to me.

   At the bottom of the cliff is an abandoned city. Lights from old billboards and storefronts mold together and fade the higher they reach.

   Won’t hurt to climb down.

   I put my walking stick in my belt next to my shovel.

  All the walls I’ve ever let go of have claw marks on them. This wall of crumbling ground was no exception, and it would be a nuisance to try climbing back up. I make my way into the city where light is pollution and I’m alone, like always.

   I mean, if I wasn’t alone, that would mean this is the first time I’d ever seen someone in so long. Intuition pricks at the back of my neck, so I finally turn around, shovel in hand, ready to attack. “W..who g—” I’m hoarse. I don’t remember the last time I actually said something. I try again, spinning the long neck of the shovel and pointing it like a spear. “Who goes there!”

   And I’m facing the cliff, and a shadow cast on the cliff. Amorphous. Probably my own, since I have so much luggage.

   “Who goes there?” a voice echoes. My voice, but I don’t feel myself speak. I pinch my lips to see if they’re still alive or if they’ve been frozen to death back in the winter.

  “Y-yeah. Who!?” I inch closer to the cliff and point my shovel right at the shadow’s center. The shadow mirrors my movements, and I strike. Dust kicks up in my face while clumps of solid ground pummel my shovel and render it stuck and useless. Damn.

   “I’d tell you, but it’s more fun seeing you act like an idiot.” I turn around to face this person. If they’re mirroring my shadow, then they must be behind me!

   City lights. That’s all.

  Am I hallucinating? Was there something bad in the water? Maybe I hit my head too hard. I pull the shovel out of the ground. There could be land I haven’t travelled to yet, or I have travelled everywhere but me and this other person were never in the same place at the same time. Well, if that’s the case, then there are two survivors on this earth.

  “The hell do you got against me, you… you bitch?” If this person was going to keep taunting me using my own voice, I had no problem cursing them out.

   “No… don’t tell me, you’ve FORGOTTEN, have you!?”

Something brushes up against my arm and I feel my life being sucked out of my chest. There’s no soft ground to stick my shovel in, so I can’t lean on it for support. Nevertheless, I stand.

   Then that thing materializes in front of me, and continues to speak. “I feel insulted, that you forgot all of our travels together! Our journeys fighting tooth and nail to stay alive, explorations across frozen tundras and scorching deserts and everything in between. I remember that wolf you were friends with for a while, Chrome, right?”

   “How do you know about Chrome?” I hate how this thing appeared from thin air and the only thing I bother to ask about is my wolf-dog. I named him after one of my old friends, who always looked emo and then died. Achroma made better company than Chrome, but both of them were nice to be around. Then Chrome got old and died too.

   Still an amorphous blob, the thing in front of me responds. “I’ve been with you since forever.” So dramatic.

  “Well, can you at least, like—” I vaguely gesture with one hand. “Make yourself a bit more human so I’m not so put off talking to you?”

  “Oh, is this better?” They expand and contract until they mirror me again. No longer a shadow, but a replication. The same clothes, same equipment. But if that’s me, then… Lord almighty, my face is a mess. A hot mess, at that—

   “I appreciate that you think I’m sexy enough to turn into but I’d rather have you not.” It was already unnerving enough that they could sound like me any time they wanted…

   “Is this any better now?” Tendrils burst out of shape and adorn themselves with dozens of eyes.

   “No! What the shitting hell no!”

  I find myself following in their footsteps, or whatever they’re doing. Shifting between different appearances, it’s only easy to keep up with since they’re the only other vaguely human shaped being in my sight. Nothing worthwhile was in that city, nothing natural enough to sleep in. Sleeping on the floor is only nice when there are friends to wake up to the next day, and I have none, so I sleep in the forest.

   “The woods sucks.” For a record time of around half an hour, they settled themself to look a few inches taller than me, with shoulder length black hair. Their face was vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t really pinpoint it to any other person. We had the same clothes, but theirs had different colors.

   “You’re so critical of everything I do.” I set down my backpack and spread out a blanket. It’s hot tonight, so I only needed the blanket for the ground. My coats would keep me warm until the morning.

   “It’s only practical that you go back to the city, though,” they say from a tree.

   “What does practicality mean to you?” I lie down with my arms crossed behind my head.

   “Less than what it means to you.” Shut. The fuck up.

  Slow down and sleep, and hope that there won’t be any bugs in my head the next morning. That’s how every night goes. There’s less air pollution in the woods, so the night is lit by the moon and the stars. Tomorrow will be an early dawn. I cover my eyes and ears and ignore the world.

   “Ah… where to next?” I mumble out loud. Just a few minutes ago, I finished packing my stuff. Today is a hunting day, so I’d have to travel somewhere I could make food. That ghost hasn’t bothered me since I woke up, which was nice. I hope it would stay that way just for a day at the very least. I take a deep breath and wander out of the woods back into the city. The neon lights dimmed down to nothing in the pale sunlight. Windows and doors had already been broken into, so I crawl in and scavenge for anything I could take with me. Other than what you’d expect to find in abandoned storefronts, nothing served useful to me. There was a cool rock, but I decided to leave it.

   I pause, about to leave the store.

   Something is wrong.

  “Hey,” says a different voice. It’s lower than mine this time. I look behind me and notice the gaping metaphorical hole in my chest upon meeting eyes with the ghost. I have no privacy anymore, no drive, and this asshole was going to kill it even more. But if they’ve been here for so long, all that privacy and drive must’ve been an illusion in the first place…

   This time, their hair was shorter and messy. Lighter. Some color that was hard to distinguish between blond and gray from the lighting inside. They were wearing pants and a warm coat. “Good to see you finally got some creativity there, huh,” I say.

   They ignored me. “I think you should pick up that rock.” They point to the rock.

  “Damn, you’re right. I’m gonna pick up that fuckin’ rock.” I pick up the rock and put it in my vest pocket. “How’d you know I wanted that thing?”

   They shrugged. “I know you.”

   “Am I hallucinating right now?” I squint. They’re clearly not transparent, and the more I focus, the more familiar they seem. Something is really wrong around here.

   “It wouldn’t make a difference on you if I said ‘no,’ would it?”

  They take the lead out of the store and I follow them to an old rusty highway. I don’t have any objections, but today was supposed to be a hunting day. The sun is high, and it’s around noon now. The sky looks like it could crumble apart at any moment. That’s when I know the weather will be sunny again for the next few days.

   At the middle of the highway, there’s a gap where it got destroyed by a bomb or an earthquake. The way out from the city was familiar, but I obviously hadn’t been there in a long time to have known where this highway leads or how to get across to the other side. I sit down.

   We stay unmoving in a silent world, until that silence is broken by the wind. Then the wind drives me to ask what I should call them. They say I can call them whatever. “Okay, Whatever.”

   They cringe. “I didn’t mean like that.” They sit down too.

   Hack was the name I was looking for. Hack was who they reminded me of earlier in the city ruins. So I would call them Hack, just like he was. It felt disrespectful to reduce them to just a ghost. But this wasn’t Hack. And I had to remind myself that. We fell out, and years later he probably died too. If this was a hallucination, I’m both impressed and disturbed at my own imagination for making me so comforted and disturbed at the same time. “Okay, I’ll call you Hack.”

   Not-Hack has a shit-eating grin on their face, almost like they want me to call them that.

   We sit in silence for another long, drawling moment.

   “How old are you?” Their sudden question makes me flinch.

   “T..Twenty-something. Why?”

  “ERRRHHH. WRONG!” They imitate a game show buzzer and make an X with their hands. “I know it’s been over a hundred years, I was just curious how more than a hundred it was.”

   “It hasn’t been a hundred years!” I stand up and shout down at them. “I swear, I’m thirty at most! Do I really look that old to you? Eat a dick.”

   They’re laughing. “You’re funny.”

  “Well, you’re an asshat!” I jab them in the forehead, but my finger passes right through them. They jab me back, but they don’t pass through me. Unfair advantage, stupid ghost. At least now I know it’s probably not a hallucination. I sit back down with my legs dangling over the highway’s edge. I want to go back to the woods, or at least somewhere the leaves are starting to change color. The sky’s been raining heat on me for the past few months, so it’s due time. I can’t accurately judge the distance from here to the ground, but I want to risk jumping.

  A voice coming from inside of my head asks me if I ever thought of killing myself. I’d be a hypocrite to deny I ever entertained the thought. I hold my head while my elbows rest on my thighs. Only now have I realized that life’s boring after the end of the world. Distractions and the bare minimum only go so far, but what am I supposed to do when something changes?

   I jump.

   I survive.

   Not-Hack is still here.

   In the distance I can see a ferris wheel peeking out from a row of buildings. If a ferris wheel is there, then there’s probably no good food over there. It’s all just city and lights. City, lights, and stores. Trees, for air sustenance. I wonder if there were any fruit trees over there. I take a running start.

   “Hey!” Not-Hack calls out. “Don’t leave me behind!” They rush to catch up with me. Don’t leave them behind? Not like I had a choice.

   “I know this place.”

   “You’ve been here before?” I lodge my knife into a cherry tree and I step on it. My backpack and vest are a yard away on the ground. I grip onto a thick branch and hoist myself up. I didn’t have time to study which cherries were perfect or not, I just ate what I could find. Wandering around the area were cats and rabbits, but I don’t like to eat cats or rabbits.

   “We’ve been here before.” They burst open again and regenerate with a black sweater over a white dress shirt and well worn black jeans. Their face looks half-dead this time, and their hair is a short bob that gets longer in the front with their bangs covering one eye.

   There’s a small hole in their chest with blood darkening their already black sweater and disintegrating when the drops reach the ground.

   Right. This is the same place Achroma died. And I survived.

  “I don’t like it when you tell me things with his face.” I turn my attention back to cherry picking and then jump to the ground. I refuse to look at them.

   “How’s this, then?” They said with a softer, naturally high voice. Bastard tricked me into looking. Now they were wearing a casual dress and boots perfectly fit for a date, and had long purple hair tied up in the back.

   “Not any better. It’s embarrassing now—”

  Seeing those shapeshifting sequences happen in real time was gross. I know logically that ghost forms should need some sort of connection to something in order to change, but seeing that in-between with dozens of tendrils, colors, and eyeballs really unnerved me. Not like their choices were any better. Why are they only turning into people I know?

   Not-Achroma reaches their hand out and gestures for me to follow them. I do.

  The stony path becomes gradually more broken as we walk, until the road turns into gravel. This side of the city had the ferris wheel, and since I wasn’t willing to risk getting stuck on a two-and-something-hundred-year-old machine, I carefully ignored and evaded it. Something is off about me being so passive today. Instead of calm, it feels empty. Done. Satisfied with what I’ve been through, but God please let it be over. Still, I’ll walk as much as I can until I die. Either that high fall didn’t kill me or I woke up from a dream. Dying in heat takes time and is uncomfortable.

   “Why are you doing all…” I make a vague hand gesture to their face. “That.”

   “Why are you being so uptight? You can talk. Use your words and stop beating around the bush.” Another phrase I remember saying. Another phrase I remember rubbing off on the people who spent time with me. The only thing I was good for on this curse of an earth was giving advice that I don’t take. But now with everyone gone, I didn’t really have any range of choices for my next strength. My actions hold no weight to humanity— The only impact I have now is hunting food.

   “Earth to Koya.”

   When I hunt, I breathe, pray, and kill.

   “Koyaaaaaaaaaaa.”

   I have no time to think about the consequences, only time to stick the arrow in and run away.

   “Koya!”

   And I pray so there can be resolve in untimely death.

   “Stop ignoring me.”

   I finally halt my train of thought and turn my head. “What the fuck do you want.”

   “I’m bored,” says Not-Achroma with a deadpan face.

   “There’s plenty to do around here. Why do you have to travel with me if you’re so bored?” I look forward.

   “Admit that you need me.” We both stop.

   “I haven’t been feeling like myself since you showed up. I don’t need anyone like you.” I haven’t been feeling at all since they showed up. Except for when they jabbed me in the face. I was irritated! And then I wasn’t.

  But having someone like Hack around was a little less lonely. It wouldn’t be the same, but I could tell him everything I needed to and then finally die. I just don’t like seeing Achroma like this. Those who are dead are supposed to stay dead, because no matter how much someone misses them, it will never be the same again. I don’t need them, I need my connections back.

   “Akoi Koya…” hearing my full name coming from his voice is something I didn’t know I needed, but I did. No one called to me since the disasters, except for my animals, but they just barked at me. “Akoi as a name doesn’t make any sense, you know that?” They continue walking, and I follow them. “It’s like whoever named you was typing on a keyboard and misspelled ‘Aoki’ as ‘Akoi’ and never changed it back.”

   “But it flows pretty well all together, right? I never really gave it much thought until other people pointed it out.” Like Hack did. Akoi didn’t have a clear origin, but Koya did. Akoi Koya sounded like some fantasy character name, but just Koya on its own was fine. And a real name.

   “It’s pretty.” Not-Achroma turns back into Not-Hack and slows down their pace. I’m in front of them now, and they’re walking close behind. I can feel breezes on the back of my neck and between my fingers. They’re not touching me.

   I stop walking. They bump into me. We don’t move.

   The sun is still high.

   I crash against a wall holding up a bridge. Shade was needed especially now. I’ve been out in the open so much today, I felt like the sun was going to melt my face off. I sink down to the ground and a sigh escapes my throat. Not-Hack is growing accustomed to their role since picking up on my subtle cues. A ghost with no personality and drive except for what they observe sounds like a sad existence. But what could they possibly get out of by acting like old friends? They sit next to me with one leg out and the other leg bent, and their arm around my shoulders. I want to talk to them the same way I used to talk to Hack.

   “What was I thinking?” The short sentence just falls out.

   “Yeah, what were you thinking? I’m gonna kick your ass.” Their tone is playful in the same way a laser pointer is to a cat.

   “Think you can take me?” I make a fist and gently punch Not-Hack in the chest. It doesn’t pass through this time.

   “I know I can! Come at me, coward.”

  “Not until I eat lunch.” Today was supposed to be a hunting day, and I was supposed to be a nameless survivor with a stolen look. Now I’m Akoi Koya again, and Hack is here if we both survived. I still want food, but a meal can wait. I have cherries.

   Tasteless, purple cherries. Tasteless and sour. Somehow they tasted numb with an aftertaste of sweet and sour.

   Not-Hack relaxes and leans in even closer next to me. Their head rests on mine, and I wrap my arm around their back.

   Even if it’s not the same, they’ll persist until they make it that way. So I ask them “Why?”

   They don’t break character. “We were young. And stupid.” They deliberately avoid eye contact and stare into the sun.

   “No, I mean—”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry. Why am I putting on this charade?” That’s more like it. I still felt weird hearing someone talk like that with Hack’s face.

   “Mhm.”

   “Because you were in love with him.” They really did see right through me. I’ve been living my life followed by a ghost. Finding out today doesn’t make any sense, but it also does. I can’t make sense of it in words, though. And I won’t admit my feelings. ‘Were’ doesn’t mean ‘are.’

   “I wasn’t in love with him.” I toss another cherry into my mouth and spit out the pit.

   “Koyaaaaa. Lying isn’t going to do anything.” They turn back again. Our faces are so close.

   I close my eyes and eat another cherry. This is enough for today.

   “Love is loyalty. Loyalty is power, and power is chaos. And Chaos means I’m not bored anymore.”

   “So you’re doing this for yourself,” I ask, but it’s more like a statement.

   They fall silent. I know they’ll say yes, but I don’t want to hear that. I want to go home. I want my connections back.

  Hack didn’t die in front of me. Achroma did. Ven didn’t die in front of me either. I just stopped talking to her. It hurt the most seeing Achroma’s face again, so why did Not-Hack spare me?

   “Do you ever think about dying?” They break their own silence.

   “More than I’d like to.”

   They stand up and I feel nothing. I stand up and grab their hand and I feel something.

  I let go once pins and needles shoot from their skin while they change. I knew I was getting too used to them. Looking at the ground, I hold their hand again. It’s cold. Let me fall for it. Please. There’s no blood on that sweater this time. No blood fading when it touches the ground. No blood. No half-dead face. We’re together, suspended in time. And he’s not dead, but he is.

   We cool off at an old dock. I take off my vest and hang it on a wood pole, then I take off my shirt. I take off one layer of pants, the layer that has stuff in its pockets, and I lower myself into the water, just low enough to be safe. I have some wounds on my chest that haven’t healed since I got them, and covering them with duct tape only goes such a long way. I’d wrap some more duct tape around once I’m done. My feet are numb now.

   I cross my arms over the dock while the rest of me dangles in the water. “Maybe I could try dying here.”

   “Drowning would suck.” Not-Achroma flicks me in the forehead. “Especially for you.”

   I didn’t realize I just talked about dying out loud.

  It’s officially late afternoon, and the sun will set in an hour or two. I could hunt for fish, but there’s a risk in diving into the ocean. I was never a good swimmer, anyway. “What do you recommend for dying, then?”

   “Gunshots are quick and— Ah—”

   “What.”

   “Forget it.”

  I climb onto the dock and splash some water into my face. It’s still hot, but cold water could help for now. I wouldn’t be so hot in the woods. All this talk about death was really new. Well, all that talk about anything is new, but until now I’ve just been living until I get killed or just stop living. Dying by my own will is difficult. “I want to wait until the sun sets.”

   Memories that never really left me resurfaced every time they opened their mouth. I follow them through the city to a run down building that, according to nothing but my gut, was supposed to be home. Today is the first time since the disasters I go back, and it’s also the last. I took off that itchy duct tape (that might as well be part of my skin at this point) and had my wounds exposed. I tie my shirt around my waist and leave my vest in my backpack. My feet are still numb, so I lean on ‘Achroma’ to make sure I don’t trip and fall.

   The outskirts of the city glow with gold from the sun. It hasn’t set yet, but the shadows are harsh and the scenery is warm. Birds are flying, cats and dogs are wandering, and I’m out of place, walking on two legs. Even more out of place if you look closer to my injuries.

   Injuries of an exposed, worn out machine, who, in desperation, attempted to abandon fate and live like a real survivor.

   We sit down.

  I ask them questions that only Achroma would be able to know, like why he picked out his name, and what he wanted to do in life. Their ad-lib was convincing, and I didn’t want to think about the implications of a ghost using my memories of him against me. I’m dying soon either way. It would suck to have my last hour be miserable.

   I loved Hack, I loved Achroma, and I loved Ven. I spent the least amount of time with Ven out of everyone else, but she was wonderful. I tell ‘Achroma’ about Ven, even though they already knew about my experiences with her. They still go along with it, like we really are old friends who were separated from each other for a long time. It’s selfish of me not to care if ‘Achroma’ doesn’t love me, and it’s selfish of them not to love me back. Their stories of life are vivid and pessimistic, but they make humor out of it.

   The sun sets.

   All these years of searching for the ends of the earth, and I found myself back where I started. I’m ready.

  I close my eyes as two hands invade the wounds on my chest. It’s a cold, strong wind, gripping through my ribs and jamming up everything else. I remember everything.

   I remember everything.

   I remember everything.

   I remember everything.

   I fall sideways.

   I remember everything.

   I remember everything.

   I remember everything.

   I love you.

   Conscious thought formation ceases.

   Tactile data input ceases.

   Conscious movement ceases.

   Temperature function ceases.

   Visual data input ceases.

   Auditory data input ceases.

   Additional sensory data input ceases.

   Emotional data output ceases.

[syntaxeme]

Giardino Segreto ch. 5

[Read on AO3] | [First Chapter] | [Next Chapter] Rating: T Chapter summary: As Angel and the Giardinos are coming into their own as a crime family, Alastor is having trouble reading the boss's feelings toward him--that is, whether he has any. Of course, the moment he lets his guard down, an old threat comes back into the picture. Just when things were going so well...

— — –

Venture, it turned out, was as good as her word. Within a month, the hotel was fully functional and attracting guests, in addition to the other more ‘traditional’ fields she and Angel were pursuing—drugs, guns, that sort of thing. As promised, Alastor had leveraged favors, paid bribes, made threats, and generally talked circles around other demons until they had a ‘family’ of a respectable size. Not the most wholesome bunch, maybe, but an effective one nonetheless!

“It’s been a week and a fuckin’ half and Cortez is still draggin’ his feet on this deal,” Angel grumbled from his desk as he looked over the report he’d just been handed. “Venn, we got any other options to get these ACPs shipped? I’m tired of waitin’ on this asshole.”

“I’m sure I could find someone else if you insist,” Venture answered, leaning against the edge of the desk. She had her own, of course, but Alastor wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her sit at it. Too much to do, he supposed. “But the Cortezes could be useful to us. Are you sure you want to burn that bridge so quickly?”

The boss let out a groan and dropped his head back while he thought the matter over. This sort of conversation had become typical of a day’s work, even comfortable. Early on in their operations, the hotel’s third floor had been converted into a sort of administration department, including a spacious joint office from which the two of them oversaw operations. Alastor spent most of his time in this office as well, ready to provide whatever assistance Angel might need of him.

The position of underboss still wasn’t entirely clear to him, but Angel had given him the title, so he accepted it. Well, I wasn’t planning to join the Mob, but why not? It wasn’t as if his legal record before now was entirely spotless. Besides, it gave him some legitimacy and authority when dealing with humans who didn’t understand the real reason it was stupid to challenge him.

“All right, I’ll give him ‘til the end of the week,” Angel decided. “After that, I’m takin’ my merchandise elsewhere. And make sure he knows it.”

“Will do.” And she was off to her desk to make a call.

Angel sat still for a moment, fidgeting with one of his pens and stealing very obvious glances in Alastor’s direction. Cute. Still, he pretended not to notice, remaining where he sat on the sofa against the wall until the boss finally called, “Hey, Al?”

“Hey, Angel.”

The boy smiled and rolled his eyes. “C’mere a minute.” So he did. Mercifully, over the past few weeks, his illness hadn’t gotten any worse—but it was certainly still present and not letting up. Much like Angel’s playful flirting. The boss hopped up from his chair to seat himself on the desk instead, crossing one leg over the other. His new wardrobe really did suit him (no pun intended). When Alastor got close enough, he reached out to slip his fingertips under the demon’s tie and lead him closer still. Whether the fluttering in Alastor’s chest was literal or figurative, it was difficult to say.

“Did you need something?” he asked, doing an admirable job of pretending Angel’s familiarity didn’t affect him. He sometimes got the feeling those efforts backfired, though, as Angel would often flirt harder because he seemed so indifferent, until he finally broke down and turned away or his smile faltered into uncertainty.

“I’m goin’ out with Cherri and a couple of the guys for drinks tonight,” Angel stated, watching closely for Alastor’s reaction.

“I see. Are you asking me to come along and keep an eye on you?” he asked, gently prying Angel’s fingers away from his tie. “Have I been demoted from underboss to bodyguard that quickly? I wasn’t even given a verbal citation.”

“Oh, shut up,” Angel laughed. “I’m asking you to come as you. Full stop.”

That was unexpected. He’d never invited Alastor along on his outings with Cherri—who had become an informant and supplier for the Giardinos—before.

“Are you sure that’s for the best?” Alastor asked. “Call me crazy, but I get the feeling ‘the guys’ aren’t quite as comfortable around me as they are around you. I wouldn’t want to put a damper on your night out.”

“So what’re you sayin’? You’d rather it just be the two of us?” Angel teased.

“I think it’s safe to say most men would prefer your company over mine.” He managed to keep his voice level despite nearing the limits of his tolerance. Much more exposure to that smile on Angel’s face and he was sure to get short of breath soon.

“C’mon, is it because of the Overlord thing? Venn’s going!”

“No I’m not,” Venture interjected without looking up from her work.

“You are if I say you are, Cleopatra,” Angel shot right back. “Hell, you need a night off more than anyone.” Alastor’s policy of ‘I can get you whatever you want’ may have spoiled him a bit. Or maybe it was the power that came with being boss. Yet she still seemed amused by his pushy attitude and smiled regardless.

“What the don says goes,” she conceded with a shrug.

“Exactly. So are you onboard or what?” he asked Alastor, raising his eyebrows. Realistically, Alastor wasn’t likely to enjoy the outing, especially when Angel’s attention would probably be elsewhere. He didn’t often say no to any request the boss— “Alastor.” When the boy got to his feet, it left just inches between them. Crossing his arms, leaning a little closer with the slightest curve on his lips belying his innocent tone, he purred, “Tell me you’re gonna go.”

Despite Alastor’s efforts to hide it, it was a fact that he couldn’t stand against Angel’s charm indefinitely. And, foolishly, he had allowed Angel to pick up on that fact. It wasn’t that he disliked the persuasion. It was gratifying to know that his presence was something the boss was willing to push for. But he would’ve much preferred if agreeing were a choice on his part. Instead, his illness flared up again, tension and pain making it that much harder to argue.

Turning away, unable to handle the hopeful look in those big brown eyes, he forced out, “Whatever you want, Angel.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” the boy said with a grin. “Eclipse Lounge. Eight o’clock. Better get there on time if you want a seat next to me.” With a last satisfied smirk, he left the room, snatching his hat off the desk as he went. Alastor remained where he stood and watched him go, waiting for his symptoms to subside.

It was becoming more and more difficult, if not impossible, to tell whether all the flirtation and teasing Angel showered on him was just a method of manipulating him or…something else. After all, it was simply a part of Angel’s personality to make suggestive comments and use his looks to his advantage. That was the reason Alastor tried so hard to respond to it neutrally; if he were to take it too seriously and answer with his honest thoughts on the matter, it might easily put Angel off or scare him away.

“Hmmm~, you two are quite a pair,” Venture mused from where she stood in the far corner of the room.

“There are two of us, so yes, technically.”

“You know your one-liners get a little less snappy when you’re distracted?” She sauntered her way to his side and re-aligned the tie that Angel had skewed. “I’m sure if you told him how you feel about sex, he’d tone down the flirting tout de suite.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me on the subject, so I have no reason to discuss it with him.” Observing Venture cautiously, he noted, “You two seem to be getting along well. Has he said something to you?”

“Oh no, I’m not here to play Mafia Matchmaker,” she said, raising both hands as she stepped back to seat herself in the boss’s chair and give it a spin. “But I will say you’re taking this much more seriously than usual. Why, I’ve never seen you so serious, in fact.”

“My friend, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean. Levity is my middle name.”

“Is that so?” Leaning back in the chair, she crossed her ankles on the desk in front of her and watched his reaction. As if something in his posture or expression were proving her point, she continued curiously, “See? Even this. It’s bothering you. It’s almost as if you really think of that boy as your superior, but I’m sure I know you better than that.” The way she looked at him said she wasn’t sure at all.

“Do you know what your problem is, Venture?” He bent at the waist to be at eye-level with her and said cheerfully, “You think too much. You really should learn to take a step back, smell the roses—you are working in a garden these days, after all.”

“Careful what you wish for. Snakes and gardens, historically, don’t mix well.”

“And if anyone under this roof were concerned with salvation, that might just be an issue. As it is, you fit into our merry band of misfits quite nicely—so stop trying so hard to maintain your distance. We both know it won’t last forever.”

“Hm.” Her expression remained placid for the most part, but there was a slight furrow in her brow. All things considered, Venture was the last demon on Earth who had any right to judge Alastor’s investment in Angel. And she must have realized it as well. With an exaggeratedly nonchalant shrug, she sat up properly and started organizing the many file folders that cluttered the boss’s desk. “Well? You heard the man. Don’t be late.”

— — —

As bidden, Alastor showed up at the Eclipse Lounge at 7:54. The room was softly lit, low-ceilinged, with a light haze of cigar smoke and a low murmur of chatter from its guests. The word ‘intimate’ came to mind. Fitting for a place where crime lords often gathered and all sorts of illicit deals were made. In the center of the room was a bar forming a continuous ring, so one could approach it from any side. And on his left, seated in the very center of a circular, leather-upholstered booth, was Angel. Spotting him, the boy grinned and waved him over, so he took the place where he felt he belonged: right at Angel’s side.

“I knew you were gonna be the first one here.” The boss looked as smug as ever, fully relaxed in his seat and sipping a John Collins. (Well, how could Alastor not know his go-to cocktail of choice?)

“How’s that?”

“Cuz of what I said about sitting by me. I know you don’t like lettin’ me outta your sight. Maybe you think I’m gonna get fucked up again like that night with Cherri. Am I right?”

“To think that I want to keep an eye on you? Absolutely.”

“Besides,” Angel added casually, “I told everybody else eight-fifteen.”

“So you were the one who wanted it to be just the two of us.” Something about that knowledge was immensely satisfying. “Why, Angel, I’m flattered.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get a big head about it. I just wanted us to have a minute outside the office. Been tryin’ to make it happen for a week now and kept chickenin’ out, so I figured it’d be easier if it was a group thing.” The boy stirred his drink slowly without looking at Alastor. Interesting that he would admit to a strategy like this so openly. Doubly interesting that he would bother making such plans in the first place.

“You already know you have my attention whenever you want it,” Alastor pointed out. “You could have just asked.”

“I guess. It’s a lot easier givin’ orders than makin’ requests, though. Anyway, that’s what we’re here for. That’s what all this”—he gestured to the room—“was about. Me askin’ for your attention.”

With the way Angel was watching him, so thoughtful, so intent, Alastor’s mouth went dry all of a sudden. There was nothing playful or teasing in the boy’s tone. For once, it didn’t come with a wink and a smirk. Instead, he was just waiting, as if he’d expected Alastor might need a moment to consider.

“What sort of attention,” the demon managed, “exactly?”

“Hm. Ask me again once we get back to the hotel.”

All signs were pointing in a very positive direction, but Alastor still tried to fight the surge of excitement and hope that rushed through him. “Angel—”

“Wow, it’s a fuckin’ snoozefest in here.” Cherri had appeared and now scooted into the booth on Angel’s other side, speaking a bit louder than necessary. As usual. “Who picked this dump, anyway? I bet it was you, old man.” She jerked her chin at Alastor.

“Hey, c’mon, it ain’t that bad,” Angel said, nudging her with his elbow. “Besides, once you get a couple drinks in ya, you won’t even notice anymore.”

And so their few minutes of alone time were brushed aside to be replaced with ‘family bonding activities.’ As Angel had said, a few Giardino capos showed up soon after Cherri, and as Alastor had predicted, they seemed a bit uneasy with his presence. But after a round and a half of drinks, they relaxed enough to chat comfortably with the boss, which was nice to see. Venture waltzed in a little after 9 o’clock, and a somewhat tipsy Angel berated her for being late while she waved him off and told him to be happy she’d come at all.

Alastor wasn’t much of a drinker himself and so sat sipping sparkling water while the others had their fun. Angel, he noticed, seemed to be pacing himself intentionally—but he was still drunk enough to giggle excessively at his capos’ jokes. He didn’t go any further than that in terms of flirting, not with them or with Alastor. He did, however, consistently toy with Alastor’s hand under the table, fingertips tracing his knuckles and down the lines of his fingers, sneaking up to brush against his wrist, and generally making it very difficult to focus on conversation. He couldn’t imagine a better distraction.

The outing wasn’t as bad as expected, Alastor supposed. He himself had always had difficulty forming attachments to those around him or close interpersonal relationships, but there was a certain sense of camaraderie among the rest of the group, which was positive. Familiarity could translate to loyalty, and when dealing with demons, any extra measure to assure loyalty should be taken. More than anything, it was nice to see Angel comfortable and confident, assured of himself as he should always—

A sharp baritone rang out across the room: “Antonia?”

Merde.