#mobility problems make taking care of thick hair hard

[commandermeg]

Shaved my undercut again, finally. I'd totally forgotten how much easier my hair is for me to take care of by myself when it's like this.

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

hey, you've talked somewhat about your dealings with chronic pain and i was just wondering what are some ways that you make it better?? idk if that makes sense but just ways to cope with the pain. there are a lot of different types of chronic pain but just anything that helps you. i want to write and type so bad but my hands hurt lol, any advice?

Hi nonny I'm sorry to hear you're having a hard time with your hands right now, and balancing that with the need to be creative is a struggle i relate to a lot ><

i know you asked after my experiences specifically but i do want to emphasize they are as such for a reason, so the context is important to keep in mind. please be careful of what you try!! i'm not a doctor, and if you can, i do think its important that you see one who can give you help thats bespoke to your condition.

but i do think theres some things that are general enough that i can offer. off the top of my head, i also really wanna emphasize trying out voice to text programs to see if they work for you!!!

im not gonna put this under a cut btw no need to make you click anything extra

first - youre probably not gonna like it very much but you need to rest your hands.

pain is our bodies way of telling us to stop, and its important that we listen to that information and respect it to keep us from doing more harm to ourselves! be patient. pushing it too soon means its gonna take longer to get back into creating. it sucks, i know, but its the sad truth.

this means staying away from holding things, especially heavier things like a phone, big cups, handling heavy groceries, etc. mobile phones are very important to stay from as much as possible, not just because they can be heavy, but the way we hold them is ususally not good for our hands, wrists, elbows, or necks anyway.

if you do need to handle your mobile phone, place it on a surface. hold it yourself as little as possible!

if your mobile phone or mobile device is all you have, it might be worth investing in holders, external keyboards, and wireless mice, if you think this is long term for you. the reason i invested in a computer is 100% for this reason. i just cant do phones very well anymore.

this can also mean trying to avoid things that require fine motor control like twist off caps, writing with a pen, doing up buttons, tying shoe laces, etc. i also try to stay away from skinny objects that require me to flex my hand tighter is harder on me also. if you trusy someone enough, even ask someone else to brush your hair for you.

when my hands are bad, i switch to using my cutlery in a baby grip instead of the way i was taught for 'manners'. Holding my fingers that way, especially while holding an object, strains my ligaments, joints, etc.

if you have problems with your hands a lot, buying thick handled cutlery like this kiddo is holding wouldn't be a bad idea! thats one thats on my to do list. theres lots of equipment out there thats made for troubled hands, its definitely worth looking into. hell, even straws for drinking are mucho valuable! same with paper plates and plastic cutlery that are lighter. make things easy for yourself wherever you can if you can.

second - ergonomics.

ergonomics are SO IMPORTANT. again, how we hold our hands can contribute a lot to injury and reinjury, which means its important to be mindful of that.

a lot of this is gonna be computer centric but i'd still suggest at least reading the links if you dont have one.

my biggest problem area is technically my wrists, so i need to pay special care to them in particular. because im on the computer a lot, this means creating a keyboard and mouse set up thats as supportive to healthy arm/wrist/hand posture as possible.

if youre up to it id suggest reading this link -> https://ergonomictrends.com/proper-ergonomic-typing-posture-at-computer/

and this link -> https://creakyjoints.org/living-with-arthritis/text-type-less-pain-arthritis/

not everything in here is applicable to me but i found the pencil test in particular very helpful! please be careful of the stretches in here - if youre already injured it does NOT take a lot to make it worse.

now, it can be easy to think an ergonomic computing setup costs a lot of money, cus capitalism is a tricky bitch, but things like stuffed animals , ice packs, and shifting tables around has helped me to get an ergonomic set up.

also, id worry less about screening for typos, capitalization, etc, in general. on a keyboard capitalization requires flexing the hand. if youre in a state, give yourself permission not to bother, and typos on tumblr dot com fit right in.

THAT SAID, thats in regards to typing specifivally. while helpful, i do find theyre a bit less helpful with my mouse.

that said

four - the mouse.

the mouse is actually the easiest part of computing for me personally. theres lots of ways that it can be used that i can effectively manage my pain - switching hands, using different parts of my hand, different positions, etc. that said i think if theres anything ergonomic worth buying, itd probably be an ergonomic mouse.

now im not sure what your set up is but on windows computers in the start menu theres a list of tools under ease of access

i use the on screen keyboard to do my typing because im voice-shy lol uwuw

BUT and this could also be mega valuable if you only have a phone

you can use voice to text to write

This is an option thats possible on mobile and desktop devices, and tbh if youre having hand pain, dont mind speaking out loud, but still want to write i'd really suggest this!!! it would allow you to rest your hands so they can heal while still getting out those creative energies so you can balance your emotional well being too.

alright, now...

this is the part i feel would need the most disclaimers, and would suggest that if you do this you ask for help, be they from your pharmacy, from other people who share your specific condition, or if possible a doctor.

It's basically the rest of RICE, plus some, but its easy to do more damage with them, so take care.

-> Elevate. Depending on the kind of injury, elevation can take the stress off and improve blood circulation to the area so it heals better.

-> ice/heat. this one is very easy to fuck up so be careful but switching between ice and heat can help relieve pain and speed up healing a smidge, depending on your condition. Ice works better for me because mine is an inflammatory disease and heat draws in blood to the area - this is how it helps progress healing iirc but also means extra inflammation. cold does the opposite so thats my preference.

-> compression and stability. wrist braces can help keep your hands supported while they heal, compression gloves are another one thats good for. well a lot of things but specifically circulatory issues that can mean pain. These NEED to be fitted for best results so if you can't get any customized to you talk to a pharmacist - most drugs stores will have these in stock. also they look cool >) a brace is not the same as a compression glove so keep an eye out! its easy to make mistakes when we're in pain. be kind to yourself.

-> over the counter pain medications. again, ask your pharmacist. which ones you can or can't take will be dependant on you. these can include topicals btw!! I don't use topicals because I have cats i don't want to poison, but my mom does. we have the same condition and she found that warming creams with CBD in them were especially beneficial for her hand pain. if you don't mind shelling out money and there's a Chinese medicine practitioner in your area, my mom has also had a TON of success with our local one's topicals and acupuncture. But again, this is usually a pretty expensive option, and rightfully so imo.

i personally found these fuckers to be very helpful, but i can't take them anymore because they interact another med i'm on now. but again this sort of thing is something to be careful with, especially if you're worried about your liver or kidneys or stomach lining. if you need to, don't be shy about getting someone else to open this for you. even at the store if you have to go by yourself!!!

-> i try to be careful of what i eat. if you struggle with this, please, please be mindful of not triggering yourself, and just skip to the next point.

that said, some foods do seem to aggravate or even trigger inflammation. while i cant afford to stick to an anti-inflammatory diet, I can be mindful of moderating things like my sugar and alcohol intake. a little treat is fine once in a while but i do try to shop with a preference for products that are under 15% of sugar/serving, or find products with stevia in them. for some reason aspartame seems to increase my pain levels.

also try to drink a lot of water. its hard to heal when we're dehydrated! if you can, use a straw so you dont have to hold your cup!!

five - again, try to get as much rest as you can.

if youre in a significant amount of pain, which it sounds like you are, the sleep you're getting probably isn't very restful, and your body and mind are going to have a lower threshhold for exhaustion anyway because

pain is tiring. straight up, it's exhausting. this also means your mood is probably gonna take a fuck of a hit if you're anything like me, and if you have a mental illness and/or are neurodivergent you might have a little more trouble with self management for a bit, so play close attention and baby yourself as much as possible. use your skills. if you need help finding some i do have some uploaded on my tumblr under the tag

'mental health resources'

so above all, i reiterate, whenever possible, give yourself permission to just do nothing. veg the fuck out. be patient, and seek out things you can still enjoy.

six - that said, do try to keep moving at least a little bit.

it can be possible to guard body parts over much and lead to more injuries with over compensating or if the area becomes 'locked'. it can also just mean that we need to build up our strength again. once you or your doctor or pharmacist even thinks its safe, try little itty bitty stretches. test and challenge your range of motion. this is why i'm so aggro about drawing when i can lmao but DON'T push it.

seven - self compassion meditations.

i thought these were hoaky until i did them in a therapy group and now im hooked LOL

now, which meditations i use when im in pain are...i need to be picky about them. grounding meditations in particular really seem to bring my pain top of mind and make it worse. but self compassion meditations are ones i've found some success with, and these are applicable to mental illness as well.

here's 2 ive gone thru and i think theyre decent

the above does need your hands but i found this one in particular to be very effective for my pain actually. PLEASE modify the instructions as you see fit to care for your pain!!

At the end of the day though the thing that's helped me most was getting treatment for my condition and following it as close as possible.

i'm wishing you luck and compassion and patience nonny. sending you strength. please find as many reasons to make every moment as enjoyable as possible - listening to music, watching your favourite show, snuggles - anything that lifts you up spiritually and emotionally and mentally that you can. feel your feelings, but give yourself enrichment so the next minute, hour, tonight, tomorrow, day after, next week, next month, is something you can still look forward to.

hope you feel better soon.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hmmm I should probably wait another day to post part two of Finnick being there for Everlark / being their friend but I don’t wanna sooo. Here it is 🤗

-

I see my mother lead in a group of mobile patients, still wearing their hospital nightgowns and robes. Finnick stands among them, looking dazed but gorgeous. In his hands he holds a piece of thin rope, less than a foot in length, too short for even him to fashion into a usable noose. His fingers move rapidly, automatically tying and unraveling various knots as he gazes about. Probably part of his therapy. I cross to him and say, “Hey, Finnick.” He doesn’t seem to notice, so I nudge him to get his attention. “Finnick! How are you doing?”

“Katniss,” he says, gripping my hand. Relieved to see a familiar face, I think.

-

Finnick, who’s been wandering around the set for a few hours, comes up behind me and says with a hint of his old humor, “They’ll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.”

-

Just as the elevator arrives, Finnick appears in a state of agitation. “Katniss, they won’t let me go! I told them I’m fine, but they won’t even let me ride in the hovercraft!”

I take in Finnick — his bare legs showing between his hospital gown and slippers, his tangle of hair, the half-knotted rope twisted around his fingers, the wild look in his eyes — and know any plea on my part will be useless. Even I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring him. So I smack my hand on my forehead and say, “Oh, I forgot. It’s this stupid concussion. I was supposed to tell you to report to Beetee in Special Weaponry. He’s designed a new trident for you.”

At the word trident, it’s as if the old Finnick surfaces. “Really? What’s it do?”

“I don’t know. But if it’s anything like my bow and arrows, you’re going to love it,” I say. “You’ll need to train with it, though.”

“Right. Of course. I guess I better get down there,” he says.

“Finnick?” I say. “Maybe some pants?”

He looks down at his legs as if noticing his outfit for the first time. Then he whips off his hospital gown, leaving him in just his underwear. “Why? Do you find this”— he strikes a ridiculously provocative pose —“distracting?”

I can’t help laughing because it’s funny, and it’s extra funny because it makes Boggs look so uncomfortable, and I’m happy because Finnick actually sounds like the guy I met at the Quarter Quell.

“I’m only human, Odair.” I get in before the elevator doors close.

-

At dinner, Finnick brings his tray to my bed so we can watch the newest propo together on television. He was assigned quarters on my old floor, but he has so many mental relapses, he still basically lives in the hospital.

-

Finnick presses the button on the remote that kills the power. In a minute, people will be here to do damage control on Peeta’s condition and the words that came out of his mouth. I will need to repudiate them. But the truth is, I don’t trust the rebels or Plutarch or Coin. I’m not confident that they tell me the truth. I won’t be able to conceal this. Footsteps are approaching.

Finnick grips me hard by the arms. “We didn’t see it.”

“What?” I ask.

“We didn’t see Peeta. Only the propo on Eight. Then we turned the set off because the images upset you. Got it?” he asks. I nod. “Finish your dinner.”

-

“This is what they’re doing to you with Annie, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Well, they didn’t arrest her because they thought she’d be a wealth of rebel information,” he says. “They know I’d never have risked telling her anything like that. For her own protection.”

“Oh, Finnick. I’m so sorry,” I say.

“No, I’m sorry. That I didn’t warn you somehow,” he tells me.

Suddenly, a memory surfaces. I’m strapped to my bed, mad with rage and grief after the rescue. Finnick is trying to console me about Peeta. “They’ll figure out he doesn’t know anything pretty fast. And they won’t kill him if they think they can use him against you.”

“You did warn me, though. On the hovercraft. Only when you said they’d use Peeta against me, I thought you meant like bait. To lure me into the Capitol somehow,” I say.

“I shouldn’t have said even that. It was too late for it to be of any help to you. Since I hadn’t warned you before the Quarter Quell, I should’ve shut up about how Snow operates.”

-

Finnick and I sit for a long time in silence, watching the knots bloom and vanish, before I can ask, “How do you bear it?”

Finnick looks at me in disbelief. “I don’t, Katniss! Obviously, I don’t. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.” Something in my expression stops him. “Better not to give in to it. It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.”

Well, he must know. I take a deep breath, forcing myself back into one piece.

“The more you can distract yourself, the better,” he says. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll get you your own rope. Until then, take mine.”

-

The camera pulls back to include Peeta, off to one side in front of a projected map of Panem. He's sitting in an elevated chair, his shoes supported by a metal rung. The foot of his prosthetic leg taps out a strange irregular beat. Beads of sweat have broken through the layer of powder on his upper lip and forehead. But it's the look in his eyes--angry yet unfocused--that frightens me the most.

"He's worse," I whisper. Finnick grasps my hand, to give me an anchor, and I try to hang on.

-

“You have two hours to get footage showing the damage from the bombing, establish that Thirteen’s military unit remains not only functional but dominant, and, most important, that the Mockingjay is still alive. Any questions?”

“Can we have a coffee?” asks Finnick.

Steaming cups are handed out. I stare distastefully at the shiny black liquid, never having been much of a fan of the stuff, but thinking it might help me stay on my feet.

Finnick sloshes some cream in my cup and reaches into the sugar bowl. “Want a sugar cube?” he asks in his old seductive voice. That’s how we met, with Finnick offering me sugar. Surrounded by horses and chariots, costumed and painted for the crowds, before we were allies. Before I had any idea what made him tick. The memory actually coaxes a smile out of me. “Here, it improves the taste,” he says in his real voice, plunking three cubes in my cup.

-

Haymitch’s footsteps are still echoing in the outer hall when I fumble my way through the slit in the dividing curtain to find Finnick sprawled out on his stomach, his hands twisted in his pillowcase. Although it’s cowardly — cruel even — to rouse him from the shadowy, muted drug land to stark reality, I go ahead and do it because I can’t stand to face this by myself.

As I explain our situation, his initial agitation mysteriously ebbs. “Don’t you see, Katniss, this will decide things. One way or the other. By the end of the day, they’ll either be dead or with us. It’s . . . it’s more than we could hope for!”

Well, that’s a sunny view of our situation. And yet there’s something calming about the idea that this torment could come to an end.

-

I want to run, but Finnick’s acting so strange, as if he’s lost the ability to move, so I take his hand and lead him like a small child.

-

"Oh, Peeta," says Finnick lightly. "Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart." He leads Annie away after giving me a concerned glance.

-

I'm unaware that my feet are moving to the table until I'm inches from the holograph. My hand reaches in and cups a rapidly blinking green light.

Someone joins me, his body tense. Finnick, of course. Because only a victor would see what I see so immediately. The arena. Laced with pods controlled by Gamemakers. Finnick's fingers caress a steady red glow over a doorway. "Ladies and gentlemen..."

His voice is quiet, but mine rings through the room. "Let the Seventy-sixth Hunger Games begin!"

I laugh. Quickly. Before anyone has time to register what lies beneath the words I have just uttered. Before eyebrows are raised, objections are uttered, two and two are put together, and the solution is that I should be kept as far away from the Capitol as possible. Because an angry, independently thinking victor with a layer of psychological scar tissue too thick to penetrate is maybe the last person you want on your squad.

"I don't even know why you bothered to put Finnick and me through training, Plutarch," I say.

"Yeah, we're already the two best-equipped soldiers you have," Finnick adds cockily.

"Do not think that fact escapes me," he says with an impatient wave. "Now back in line, Soldiers Odair and Everdeen. I have a presentation to finish."

-

Boggs told Peeta to sleep out in full view where the rest of us could keep an eye on him. He isn't sleeping, though. Instead, he sits with his bag pulled up to his chest, clumsily trying to make knots in a short length of rope. I know it well. It's the one Finnick lent me that night in the bunker. Seeing it in his hands, it's like Finnick's echoing what Haymitch just said, that I've cast off Peeta.

-

He weaves the rope in and out of his fingers. "The problem is, I can't tell what's real anymore, and what's made up."

The cessation of rhythmic breathing suggests that either people have woken or have never really been asleep at all. I suspect the latter.

Finnick's voice rises from a bundle in the shadows. "Then you should ask, Peeta. That's what Annie does.”

-

Masks go on. Finnick adjusts Peeta's mask over his lifeless face.

-

"I just murdered a member of our squad!" shouts Peeta.

"You pushed him off you. You couldn't have known he would trigger the net at that exact spot," says Finnick, trying to calm him.

"Who cares? He's dead, isn't he?" Tears begin to run down Peeta's face. "I didn't know. I've never seen myself like that before. Katniss is right. I'm the monster. I'm the mutt. I'm the one Snow has turned into a weapon!"

“It's not your fault, Peeta," says Finnick.

-

I shout a warning to the others to stay with me. I plan for us to skirt around the corner and then detonate the Meat Grinder, but another unmarked pod lies in wait.

It happens silently. I would miss it entirely if Finnick didn't pull me to a stop. "Katniss!"

-

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia Ch 20

You find yourself in a forest

Odd when did you get here? Had you walked here? Driven? You...you can't seem to remember. How on Earth did you get here?

(The contents of this chapter are sexual in nature please don’t interact if you are below the age of 18)

Oh Gods you hoped you didn't have an episode while driving again. Even under normal circumstances just the thought upsets you but after finding out Toby's life changing accident the thought now left an acidic taste in your mouth. Similar to when you're sick and have the residual vomit in your mouth no matter how many times you brush your teeth. A very unpleasant experience.

A tall figure looms in the distance taking you out of your musings. You've seen him before, haven't you? Long spindly tendrils stretch out from behind the figure, much like the whisps that led you through the shop the other day. Had it not been for their serpent like movements you'd have thought the being was just another tree in this dense dark forest.

This sure didn't look like the Monongahela. You close your eyes for a moment, just resting your eyes. Your head feels so foggy right now.

You're so tired too, have you been sleeping? When was the last time you slept? Why can't you remember?

It's fine calm down, you just need to think. The fog is so thick, it's hard to focus. Why can't you just focus?

Come on YN, you need to focus, focus, focus!

In an instant that figure is right in front of you. They are so much taller, craning your head back doesn't do much to get a good look at them. You can't make any features out on the shockingly pale face. And here you thought Toby was deathly pale, you may as well have been staring death in the face.  Given the black suit and red tie you might actually be.

Being dead would explain the fogginess of your memories and why things aren't exactly connecting. Had Toby killed you? No, he wouldn't. Maybe the two of you got into an accident on the drive home.

But where's Toby then? Had he survived the crash? Is it bad to hope he's dead too? That boy wouldn't be able to handle another traumatic event. Hell he seemed one major inconvenience away from peacing out when you'd met him, he still has those moments.

Where are you going to go? This wasn't anything like you were expecting, but the again Hollywood's never given you any sort of accuracy before why would they be the ones reporting on life's biggest mystery?

A tendril slips its way around your throat tilting your head up to stare into the pale face of the figure before you. Squeezing as it does, gently not so much to actually suffocate you.

'You are not dead child, you could not be further from it.' a masculine voice echos in the empty space of you mind. The voice rang so clearly it rattled the walls of your brain.

A literal 'brain goes brrrr' moment.

If you aren't dead then...this has to be a dream. The only other explanation for why everything feels so fuzzy and you have so much brain fog.

'Correct, you are in a dream...of sorts. I've summoned you here to review your progress thus far. I must say you've far exceeded my expectations, no thanks to my failing puppet.' the tendril tightens around your neck, again not enough to choke you out. Just a very firm squeeze.

Firm enough that it has you pressing your thighs together. Haven't you taken care of this yet? This situation is so embarrassing because even though you can't see the expression of the being before you they have an omnipotent air around them.

They sense your hunger building, maybe that's why the appendage around your throat tightens once again. You're left a bit breathless.

'I'm very pleased with both of your results. A reward is in order,'

The figure's head moves slightly as their attention shifts to something behind you.

'I believe he'll benefit from this as well.'

He?

Without a moment to think anything else, not like you could in your current state, you were turned around. Where you came face to face with....another faceless entity? No the man in front of you clearly had a face – had the tall pale being not? The man's face was there but you couldn't really make out what you were looking at like it was pixelated in some way to protect his identity on the evening news.

You could see that he had a mop of brunette waves, unlike the tall one who was to your knowledge completely bald. More tendrils wrap themselves around you, on your legs and around your mid section. Legs are spread apart as you're lifted off the ground.

Open and inviting to the form before you. Just what kind of reward is this?

Before you can protest you quickly become aware of the fact that you are naked.. Bare chest on display as nipples harden in the chill of the air. You squirm to try and get away but the hold the tendrils have is too strong for you to break out of. Your legs are lifted until they are face level with the person in front of you.

Yup totally a dream, just a monster fucker having a wet dream. Normal everyday thing.

'To be quite honest it's less of a reward and more a test. But it should prove enjoyable for both of you.'

Hearing the sound of a zipper you freeze, out of shock rather than fear. You were joking when you'd called this a sex dream. You've never had one before and it's surprising to say the least. Do all sex dreams start this strangely?

A pair of fingers find their way to your mouth. Without thinking you opened up and took them in. Letting them go as far back as they could. They played with your tongue, dancing up and down it. Pressing hard here giving a rub there, shoving it between the two of them making sure your saliva coated every single spare centimeter of them.

You found it a bit difficult to breathe around them let alone swallow. They had a salty with a hint of something metallic, like he had an open paper cut. The texture was rough and very different from your own fingers, you could feel divots near the nail bed and loose hardened skin scrapping the inside of your mouth. Sometimes when you swallowed around the fingers you'd get a sharp thrust in return, like he was trying to hit the back of your throat with only his fingers. You nearly took in his pinkie like this. A harsh groan would follow and you'd moan along.

All the tendrils on your body gave a light squeeze at the show. You heard a whisper of 'Good pets.', this time it was echoed through the forest surrounding you.

“Fuck off.” the man who currently had his fingers nearly reaching down your throat growled out.

Before he he gently grabbed on of your legs, moving your body closer to him. Flutters of lips trailed their way up from your knee to your inner thigh. A playful nip stings a few inches from your core. Involuntarily your thighs press together, squishing the head in between the,. It wasn't long before you felt warm breath blow onto your core. You could hardly keep back the trill when a pair of lips wrapped around your clit and a tongue started to dance circles around it. It was a simple set of motions but ones that seemed to hit just right. You didn't know whether to be thankful or hate the tendrils for preventing you from bucking right into the pleasure.

Taking deep breaths to collect yourself didn't work if anything it made for a pseudo pant which left you even more feverish than the lapping at you clit. He flattens his tongue against you and you shudder as he slowly drags it along your slit giving a flick to the hood of you clit. He angled his tongue so he could carefully dance that line between your clit and it's hood. Toes curling you aren't able to contain yourself anymore. A panting and flushed mess as you moan around his fingers, a trail of saliva runs out from the corner of your mouth and down the expanse of your neck. You can't stop your hips as they weakly buck towards him, still stifled by the tendrils stilling them.

The man between your legs stiffens.

Even with him looking right up at you, you can't see past whatever fog is playing at your mind, but you do know that he's just as much of a mess as you are in the moment. Just from going down on you, the poor boy, now you really want to shove his face deep between your legs and not let up until he can't breathe.

Maybe you can.

Your hands haven't been bound like your legs, so you should have no problem grabbing his hair and pulling him in.

'Oh, he'd like that very much. Give it a go pet.' the disembodied voice says, once again in your head.

Wasn't there a body to go with that voice earlier? Yeah, there was, where'd he go?

Your legs are still bound by the tendrils but the tall man is no where in sight anymore. What a strange dream.

A wet dream you remember as your focus returns to the man between your legs. Might as well make the most of it.

The man seems distracted as he glares at something behind you, but you know nothing it there – you've just checked. This gives you the perfect opportunity to grab a fist full of his hair and drag him back down to your puffy lips to finish what he started. He was more than willing as he needed no further instructions and went straight to giving light kitten licks to your aching clit. Frustrated pants and whimpers leave you as he just works you up and pulls back. He's teasing at this point and seems very pleased with himself.

“Pl-please.” you keen  when he pulls away for a second time. Instead of answering your plea he massages the meat of your thighs as he stares up at you from between your leg. You can see one hand in between his own legs most likely toying with his cock like he toys with you.

Just the thought of his cock has you bucking into him, but it seems to do the trick. He begins to suck on your bud again. This time you have a bit more mobility and can grind your hips down in time to his sucking. It's getting wetter and sloppier down there by the second, like he's trying to collect all the liquid in his mouth but can't really hold it there.

For a third time the pleasure stops, and you feel like crying. It's so unfair your first wet dream and you're saddled with an edger.

You let out a whimper and raise your hips again in a pathetic attempt to demand his attention back to where it's needed. While his face is still featureless to you there's a sense of smugness around him. Oh joy a sadist. A harsh spit rings through your dream bubble. But you don't feel anything land on you.

A wet squelching sound can be heard. The blood just doesn't know where to go anymore, to your face or to your core? Clearly none of it's going to your brain when you only thought it , 'Oh shit he's jerking off.' on repeat.

You're very thankful that the tendrils are just holding you up instead of keeping you spread now as you're able to squeeze and rub your thighs together. Trying to get any friction to alleviate your ache. All while you cry and choke around thick fingers.

“Pretty mouse.” his voice is a rumbled timber.

Fingers press harshly into your tongue before slowly pulling out and spreading you legs back open for him. His thumb trails your inner thigh, the nail scratching the unmarked skin as it went. Making your breath hitch in the back of your throat as he let out a breathy chuckle.

He began toying around with your folds with his two spit soaked fingers, “Yea, li-ike that? Make some more pretty noises for me.” His fingers twirled around the entrance of your pussy. Lighting the nerves on fire with each passing circle they made.

Gods, he hasn't even been in you and you're already about to cum. But he was ignoring your clit now. Snaking a hand down you settle it above his and before you can even touch it he's smacking your hand away.

“Nuh-uh mouse.” he gives a sharp smack to your bud, making you jolt as you let out a little 'eep'.

He laughs at your reaction, “Don't worry I'm going to-to-to make you feel so good.” he smirks, “in time.”

That'd be a no for you. You can take three edgings but four is just asking too much, especially for a dream. You aren't one to be bratty often but you're already pent up in the waking world like hell you'll let yourself be edged in the dream one too.

“Fuck you're cute, even when you pout.” suddenly a hand grasps your jaw and pulls you down, it's a bit uncomfortable with your bindings still in place. Your faces are just inches apart right now and you still have no clue who he's supposed to be but sometimes faces are hard for brains to make up. He could just be someone you saw in town once and don't remember.

He leans in and kisses you. It doesn't take anything for you to open your mouth and let him in, there's a hint of tang on his tongue. No discernible taste just a bit of tang. He makes sure to glide his tongue across every inch of your mouth, making sure you taste yourself. You can feel his smirk in the kiss as you moan. Can feel the pumping of his hand on his cock now that you're so close together.

The thought of his cock makes your core pulse with need. And as if he can read your thoughts he pulls away, leaving you panting and horny. “Now that's a cute look too.” The tip of his middle and ring fingers are in you spreading the ring of your entrance far apart. “But then this on-one's my favorite.”

As you writhe and moan you can't help but think of how much you hate that boyish lilt in his tone right now. He scissors his fingers and twists them this way and that, occasionally plunging them as deep into you as they can go. And while your panting and whimpers are lovely he quickly figures out that you're much more receptive to the teasing of your entrance. The way just the tips of his fingers work in lighting up hundreds of nerve endings.

How he can leave you right on the edge of orgasm only to take that away by pulling out slightly or diving in further. It's a good game, but he eventually grows bored of just your facial expressions and wants to chase his own release. So, he leans in towards your core to watch the way your walls clamp down on his finger tips as they spread you apart. Trying to squeeze around the foreign objects to eject them out but if he surges his hand forward the walls constrict in a way the feels like they are trying to suck him deeper into your depth. All the while you moan and whine, just for him.

So enraptured with your being he isn't really paying attention to you anymore. You want to end his teasing, you just want to cum. It's not surprising at all that he hardly noticed you grabbed a fist full of his hair. But he certainly notices when you pull him to your core and hold him in place. The pressure on his scalp letting him know just how tightly you have him.

There's a moment when he does nothing, just stares up at you from between you legs. Through hooded eyes he continues to make eye contact as he brings his mouth to your clit, even as you buck into him.

“Good boy.” the words just tumbled from your mouth in a moan.

One that gets echoed by the man kneeling before you. It's a needy little moan, one that changes things.

“Good boy,” he goes faster, not just on your clit but he also starts stroking himself faster.

“Ah – aaah, good  boys wai-it oh – wait to cum.” his hand slows and you hear a mumbled 'Good boys wait.' causing your grip to tighten as you pull him up by his hair to look into your face – even if you can't see his.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“N-no!” you can feel the shiver that runs through him.

Big guy isn't so tough now that you found his kink, damn this dream sure is exploring a lot of your owns though.

“That's right, now you've been awfully naughty. Edging me like that. Doesn't seem like you want to be a 'good boy'.”

“I want to – want to be a good boy, very good boy.” his hand is still going, you'd honestly be surprised he hadn't cum if this weren't a dream.

“Hmm, finish what you started. Then...maybe you'll be my good boy.” a series of moans followed as he bucked into his hand. Apparently you'd said a trigger for him and he came just from that alone.

You want to find it in you to play up being upset with him maybe even play up how he wasn't a good boy after all – cumming like that. But you could tell from the way his shoulders sank in that he felt ashamed that he didn't last until you were done with him.

Sometimes a gentle hand is needed. “Oh my poor baby. I didn't know how excited that'd make you.” you cup his face gently. He's trying to make himself smaller. “Now now of that, you can make it up to me.” He perks up.

“You want to make it up to me right?” you slide back away letting you hands fall off his chin, and he follows your movement leaning to feel your touch again.

You give him a smile and stroke his cheek, “Then make me cum.” it was a breathy whisper as you took the opening to initiate a kiss with him. No tongue was involved this time just an urgent need and movement of lips.

You pull away from him and get a small whimper in return. Pay back would sure be sweet right now had he not riled you up this much then got off himself.

He's sliding back down between your legs, barely giving himself a chance to settle in before twirling his fingers just outside your entrance. Face diving to lick several long stripes along your slit.

'Seems everything is in order here. I trust you both will behave in my absence.'

“What?”

Waking up horny and unsatisfied with the fainest memory of your wet dream fading further and further from memory was definitely one way to start your Saturday. But it wasn't the preferable way or a fun one. Especially when it involved a pair of soaking panties and an hour to even satiate your needy pussy.

[ri-ahhh]

more

You want more from your situation-ship with Grayson, but does he?

5.8k lol so buckle up if you have the time

inspired by this pool floatie I bought a while ago and last Saturday when I got drunk in the pool by myself.

warnings: tiny bit of angst, smut, too much fluff

also I’m sorry if this long ass post clogs you your feed; the website on my laptop never works anymore for some reason so I do everything through mobile and have no idea if/how to put the keep reading thing on here through the app. Pls lmk if you do!

***

Few things in life are more mundane and yet more pleasurable than lying in the sun on a hot, balmy summer’s day. It’s by far one of your favorite pastimes — letting that omnipresent warmth seep into your pores until your skin glows and glistens, waving goodbye to your anxieties as they’re carried away with a cooling breeze, enjoying some time alone to think.

That alone thinking time was much-needed today as you lie back in your pool floatie, drifting gently atop the nearly-still surface of Grayson’s pool. You could have gone to the large communal pool at your apartment complex, or the beach, or even to a less…complicated friend’s house to have your day of thinking in the sun, but there were several factors that played into your choice to come here instead.

Not smart factors, admittedly; was it smart to come to the home of your best friend/fuck buddy to think about maybe telling him that you maybe want more? Fuck no. That’s the problem when you’ve got two voices dueling in your head, though, and one ends up decidedly louder than the other. You’ve got the Rational voice at the back of your mind telling you coming here wasn’t a good idea, that you’re somewhat-inexcusably pissed at him and it isn’t fair to dump that on him without figuring things out before you see him again.

But then you've got the Dumb Bitch voice in the forefront, reasoning that your ‘regular’ friends are simply too busy, your apartment pool is always way too crowded to avoid distractions, and the beach on the weekend has the same issue with the added downside that alcohol is strictly forbidden.

Despite the twins’ dislike of the substance, going without it wasn't an option for you today, and so as you walked out the door of your apartment you had shoved a few cans into your oversized tote bag. You take a satisfying sip of the sponsored drink of all Dumb Bitches everywhere, a lime Whiteclaw, and sigh, relaxing against the raised back of your floatie. You’re grateful for the cold, crisp bubbles tickling the back of your throat as little beads of sweat start to stipple at your temples, and you dip a foot into the water for added coolness. It’s the equivalent of sleeping with one leg under the covers and one out, ensuring your body’s temperature is perfectly balanced as you glide soothingly across the flat surface of the water, your mind wandering.

You like to think whatever you have with Grayson is complicated and dramatic, for the sake of your own rationale, but it’s really not. You started as good friends, which turned into the casual and inevitable flirting that happens when anyone becomes close with the opposite sex, which turned into an unexpected and amazing fuck on his couch one night a few months ago.

Which has turned into: two people who tiptoe around the obvious any time they're together to avoid the messiness that comes with relationships and, ultimately, ruined friendships. It’s obvious to everyone that the two of you care about each other deeply. It’s even obvious to you and Gray yourselves: you’ve had the ‘what are we’ talk; the ‘you’re the only one I hit up’ talk. But that was it — just sex. It’s what you both wanted, what you both agreed on after that first time was so good. You’re both terrible at relationships and staying emotionally invested and owning your feelings. So it seemed like a good idea at the time.

The irony of it all is that you’ve found yourself in the predicament that afflicts almost every fuck-buddy situation-ship — it’s gotten messy. You’re not ignorant enough to ignore that certain things have triggered the realization that you potentially have stronger feelings for him beyond those brought about by having amazing sex together. But you’re not sure you’re willing to lose him from your life completely if he doesn't feel the same. You can live with some emotionally one-sided boning if it meant you got to see him, be close to him, like you are right now.

You sigh and your eyes close as you zone out for a bit, trying to push your worries away and enjoy the simplicity of this moment in the sun, willing your mind to become as clear as the blue sky above you. Willing the universe to shine some guidance down on you.

“Can I join you?”

You startle with a little gasp and your eyes shoot open in surprise. Your head jolts up to find Grayson standing at the side of the pool in his too-short swim trunks that cling to his thick thighs appealingly, and nothing else. He and Ethan had been filming earlier (one of the reasons you justified coming over, he’d be out of sight and out of mind) but apparently he’s done now. He’s got a hand covering his face to shield his eyes in the bright light, and if you didn’t know their voices so well or have a familiarity with their tattoos, you would have had to do a double-take to discern him from Ethan; you’re still not used to his short hair.

You liked it better longer, but you won’t tell him that; it’s not your place. You’re not his girlfriend.

“It’s your pool, you can do whatever you want,” you answer with a shrug, ignoring his amused grin that you presume is from scaring you. You don’t mean for it to come out so short and clipped, but now that he’s here in front of you, he’s suddenly a proverbial thundercloud in that clear sky of your conscience you were so close to achieving

His presence reminds you of why you’re unjustifiably mad at him, and also what drove you to this crisis point at all: the mystery girl in his private Snap story from three days ago, when he and Ethan had gone to the skate park with some friends while you had to work. You think of how she had laughed too obviously when he bombed a trick; how she had clung to his veiny forearms much too long while he helped her balance on a board; how close she had snuggled up to him in the group picture.

And who even was she? You didn’t recognize her, and you thought you might have detected some kind of accent…British or Australian maybe?

He’s not your boyfriend, you remind yourself sternly, realizing you’re sliding down the same rabbit hole you've been avoiding ever since you viewed the story. You’re not his girlfriend.

You’ve been repeating that mantra for the past three days though, and it hasn’t changed a damn thing in your head. Especially when he comes out looking like this, all broad and sculpted and familiar, and the thought of another girl even coming near him makes you want to throw hands.

But he doesn’t know that — you barely recognize that. What you are able to recognize is that bratty attitude is uncalled for, but your mind is revving again, fueled by all of your conflicting wants and insecurities.

He seems to pay no mind to your moodiness, though, and shrugs too with a little hum as he dunks a large foot in the water curiously. He looks back up at you, and even though you still can’t quite see the look in his eyes, his voice is telling. “How’s the tan coming?”

You can feel his focus glued to your tits and fight the urge to roll your eyes because you know what he’s doing, and you know you shouldn’t be mad because you’ve been fine with it until… whenever. You don’t really know when things changed in your head. Certainly mystery girl was a catalyst for getting it through your thick skull that you like him. But as of now he’s going by what the two of you know: show up, flirt, fuck. And you don’t have the right to be pissed at him for doing just that. You showed up here by your own free will.

So yes, you’re well aware he’s initiating your usual routine with each other, and you make the quick decision to go along with it rather than face your feelings. It’s easier that way.

You raise an eyebrow at him knowingly and tuck the fingers of your free hand into the triangle top of your bikini to pull it completely aside, exposing your whole breast for him. Despite yourself, you hide your victorious smirk when you see him swallow hard by ducking your head to check the changes in your skin tone; boys are too easy.

“Pretty good, I guess,” you answer truthfully, actually satisfied with the notable difference. You gaze back at him, unable to wipe the smugness from your features as he conspicuously adjusts himself in his swimsuit. “What do you think?”

“Looks good to me,” he agrees with a smirk, giving your chest one last look as you readjust the material back in place before anyone else in the house might come out and see. He shakes his head as if to clear it and turns around to rummage through the little storage shed that houses all of the pool supplies. He retrieves a thick foam floatie and tosses it into the pool with a mischievous smile.

“Grayson!” you shout, half annoyed and half amused when he lunges onto it head-first into the water. His big body causes tidal waves to erupt all across the pool, jostling you roughly in your own floatie as you lift your drink in the air to avoid getting chlorine water in it.

He chuckles and shakes his head when he sees what you're doing, rolling his eyes as he settles on his stomach. His arms and back flex enticingly as he does an imitated breast-stroke to paddle over to you. “Really?” he deadpans, looking pointedly at your Whiteclaw.

“Yes, really,” you reply, kicking your foot so water splashes in his face as you take a deliberate gulp. You don’t elaborate, genuinely not in the mood to get into this debate with him.

Grayson wraps a big hand around the edge of your floatie and pulls until your heads are even with each other, even though your’s is sitting higher. He keeps a grip on the inflated plastic so you don’t drift away from him, leaning over and planting a strangely affectionate kiss to the top of your arm while looking up at you with those sweet hazel eyes. You’re a sucker for them, and he knows it; he must sense your attitude, after all.

“You’re cranky,” he confirms, his lips brushing against your skin when he speaks.

His tone isn’t accusatory, but you can’t help but take it as such, and you finally do roll your eyes when you raise the can to your lips once again. “Yeah, well, I had a long fuckin’ week.”

He hesitates. In your peripheral you can see his face working as he tries to remember what he might have done between letting you in his house a couple hours ago, and now to warrant your scorn. The two of you rarely argue, and he’s clearly unsure of how to proceed.

Finally, his hand shifts to caress your thigh, and you can’t stop the warmth that spreads all within you, especially to your pussy. You know he can feel the visceral twitch of your muscles beneath your skin when your thighs clench. It’s simultaneously comforting and maddening that he has this hold on you — there’s both security and fear there.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Do you? Absolutely not. Should you…?

“Not really,” you answer, but soften your words by scratching your fingers through his hair. You can’t help it; he’s trying, and it’s sweet, and reminds you of how you might have gotten to the point of wanting more from him after all.

Satisfied for the moment that you’re not too pissed at him, a little content smile graces his full lips and he lets out a small, appeased groan. You lose sight of his eyes as they droop closed and his head rests on his folded arm, the other still curled around your leg. It makes a little fuzzy ball of happiness grow in your chest as you indulge him for a few minutes, dragging your nails against his scalp, down the nape of his neck, across his broad shoulders. Mystery girl doesn’t get to do this.

You’re tracing his lion tattoo with lingering water and sweat droplets on his skin when he turns his head, eyes fluttering open to stare up at you. There’s a heat behind them that you’re more than familiar with, and it makes you flush more than the sun already does.

“Are you drunk?” he asks, his voice low, eyes glued to your face.

His fingertips start stroking a path from where they’re resting on your thigh, down to the equally sensitive patch of skin on the inside of your knee, and back up again. You can’t hold back the shiver down your spine or the throbbing in your clit even as anger flares within you.

“Are you serious?” you challenge, throwing your sunglasses to the top of your head so he can get the full effect of how mad that question makes you. This topic was probably you’re main point of contention with Grayson, and you were already a little testy with him. You shake the can in your hand to indicate it’s still about one-third full, and barely discern your floatie hitting the side of the pool. “No, I’m not Grays—”

Before you can process what’s happening, he's lunging from his own float to crawl over you and plant his hands on the pool ledge. He’s holding himself above you, trapping you in this weird cocoon of hot, sticky plastic and his wet, muscled torso as he dips his head to kiss you soundly.

He accepts your inadvertent moan with a little knowing smile against your lips, and his tongue wastes no time slipping between them to find yours. He licks into your mouth, around your cheeks, sliding against your tongue, tickling your hard palate. Always thorough, always perfect. You moan again because he just kisses you that fucking good, and can’t stop your hands from diving fully into his hair, your drink plunking into the water.

What were you so mad at him for? You don’t remember and you don’t care, and if he didn't have this amnesia effect on you, you’d realize that this is exactly where your problems are stemming from. Burying everything in both a proverbial hole and a literal pile of discarded clothes.

Grayson starts to slow down and sucks your lower lip into his mouth, releasing it with a little smack as he pulls away to look at you in the eye. You replace his teeth with your own, dragging the swollen pink between them as you trail one hand over his defined pec. He looks fantastic like this, all his muscles working easily to support himself while he lets you lean over and suck hot little kisses down the thick column of his neck.

His skin tastes clean and salty and it’s addictive on your tongue when you add it to the mix, sucking and nibbling at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He moans and you smile, your pussy clenching when you think about the mark that will definitely be imprinted into his tan skin, how it’s in the perfect position to be mostly hidden while still peeking out of the collar of his shirt tomorrow if he isn’t careful. The idea causes a surge of possessiveness to electrify your body, and you bite down harder into the same spot without even realizing.

Grayson gasps and pulls back, looking at you questioningly. You offer nothing in return, daring him with your eyes to keep going. It’s his move now.

He does nothing other than continue to search your face, until finally he speaks. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

You’re a little surprised, but it’s not like he’s this douchebag with no emotional intelligence. He’s obviously able to tell somethings wrong and that it involves him. You just didn’t expect him to be so concerned still, when you’re both willing to carry about like normal.

“Nothing.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t do that. Come on, talk to me.”

“I said it’s nothing, Gray. Can we keep going, please?”

“Not until you tell me what’s the matter,” he says. He dips his head, and you think he’s going to kiss you stupid again, but his lips just barely find the corner of your mouth in the tiniest of kisses. It feels good in a different way, sending tingles across your scalp and down your neck, and your eyes shut when he moves to the other corner. Then your nose, then your eyelids, until he’s nuzzling his nose in your cheek. “Please?”

Oof. You love that word coming from Grayson; it doesn’t happen too often.

“Dude, I’m fine,” you sigh, rubbing his bicep and gazing at his collarbone distractedly, completely unable to meet his eyes. You’ll crumble if you catch the concern there, and right now you just want an uncomplicated orgasm. “You have to be getting tired holding yourself up like that.”

“I’ve held myself above you for longer,” he retorts, half smug and half matter-of-fact. He’s not wrong, to be fair.

“Well, remind me for real. Inside, in bed,” you insist, finally looking up at him.

Grayson just stares back at you, his eyes searching your face intently. After what feels like an eternity, he pushes away from the pool ledge and sinks below the surface of the water. You think you’ve won, and a little thrill rushes through you like it often does when you know you’re about to fuck him. You start to roll off of your floatie, when you feel pressure at the end of it.

“What—?”

Grayson is suddenly popping his head up in the opening at the foot of your floatie, then squeezing his Dorito torso through the smallish hole as well. It’s clearly a tight fit, but it keeps his head and chest securely above the water.

He shakes his head out of habit, as if to fling the hair out of his face, and it does something to your heart and your vagina. You miss the strands that would hang in his eyes like he was straight out of a Giorgio Armani ad or something. Not that he’s not still model-like, but something about that hair just hit different.

“Scoot,” he says, reaching his arms out to grasp your ankles and tug, indicating for you to slide down the plastic.

You look at him suspiciously, curious as to why he seems to be giving up so easily, but oblige him anyways. Like you aren't going to pass up the chance of getting eaten out in the pool.

A sudden thought occurs to you when he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your high-cut bikini bottoms. “Wait…”

He cocks an arched brow. “Gonna talk to me?”

“Where is everyone?” you ask, ignoring his question.

“E and Sterling dropped me off then went to run errands. They’ll be gone for a while,” he says, pulling down on your swimsuit. He growls when your smooth pussy appears bare for him at last, and he flings the scrap of material behind him so it lands somewhere on the concrete.

He wraps his giant hands around your hips and pulls again, and this time you listen, wiggling down with some rather unattractive squeaks of your skin against the plastic, but you end up flat on your back with your pussy in his face. The heat of the sun bakes your skin in the best way, almost arousing in and of itself, but Grayson’s warm breath against your sensitive lower lips definitely does the trick. You feel yourself getting wetter and wetter, gasping when one of his fingers comes up to delicately trace the softness of your freshly waxed skin.

You can’t see him between the brightness of the sun above you and the precarious support of the floatie, which only makes the featherlight touches of his fingers and now his tongue that much more impactful. He barely holds you open with two of his fingertips while the softness of the pointed tip of his tongue licks the slickness from you with a barely-there pressure that leaves you so frustrated and turned on your eyes just roll back and your thighs quiver.

“God, Grayson, please,” you moan out when you finally can’t take it anymore, your hand sinking into his wet hair. You need more. You need all of him, in every way.

He hums, and the vibrations melt you, so sensitive that the simple noise makes your thighs clench around his head with a sharp gasp. His hands move to push your legs away, and he dots little kisses to the skin there instead.

“I like your manners,” he says, “but if you want to cum, I need you to tell me why you’re mad at me.”

You pout at the sky, your chest heaving with nerves and arousal and irritation. “I can’t.”

You expect him to argue back, but the next thing you feel are his fingers parting you again, and his lips planting a soft kiss to the swollen bud of your clit. It jolts you, the surprise and the pleasure of it a heady mix, especially when he tickles you with that featherlight brush of his tongue.

“Tell.” Lick. “Me.” Kiss.

He’s a persistent little bastard, you’ll give him that, but your stubbornness is a wonder, too. You let him tease you while you stay radio silent other than some uncontrollable whimpers of pleasure, until he breaks down and suckles your clit into his mouth, hot and wet and full of saliva from his glands watering at the taste of you. Your noises immediately get louder, desperate, pleading.

It’s when he suddenly backs off and just kisses your outer lips chastely, no real intent to please you but still there, that you finally give in, unable to stand the constantly building and waning pressure in your pussy anymore. Your grip in his hair tightens and you cry out in frustration. Feelings and worries be damned; you need to cum.

“Fucking…fine! Who is she?”

Grayson pauses, and leans away from your center. His voice is full of genuine confusion when he speaks up. “Who are you talking about?”

Anger and embarrassment flit through you. You didn't expect this conversation to happen at all, let alone when you’re bottom-less, needy, and having it sexually coerced out of you. But it’s out there now, and you can’t let yourself look even more ridiculous by backtracking. You try to sit up, and thankfully his weight on the end of the float balances out your efforts as you settle back into more of a sitting position with your legs folded to preserve some modesty.

You almost lose it when you gain sight of him again. His lips are shiny from your pussy juices, his thick eyebrows drawn in concern, his shoulders and biceps bulging from how they’re bent on the floatie. All of your biggest weaknesses in one image.

“That girl from the skatepark. Who is she?”

He thinks for a moment more, and his face suddenly lights up with understanding. “Millie? The blonde chick?”

You nod, and your blood boils at the thought of her with a name now. Somehow, ‘mystery girl’ made her less threatening. “She was all over you. I just want to know who she is to you.”

Grayson doesn’t laugh at you. You feel like he should, but of course he doesn’t. He just continues to stare at you with worried eyes.

“She’s a friend visiting from the U.K., and E and I wanted to show her around LA,” he says quietly. “She’s just a friend, I promise.”

The assuredness behind his tone makes you swallow. You duck your gaze to piddle with a leaf that had floated onto your leg when you changed positions, distracting yourself from his intense gaze. It’s now or never, you realize. “I’m just a friend.”

He’s silent again and it’s so fucking nerve-wracking. Grayson is usually so impulsive with his thoughts and his words, and the time he’s taking to soak in everything you’re saying is unnerving. You can only imagine that he’s trying his best to come up with the best way to let you down easy and never speak to you again.

“You… you want more?”

You nod again, biting your lip.

His hand covers yours on your leg, and interlaces your fingers so your palms touch. You finally allow yourself to look at his face again, shocked to see a wide smile on his lips.

“Is it not completely, embarrassingly obvious that I don't want you to be just a friend either? Or a fuckbuddy, or whatever we’ve been doing for this long?” he asks, squeezing your hand as he laughs incredulously. “I’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks. But I just…couldn’t do it outright; I was being selfish. I figured I had you all to myself, even if it was just sex, and didn’t want to scare you away by bringing up the idea of being more.”

You smile brightly and your heart soars, your head spinning at this newfound information. You want to articulate how you’ve had the exact desires and concerns he’s voicing, but your mind is racing too fast to form the words, and all that come’s out is, “Same.”

He bursts into that belly-laugh that makes you giggle too, and you hide your face in your hands with a groan as he ducks back into the water only to reappear at your side a moment later. “Come here,” he says, arms outstretched to help you down.

You clutch his biceps and sink into the cool water with him, immediately wrapping your legs around his waist and drawing him to you for a deep, meaningful kiss. He sighs into your mouth, and chases it with his when you pull back, making you laugh again. The fingers of one hand play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck, the others tugging on his chain. “Does this mean I get to call you my boyfriend now?”

He grins and nods. “Absolutely.”

You watch his face with a smirk when you grind down on his semi in his swim trunks. His eyes darken and he clutches tighter onto your bare ass. “Then I want my boyfriend to fuck me right here, in this pool. Right now.”

He doesn't need more convincing. Grayson groans and latches onto your neck as he starts to walk you both towards the steps of the pool, and you feel his dick grow harder as you squirm against him. When you reach them, he sits on the shallow sundeck above the very top step, keeping you firmly in his lap as your knees settle on the cement beneath the four or so inches of water.

He kisses you, and his fingers slip through your pussy, his touch direct and purposeful now, all thoughts of teasing you gone with the wind.

“Want you to cum first,” he whispers heatedly, two of his thick fingers slipping inside you as his thumb plants itself on your clit. A tried and true method he knows will get you off in no time. “Like I promised.”

His fingers pump steadily and curl into your g-spot, rubbing and thrusting at the perfect tempo to make you hunch into him as you cry out and cum hard on them. Your hips thrust down on his hand, your teeth sinking into the skin of his shoulder to keep yourself quiet, your little whimpers floating into his ear and making him shiver as you come down.

When your thighs stop shaking, he takes his fingers out of you and traces your lips with them, smearing your wetness on them like lipgloss until you open them with a tired, grateful smile and suck his digits into your mouth. You both moan, and once you’ve gotten all of your taste off of his skin, you release them with a pop and work your hands into the waistband of his trunks.

You lower them just enough to get his dick out, hot and hard and heavy in your hand as you give him a few steady strokes before sitting up enough to position him at your entrance. You slide the blunt tip across your slit, settling it at your hole and dipping down just enough to encapsulate the sensitive tip in your wetness, only to drag him up to your clit again with a gasp and a smile. Payback is fair game, you reason, thinking of how much he had teased you earlier.

He growls deep in his chest when you do it again. “Baby, please.”

Baby. That’s new. It makes your body heat with possessiveness and pride and the thought of ‘I’m your’s’ as you finally give in and position his cock where you can sink down on him slowly.

Your hips settle on his lap once again, and you note the concrete already scraping your knees when you start grinding against him. You plant your feet there instead, which makes his eyes light up with excitement.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, tugging the material of your bikini top aside so both of your tits are out for his viewing pleasure before reclining back on his hands so you can support yourself on his shoulders. His jaw drops open and he moans with you as you start bouncing on his dick, the angle amazing and the depth he reaches even better. You pick up the pace, and his teeth grit together with a hiss. “God, your pussy’s so fucking tight.”

His eyes are glued to the way your tits jiggle and sway with your movements, and he leans forward to capture one of your nipples in his warm mouth. You clutch his head partly for leverage and partly to just keep the suction on your sensitive breast, and throw your head back to bask in the sun and the overwhelming pleasure oozing through your body.

Eventually, your legs start to tire, and you drop your knees back into the water with two little splashes so you can grind on him again. You tug his hair to pull him off your chest, looking deep in his eyes before dragging him into a fiery kiss, your tongues dueling and lips smacking sloppily.

“Gray,” you whimper against his mouth, begging for more. More, more, more. This man, in all his beauty, is yours, and you want all of him.

He understands, urging you off of him and standing as he turns you to lay back in the shallow water. He takes advantage of being stood up to tug his swimsuit off the rest of the way, reaching down to do the same to your top and tosses both scraps of fabric onto the ground.

You recline back on your elbows and admire the way his dick stands tall and proud and shining with your juices. The way he looks down at you makes you feel sensual and pretty in the bright light of day, long hair swirling in the water around you, your body glistening in both elements as well. One of your hands travels down to your swollen pussy as you bite your lip and stare up at him as he moves above you. The sundeck is a big circle, and he pushes you further away from the steps so he can crawl over you and have plenty of room to lay you back with an arm pillowed under your head to keep it above the water.

Grayson hooks an elbow under one of your knees and sinks back into you with an easy thrust, your back arching as a whimper of his name breaks past your lips. His mouth finds your neck, and he sucks and nibbles the delicate skin there as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. The coolness of the water encompasses your back, contrasting with the heat of his body and the afternoon sun, and you wrap one arm around his shoulders while the other wedges between your bodies so your fingers can find your clit again.

“You’re so big,” you mewl into his ear, circling faster as his hips thrust harder. He loves when you talk him up like this, and you’re happy to do it, especially because everything you say to him is true. Your nails drag across his golden skin, leaving bright red welts in their wake and eliciting a loud groan from him as he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth in return. “So fuckin’ big, filling me up so good, baby.”

The pet name slips easily from your lips now, too. He grunts and pulls his head back to look into your eyes, and you melt at the pure lust and affection you see in his darkened orbs. His thrusts are now impossibly deep, jolting your body with each one as he brings you rapidly to the peak of your orgasm with his steady pace.

“You’re mine, Gray,” you whisper brokenly, your breaths getting knocked out of you as he fucks you hard and perfect. The realization and just saying the words out loud pushes you over the edge, eyes rolling back, your fingers faltering on your clit as your pussy flutters and spasms around his thick cock. “Oh my god, I’m cumming!”

Grayson moans loudly, and fucks you hard and sloppy for a few more beats until he’s right there with you, shooting inside you with whimpers of your name and boyish whines that you want to listen to on repeat forever.

His head falls onto your heaving chest as he comes down, and you hug him to you with a happy, satisfied grin on your lips. You feel weightless in a physical sense from the water and the high you’re still riding, but also emotionally as you grasp the reality of the shift in your relationship with this man. He is yours. He has been yours, even if neither of you were able to put a finger on it until now.

He sits up with a groan, and meets your grin with his own crooked smile before dipping his head down to kiss you softly.

“You’re mine, too.”

“Good.” You hum and smile bigger. “Now that we’ve got that settled, can we talk about growing your hair out again?”

[rosiehunterwolf]

For the Romping and the Roaring- Part 3

My submission for Day 3 of @serpentfever's Inhuman Event!

Link to read on ffn.net (Recommended if you are on mobile or haven't read the previous parts yet)

Preview:

Dammit, this was all his fault! He was so pathetic, how had he let this happen?

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he glanced up and caught sight of Borg standing outside his cell, staring at him.

“You almost messed up everything, you brat. I’m not going to forget that.”

The pain increased again, and Kai screamed, feeling his eyes roll back in his head as blackness swamped at the edges of his vision.

“Turn it down, I don’t want him passing out.”

The pain dropped suddenly, and Kai gasped in relief, tears streaming down his face. It wasn’t gone completely, though- there was still a faint buzzing emitting from the collar- not enough to be painful, but enough to put him on edge.

Enough to remind him that he wasn’t the one in control here.

(Full chapter under the cut)

Prompts Used: Chase, Dehumanized

Word Count: 9,206 (welp we're back to browser-crashing length again)

Rating: Definitely T, maybe like T+

Trigger Warnings: Dehumanization (obviously), Imprisonment, Torture, Attempted Murder, Drugs, Blood, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts (yeah… this one’s pretty heavy, guys. Probably the darkest thing i've ever written...)

Consciousness came slowly, as if the air around him was thick and sticky. A metallic tang filled his mouth, and his limbs felt weighted and heavy. Everything hurt, and Kai wanted nothing more than to just fall back into the comfort of sleep, but his head was throbbing too much to do so. Breathing slowly, he opened his eyes.

At first, he just saw more darkness, and he wondered if he had even opened his eyes at all. After a few minutes of just staring at the ceiling, though, enough light made its way to his eyes that he could make out the long, steel bars that made up the far wall. Shackles dug into his wrists, the chain only giving him enough room to move his hands up to a foot apart, and another restraint, around his right ankle, was attached to a chain a couple yards long that tied him to where it was bolted to the floor in the corner. His muzzle was gone, although there was a leather band strapped around his throat, almost like some sort of collar. The cell was completely empty except for a toilet in the corner, and a sorry excuse for a mattress against the back wall.

Groaning, he raised his hands and rubbed his face, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. Immediately, fluid rushed into his throat, and he choked, spitting and sending blood splattering all over the concrete. Running his tongue against the roof of his mouth, he felt the puncture wounds and realized that he must’ve bit down on it sometime when he had been unconscious. Coughing up the rest of the blood, he forced himself to breathe slowly, trying to ignore his stinging tongue.

When he had gotten his bearings a little better, he squinted, peering through the bars. In the cell across from him, Nya laid sprawled out on the floor, her chest rising and falling steadily as she slept. There was a nasty cut across her forehead, blood dripping into her eyes. Kai tasted the air, trying to catch the scent of any other injuries she might’ve had, but the scent of his own blood flooded his nostrils, blocking out anything else.

Against the back wall of the room, between their two cells, was the other occupied cell, where Lloyd was curled up on his mattress, the ashy gray color stained red beneath where his injured leg was stretched out. His chains were similar to the ones Kai and Nya had, although a significant amount shorter, so he could hardly even move around the cell.

Forcing himself to jerk his gaze away, he looked in the other direction. A few more cells stretched down the hallway, but they were all empty.

They were utterly alone.

The only sign of life in the place was the thin crack of light from underneath the door at the end of the hallway. Apart from that, though, the room was pitch black.

Kai leaned back against the wall with a huff. He had really done it now, hadn’t he? Gotten them all thrown in prison- they were likely either going to die or be kept here for the rest of their lives. There was no way that Borg would ever give them any freedom again, now that they knew too much.

There really was no escaping this one, was there?

Augh, if only him and Nya hadn’t had that stupid argument, they would be safe, back with the others right now.

Kai wondered how long they had been here. Had the others noticed their absence yet? Would they try to come after them?

As much as he wanted to be saved, wanted Nya and Lloyd to be safe, he really hoped they didn’t. The last thing he needed right now was the others being thrown in here with them. He hoped they ran far, far, away and never came back.

Kai wished for nothing more than to be back with them now, to feel one of Cole’s strong hugs, or Zane’s comforting presence, or even to hear one of Jay’s horrible jokes.

Kai buried his face in his knees and cried.

He just wanted to go home.

A soft moan sounded from across the room. “...Kai?”

Kai lifted his head briefly, meeting Nya’s tired, scared expression. “What?”

“What happened? Where are we?”

“Borg found us. He’s keeping us prisoner.” He lowered his face back into his knees, not even having the strength to hold his neck up anymore.

“Have you seen him yet? Borg?”

“No.”

“Have you spoken to anyone yet? Has anyone come down here?”

“No.”

Sensing the frustration in his tone, Nya fell silent. He heard the rattle of chains as she paced around the cell. For a long time, that was the only sound he heard, and after a while, he laid, face up, on his mattress, the sound of the chains the only thing reminding him that he wasn’t alone down here.

It could’ve been minutes or hours later when a noise sounded from the other side of the room. Kai sat up, glaring.

The door on the far end swung open, and light washed into the room. Kai threw his arms over his face, hissing at the brightness of it. After only a moment, though, the light faded, and Kai lowered his arms to see the door had been shut again. Flashlights clicked on, shining down the hall, and Kai squinted, catching sight of two trainers, and a vet, none of whose names Kai could remember.

With them, was Borg.

Nya growled at him, gripping the bars of her cell. “What do you want with us?”

“What I wanted was for you to do as you were told,” Borg told her, shining the light in her eyes, “but you just had to go and mess that up, didn’t you.”

Nya blinked furiously at the harsh light, but didn’t back down. “You wanted us to stand by and do nothing as you killed Lloyd?”

“Certain words are not meant for certain ears, dear. You two shouldn’t have been there that night. You really did make things much, much more complicated than they needed to be.”

“Why did you do it,” Kai snapped. “Why did you ever shelter us in the first place if all you were going to do was kill us?”

“Not you,” Borg corrected. “Only the boy. He messed everything up. The rest of you were supposed to be incredibly useful.”

“Stop dodging the question.”

“Boy, I am not dodging anything.” He turned his flashlight’s beam on Kai, his face suddenly looking a lot more threatening than Kai had ever seen it. “You are the one avoiding the truth here. I didn’t ‘take you in’ from anywhere. I made you. You and your mutant friends are nothing more than a lab experiment.”

Kai fell back from the bars, breathing out heavily. He heard Nya gasp, but he didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at anything, just at the ground.

“The truth stings, doesn’t it? You aren’t anything special, you aren’t unique. You were merely a trial for what is to come.”

“A trial for what?” Nya growled.

“You and your friends have been plenty useful. You have been resources to study, to sample DNA from, a test to see if we could contain you before we started making the others.”

Kai blinked. “Others?”

“Of course. You and your friends obviously didn’t work out- and you’re all too far gone now.”

“I don’t understand,” Kai asked. “Why do you want more… more people like us? You obviously don’t care about us.”

“I care about what you can do. Imagine the potential- a legion of seemingly normal people, such as yourself- who can, in the blink of an eye, transform into an army of great beasts! People who could fly, who could cross great distances in the blink of an eye, those who could hear our enemies coming from a mile away, or who could wield the strength of ten men. I’d be unstoppable!”

Kai and Nya exchanged horrified glances. “You’re building an army? What for?”

“Kai, my dear boy. Borg Industries is powerful, but we cannot do whatever we please. We still have so many regulations, limitations, and surveillance. Biotechnology, such as what we have developed, could change the world. But the world is deeply rooted in tradition, afraid of change. They would shun us, sue us for our groundbreaking discoveries, when we deserved to be praised and cheered for. What we need is more power. And power never comes for free. True power is only won through brute force.”

“You’ll never get anyone to comply with that,” Kai hissed. “We’re not objects, we’re living, breathing beings. You can’t just bend that to your will.”

“Oh, but we will. In time, anything can be controlled. We just need to make a few altercations to our future experiments. Something you and your friends have made incredibly easy by being our test subjects over the last couple decades. Your kind is really quite fascinating, you know.”

Kai bared his teeth and roared at him, but Borg merely laughed. “See, the problem with you is that we made you too human. Too sentient. There needs to be some balance, of course- a wild animal is untamed, it has no master- but a human being has too many weaknesses, too many thoughts of rebellion and betrayal.” Narrowing his eyes at Kai, he added, “Something we found out the hard way.

“We got closer with the child- his instincts appeared to be less humane, and he didn’t cause so much of a fuss.” He paused, frowning. “That is, until a few weeks ago.

“I think where we went wrong with him was the species. An oni and a dragon- two of the most powerful creatures known to man- we thought he would have unspeakable power. And he did- but it was too much, too much to be contained.

“But he has been a valuable resource- we shall use what we have learned with him to create a somewhat less powerful species. This time, we will get it right.”

Nya hissed at him, and he scowled, leaning over and spitting on her.

“The child has been very useful, indeed, but he has served his purpose, now. We no longer have a use for him.” Gesturing to the vet with one hand, she stepped forward, the carefully wrapped parcel in her hands now visible as she, Borg, and the trainers walked towards Lloyd’s cage.

“No!” Kai roared, jolting to his feet and racing to the bars. “Get away from him!”

“It’s for your own good. This child could off you in your sleep, if he so wished.”

Time was moving in slow motion. The door of Lloyd’s cage swung open with an eerie creak, and they filed inside. The vet unwrapped the parcel, revealing a syringe filled with a blue liquid, and a long, pointed needle on the end.

“Don’t you fuckin’ touch him!” Kai screamed, shaking at the bars of the cell. “You’re a deranged, psychotic, murdering bi-”

“Please, Dr. Borg, reconsider,” Nya whined, cutting off Kai’s violent string of curses. “We’ll be good, we’ll do what you want, just don’t kill him, please-”

“Shut up, the both of you,” Borg snapped. “We’re trying to work here. Nya, stop your sniveling, we know you’re not on our side. You’re no use to us anymore- Kai, stop trying to break through the bars, don’t you think we thought of that? Why do you think these cells are here in the first place? I had them made a while ago, as a precaution. They’re specifically tailored to counteract your special abilities. Nothing you do is going to break them.”

“I’ll kill you, I’ll find a way out of here and I’ll murder you-”

Borg sighed. “He’s losing it.” Turning to a trainer, he asked, “Turn it on, will you?”

The trainer pulled a small remote from his pocket, and turned a little dial.

Sharp, stinging pain shot through Kai’s neck, and he yelped, falling back from the bars and gripping at his neck- which was when he remembered the leather band there.

“I’m not-” he reached out, gasping as he wrapped a hand around one of the bars. “You’re not making me-”

The pain increased, and Kai doubled over, wheezing, his eyes watering. “Ahhh!”

“Kai!” Nya yelped. “Stop it, what are you doing to him?”

“Handy little device your trainers whipped up for you. Human shock collar. You like it? Except these things can deliver a lot more voltage than the kind people put on their dogs.”

“Stop it, please-” he moaned. Pins and needles were stabbing into his neck, the zinging reverberating down his spine.

“Do it, while he’s distracted.”

Kai pushed back against the pain, rolling his eyes up so that he could see Lloyd. The boy was still sleeping soundly on the mattress, although one ear was twitching slightly. Or maybe that was just the collar, vibrating him.

“Lloyd!” He screamed, the collar making his voice tremble. “Wake up, wake up, they’re going to-”

The pain increased tenfold, and Kai choked, falling to his knees. He gritted his teeth, and they chattered from the vibrations. He wasn’t giving up, he couldn’t-

“Lloyd!”

The roar ripped through the room, echoing off the walls and causing everyone in the room to flinch. Lloyd jerked awake, squealing as he caught sight of Borg and the needle. Leaping off of the mattress, he darted across the cell in a flash-

He stumbled with a squeak of pain as he tripped over his injured leg, tumbling to the floor. The trainers and Borg surrounded him, boxing him in as the vet approached slowly with the needle.

“Lloyd, fight! Fight back!”

Lloyd hissed in the vet’s face, fire shooting from his throat. The vet cried out, stumbling back. One of the trainers grabbed at him, and Lloyd whipped around, chomping down on her hand.

“He bit me,” she shrieked, pulling back. “The brat bit me, I’m probably going to get like, rabies or something!”

“You’ll be fine,” Borg snapped, “just stop him!”

Lloyd hissed in his face, jumping from the man’s hand as he reached for him-

Just as the vet stabbed the needle into his thigh.

Kai, Nya, and Lloyd screamed.

The pain from the shock collar barely registered anymore, the burning in his chest so much stronger. Kai gripped the bars of the cell, rage and fear and despair wracking his body so he didn’t even know how to function.

Borg had done it, he had killed him, he was gone-

Kai’s stomach heaved, and he turned away, throwing up across the concrete. How could this be happening, what had he done to deserve this, what had Lloyd done?

He hugged his knees to his chest, sobs shuddering through him, teeth rattling. He hadn’t even been able to save one person, he had failed everyone, Zane and Cole and Jay were going to hate him when they found out their baby brother was dead and Kai had done nothing to stop it-

Not that it mattered, it wasn’t like he was going to ever see them again.

Dammit, this was all his fault! He was so pathetic, how had he let this happen?

The hairs on the back of his neck tingled, and he glanced up and caught sight of Borg standing outside his cell, staring at him.

“You almost messed up everything, you brat. I’m not going to forget that.”

The pain increased again, and Kai screamed, feeling his eyes roll back in his head as blackness swamped at the edges of his vision.

“Turn it down, I don’t want him passing out.”

The pain dropped suddenly, and Kai gasped in relief, tears streaming down his eyes. It wasn’t gone completely, though- there was still a faint buzzing emitting from the collar- not enough to be painful, but enough to put him on edge.

Enough to remind him that he wasn’t the one in control here.

Not that Kai really cared anymore. Lloyd was dead. Nothing mattered.

Kai wanted to die.

---

Over the next few hours- days? minutes? he didn’t know, and frankly, he didn’t care- weariness dragged at Kai, but sleep wouldn’t come. No, sleep would be too easy, too peaceful. Instead, he laid awake, staring at the ceiling as darkness sapped at his limbs. He didn’t move to the mattress, just stayed on the floor. Maybe the coolness of the concrete could alleviate some of the raging heat storming inside of him.

Every once in a while, he mustered the strength to crawl over the toilet so he could throw up. He didn’t know why he bothered. Being hygienic didn’t matter to him anymore. Nothing mattered.

After the third time, though, he had thrown up everything his stomach had to give, and when his insides kept churning, he just rested his head on the side of the toilet and dry heaved.

“Kai,” Nya whispered after a minute of this. “Stop, you’re just going to make yourself sick again.”

“I don’t care,” he rasped, his throat dry and raw.

“Damn that, I don’t want to lose you too.”

“We’re all going to die down here eventually.”

She fell silent at that. She knew he was right.

“You’re scaring Lloyd, Kai. Don’t let him see you like this.”

“Are you delusional, Nya? Lloyd’s gone.”

“Not yet,” she whimpered. “It… it hasn’t kicked in yet. I guess it must take a while until… anyway, see for yourself.”

“I don’t want to. I’m scared.”

“He’s here, I promise you.”

“What if it’s too painful? I don’t want to see him if I’m just going to lose him in a few minutes.”

“What if you miss out on your only chance to see him one more time?”

Kai was quiet for a moment. Mustering all the strength he had left, he slowly turned over.

Lloyd was sitting at the edge of his cell, staring at him. He was smiling softly at Kai, but his eyes were fearful. Kai tried to ignore how his ears were drooping, how his tail hung limp, and his eyelids heavy with sleep, one he would never wake up from-

Kai broke into tears, and Lloyd churred softly, leaning against the bars as he reached his fingers through. Kai did the same, although there was still a gaping distance between them.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry,” Kai choked through the tears. “I’m sorry this happened to you. You don’t deserve any of it.”

“‘s not your fault,”

“It’s not yours, either,” Nya told him. “None of this happened because of you. I want you to remember that, okay? Don’t… don’t think about that, now.”

Nya buried her face in her hands, whimpering. Lloyd leaned his face on the bars. “I love you guys.”

“We love you too, bud,” Kai whispered. “More than you will ever know.”

---

Sleep found him eventually- that, or lack of fluids caused him to pass out. Either way, some time had passed by the time he drug his eyelids open again.

Squinting, he realized there were people standing in front of Lloyd’s cell. Sounds filtered in slowly, taking a moment to come through clearly.

“-don’t understand, why hasn’t it kicked in yet? He should’ve stopped breathing long ago.”

“I’m not sure. This should have worked. It might have something to do with his lineage, I suppose- perhaps his genes grant him extra immunity to fight back against it.”

“That seems logical. He definitely seems very drowsy and sluggish, so it obviously had some effect on him-”

“But not the one we wanted,” a third voice snapped. As consciousness came fully, he connected the voice to Borg. “Apparently he’s immune to euthenasia drugs, now? What next? This is only more proof of what I’ve been saying- he’s becoming more dangerous. We should’ve killed him right away, that first night, when we had the chance.”

“It’s alright, sir, we still have time. He’s not going anywhere, down here. We can develop a stronger serum.”

“Do you think it will work?”

“With the right blood samples from him, I can be confident of it.”

“How soon can you have it ready?”

“A few days, a week- it’s hard to tell until I start.”

“Fine. But it better work this time. Or you’re fired.”

“You have my word, sir.”

Footsteps echoed past his cell, then down the hall. The sound of the door swinging shut determined they had left. Kai sat up immediately.

“Nya! Did you hear that?”

“It didn’t work,” she breathed. “He’s going to be okay!”

“For now. How long do you think it’s going to take them to make the new drug?”

“If I know Borg, I wouldn’t bet on long. We have to find a way out of here before we actually do lose him.”

“But how?” He breathed out, falling back against the wall. “We’re trapped here. The securative measures aren’t exactly light. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Nya was quiet for a moment. “We’ll figure something out.”

“I sure hope so.”

Nya turned towards Lloyd’s cell, pressing her face against the bars. “How’re you doing, Lloydster?”

Lloyd murmured sleepily at her, and she sighed. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad it didn’t kill him, but I hope it doesn’t make him sick.”

“Yeah. It seems like he’s just tired, but who knows.”

The door swung open again, and the two shied back from the light. Two people shuffled in, both unfamiliar, and Kai eyed them warily.

They were young, probably not much older than Cole. Kai was surprised that Borg was even letting them know that Kai and the other hybrids existed, not to mention letting them in their cell block alone.

The male stretched out his hand as he passed, letting his knuckles clack against the bars eerily.

“What do you want,” Kai snapped.

“Chill out, mutant boy, I’m here to feed you.”

Just at the mention of food, Kai’s stomach rumbled. His mouth watered, and against his will, he found himself leaning towards the man. He hadn’t eaten- or drank- anything since the morning of their capture- which, although he had no idea how much time had passed, felt like forever ago. He had even considered drinking out of the toilet at one point, but had decided he wasn’t that desperate.

Yet.

The man laughed at his expression. “Check it out, Em. They really are like animals.”

Kai clenched his teeth, surging up to the bars. “Listen, you punk, you don’t know-”

He was interrupted as his shock collar went off, screaming with pain as he rolled to his knees, frothing at the mouth. He heard shrieks from Nya and Lloyd too, but he was in too much pain to move. The rusty hinges of his cell door screeched as the man entered, laying two metal bowls by the wall. He felt his arms get tugged back, metal cuffs clicking around them. He wanted to kick and hiss at the man, hurt him while he was still within distance, but the pain from the collar stopped him.

There was a dry, rattling sound as the man filled his bowls, then exited the cell, locking the door firmly. Then, finally, the pain dropped away.

“What was that for,” he rasped, his voice still raw from the sudden shock.

“Couldn’t have you fighting back, could we?”

Kai grimaced. He glanced over at Nya and Lloyd and saw they had been cuffed too. “Why do we need handcuffs to eat? Isn’t that sort of counterintuitive?”

“Borg says you’re feisty. Doesn’t want to take the chance of you using anything that’s not bolted down to your advantage. Or to try and kill yourself. He wants to keep you around for a while yet, in case he needs to do any more testing.”

“You think I could escape- or kill myself- with a bowl?”

“You’d be surprised what people can do when they’re desperate. Now, eat up- unless you want to be handcuffed the rest of the night.”

Kai turned to the bowls, squinting at them. One was filled with a gritty-looking water that didn’t seem much more appealing than the toilet water. The other was filled with small, hard, brown pellets.

“What is this, dog food?” Nya scoffed.

The woman smiled. “That’s exactly what it is, sweetheart. What, you weren’t expecting a five-course meal, were you?”

“You can’t seriously expect us to eat this!”

“Would you rather have no food?” The woman asked sweetly. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”

Nya went quiet, but her nose wrinkled as she stared down at the food.

Kai sighed. As unappetizing as it was, it beat the horrible hunger pangs, or passing out from dehydration. He went to reach for the bowl-

Then he remembered the handcuffs.

“How the hell are we supposed to eat with our hands tied behind our backs?”

The guy smiled wickedly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, kitty.”

Kai felt his face turn bright red. They wanted them to eat from the bowl like dogs. This was humiliating.

But he was so hungry. He didn’t know when the next opportunity for food would come.

Leaning down, he scooped up a mouthful of the pellets. They were gritty and sour, one of the worst things Kai had ever tasted in his life, but at this point he didn’t care. He could hear the man and woman who had brought the food laughing and jeering behind him, and he tried to ignore it. It was this, or starve.

After he had finished the food, he burped at the awful taste, trying to suppress the urge to throw it all up. But he forced himself to lick the sides of the bowl, getting every bit of food he could scrounge.

The dry, salty taste of the dog food had only worsened his thirst now, and by this point he didn’t care how dirty the water looked, setting upon it with frantic laps of his tongue. He immediately found it to be much harder than eating. Water dribbled down his chin, so by the time the bowl was empty, his front side was soaked and only about half of the liquid had actually been swallowed. The man and woman got a kick out of that, joking that he had wet himself. Kai had never felt worse than this in his life. He would rather take the pain from the shock collar. He had wanted to go hide behind the toilet for the rest of the night, but knew that would only make the teasing worse.

After what seemed like forever, Nya and Lloyd finally finished their meals and the man and woman turned their attention away from Kai. The shock collars were turned on again, and Kai was once again helplessly paralyzed with pain as the man came in and removed his handcuffs, put the more flexible shackles back on, and took away the bowls. When the cell doors were locked, the shock collars were turned off. Kai forced himself to stay still until the man and woman were gone, but as soon as the room’s door was shut, he collapsed into a ball, hugging himself and shivering.

No one spoke for a long time after that, letting him know that he wasn’t the only one deeply disturbed by their experience.

Kai’s sleep was broken and feverish that night, filled with dreams of him, Lloyd, and Nya locked up in a giant kennel. Children kept peering in, poking their fingers at them and barking at them. They dressed him up in bows and made him do tricks, laughing and giving him dog treats when he complied, and zapping him with the shock collar when he didn’t.

He burst awake in a cold sweat, crying with relief when he realized it had just been a dream.

He didn’t fall asleep again after that, even though his whole body felt heavy with exhaustion.

The next time the door opened, he scrambled back from the light, hissing. His head was aching, and the darkness offered the only sort of comfort right now.

But he was ignored, four trainers walking past his and Nya’s cages and towards the one on the end. Instantly, Kai was at the bars, watching them carefully with bared teeth. If they tried to pull something again-

Well, what was he going to do? He was helpless in here.

Glancing over, he saw a pair of yellow-green eyes glowing in the darkness and knew that Nya was watching, too.

The door of Lloyd’s cage slowly creaked open, and a pair of trainers slipped in. Lloyd hissed at them as they approached, and they stopped. Slowly, one of the trainers reached out, and Lloyd snapped at his hand, and he yanked it away, barely escaping unscathed.

The other trainer grabbed an object from his pocket that Kai recognized as the remote to the shock collars, and Kai immediately shied back, trembling as he remembered the pain.

“Behave, mutant,” the trainer with the remote snapped. “Or we will not hesitate to turn this on.”

Lloyd looked at the remote with wide eyes, his ears pressed flat against his head. Kai had been in some of the worst pain of his life the previous night- or whenever it had been, his internal clock had been all thrown off by the dark dungeon- and Lloyd was less than half his size. He didn’t want to think about how hard it must’ve been on his little body.

Reaching down, the other trainer in the cell clipped something onto his collar, then unfurled it. It was a blue, leather leash.

The trainer with the remote pulled a key out of his pocket and crouched down next to Lloyd. He hesitated, giving him a pointed glare. “Remember, no funny business.” Swiftly, he unlocked the chain around his leg.

Lloyd bolted, immediately falling to the floor as the trainer switched on the collar. Lloyd whimpered, writhing, and Kai growled, “Stop!”

A trainer outside of the cage whipped around. “Be quiet, or we won’t hesitate to turn yours on, too.”

“Turn it off,” another one said. “He needs to have strength to walk.”

Lloyd fell still, chest heaving as the collar deactivated. “You’re not going anywhere, pet,” the trainer with the leash scoffed, giving the leash a sharp tug for emphasis. “So don’t even try.”

The trainers filed out of the cage, tugging Lloyd none-to-genly behind them.

“What are you going to do to him?” Kai growled. “Where are you taking him?”

“Your little mutant has proven to be quite stubborn,” one of the trainers scowled. “But our vets are some of the best out there. With only a few blood samples, we’ll have a strong enough drug, don’t you worry.”

“He’s lost too much blood already,” Kai hissed. “You can’t do that.”

“What does it matter to us if he passes out? The creature is of no value to us- in fact, that would only make our job easier.”

Kai roared at her, and a sharp jolt zapped through him. He glared at the trainers. “It’s going to take more than that to quiet me.”

“Careful. If you cause too much trouble, we might zap the little guy, too.”

Kai snapped his jaws shut, his gaze drifting to Lloyd, who was struggling to his feet as the collar tugged tightly at his neck.

“Come on, pet,” the trainer holding Lloyd’s leash demanded. “We don’t have all day.”

Lloyd stumbled after him, but after only a few steps, his bad leg gave out and he tumbled to the floor, crying out.

“Get up!” The trainer yanked on the leash, jolting Lloyd towards him.

“Stop it, he can’t walk on that leg!” Nya cried. “It’s still injured!”

“Then crawl,” the trainer snapped, kicking him forward, and Lloyd jerked onto his hands and knees, shuffling after the trainers slowly.

Kai watched him pass, his ears flattened and his tail tucked between his legs as he was yanked along by the leash, and felt a sick feeling rise in his stomach. This wasn’t right, it was humiliating and a blatant disregard of dignity.

He didn’t understand how he had gone so long in Borg Tower without realizing the signs. How they had always been viewed as lesser, as objects for Borg’s use. No one had ever cared about them. All the toys, the trinkets, the gadgets, the outings- had been nothing but a trick to make them feel like they were worth something.

Nya had been right. As soon as they got out of here, Kai was gonna let Lloyd be whoever he wanted to be, and not make him change for anybody.

If they got out of here.

Kai crawled into the corner of his cage and curled up in a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to ignore the depressing thoughts raging around in his head. He couldn’t afford to listen to them right now, right now he was just trying to focus on not throwing up. He didn’t know how long it would be until they next got food or water.

He was faintly aware of the shivers wracking his body, and wondered if he was coming down with something. He wouldn’t be surprised- he hadn’t consumed anything but dog food and stale water since they had been here, and had been wearing the same crusty clothes the whole time, too. There hadn’t even been a sink provided in the cage, not that it would do much to help him without soap, anyway.

Just another problem to add the list, he supposed.

It was funny how, before they had been captured, he had been so resentful and stressed about their situation, thinking it was one of the worst times of his life.

He would give pretty much anything to have those problems back, now.

---

“It’s been twelve hours since they were supposed to be back,” Jay yelped, pacing back and forth, his footsteps echoing sharply with an unusual agitation. “Even if something had happened, they would’ve come back by now, or at least called us.”

“They could’ve ran out of minutes,” Cole rationalized. “These damn prepaids don’t last very long.”

“But why wouldn’t they come back? Kai and Nya would never worry us like this, not unless they didn’t have a choice in the matter.”

“I know.” Cole ran his fingers through his hair. “But maybe they escaped. Maybe they ran and didn’t want to risk leading anyone back here.”

“I hope you’re right. If anything’s happened to them-” his lip quivered, and he looked away as tears pricked his eyes.

“Jay, it’s going to be okay.” Cole reached out, setting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find them.”

“You can’t promise that,” Jay barked, flinching away.

“No. But I’m going to do everything in my power to try. They’re our family, Jay. Family doesn’t give up on family.”

“I know,” Jay sniffed, wiping at his eyes. “I’m just scared.”

Cole wrapped his hands around him, letting Jay bury his face in his shoulder. “Me too, bud. Me too.”

Jay and Cole jumped nearly a foot in the air as the door swung open, and Cole let out a breath of relief as he realized it was only Zane.

“Did you find anything?”

Zane shook his head. “No sign of them anywhere. I even asked a few of the shopkeepers- as many as I could without raising suspicion, anyway- by showing them a photo I had. A few of them thought they looked familiar, but no one was able to tell me where they went or if they had seen anything out of the ordinary.”

“We have to do something,” Jay insisted. “If they’re being held hostage somewhere, who knows what they’ll do to them.”

“What can we do?” Cole asked. “I want to do something as much as you do, but we don’t have anywhere to start. We don’t even know where they are.”

“Maybe not,” Zane admitted, “but we can make an educated guess. The most likely reason that Kai and Nya have not gotten back to us is that they were captured. There are two main parties most likely responsible. Borg Industries- and the Ninjago City Police.”

Jay frowned. “How do we know the police are against us?”

“We don’t. But we can’t entirely clear them yet, either. If they found out Kai, Nya, and Lloyd’s secret, they could possibly see them as a threat and lock them up.”

“But if hybrids like us are such a rare thing, the news would be all over this if the police had discovered them,” Cole pointed out. “We’re basically living under a rock in here, but you would’ve seen something, like on TV or somewhere, when you went out, wouldn’t you have?”

“Fair point. So we can most likely conclude that it was Borg that found them.”

Jay put his head in his hands. “Last time we saw Borg, he wanted to kill Lloyd. If we’re going to do something, we better hurry.”

“Where do you think he’s keeping them?” Cole asked. “Borg Tower?” “That feels too simple,” Jay muttered. “He knows that’s the first place we’d look. But at the same time, I have no idea where else they would be.”

“We can’t just storm the building,” Zane argued. “There’s only three of us. Even with our enhanced abilities, it would never be enough to get through Borg’s headquarters. If we even knew where to begin looking for them, that is. Borg Tower isn’t exactly small.”

“What options do we have?” Jay whined. “We can’t afford to waste any time. We have no idea what Borg could be doing to them right now. And, besides, even if we could wait a while, it’s not like we’re magically going to gain more allies or anything.”

“We need to come up with some sort of plan,” Zane insisted, “Otherwise we’re going to end up getting captured too, which won’t help anyone.”

“You’re both right. We can’t go in without a plan, but we can’t afford to wait, either. And no one’s going to have an epiphany just sitting around here thinking. If we’re going to make a plan that’ll work, we need more information.”

“How do you suggest we get it?” Zane frowned.

“We sneak down and scope out Borg Tower. We don’t breach it, just observe what we can from afar.”

Jay glanced at him skeptically. “You really think we’ll be able to find out much like that?”

“Does anyone else have any better ideas?”

No one said anything.

“Then it’s settled. That’s what we’re doing.”

“When do we set out?” Jay asked.

“I would like to leave as soon as possible, but it’s just too risky. If we don’t want to get caught, we should wait until the cover of dusk is on our side. I also don’t think we should risk taking the bus at all, and it’s a few hours walk to Borg Tower. We’ll leave here late afternoon.”

Zane and Jay exchanged glances, nodding. “Do you want us to do anything, Cole?”

“I dunno. Grab something to eat, get some rest if you can. I have no idea how long this is going to take. Pack up the bare essentials, just in case we’re not able to come back.

“Come this afternoon, be ready. We’re going to get our family back.”

---

Cole stared up at the looming skyscraper in front of him, his heart pounding in his chest.

This was it. They were here.

“Keep walking, Cole,” Zane whispered from behind him. “We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”

Cole picked up the pace, falling into step behind Jay, and melting into the crowd of passersby around them.

“What do we do now?” Jay whispered back to him.

“Just keep an eye out for-” Cole stopped, his gaze drifting towards the front doors of Borg Tower.

“What is it?”

“Over there,” he hissed, nodding sideways in the direction. Two people, emerging from the doors of Borg Tower, whom Cole didn’t recognize, but noticed the familiar outfits of the caretakers, had slung garbage bags over their shoulders, and were heading towards the back to toss them out.

“It might not be much, but it’s as good a place as any to start,” he whispered. “Let’s go!”

Subtly slipping past the citizens, he darted around the side of Borg Tower, Zane and Jay on his heels.

He froze in place as the muffled voices of the caretakers came into view. They were close. But not close enough. He needed to get closer if he wanted to be able to listen in.

If only Kai were here. Where was the guy with superhearing when you needed him?

If only they were all here. Cole just wanted them to be safe. He didn’t know what he would do if they found them and one or more of them were already gone.

But now wasn’t the time to think about that. Now, he had a job to do.

“Transform,” he whispered to the others. “You’ll be smaller, and easier to hide that way.”

With a flash, the three boys were gone, and a badger, a labrador, and a falcon stood in their place.

Crouching low to the ground, Cole edged around the corner.

The caretakers were hauling the trash bags into a dumpster a little ways down. Jay dropped down onto his belly and wriggled under the dumpster in front of them, Cole and Zane squeezing under after him, with considerable more difficulty.

“-giving us a lot of trouble,” the voices filtered in as they got within earshot. “I can’t wait until this whole thing is over and done with.”

“Have they gotten any closer with the drug yet?” the male voice asked.

“Somewhat, I think.” A second voice, the female. “They’re gathering a lot of blood from the kid, which seems to be helping, but it still could take up to a week.”

“What about the older ones? What’s he going to do with them?”

“Borg wants to keep them alive, for now, to see if they can give him any clues to where the rest of them are. I’m not so sure, though- they’re both very stubborn. I think they’d rather die than give up any information. Especially the lion one- he doesn’t seem like he’s gonna last much longer. We can hardly get him to eat anything.”

Cole clenched his teeth, biting back the shuddering breath. So they had been right. Borg did have their friends.

And, from the sounds of it, they were running out of time to save them.

“Do you have the key?” The female snapped. “We can’t have anyone breaking in here.”

“Here.” There was a jangle of metal as the padlock was locked, and then footsteps came sharply towards them. Cole shrunk back, watching their feet cautiously as they passed.

“Why would they need to lock a dumpster?” Jay whispered.

Zane’s eyes glinted. “The only logical solution is that there’s something in there they don’t want anyone to see. They must be hiding evidence. We need to see what’s in those garbage bags.”

“Zane, wait-” Cole hissed, but the falcon was already slipping out from under the dumpster where they were hiding, and over to the one the caretakers had put the bags in.

Jay let out a whine, and Cole crept forward, so he could peer out at Zane. The falcon was perched on top of the dumpster, sticking a talon into the lock as he jiggled it. The clanking of metal echoed threateningly through the air.

“Zane, stop,” he begged. “We can’t let them catch us, we have to wait until we know for sure they’re-”

“What the- I knew I heard something back here!”

Cole cringed back, and Jay yelped beside him as the man’s feet came into view. Cole quickly shushed him. The man had only seen Zane. Revealing themselves as well would only make it easier for him to connect the dots about who they were.

“Shoo, pest, shoo!” The man cried, running towards Zane but still keeping a respectable distance from the large bird of prey. Zane squawked, and Cole heard a flutter of feathers that he hoped was Zane flying away.

“What’s going on, Jake-” the woman called, her footsteps hurrying over and halting abruptly. “Holy shit! Is that a falcon?”

Cole cringed. It didn’t take a genius to know that falcons weren’t native to Ninjago City.

“It’s him!” she cried. “The falcon. It has to be! Quick, catch him!”

Cole shuffled forward as the two scuffled after Zane, who was shrieking and squawking as he flapped just above their heads.

C’mon, Zane, get them out of here-

The woman jumped up, catching his wing in her grasp, and yanked, sending a handful of tawny feathers flying. Zane screeched in pain, falling to the ground.

Jay yelped behind him, and before Cole could stop himself, he shot out from under the dumpster, and latched his jaws around the woman’s shoe.

She screamed, attempting to shake him off. “The other one’s here too! It’s got me, it’s got me, get it off!” She kicked, hard, and Cole went tumbling off her foot, right in front of the man, who raised his foot to deliver a kick-

The man stumbled backwards as something jerked at his leg. A yellow lab was sinking his teeth into his pant leg, holding him back. Releasing it, he barked loudly, running circles around the man as he tried to land a hit on the small dog. But Jay was too fast.

On his other side, Zane was struggling to his feet, oblivious of the woman running up behind him. Dashing past the falcon, there was a flash, and suddenly Cole was five feet taller, and punching the woman in the face with very human knuckles. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The man cried out as he tripped over Jay, and before he could blink, the dog was gone, and Jay was pinning him to the ground with a foot.

The man’s face dissolved into panic as Cole approached him. “Please, don’t hurt me, I won’t tell them about you, I promise.”

Cole paused, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Don’t do it, Cole,” Zane urged, now no longer a bird, and sitting on the floor. “He’s lying. He’ll run right back to them and we’ll be captured before the day is up.”

“I swear, I won’t!” the man begged. “I needed this job! I was told it was such a great opportunity, I had no idea what I was getting into! I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Rich that you’re having a change of heart now,” Jay snorted. “You didn’t seem too concerned about us a minute ago.”

“Please, let me go, if they find me here and figure out I let you escape, they’ll kill me! I have a family!”

Cole glanced at the others. Jay looked uncertain. Zane looked angry. “I still say he’s bluffing.”

Cole glanced down at the man. The terror in his eyes was real, that was for sure. Relenting, he breathed out, taking a step back. “That may be so, but we’re not like them. Jay, let him go.”

Jay looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Slowly, Jay moved his foot, and the man bolted to his feet. Cole reached out, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt before he could slip away. Pulling him close, Cole gave him the hardest glare he could muster.

“If I let you go, you’re gonna run. Run as far away from here as you possibly can, and never come back. If you rat us out to anyone- anyone, Borg worker or otherwise- I will personally track you down and find you. And I’ve got the best tracker in the whole city on my side, so I won’t fail. Is that clear?”

The man nodded frantically, his eyes wide. His voice came out a squeak. “I swear on my life, I won’t tell a soul.”

“You better not.” And, with barely a beat of hesitation, Cole released him.

The man was gone in the blink of an eye.

“I hope I didn’t just blow it,” he breathed.

“I can’t tell you if that was the right decision or not,” Jay said, “but you were right about one thing. We’re not like them. If he tells anyone, he’s the scum, not you.”

“I know this sounds dumb, but I don’t think he will. I just had… a feeling.”

“Feelings and survival don’t mix,” Zane snapped.

Cole turned to him, where he still sat on the ground. “I’m sorry, buddy, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

“I’m not blaming you, I just don’t trust him,” he muttered, pulling his leg closer to his body with a wince.

Debate forgotten, Cole started forward. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?”

“Just pulled out a few feathers, nothing serious. But I think I landed badly on my ankle.”

Cole crouched down, tracing his fingers along his ankle. Zane flinched back, grimacing.

“Sorry. Does it hurt bad?”

“Yeah. I think it might be sprained.”

“Hey, guys?”

“Not now, Jay. Do you think we could-”

“Guys!” Jay cried. “This isn’t really something that can wait!” Cole glared back at him. “What?”

Jay held up a small, black device. Cole squinted at it, adjusting his glasses. “What’s so important about that?”

“It’s a pager, Cole. It fell out of the caretaker’s pocket. If she used it, there’s probably Borg employees on their way here right now!”

“Shit,” he muttered. “We gotta get out of here.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

“Cole, I don’t think I can walk,” Zane admitted. “You two should go without me.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Cole fumed. “We’re family, we don’t leave each other behind!”

“I’ll only slow you down.”

Muffled shouts and harried footsteps came from somewhere nearby. Jay whipped towards them, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Hurry, guys, they’re coming!”

“Get on my back,” Cole demanded. “Now.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m going to carry you. Now, hurry!”

Jay helped Zane to his feet, and his friend slipped his hands around Cole’s neck, wrapping his legs around his waist. He had only just about gotten into place when Cole took off running, Jay on his heels.

The lab hybrid quickly overtook him, sniffing the air and leading them down a maze of alleys and backroads. He glanced back at them, his gaze nervously darting to something behind him. Cole didn’t even dare look back.

“Hurry, Cole! They’re getting closer!” “I’m running as fast as I can,” he huffed, although he forced himself to put on a burst of speed.

“Cole…”

“I swear, Zane, if you ask me to leave you behind one more time, I will punch you in the face.”

Zane fell quiet after that, but Cole could still feel his reluctance.

“Cole, watch out, they’ve got-” Jay’s warning was cut off with a yelp as a net came hurling through the air towards them, snagging Jay’s leg.

“-net launchers!” he finished.

“Jay!” “Don’t stop, don’t stop, I’ll be out in a second-”

Cole gritted his teeth, and kept running, even as he passed him.

“Jay, hurry!”

“I’m here, I’m here,” Jay called a moment later, already at his side again. “But they’re getting closer! This isn’t working!”

“Stop running!” A voice called from behind them, over a megaphone. “You will not evade capture. You are only making the consequences worse for yourself. Give up now, and you will be shown mercy!” “Sorry, but last time Borg showed us ‘mercy,’ we barely escaped with our lives,” Cole retorted.

“They’re right, though,” Jay murmured. “We’re never going to be able to outrun them! We need a new plan.”

“Well, we don’t have another plan.”

“I might have one. Keep running, stick to the left roads, that’ll take you out of town.”

Cole snatched his wrist before he could dart away. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m gonna distract them. Lead them somewhere else so you guys can get away.”

“Will you two stop trying to sacrifice yourself,” Cole growled, “For five minutes?”

“I’m not sacrificing myself! I know these streets. I’m faster and more cunning than either of you. I can get away, if I’m on my own. I have no intention of getting caught, trust me.”

“It’s too risky. We’re not splitting up.”

“But-”

“Cole’s right, Jay. We already are down three members, and it’s going to be a whole lot harder to save them if there’s only two of us left.”

“I told you, I won’t get caught!”

“You can’t promise that,” Cole argued. “You’re staying with us, end of discussion.”

“Then what other plans you got, badger boy?”

Cole didn’t look at him.

“Over there!” Zane pointed. “Down that alley, about one hundred feet down, there’s a path hidden behind those vines.”

“What?” Jay snapped. “No there isn’t!”

“Are you forgetting who has falcon-vision here?” Zane retaliated.

“Just do it,” Cole hissed. “It’s not like we have a wide range of options, here!”

They darted down the alley Zane had pointed them down, and Cole scanned the wall for anything unusual. “Where is it?”

“Keep going,” Jay pressed, “We need to get through it before they round the corner or they’ll just follow us in!”

“Right there!” Zane pointed.

Following his finger, Cole caught sight of a patch of vines, the brick crumbling away behind it.

“Jackpot, Zane!” Cole cheered.

Jay scrambled through first, holding back the vines as Cole maneuvered through more carefully, trying to account for Zane. As soon as they were through, Jay yelped, “Go, go, go!” Cole’s lungs were killing him by this point, but he didn’t hesitate to race after him. He would be stupid to belive they were safe now. Already, he could hear the angry shouts of the Borg security officers behind them, and knew it wouldn’t be long before they found the broken wall.

But it had given them a moment. And, right now, they needed every moment they could get.

“What are… what are we going to do now?” Cole wheezed.

“We can’t keep this up,” Zane frowned, watching him with concern. “You can’t keep running forever. Not even Jay.”

“We need help,” Jay panted. “We can’t do this on our own.”

“Who’s going to help us?” Cole huffed. “We’re alone. Nobody has our backs in this.”

“I don’t know, maybe we can go ask someone. Those are houses over there, right? Maybe someone will agree to hide us.”

“They’ll probably think we’re escaped criminals, bozo. No one’s gonna agree to hide some random fugitive.”

“Well, what other choice do we have?”

“I… may have an idea,” Zane said quietly.

They looked at him expectantly, but he hesitated. “Well?” Jay yipped. “Are you going to tell us, or not?”

“You’re not going to like it… but there is somewhere we could go.”

Jay threw up his hands. “We don’t have time for this Zane, they’re gonna find us any minute! Just get to the point!”

“We could go… to the police.”

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

"I'll Always Stay"

Witcher fic. Pre slash Geraskier fic. Rated T and up for minor swearing, blood and gore.

Cross posted on AO3

Geralt and Jaskier get into a fight. Geralt gets injured. Jaskier takes care of him. (Fae Jaskier.)

(Still figuring out read more links on mobile. Help!)

It wasn't as though he had never seen Geralt injured; or that he had never stitched torn and bloodied flesh back together, while the witcher sat brooding beside him; or like he hadn't learned all the witchers potions, how to make them, what they do, how and when they should be administered. But this. This was different.

Geralt was unconscious on the ground beside him. He was without armor, and based on the the amount of blood covering pale skin he wasn't sure that he'd even been wearing it when he was attacked. He'd had it when he'd stormed out of camp with a growled, 

"Fuck off." 

The witcher had not gone on a hunt. No, that would have been good. Would have settled Jaskiers heart, if only a little. No, instead he had stalked off into the moonless night because they were fighting and he was done with Jaskier and the conversation. When he hadn't returned by midnight Jaskiers unease grew, blossoming dread in his chest and reaching out with tendrils, spreading to Roach and filling the clearing of their campsite. Setting his jaw and recognizing he was being reckless and quiet foolhardy he started into the darkness. Concern squeezed at his heart and weighed like lead in his chest. The darkness was consuming. 

He was blind in the darkness and it was by sheer luck alone that he found the witcher at all. Or so, he would say. Now he wishes he was closer to camp and that he had brought more than a single vile of Swallow. He glances around the blackened clearing and though his eyes had adjusted a little he can't see anything now. He's far to close to continue using his magic. Blindly he gropes for one of Geralts swords, anything, fear prickling his skin, raising the hair on his neck and arms. If Geralt had been rendered unconscious and bloody than it would be in Jaskiers best sense to run back to camp and stay there. 

With one of the witchers too heavy sword, slick with blood in his hands, he knelt over his friend and listened for too slow breathes, feeling for a too slow pulse. Watching the barely there rise and fall of a bruised and bloodied chest. When he found it he foracably swallowed back his panic, thrusting it from his mind. With shaking hands Jaskier lifted a white clad head into his lap, hair more pink than white.  Finally he pulled the vial of Swallow from his pocket and slowly tipped it into an unresponsive mouth. He brushed his fingers down Geralts throat, coaxing it into contracting and swallowing the potion. It was a slow process. 

A few moments later, Jaskier huffs out a small sigh of relief. Geralt is breathing easier, if only just. There is no way to get the witcher back to camp and it's too dark to see the full extent of injuries, or find his other sword, and let's not forget the creature that was lurking somewhere in the shadows. Without thinking about it he let his magic sleep out around him. That would keep whatever it was away. He swallowed, it was a calculated risk. And perhaps Geralt would be to out of it to notice it in the morning. 

He'd spent so long with humans he'd nearly forgot he had it. Still he dare not use it on Geralt unless there was no other option. That the witcher would notice immediately. So instead he whispers, "I'm sorry." 

Sorry he can't use his very nature to save his friends life. Maybe one day. Sorry for the things he had said. Sorry that Geralt had been injured. Sorry for everything he'd done that annoyed, hurt, or angered the witcher. 

While he waited for the sun to rise, he ran delicate musicians fingers through coarse, sticky hair. Guilt resting around him like a cloak. As the grey light of dawn rose he felt like an idiot forgetting he could have used his magic to take stock of Geralts injuries at the least, he'd already let it lay lazily around the forest floor. Panic had made him fuzzy. Though that too would have been a very calculated risk. If Geralt found out. Well…. Jaskier quiet liked his life as it was. 

The wounds were healing, slowly. Witchers mutations and potion at work. But it wasn't fast enough, congealed red blood oozed from the wounds, even now. hours later. Jaskiers fears to think what would have been if he had waited for the light to go looking. Slowly as not to strain or startle the still unconscious witcher he extricated himself. He hated what he was about to do but it was necessary. He moved quickly, quicker than this form should have moved. He returned to and broke camp quickly and Roach followed him with a soft neigh. 

He turns to her and whispers softly. 

"Don't tell him please." He holds eye contact with her until she snorts into his shoulder. This really shouldn't be a concern right now. But it is. 

When he returned to Geralts side he collected his silver sword, gingerly, and placed it with the steel. He gathered up shredded armor, and for all his vast knowledge of magical creatures, more than he let's on, he has no idea what did this.  He swallowed harshly. This was not good. 

He built a fire and set water to boil. Doing things the mortal way was not his favorite thing. He notes absently that their supplies are running low. He gathers another bottle of Swallow and again coaxes it down Geralts throat. Finished he set about creating a salve or potion. Anything that would help his friend. With the water ready he set about washing away the blood and dirt from the front of Geralts torso. He couldn't reach his back and hoped it wasn't as bad. Although the fact that the injuries were this severe on his stomach was disheartening and highly concerning. 

Really he hadn't meant to make him angry. But he had been cold, wet, hungry and they had been traveling for 3 days straight stopping only for a few hours of sleep. Not a problem if he wasn't hiding what he is from the witcher, remarkably well at that. And Geralt hadn't told him anything. Hadn't said where the were going, what they were doing. And he'd known the moment the words left his mouth, he'd known he had completely and irrevocably fucked up. So he'd spent the next five hours apologizing profusely for his mistake. Saying that he hadn't meant it he'd only been angry. It wasn't true. It was never true. The witcher had decided to set camp and then stormed off into the dark effectively ending the conversation. Uncertain what to do he had tended Roach and the fire. He hadn't even attempted to compose. Then he'd just listened in silence and darkness for Geralt to return thinking about how to make it right. 

Now he was sitting on his knees in the dirt beside his wounded friend who could very well die. He told himself to stop thinking like that.he'd give himself away before he actually let Geralt die. 

He continued peeling back torn remnants of clothing, soaking bits that were stubbornly stuck and then removing them completely. He washed as he went removing dirt and congealed blood with water then antiseptic. He knows it has to sting a ridiculous amount  and is grateful the witcher is still unconscious. 

The cuts are deep. The flesh is torn and ragged like it had been ripped from bone; the cuts were not clean and sliced. They are deep and he pulls back flesh to make sure its clean. Infection has likely already begun to set in. Once he's satisfied that the wounds are as clean as they can be he sets to work stitching the flesh. 

It isn't pretty work. And his stitches, though practiced, are not beautiful against ashen skin. They're uneven and some are a little tight others a little loose. But he's a bard. He is not a surgeon or a seamster. Still it's work that needs to be done so he bites his lip and let's hands accustomed to playing strings guide one through muscle and skin. 

He swallows down bile. Guilt returning as the stitched wounds continue to ooze blood. If only he hadn't riled him up, hadn't let him stalk off into the darkness of night, angry and alone. 

He continues to work with nimble fingers on the skin he can see. At some point he lost track of how many stitches he had run. Finished with the visible portion of Geralts torso he smears a thick salve across it. He can't bandage it now. He has to wait for the witcher to sit up. And he prays to every deity he can think of that he isn't badly injured on his back. He clenches his teeth, bounces his leg, and let his eyes roam over Geralts prone form. "Wake up" he thinks desperate with nervousness. Tears work their way towards his eyes, his throat constricting painfully. 

"Geralt please. I know. I was unkind. I didn't mean it. Truly. I swear it just slipped out. It was a low blow and I knew it would get a reaction. But I didn't mean it. I swear. I am so sorry. Please. Please don't die here Geralt. Don't die. Not yet. Not like this." He whispers leaning back against the tree head titled back silent tears streaking his face. He closes his eyes. He tells himself if there's no improvement by that night, he'll use his magic and hope against all odds the witcher doesn't send him away.  

Until Geralt woke up there was nothing more he could do. He keeps his eyes closed but doesn't sleep. Ears turned to the sound of breathing beside him. Time passes and the sun rises high overhead. A low groan pulls him from his heartache. 

"Geralt?" He pitches forward from the tree and scrambles to push the witcher back down. 

" Geralt! Stop. Dont sit up your injured. Badly." He frowns. The witcher lays back obediantly. Tired eyes scanning his surroundings. He nods and seems to relax. And the dread in the pit of Jaskiers stomach dissipates.

" I tended the injuries I could find." He starts quiet, just barely a whisper and then more confidently. " I'm sorry Geralt. Really. I- I am so sorry." He gets a grunt and the two stare at each other for a while. Geralts features hard, but he must see something in Jaskier that tells him undoubtedly that these words are true, because his brow unpinches and his jaw relaxes. The witcher let's out a long sigh. Then pushes himself up into a sitting position. and Jaskier goes from concerned his friend won't forgive him to concerned his friend is going to run off and never come back and die alone in the woods to hes not moving but now I can see his back, oh God I can see his bakc in the span of a single breath. 

"Your wounds are serious! Geralt you really shouldn't --" 

" Stop, Jaskier. There's a--" 

"Oh yes indeed. Stay put. I'll just grab the supplies." So he gathers up a fresh rag and the water he's kept warm and the salve and bandages. The needle and threading. Finally he settles himself behind Geralt and neither speaks. He hears the witcher inhale against the sting of the antiseptic.

"Two vials of Swallow. One when I found you. One 6 hours later, when I could see to get back to camp." He says dutifully, never looking away from his work. These arn't nearly as bad as the others. He works quickly so he can properly bandage the mess.

"Hand me the bandages." He says pulling the last stitch tight. And Geralt let's out a pained grunt as he reaches for them. Jaskier doesn't hesitate to begin winding them around the witchers torso. Arms bracketing the larger man far to intimately in the process. He pulls them just tightly enough, with well and overly practiced ease. He hesitates, then he moves back to Geralts side. 

He doesn't speak, just breathes. He's said his peace. He doesn't flinch under Geralts scrutiny as the man continues to look at him. 

"Your eyes seem bluer." 

"Crying." He says after a moment of silent panic.

"Hmm…. I'm sorry too." 

And he actually chokes on his own spit. What? He looks at Geralt and stretches a hand out to touch his forehead but the witcher holds eye contact. 

"Well then. I guess were squared away now?"

A nod. "I'm tired Jaskier." The witcher says eyes soft and unfocused as he reaches out a hand to brush fingers against the bards flushed cheek.

"Then sleep, Geralt. I'll stay."

"I'll always stay." 

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Braid Braid

Summary: One day Mabel asks her Grunkle Ford to braid her hair, but ever since he went out to investigate an anomaly with Dipper instead, the fact he couldn’t deliver her simple request plagued him.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, Ducktective, it seems you’ve quacked the case.”

“Quack, quack, quack.”

Mabel laughed as she continually brushed her hair; the show may have ended ten months ago, but she was convinced that Ducktective was real and would never die, so she happily watched reruns whenever she could. She sat in her grunkle’s chair with her case of hair things, having already finished her sweater for the day, and she planned to play with her long hair while she watched TV. She heard footsteps and casted her eyes to her left. Soon an old nerd came into view and she grinned. “Hey, Grunkle Ford!”

“Hello, my dear.” He smiled at her. “What are you up to?”

“Just watching TV.” She then lit up as a brilliant idea came to her and she held up her hairbrush and glittery bag full of hair clips and hairbows. “Wanna braid my hair?”

Ford held up a hand as he smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Mabel, but I don’t know how to braid hair…”

“I can teach you if you want!” The girl offered happily. “I bet you’d be great at it!”

Just then, Dipper came down the stairs called, “Hey, Grunkle Ford! Ready for our mission?”

“Indeed!” Ford gave him a high-six and the boys headed for the door.

“Where are you two going?” Mabel asked.

“I convinced Ford that we should investigate the Hawktopus further.” Dipper answered. “No anomaly is too stupid to look into.”

“We’ll be back by dinner.” Ford promised as he opened the door. “If not, then assume the monster ate our flesh.”

“See ya later, sis!” Dipper called and the boys were gone.

“Bye!” Mabel yelled after them through the door happily, but her happiness slowly went away as sad thoughts occupied her brain. “Have fun. Without me.”

The teenager slumped in the chair, the sounds of the TV unable to penetrate her thoughts. She knew her grunkles loved her very much, but sometimes she wondered if Ford liked Dipper way better than he liked Mabel. She could understand Ford liking Dipper a little bit more than her, because they were so similar, but it sometimes felt like the Sweater Twins only had sweaters in common and that’s it.

The more Mabel thought about it, it was no wonder Ford liked Dipper way more than he liked Mabel. Stanford Pines was an experienced scientist who had been all over the Multiverse, traveling for thirty years, and was as tough as nails and as strong as an ox; no one like that would want to hang out with a girl who likes glitter and make-overs and other girly things. No wonder Ford would much rather hang out with Dipper than her. Mabel didn’t blame her uncle, but it still kinda hurt.

She wished there was something they could both do. Something Ford and Mabel liked to do. Something no one would only be doing to spend time with the other. Mabel loved adventure and weirdness and exploring, but maybe Grunkle Ford only wanted that to be a Dipper and him thing, which was fine! So Mabel racked her brain for anything he would want to do with her, but she couldn’t think of anything.

To get her mind off of it, she went into the kitchen to get a drink of Mabel Juice and then to maybe hang out with Grunkle Stan, play some cards or throw water balloons at each other. She didn’t really feel like playing with her hair anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hawtopus investigation proved to be more difficult and more enjoyable than Ford had predicted, so after dinner and the kids had gone to bed he yawned into his hand and ventured into his bedroom to take a shower and go to bed. He entered the clean space and slipped off his trenchcoat to hang it on the coat track, and as he did so his eye caught something bright purple and sparkly. He smiled as he saw a bundle messily wrapped with coloring paper and tied up with red ribbon, glitter added for some “pizzazz” as Mabel would have called it.

Ford gently picked up the package and sat on the couch with the gift on his lap. He couldn’t contain the huge smile on his face as he unwrapped the gift. There, cushioned in wrapping paper and on his lap, was a brand new sweater. Ford grinned and held it up for a better look at the new turtleneck. It was blue, his favorite color, and had a beaker with atoms swimming around it, something science-y for him to display proudly on his chest. Mabel had made him a sweater once before, a new red one with a golden six-fingered hand on it, and now he was honored with two sweaters.

He made a mental note to thank Mabel with hugs in the morning. As he stripped for his bath and turned on the shower, he wondered how in the world Mabel found time to do this, to make so many sweaters in such a short amount of time; she seemed to miraculously make a sweater every day! Then his mind toyed with the idea of her working on the sweater while watching TV, but then he remembered that Mabel had been doing her hair and had asked Ford to braid it.

Under the warm water, the old scientist felt like a rock had been dropped in his stomach. He realized he might have hurt her feelings to choose to bond with Dipper rather than her, considering the boys always seemed to be together. Ford was aware that he accidentally showed favoritism in one twin, something he completely didn’t intend to do, and not only had he done so, it had hurt Mabel’s feelings. He had hoped countless messages and phone calls and video chats between summers had assured Mabel that Ford cared about her, but it was very possible that she might need a reminder every so often.

To make it up to her and to reward her for her kindness and patience with a special treat, Ford racked his brain for what to do for her. The only thing that stuck out was the way she had innocently asked her grunkle to braid her hair. Taking into account that no one in the family seemed to do “girly” things with her, at least not nearly as much as she does “boyish” things with the men in the family, Ford made up his mind.

After the shower and dressing in his new sweater, dark pants, and trenchcoat, Ford snuck out of the house to do some research. The library was closed, but Ford had no problem sneaking in and settling in a desk at the dead of night, reading books on the History of Braids and the Origins of Dreadlocks and literally any hair-themed book and magazine the library had; he even read up on hair-dying techniques for whenever Mabel had the desire to try something new.

The books didn’t feel enough. After a quick cup of coffee at a gas station, Ford hurried up the hill for his best friend’s manor. He knocked on the door urgently and waited a minute or two for Old Man McGucket to come to the door, rubbing his eyes with a bathrobe over his green flannel pajamas. “St-Stanford? Whazza matter?”

“I’m sorry to bother you, buddy, but it’s very important.” Ford pressed, his arms full of books and magazines he had borrowed without permission from the library. “I need to learn how to braid hair for Mabel and I was hoping I could use your mobile computer.”

Fiddleford blinked through his thick green glasses and smiled a half-toothy smile. “This is an emergency. Anythang for Lil’ Sweet Tea! C’min, c’min. Want some coffee?”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Long into the night, the old researchers acted just as seriously as they did back in the day, except they weren’t unintentionally creating a gateway to Hell. McGucket dug up some more books from the Northwest’ private book collection in the lounge and Ford used the laptop to do some more recent, or “trendy”, findings. To he and McGucket’s amazement, the internet was full of videos showing exactly how to do all sorts of hairstyles. From coloring hair to cutting it to braids and ponytails, all kinds of hair from straight to messy curls to somewhere in between could be learned to tame with a few clicks on a computer.

“Bingo!” Ford said, readjusting his glasses, and he quickly got to work, just as enthusiastic as he was about earning another PhD or discovering a new anomaly. Fiddleford had a very hard time keeping the smiling eyes off his friend as he watched him get so excited about a feminine activity, one both men had been deprived of due to a lack of females in their lives but were eager to explore.

The next morning, Mabel yawned into her fist and skipped cheerfully down the stairs for a glass of orange juice to start the day. She heard the front door open and close and she was surprised to find Ford coming home. “Grunkle Ford, wh… Aw! You’re wearing your new sweater!”

Ford grinned and nodded. “Yes, I absolutely love it! It’s almost as beautiful as you, my dear. Thank you very much.”

Mabel blushed and drank some juice. “You’re welcome! So, where have you been? Out on a morning walk?”

“Something like that.” Ford said with a shrug. “So, would you still be interested in me braiding your hair?”

Mabel gasped and cried out, “OH, YES PLEASE! I’ll be right back!” And the young girl ran off to get her bag of hair things.

Ford sat himself in his brother’s chair and Mabel soon returned and plopped in his lap when he petted his right leg for her. Mabel gave him the hairbrush to detangle her bed-head and said, “Okay, so it’s easier to start by parting it into sections…”

“Oh, don’t worry, my dear.” Ford said calmly as he brushed her hair lovingly. “I’ve done my research.”

Mabel had on idea what he meant by that, but she shrugged and decided to let him do as he pleased. She had braced her skull for a bit of tugging as it was sometimes difficult to brush tangled hair, but Mabel was pleasantly surprised to find Ford being as gentle as a kitten and brushing her hair so gently she could hardly feel the pull on her scalp, and yet she could feel the knots becoming undone and progress being made. She grinned and said, “Wow, Grunkle Ford, you’re really really good!”

It was a good thing she couldn’t see how red his cheeks turned. “Well, thank you, sweetheart. You truly have very beautiful hair.”

“So do you! It’s so fluffy and cute! After you braid your hair can I braid yours?”

Now Ford’s whole face was as scarlet as a king’s robe. He knew his hair was a bit harder to manage than Stanley’s but he never considered it to be cute or fluffy. “I see no reason why not.”

“Yes! I’m so excited! You really are very beautiful, Grunkle Ford.”

Okay, who gave this young lady permission to be this adorable? There were several dimensions in which it was illegal. “Th-Thank you, Mabel, but really I’m not… B-Beautiful is a more suitable term for wom-”

“Nu, uh!” Mabel interrupted and shook her head only a little bit, trying to be still for her uncle as he brushed her hair. “Daddy says anyone and anything can be beautiful. If a flower or Christmas lights or an animal can be beautiful, then girls and boys can be beautiful. And also girls and boys can be handsome!” Mabel added to drive her point further home.

Ford chuckled and it made his niece’s chest feel warm. “That makes sense. Thank you, Mabel. So, did you feel well last night?”

“Yeah! I had a really funny dream!”

“Oh, what was it about?”

The conversation spilled into swapping stories of past dreams. While Ford’s dreams from the past mostly contained nightmares, he could recall a small handful of dreams that were positive spins on his imagination and he happily recalled them with Mabel. As their talk flowed so easily, like water, Ford detangled all of Mabel’s beautiful hair and then began to braid. He wanted to impress her with something big and elaborate, but he wasn’t confident in his skills yet and this was his first attempt, so he met in the middle and did something a bit more complicated than a simple braid but he wasn’t nearly ready for a boho wedding braid.

With his tongue between his teeth, Ford carefully tied the braid close and held his polydactyl hands away to inspect his work. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

“I wanna see, I wanna see!” Mabel squealed and pulled out a mirror to see her uncle’s work. She was silent with a hard-to-read expression on her face as her eyes fell on her reflection. She tilted her head and the mirror to see the back of her head to see the braid and remained silent.

The braid started as two side braids at the back of her head, but they trailed down and combined into one big, lush braid that hung loosely from the bottom of her skull and trailed down her back. There were one or two times the braid didn’t match the rest of the hair piece and Ford thought the big braid was too loose now that he took a second look at it.

His face fell a little as he was concerned that she didn’t like it and was trying to hide her disappointment. Ford knew he should have interviewed some hairdressers before attempting to do Mabel’s hair, but he had been so excited that he had become reckless, just like always. “I’m sorry, Mabel, I understand if you don’t like it…”

“I LOVE IT!” Mabel had finally conjured up the strength to grin, the wind had been knocked out of her from pure delighted shock, and her eyes were filled with tears and her lips trembled as she admired Ford’s work. “IloveitIloveitIloveitILOVEIT!!!” She squealed loudly and was bouncing in Ford’s lap. “Look, Grunkle Ford, look! You did SUCH a good job! I’m so pretty now! That’s the best braid I’ve ever seen! ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU!” And she spun around to kiss his cheek and she hopped off of him. “I’m gonna go show Dipper! DIPPER! LOOK WHAT GRUNKLE FORD DID!” Mabel yelled as she ran as fast as she could.

Ford was as still as a statue as his niece’s kind words ringed in his ears like cheerful bells. He wanted to smile, but all he could manage was a tearful look as he used all his might to try not to try, his eyes wet and shiny and his lips pressed together. He chuckled at himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose and composed himself. Soon Mabel was skipping back to him and leaped back into his hold to hug him and nuzzle her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford, I love it.” She repeated.

Ford hugged her back tightly and rubbed circles into her back. “You’re very welcome, my dear. Thank you for letting me braid your hair.”

After one last squeeze, Mabel climbed up the armchair to sit on the back so she was behind Ford’s head. She held out a hand for the hairbrush and said, “Your turn!”

Ford grinned and handed her the sparkly hairbrush and felt himself relax as his scalp was treated to the gentle sensation of his niece brushing and caring for his gray fluff.

[lumassen]

The First Snow

I haven’t posted a drabble on here in a while so here u go <3

Summary: The Nordics have a tradition that each year, at the first snowfall, they retreat to their cabin to enjoy each others company and forget about the world for a little while.

Words: 2,200

Honestly, this drabble is just our Guys being Dudes™ inspired purely by @tolyys​ adorable headcanon that Sweden knits matching socks for the rest of the Nordics.

----

"Yo guys, can we slow down? I can't feel my feet!"

Iceland turned around to find Denmark now a good couple of paces behind the group as they walked the last stretch of the hillside up to their cabin. He was struggling, the bottom of his jeans were visibly soaking wet around his shins, as he trudged through the snow. Glancing back over his shoulder for a moment, Iceland first caught the expression on Norway's face as he rolled his eyes and hitched his backpack further up his shoulders. Then, Sweden shook his head and Finland shrugged as his gaze flickered to them, silently leaving Iceland as the obvious group choice to be the ‘Denmark saviour’ this year.

"Fine. You guys go ahead, we'll catch up." He muttered, pulling off his mittens and easing his way back down the hill to Denmark's aid, treading carefully as to not slip.

"Icey, I could really use one of your ugly, itchy sweaters right now." Denmark laughed breathlessly once Iceland reached him, his lips blue and his breath clouding around him.

It was a tradition for the five of them to take a trip to the cabin that they shared up in Kilpisjärvi once the first snow had fallen at the beginning of winter. Kilpisjärvi was a tiny village only a couple kilometres away from the Three-Country Cairn where the borders of Finland, Sweden and Norway met. This location was chosen to stop the bickering between Finland and Norway over whose house they should buy the cabin in. It was as close to fair as they could possibly get, though Finland was definitely smug about the fact that Kilpisjärvi was technically part of his land.

Iceland tutted at the sight of Denmark as he thrust his mittens hard against his stomach, winding him a little.

"We tell you every year that it's going to be cold, Dan. This is pretty much the Arctic Circle." he snapped, watching as Denmark's trembling hands took the mittens and shoved them on before he pulled his wooly hat a little further down over his ears.

Sweden, Finland and Norway were growing smaller and smaller in the distance as they neared the cabin that could now be seen poking through the trees. Unlike Denmark in jeans, leather boots, a smart sweater and a button down coat, they were dressed in winter waterproofs with hiking shoes and thermal insulation. Finland's laughter could be heard echoing cheerfully over the hillside as Iceland slowed his pace to match Denmark's trudging.

“But I got my hat... and my biggest coat! It snows... at my house too, y’know!” he cried in between breaths as he blew as hard as he could on his cold fingers in an attempt to warm them.

Iceland shook his head and smiled softly in spite of Denmark,  though choosing not to say anything about the fact that the chilly breeze that blew across the docks of Copenhagen was nothing compared to an open, arctic mountainside. Both of them were breathing heavily by the time they reached the top of the hill, but once they were out of the open and amongst the silver birch and arctic evergreen though the wind was considerably less biting, and Iceland could smell the smoke from the woodburner that Sweden must have already lit to warm the cabin. The winter sun was already getting low in the sky despite it only being 2pm, and long, dusky pink shadows stretched across the snow.

At the sound of Denmark dramatically stomping his feet on the decking to free his shoes from the thick layers of snow that clung to them, Norway opened and poked his head out of the front door.

“Ah, the stragglers finally made it, I see.” He said, opening the door a little wider and stood back as Iceland and Denmark hurried inside and out of the cold.

“The fire’s going and the coffee’s brewing on the stove.” Norway continued as he walked down the hall toward the living room, his bare feet padding softly across the hardwood floor, now dressed in his favourite Dale cardigan and pyjama bottoms that he would no doubt live in for the next week.

Iceland unzipped his windbreaker and hung it up on the coat hook beside Sweden’s before bending down to untie his boots and pulled a face as he accidentally knelt in the puddle of water that was quickly forming from the snow melting off Denmark's shoes.

“Tanska!” Finland called to Denmark from the living room, “Don’t leave your coat in the hall, it’ll dry faster in front of the fire!”

It was as though Finland knew that Denmark would see no problem in hanging his coat up with the rest despite the fact that it would just drip dry all over the floor. Now that his shoes were off and he was in from the cold, Iceland could feel the tips of his fingertips burning from the sudden change in temperature as he pressed them against the small of Denmark's back and ushered him out of the way and into the living room.

Their cabin was quaint and cozy, just big enough for the five of them, with a huge viewing window stretching across one of the walls in the living room looking out at the vastness of trees and snow beyond. They had even seen the Aurora Borealis a couple times and all camped out on the floor of the living room in sleeping bags with the lights off to watch them dance across the sky and fall asleep beneath them. A fire flickered in the grate and Finland sat cross legged on the rug in front of it, taking Denmark's coat from him and draping it across the back of a chair that he’d pulled up in front of it when he passed it to him.

Iceland had just flopped himself down on the couch when Sweden stopped rummaging around in his bag and cleared his throat, standing up with something clasped in his hands behind his back. Denmark and Finland stopped talking to look at him, and probably upon noticing the chatter quieten from the kitchen, Norway came through balancing a tray with five mismatched mugs on it. He set them down on the table in the middle of them all then took a seat next to Iceland and brought his legs up to his chest.

Sweden glanced to Finland for a moment, and Iceland watched as he nodded at him, a small smile on his round face.

“Thanks for coming, everyone. The First Snow has always meant somethin’ ever since we were kids; sufferin’ through the winters, fighting and arguing. It’s nice to be able to enjoy it together again now that’s behind us.” he said, his eyes darting between the four other Nordics before him.

“We wouldn’t miss it, Sví.” Sensing Sweden’s slight hesitation, Iceland sat forward on the couch and gave him a small smile as he took his hands from behind his back and revealed five small gifts wrapped in brown paper tied with string and a sprig of spruce. Sweden handed one to him, and Iceland held out his hands to accept it.

“Made these for you.”

Sweden too smiled now as Finland leapt up from where he was sitting on the floor and Denmark beamed, grabbing a mug of coffee from the table and his gift from Sweden.

“N’aw, Sverige, ya didn’t have to get us anything!” he said loudly, his voice filling the room as always.

Norway was the last to take his gift from Sweden, taking it from him with a mumbled ‘ takk ’ and a crooked smile, yet the first to open it; his nimble fingers gently tearing the paper to reveal a pair of thick woolen socks. Finland tore into his, Denmark doing the same only to gasp and slap Sweden on the back and spill a couple drops of coffee over the side of his mug onto the floor.

“You always were creative, bud! There’s nothin’ you can’t make!” he said, and Sweden looked pleasantly surprised at his words, so much so that he didn’t even pull Denmark up for spilling his drink.

Ever the observant one, Iceland took his pair of socks out of their wrapping and studied them before glancing around at the others as they clasped them in their hands. His own pair were grey with dark blue toe and heel patches and a tiny version of his flag stitched just above where they would sit on his ankles. The other’s socks all followed the same pattern of their patch colours matching the main colour of their flag, complete with the tiny flag.

“What about you, Sve? I’m sorry, we didn’t think to get anything this year.” Norway said, setting his socks down beside him on the couch as he fiddled absentmindedly with his hairpin, looking a little troubled at the thought that Sweden had made them gifts that they hadn’t returned.

But Sweden just grinned and pulled his trouser leg up to reveal his own pair, yellow and blue, and wiggled his toes.

“Made mine first then thought how disappointed you’d all be when ya saw how cool I looked.” he teased, and Norway rolled his eyes with a smirk.

Then, Finland reached for his coffee mug and held it in the air as if to toast. Quickly, Iceland leaned over to the table and picked up his mug and Finland passed Sweden the last one that remained on the tray before lifting his own a little higher,

“Happy First Snow!” he cheered, the others saying it back just as loudly as they all clinked their mugs together.

---------

By the time the fire had started to die down, the five were sat in a circle on the rug, feet clad in their matching socks. Denmark and Finland’s hair was still a little damp from where they had been out to the sauna while Sweden, Norway and Iceland had prepared dinner, which once served had covered every inch of the dining table.

Now, with full stomachs and fuzzy heads, the coffee had been replaced by beers and spirits as the outside world and their mobile phones were long forgotten about as they lay discarded around the cabin. There were no doubt missed notifications from their bosses, but neither of the five Nordic nations could bring themselves to care if only for tonight.

“I say we play “ My Ship ” next-” Norway began as he put the deck of cards back into the box, only to be interrupted by Finland who spluttered to get his words out after quickly swallowing the swig of vodka tonic that he’d just taken,

“Eiiii, Norja, My Ship is boring, especially when you three switch to saying words in Old Norse.” he said, narrowing his eyes at Sweden and pointing at him sat opposite him. Sweden raised his hands, feigning innocence, yet cast a knowing glance at Denmark who snickered and poked Finland in the side playfully.

“We only do it to mess with ya, Finny!” Denmark laughed heartily and the glare didn’t stay on Finland’s face for very long before his warm smile returned.

Tearing his eyes away from the glowing embers in the grate, Iceland stifled a yawn and pulled the blanket that was wrapped around his shoulders a little tighter and leaned his head against Finland’s shoulder for a moment, feeling sleep making his eyes heavy.

“Well whatever it is you guys decide, play it without me ‘cause I’m going to bed.” he said, then pushed off Finland and stood up though still kept the blanket draped around him like a cape. Numerous empty cups and glasses littered the floor as he picked his way around them before he stopped and turned around in the doorway.

“Góða nótt.” he muttered, then waited until the others had finished bidding him goodnight before he took himself off to his room. As much as the likes of Sweden and Denmark liked to pretend that they could still stay up until all hours like they could when they were younger, Iceland knew that it would only be a matter of an hour or so before they would follow his lead and excuse themselves to go to bed, leaving Finland and Norway to be the ones to stay up half the night until the vodka bottles were empty and just chat in hushed voices for hours by the window as they looked out into the nature beyond. It was the same every year without fail and Iceland had grown to love the familiarity of their cottage trips though he would never admit it.

Closing the door gently behind him, Iceland took the blanket off and tossed it onto the bed beside him as he sat down and got ready for bed, smiling once again as he peeled Sweden’s socks from his feet and draped them over the bedpost. They were only socks, but their symbolism was enough to create a warmth inside of Iceland’s chest.

Over the years, they had all had their differences, dragged between each other's houses and suffered under many a boss who thought what they were doing was right until eventually Iceland was the last of the five to gain his independence. Oddly enough though, that day in 1944 was the day they finally felt like a family.

Turning the light out and shuffling down under the covers, Iceland lowered his head down onto the pillow and closed his eyes, listening to the muffled laughter and chatter coming from the living room, feeling as safe and happy as he probably ever could.

[boogiewrites]

Peach and Poppy

Characters: Declan Harp x Scarlet Dixon (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp AU. Set in the 1970′s, Declan is a misbehaving psychiatric patient and Dr. Dixon or Dixie as he likes to call her, is a tenacious and underestimated new hospital director. Will this new job get the best of her delicate sensibilities like people are warning her? Will the charm of one of her patient’s awaken something in her she can’t come back from?

Warnings/Tags: Talk of manipulation, graphic language. 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

1975 was an exciting year for psychiatry and it was shaping up to be one for Scarlett. She sat in the driver's seat, something she’d had to work so hard to accomplish. Her father had insisted with her new position of such importance it would look proper to be driven around again. But she’d only been living on her own for a few years now and she wasn’t ready to give up that freedom again.

She supposed he truly had a soft spot for her because he hadn't been entirely dismissive of this rebelliousness. But he always gave in to her in the end.

“Those feminists out there in… heathen California and such. Dixie darlin, I brought you up to be a respected little lady. You’re a dang doctor! Miss Georgia! You’re smart and gorgeous as the day is long honey, why would you wanna go and act ugly like that?”

This always came with the intimidating insinuation that it would sure be a shame if her actions were what lost him the next election.

With a wide-eyed, “It won’t be a problem, daddy.” He’d give her a hug and lift up her chin, tell her she looked like her mama and she’d be proud.

If he’d wanted a daughter to fall for that maybe he shouldn’t have let her become a psychiatrist.

But Scarlet or Dixie as those close to her called her, her daddy had been right about one thing, she was smart. She’d learned how to play the game in her favor long ago. In a public and pressured life like hers, looking how she did, she learned early what was expected of her and how men were going to treat her. She was allowed a bit of protection. Her father wasn’t just some kiss ass politician. He’d been known to make a few people disappear, and the whiff of a threat always around him, so his daughter would understandably come with some consequences. But now she’d become her own person, a doctor, and had a house and life of her own that she was still having fun exploring.

She was an accomplished psychiatrist. Engaged to one of her daddy’s lawyers and now the head chief of a psychiatric hospital. Which was where she was headed right now in the new car her daddy had bought her. A slick thing that made her feel confident and a bit bad if she were being honest. This is not a feeling she was accustomed to, and on this morning drive out of the city into rural Georgia for her first day on the job, she was feeling a lot of things she never had before.

It wasn’t a dream job by any stretch. This was going to be work. But with so many specialty fellowships, she felt like she had what it took to turn the place around.

When she pulled into the parking lot it was clear the job was bigger than anticipated. She stood outside her car with a bag stuffed full of files and looked up at the daunting hospital. It’d been around much longer than she had. Served as a sanitarium during the TB outbreaks, now showing its age and functions as Sunny Valley Psychiatric Hospital. Much preferred to the dated terminology of lunatic asylum it had formerly held. The old chief had been there for over 30 years. A lot had changed outside of Sunny Valley but the inside hadn't. She was going to have to gut and rebuild this place from the ground up, she thought as she took a deep breath and made her way in.

———-

The murmurs started long before she’d stepped foot into the hospital. She hadn’t expected a warm welcome, it’d been a stressful time for everyone with a regime change, but the doctors, some older than her father, and all men weren’t going to be an easy sell on her as their new boss.

She understood from a statistical standpoint. She hadn’t been practicing for that many years. But in that time she had been published and was known for her unique approach to care. Her father had also donated a large sum of money to the state's Psychiatric Association. Which certainly didn’t hurt her chances. —————

So she came in with a positive, self-assured attitude. She had a game plan and now the hard work began. She meets with the doctors on staff with bold new orders. She would meet with each individual to go over the patient and their care plan. She would lay out new directives and goals, telling them she was bringing them into a new age of medicine where new research and medicine are all utilized with psychotherapy, medication, and the arts. It went over about as well as she expected. At least she was prepared for every rebuttal and excuse as she was an avid reader of medical journals. She’d infuriated a handful who resigned, but she preferred to bring in new life anyway.

She met with every employee, from groundskeepers and kitchen to housekeeping. She gave them her plans for updates and explained she was going to start looking for funding immediately and to expect changes and upgrades. Most of the staff liked her new hands-on approach, not the idea of more work but instead the idea of someone who would listen to them being in charge.

She spent days buried in files with arguments on treatment and headaches. The lingering stench of cigar smoke still hung in her office no matter how widely she opened the windows. She’d laid the base for her work, now it was time to move onto the most important part, the patients themselves.

————————-

It was Friday and the exhausting week was nowhere near finished. However, she thought she’d been able to check off a huge phase of her plan, a satisfying thick line through it on her goal list.

“There is actually one other patient that we uh… forgot.” A male nurse says as he hangs in her doorway.

“Forgot?” She says with the tone of a scolding mother. “How do you FORGET a patient?”

“He’s been in isolation and we don’t go down there much so the night crew didn’t tell us he was still down there.”

She wanted to bang her head into the desk. She thought she’d processed how poorly they were treating people but they kept on surprising her.

“This...this will not happen again. We don’t lose track of patients...of PEOPLE. We are not that sort of establishment now. I want a new record-keeping system for this sort of thing. Have it to me by the end of next week.”

“Yes ma’am." The frustrated younger man said.

“It’s Doctor Dixon. Now show me to him.” She shoos him out of the doorway.

Not even the golden hour light could salvage the depressing aesthetic of the hospital. Peeling paint and chipped tiles she had to skip over with her heels were everywhere she went. She pulled her white lab coat over her matching suit set as they made their way into an even more dreary sort of hallway. Some doors weren’t even on the hinges and inside were torn padded cells in a neglected wing of the building.

“I’d expect to find something like this in the old abandoned B building but not here. You still keep people in these things?” She says with a heavy sigh of frustration.

“Just this one. And we don’t have to use it often. Well. Just for him.” She shrugs as he finds his key.

“Who is him?”

“Harp. He’s… difficult.”

“How so?”

“Prone to violent outbursts, sleeping with other patients… staff.”

Scarlet lets out a scoff. “And he should be forgotten in a dark tiny room for that?”

“Uhh.. it’s… where we put him when he won’t listen.”

“Just… open it? Okay. I’ll deal with you and this… horrid treatment plan you have allowed here later."

“You sure you don’t want me to get someone else to help, he mi-“

“Open the damn door.” She ordered more sternly, whatever it is I can handle it.” she insisted loudly and with a glare.

For a few heavy moments, nothing happens, just an open door into a very dark room that the light doesn’t reach. The white noise of the bodies inside the building beyond the wing’s heavy double doors was slight, just a steady beat of her pulse in her ears as her eyes tried to focus. The nurse stands in a defensive body position as Scarlet peers into the room taking tentative steps forward.

She waits and then hears movement. The aid moves into the room and she follows behind, seeing how this is going to go.

“C’mon Harp.” He grunts and uses his foot to roll the man onto his front.

“Did you just…” the face of the aid turns fast to a very angry face staring daggers into him. “...kick him?”

“No ma’am I was just rolling him so he could get up easier.”

She hears a muffled grunt from the man on the floor who’s slowly moving.

“Shut up.” The aid mutters down.

Dixie takes a deep breath to compose herself. “Go to your supervisor's office and wait for me.” She states coldly.

“Ma’am I-“

“I don’t care what you have to say anymore alright? Every time I’ve given you a chance you have only continuously failed so you’re fired. Go tell HR, and send one of the female nurses this way, please.”

She gets the death stare she’d seen a million times before when correcting and enacting her authority to a man. “Yes ma’am.” He grits through his teeth.

As she hears his footsteps down the hall she begins to kneel next to this unfortunate man. “I would like to apologize for this treatment, Mister Harp.”

She sees his face, a beard just started to fill out and as unkempt as his shirt and greasy hair. It laid in the way his sleeping had moved it, he had crusts on his face and his eyes were squeezed shut from the light. She helps him sit up, being gentle but having to exert to help the large man. She let his eyes adjust and when he finally opened them to look at her his face contorted into a very confused expression.

“I’m Doctor Dixon. The previous Chief passed away and I’m his replacement. I’ll be taking care of the hospital now. And I would like to personally apologize for the mistreatment you’ve been given here previously. This is archaic and holds no scientific grounds to help patients based on formal studies.”

He really only heard a few of her rushed words. She’d lost him towards the end there but whatever she said it had sounded nice. His ears worked better than his eyes at the moment and the almost husky, thick, and sweet feminine Georgia accent rolling out of her painted mouth like sweat dripping down a glass was making him melt too.

“So the old guy finally bit it?” He croaks out after clearing his throat.

“Yes. Heart attack they said.”

“Mmmph.” Was his emotionless reply. From how he’s been treated she didn’t blame him for not being upset. So far no one had really acted upset about the news. It was very telling.

“Who are you?” He focuses his eyes on her.

“Doctor Dixon. I’m here to replace the Chief that just died.”

“Ah.” He nods and then winces.

“Would you mind if we got you out of here and cleaned up? We could speak over a good meal, I'd love to hear what you have to say about the previous administration. I want to help.”

As another nurse swept in, a broad farmer's daughter, helped her loosen the jacket and get him to the washroom. “You want to… know what I think?” He lets out a hoarse chuckle.

“Of course. You’re a part of this hospital and if I’m running it I want to know everything. Good and the bad.”

He nods and focuses on using his legs, the journey to the bath hadn’t felt this long in a while. “You take your time, schedule him down for some Physical Therapy tomorrow please. I’ll go make sure your room is ready.” She says reassuringly. He sees her disappear into the fuzz of the distance, his injection still making him groggy. —————— He’d slicked back his wild and uneven hair with water and was currently hunched over his desk in his room being allowed to eat in peace. It was nice.

“Hello? Mr. Harp?” A slightly familiar voice from his doorway says. A little redhead with a daughter of a dentist smile and perfectly coiffed big hair came and sat in the seat next to his desk. “I managed to grab an extra pudding. You want it?” She sits it on his desk as she has a seat.

It’d been a while since he’d seen anyone new and she was bright and shiny and there was plenty to look at. He looks her over and then to the cup. “A bribe?”

“No. I thought for all the hell the former establishment put you through that at the moment an extra pudding cup is the least I could do.” She gives a real smile and a huff of a laugh. Been a long time since someone had interacted with him like he wasn’t in a psychiatric ward.

“Hmmph.” He grunts and accepts the offer.

“I did want to hear about your treatment here. As I said. I want this hospital to be a place where people can receive the help and support they need to achieve their goals. I’m not here to be a warden. I’m here to be a doctor. I took an oath to help others and I seem to be one of the few around that took that seriously.” She huffs.

“You don’t act like a doctor.”

“I’m a horse of a different color I presume.”

He nods in acknowledgment and continues eating.

“I wanted to know the good and bad of the hospital previously. Because I want to fix things. The men responsible for putting you in that cell have all been fired I'd like you to know.”

“Really...taking charge of the place aren’t ya?”

“I’m being met with much resistance.” She admits with a smile.

“Let me add to it then. I have conditions.”

“Conditions? What for?” She leaned closer and he could smell her perfume. It’d been a while since he’d been buried in the neck of a woman that smelled expensive like she did.

“For this information you want.”

“Oh. Well okay. What would you like Mr. Harp?”

“For starters call me Declan.” He waves his hand. “You’re gonna be my doctor right?”

“Yes, I am.”

“So I’ll be having sessions with you now?”

“Correct.”

“We starting tomorrow?”

“If you wish.”

“I do. And I want you to have me something waiting in your office when I come in.”

“What would that be?”

“A cheeseburger.”

“A cheeseburger?” She laughs.

“The biggest you can find from the greasiest place you know of.”

She laughs and nods enthusiastically. “Consider it done.” She says happily.

“Really?”

“Why not?” she shrugs. “Perfectly reasonable request.”

He blinks in surprise at her but with dark narrowed eyes. “I’ll sing like a bird for you after I have that burger then.”

“Consider it a deal.” She holds out her hand to shake on it and the trust she was showing for him not to yank her down and have his way with her was astounding.

“Lookin forward to it, Doc…?” He shakes her hand.

“Dixon.” She adds with no annoyance for repeating it.

“Doctor Dixon. Alright. See you then.”

“Looking forward to it.” She repeats back playfully and he’s left with a visible confused expression on his face for the pleasant interaction he’d just had with someone in charge. He didn’t know if he was happy about or ashamed of himself. But she had certainly caught his interest.

——————————

“Hey, there jailbird.” says the woman in the worn chair. She was sitting incorrectly as always, this time with her legs over the arm of the chair.

“Hey, Alex.” He sighs to his only real friend in the hospital.

“Was this a new record?” She asks, turning her head from the old television in the activity room towards a tired and beaten up looking Declan.

“I don’t know. I was the one in the box I don’t know what day it is.”

“Thursday.”

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, you really pissed them off last time.” She laughs. “Can’t keep your charm to yourself can you?”

“No ma’am.” He wears a sly grin. “Speaking of have you seen that new doctor?”

“New doctor director.” She corrects with a point of a finger. “Yes, I have.”

“What do you think about her?”

“I like her.”

“Really? You like no one.” He questions her motives.

“I saw her today. She’s...different.”

“Yeah. Different. That’s what I thought.” He hums in thought.

“I’m surprised you haven’t made sweet sweet love to that little peachy assed firecracker.” Alex jokes.

“Oh, it’s been on mind ever since I came to and saw her walk out of my room in that tight little skirt.”

“She is...yeah.” Alex blushes slightly. “But she was actually nice to me. Was strange.”

“Yeah me too. It was...new.” He runs his arm and settles into his chair.

“She wrote down my complaints. Apparently, she has for everyone so far. She called down to the office and fired Jones because I told her what he did to me.”

“Yeah, she fired numb nuts that threw me in.”

“You should play nice with this one. She might be a good one.”

“I wouldn’t bruise that peach.”

“You’ll have to practice your lying. You’ve gotten rusty.” She grins.

“I don’t plan on it. If she comes through with my request I’m gonna tell her about all this bullshit.”

“She even mentioned… getting out.” She adds in a quieter more serious tone and Declan immediately notices and changes his focus.

“What’d she say?” He whispers with great interest.

“Apparently a few years back the...psychiatry people said homosexuality was no longer a mental illness. So she’s going to work to get that removed from my paperwork and we can work on the rest. It’ll “improve my chances of being released tremendously” Alex mocks the doctor's heavy southern drawl.

“Yeah she’s a little belle isn’t she?” He laughs.

“I mean her name is Scarlett for fucks sake. She is a debutante.”

“Well fuck me that’s a sexy name.”

“Don’t I know it. About creamed my cotton panties when she told me. Dr. Scarlett Dixon.” She mocks again.

“I’m gonna make her cream hers.” Declan promises with wiggling eyebrows.

“I’m sure you will stud. But play nice. She could be useful. Plus she has a fiancé. Didn’t you see that big rock on her hand?”

“I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “Never stopped me before.”

“Not much has.”

——————————-

Scarlet got home late, almost nodding off from overwork and the calming quiet of the drive. She yawns and wakes herself up before entering her house she shared with her fiancé currently.

“Hello, Phillip.” She sighs out, seeing him with his glasses on and hunched over his desk in his office by the front door. “Did Wilamena make dinner as I requested?”

“Yeah. It’s...in the fridge.” He doesn’t look up when responding.

“Do you have a minute? I had a big day today.” She says sheepishly.

He looks up and sighs. “What is it?”

“I just wanted to tell you about my day is all. Big changes coming with this job.” She bounces on her feet excitedly.

“You’re working in a nuthouse Dixie how interesting can it be?”

“Very. Actually. And that’s a rather offensive term so please don’t refer to it in that way. Especially at the fundraiser coming up.”

“When was that again?”

“Tuesday.” She sighs. She’d told him so many times and it was so important to her.

“Mmm.” He answers.

“What does Hmm mean?” She asks with her irritation showing.

“I might have something that night.”

“Of course you do.” She mutters and rubs her temple.

“I’m a busy man.” He says lazily but defensively.

“Yeah. And I’m a busy woman and still manage to find time for everything.” She says quietly but sharply.

“Do you want the work I do for your father to suffer? Do you want me to mess up one of his legal proceedings and have him arrested? Because that’s what happens when I don’t work Dixie.”

With her jaw tight she huffs air out of her nose in frustration. “Of course I don’t.” She says bitterly. “I just wish you had time to be my fiancé and not just my father's lawyer. We don’t even… sleep together anymore. You realize it’s been months?”

“Has it?” He asks rhetorically with his eyes back to his desk.

“Yes. I had a good day and thought I could share my successes and you could validate my hard work and I could have some attention from you to celebrate things going well.”

“I need to know these things in advance. I can’t just up and be in a mood to give you attention. I’m-“

“A busy man. I know.” She sighs and lets her hands hit her hips. She went to bed frustrated and alone after eating cold leftovers while standing in her kitchen. Who was she to give people advice anyway? She certainly didn’t have her shit together.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s 

[chrissys2boys-dannysteve]

Things Getting Hot

The story is already from 2015, but was never posted by me on Tumblr. I just noticed that when I put together another masterpost of my stories.

“This...was the worst idea you ever had!” Danny shouted breathlessly to be louder than the heavy drumming rain he and Steve were currently running through.

“Come on, Danno, how is this my fault?” Steve dared to ask while he hurried after him.

He sent him a death glare over his shoulder. “Are you kidding me? It was your stupid plan to observe the suspect and come here. And now we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere, while it’s raining like hell, because that damn bloody suspect STOLE MY CAR!”

Steve ignored some promising threats of pain Danny muttered under his breath and he said, “I think we should look for protection against the rain. It’s getting worse.”

“No kidding?!” Danny snorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That thought never occurred to me! I actually like swimming through mud and rain with my clothes still on!”

“You could simply get rid of your clothes if that’s what is bothering you.” Steve suggested and glanced around in hope to find a shelter.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t- AHA! Found something! Come on!”

“Wha- Steven!”

He gave Danny no time to object. Instead he simply grabbed his elbow and pulled Danny with him. They had run a few more meters when Danny realized what they were heading towards.

“That’s a telephone booth, Steven.”

“Do you have a better idea? That’s what I thought.”

They arrived at the telephone booth and Steve wrenched it open before he ushered Danny in. Following him inside he let the door fall shut with a loud thud. It was just then that he realized how small that booth actually was.

“Steven…,” Danny started, still trying to catch his breath, “we can’t stay here. There’s no space for both of us.”

He couldn’t help admitting to himself that Danny was right. Danny’s back was intimately pressed against his front so that he was able to feel every breath he took. Swallowing hard he let his eyes wander over his frame. Despite the rain it had been a hot day, so Danny had left his jacket in the car. The white - and now wet - shirt Danny was wearing had become translucent, and allowed Steve to see Danny’s well-shaped upper body.

“Uhm…” Steve cleared his throat, “you’re probably right, I’ll just wait outside. You can stay here and I try to...” he trailed off. During his suggestion he had pushed the door with his back, but nothing had happened. No matter how hard he pressed his weight against it, it didn’t move an inch.

“Oh fuck…”

“What’s wrong?” Danny was alarmed immediately, obviously well aware of the dread in his voice.

“You’re not going to like it…”

“You don’t say.”

“I can’t open it.”

“What?”

“The door. I can’t open it. It’s stuck.”

Danny groaned in desperation. “Please...Steven, tell me you’re making a joke!”

“Sorry to disappoint you…”

“Not the first time today.”

Steve simply ignored his comment. “Do you have your mobile phone on you? Mine is lying in our car.”

“Great! Yes, I do. It’s in my back pocket.”

Despite this helpful news Danny made no move to get it. Steve furrowed his brows. “Danny?”

“It’s in my back pocket, Steven! He sounded annoyed and a bit embarrassed, and it took a moment for Steve to understand what the problem was.

When he finally did, he could help grinning smugly. His fierce partner didn’t dare reaching between their touching bodies. How interesting, he thought with a chuckle, only to earn a grumble from Danny.

“Hold still,” Steve said amused, taking the matter literally in his own hands.

Touching his butt hadn’t been Steve’s intention at all, but when he accidentally did, Danny startled so badly that he fought with every power he had to turn around in that very tight booth. Steve winced in pain, when Danny repeatedly stepped on his feet and rammed his elbow in his gut.

“What the hell, Steve?” he gasped as soon he was facing him.

His response was a whining. “I didn’t do it deliberately, Danno! Besides, I already got your phone!”

Danny murmured something under his breath and grabbed it from Steve’s hold, completely ignoring his sulking partner for a moment. “It’s not working. I think it might be wet,” Danny sighed.

“What’s with that phone?” Steve nodded to the telephone of the booth behind Danny. “Wait, don’t move!” He interjected reproachfully when Danny was about to turn around again. “I get this!”

“Fine,” Danny rolled his eyes and let Steve reach around him. “Try to call Chin.”

There was a moment of silence while Steve did as told. “I can’t, it’s dead.”

“What do you mean it’s dead.”

Steve shrugged. “I guess no one needs telephone booths anymore.”

“Well, apparently we do. Okay, let me get this straight. We’re stuck - not only in the middle of nowhere but also in a telephone booth with a not-working telephone. Our car has been stolen, my mobile is wet and nobody knows where we are. We have a cloudburst outside and something that feels like a sauna oven in here. Was that it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Great!” Danny groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. The thought that it was a beautiful sight flashed through Steve’s mind, even though Danny’s hair was wet. Or maybe even because of this fact.

“Relax Danno. We’ll get out of here somehow. You’ll see! Besides it could be worse, right?”

Danny took a deep breath and was about to say something agreeing, when he glanced outside. Or more precisely, he tried to glance outside. The glass of the telephone booth was fogged. Completely. It was impossible to see anything of the cloudy, rainy afternoon. Danny frowned at Steve and he raised his hands in defense.

“That’s really not my fault!”

“You’re breathing, aren’t you?” Danny stated dryly.

“Don’t make jokes Danno!”

“Oh shut up, Steve!”

They had been stuck in that booth for almost an hour and slowly but surely it was getting uncomfortable. Just out of sheer frustration Danny wrote ‘Help’ in the steam on the window.

“Now don’t be ridiculous, Danny. That’s a little bit over-dramatic, don’t you think?” Steve shook his head, still able to find a certain amusement in this situation.

Danny rolled his eyes at him. He tried to distance himself from Steve, but there simply was no room for that. The huge phone device bumped into his back and made him jerking forwards, actually bringing him even closer to Steve.

“Careful Danno,” Steve warned right into his ear, with his voice still amused and also low all of a sudden. As his arms sneaked around Danny’s middle to pull him away from the pain causing danger, he thought he felt Danny shivering slightly.

“Steve…” Danny’s breath got caught in his throat, but he had no idea what to say, his brain probably suffering the sudden loss of reasonable thoughts.

“Yes, Danny?” This time it was just a hoarse whisper that reached Danny’s sensitive ear, while Steve’s hot hands were burning his skin on the small of his back, right through his wet shirt. This time Steve made him trembling violently.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m keeping you from hurting yourself.”

“Uhm... well then.”

Steve smirked at his irritation, but that grin vanished suddenly while he was watching how Danny’s gaze wandered downwards. A flash of heat floated his body as he realized what Danny was staring at. He had tried to ignore it - actually he had pushed it far, very far, into the most distant corner of his mind - but now he couldn’t escape the fact any longer, that Danny was enticingly pressed against his body.

He was feeling him, every single piece of his senses. Danny’s chest were pressed against his, there were only their drenched shirts between them. All of it hiding practically nothing. Steve almost groaned. Once started he wasn’t able to stop his mind from taking in everything else about Danny. How the centers of their bodies were touching intimately. How one of his legs was caught between his. That was bad, really bad. And yet it felt so good.

Just when he decided that they had to bring some distance between them - no matter how - Danny lifted his head slowly and let their eyes met. Steve felt his knees getting weak on an instant. Danny’s eyes were gleaming, his cheeks were painted in a soft pink and his lips just had been wetted by his tongue. The breath escaped Danny’s mouth in chopped, hot puffs. An in addition to all that, he brought his palms to his chest.

“Steve…” He sighed, and Steve was pretty sure, that Danny was trying to stop what-ever-was-happening. However it sounded so sensual, that it kicked the last rational thought out of his mind.

“Fuck, Danny!” he groaned for real this time, his voice hoarse with desperation and desire. His hands on Danny’s lower back pulled him closer.

The air was thick and hot, and they were covered with a film of rain and sweat. Yet it seemed that both of them needed the proximity of each other more than ever. Steve let his hands trail over Danny’s back upwards over his shoulder and neck, until he could cup his cheek gently. Danny’s eyes were swimming with affection, longing and lust, so he closed them to as a desperate attempt to hide his feelings.

Compensating the loss of his eyes on him, Steve bent down in slow motion and allowed his lips to whisper over the skin right below Danny’s ear. Danny tilted his head to both, nestle his cheek further into Steve’s hand and give his lips more space. While pressing a warm kiss on his neck he caressed Danny’s cheek with his thumb before he moved his hand a bit to bury it in his wet hair.

When Steve teasingly nibbled at his earlobe, Danny gasped his name again and lifted one hand around Steve’s neck while the other is clutching his shirt. Steve shuddered as Danny’s fingernails were scratching his skin on both places. Encouraged he left open-mouthed kisses on his skin, kissing a way from his ear down to his collarbone. Danny threw his head back and his lower body arched against Steve’s. Still holding Danny close he only hesitated a second before his lips placed longing kisses on his sternum. He was about to move even lower when a throaty moan escaped Danny’s mouth.

“Steve…,” he breathed helplessly and carefully grabbed his head to pull him upwards. With a sensual sigh he pressed their lips together for their very first kiss. Finally getting what he had been longing for some time now, it felt as if his senses were exploding. Steve responded to Danny’s kiss in an instant, his mind and body inflamed with the need to never let him go again.

Their kiss was a back and forth between fast and fervent and heated and slow. They completely forgot about the time and their surroundings.

“Oh fuck, Steve, please stop…” Danny whispered desperately, but kissed him again almost at the same time.

“You first,” he breathed into his mouth and deepened the kiss passionately.

Danny whimpered but wasn’t able to break it either. They were so caught in each other’s presence that neither of them heard the thud.

“Steve?” There was the sound again. “Steve, Danny you in there?”

Danny tore his eyes open and pulled away as far as he could without hurting himself. (Therefore not very far). Steve merely blinked, not even moving his hands a single inch. Both of them struggled for air while staring at each other dumbfounded.

“Chin!” It was Steve who recovered his voice first.

“Got them,” both heard Chin say, probably to someone on the phone. “You’re both okay?”

“Yes...uhm...we...we’re stuck. The door jammed.”

There was a short pause on the other side of the door and Danny pressed his eyelids shut in embarrassment and annoyance. Steve chuckled. Danny opened his eyes again and glared at Steve, but with his face flushed like this, Danny looked fucking hot.

“Okay, hold on. I’ll get you out of there.”

“Thanks Chin.”

They heard Chin’s footsteps fading away and Danny glanced at Steve. “We, uhm should probably try to pull ourselves together. Quickly.”

“That’s not an...uhm...easy thing,” Steve replied dryly and got the chance to enjoy Danny’s blushing all over again. “I think we were equally involved in...that.”

“Should I…?” Danny started to move away. However, he didn’t get very far. Steve was still holding him in his embrace and made no effort to let him go.

“No, don’t move.” He shook his head. “Experience has shown that it won’t work like this anyway.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. How do I look? Decent enough?”

Steve took his time to gaze at Danny, noticing his swollen lips, the red cheeks, and his white shirt which he had pushed out of his way earlier. He groaned from the bottom of his heart and answered, “Definitely not!”

Danny looked at Steve with a mixture of annoyance, pride and amusement. “You’re not any better, you know, Steven!? Especially since I can actually feel it.”

Steve chuckled, “I can feel you too, Daniel.”

They could hear Chin return, soon working on the door to free them. In the meantime Steve and Danny tried everything possible to gain back the control over their bodies.

It was just when they were looking nearly decent enough - at least considering their situation - that there was the loud sound of yowling metal audible. A few seconds later the door of the booth sprang open and Steve almost lost his balance, keeping himself (and Danny for that matter) from falling just at the very last moment. Both stumbled outside and exhaled with relief to fill to fill their lungs with cool and fresh air.

“Don’t say anything wrong!” Steve warned Chin.

The corners of Chin’s mouth twitched. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“How did you find us?”

“GPS and luck,” Chin simply stated. “And what happened?”

Not willing to share anything that had happened, Steve simply stared at Chin for a moment. Danny quickly walked over to Chin’s car, as soon he was out of earshot, Steve grinned like a Cheshire cat, “That’s classified,” was all he said, before he strolled past Chin to follow Danny.

Looking back at the telephone booth, Chin realized that it was really small in there. Especially for two men.

That’s classified, Steve had said.

‘Well’, Chin thought with a smirk, ‘I hope he sticks with that, because I really don’t want to know that story.’

Tagging list: @gatorasmus @surewouldbeinteresting @auntie17 @bookemfangirl @conny-keksi @mcdannoangelwolf @82tweeder @minahahj​ @mymcdanno @murphyhatesme @yoko787878 @mireilleleerves 

[morganaspendragonss]

@badthingshappenbingo​ request for @221bsunsettowers​. thank you for the prompt!

also written for Day 1 of @whumptober2020​.

prompt(s): Water Torture (BTHB) & waking up restrained

fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star

ao3

Carlos wakes up slowly. He cracks his eyes open, wincing at the pounding in his head. He lifts his hand to massage the pain away, only to discover that his hand won't move, the cool metal of handcuffs biting viciously into his wrist. He frowns, forcing his eyes wider, taking in the room he’s in. 

It’s dirty, litter strewn across the stone floor, clearly having been abandoned for years. The windows are broken and the low ceiling looks liable to fall in at any moment. Carlos shivers, a chill stealing through him; he’s barefoot and his shirt is missing. 

His head aches dully as he strains to remember what happened. He’d been on an undercover mission, trying to expose Austin’s latest drug ring, he’d been so goddamned close to finally getting a breakthrough. 

Fuck.

There were more officers with him on the case, but Carlos knows there’s very little chance of any of them coming to find him. Judging by the lack of light filtering through the windows, it’s still night, which means they won’t notice anything’s amiss until he misses check-in in however many hours. It’ll take longer to figure out that he’s been taken, and longer still to find him, presuming they do. And by that time…

Well, Carlos doesn’t want to be pessimistic, but he knows his odds. It’s realism, if anything.

He just wishes he could talk to T.K. one last time. Tell him he loves him. Tell him he’s sorry.

A door bangs open behind Carlos. He tries to crane his neck to see who it is, but he’s stiff and his mobility is already limited by the restraints. He doesn’t have to wait long, however; the guy makes his way around to face him, and Carlos instantly recognises him as one of the gang leaders. Anderson, his name is. He’s carrying a chair, which he sets down in front of Carlos.

“Good to see you awake,” he says, an ugly smile twisting his features. He sits, leaning forward, steepling his hands together. “To business, then. Carlos - can I call you Carlos? - we have a little problem, you and I.”

A chill of fear steals through Carlos at the sound of his name. He doesn’t understand how he knows it - he thought he’d been so careful.

Anderson chuckles. “Yeah, we know who you are. You can dress how you want, pretend to be whoever you want, but you smell like a cop. I had the lads do some digging, it didn't take long to come up with a name. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Carlos Reyes.”

Anderson stands and walks behind Carlos, placing his hands roughly on his shoulders. “Now, that brings me onto my problem. You see, I know there’s more of you. Two, three, I don’t know. They’re better than you are. I have my suspicions, of course, but I need to be sure, you know? Can’t be getting rid of some perfectly good workers now, can I? So.” He digs his nails into Carlos’s skin, leaning close. “You tell me who your little cop friends are and I promise I’ll make it quick for you. Scout’s honour.”

In answer, Carlos throws his head back, relishing Anderson’s pained yell as it connects with his face. The pressure disappears from his shoulders, but the moment is short-lived; Carlos grunts as a hand connects with his head, snapping it forwards. 

Breathing hard, Anderson comes to stand before Carlos, a hand cupping his cheek. Carlos feels a stab of disappointment at that - he’d been aiming for the nose. Still. It’s a victory, albeit a somewhat pointless one.

That fact is kind of rammed home when Anderson growls, “Poor choice, Reyes. Very poor choice.”

He nods curtly, eyes fixed on a spot just over Carlos’s left shoulder. Carlos tries to see, but once again the restraints stop him. He can still hear, though, and he can tell that there’s at least two other people in the room. Whether or not they came in with Anderson, Carlos doesn’t know, but he knows that their presence can’t be good. 

He’s proven right when one of them comes into view, a mask covering his face. Anderson moves his chair away and pulls on his own mask, though he gives Carlos one last shark-like grin before he does so. A camera replaces the chair, red light blinking, and Carlos feels sick with dread as he realises what is going to happen.

He hears Anderson’s other guy step behind him and he braces himself for whatever they’re going to throw at him.

“You’re gonna tell us the names, one way or the other,” Anderson says, voice silky soft. “But, just in case you’ve got any ideas about resisting, I think I ought to add a little extra...incentive.”

He bends down, lips almost brushing Carlos’s ear. “T.K. Strand,” he whispers, dragging out the syllables.

Carlos recoils as much as he is able, staring at Anderson with undisguised horror. “What have you done to him?”

Anderson laughs. “Nothing, yet. But he’ll be watching, Reyes. He’s gonna watch you die, but not before he watches you spill every little secret the APD has.”

Carlos can’t breathe. “No -” he manages, but then there are hands in his hair, on his face, forcing his head back harshly.

He has time for one last gasping breath before a cloth is forced over his face and water comes pouring down.

*

Carlos doesn’t know how long it’s been. He’s exhausted, and soaked, and he can’t stop shivering. The handcuffs are the only things keeping him in the chair at this point, and even then it’s a close thing. He coughs, and apparently Anderson considers that defiance enough as his men throw another pail of ice water over him. 

“C’mon Reyes,” Anderson wheedles. “You’re dead already. I know that. You know that. Don’t you have any last words for our audience, huh? Any...I don’t know, names? Don’t you want to get revenge on the captains sitting pretty in their office while you die for them? Huh? You gotta make your death mean something, Carlos.”

Carlos forces another breath, then slowly, laboriously, raises his head up. He meets Anderson’s eyes before turning his gaze to look directly down the camera. 

He tries to speak, but he’s too tired, the words refusing to come out. Anderson leers at him. “Need some water there, Reyes?” he asks, delight clear in his voice.

Carlos panics. “No,” he croaks. Then, louder, “No!” He takes a moment to compose himself and sits up as straight as he can, forcing himself to smile.

“T.K.,” he says, hoping that T.K. is listening, and also dreading that exact thing. “T.K., I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. I -”

The cloth is forced back over his face and Carlos chokes as water fills up his mouth and eyes and nose. It’s left on longer than before - too long - and Carlos wonders if he’s pushed them too far, if this is when he dies. The thought isn’t as terrifying as it had been earlier.

But then the cloth is ripped away and replaced with Anderson’s face, mask pulled back to showcase the full extent of his fury.

“That was sweet,” he snarls. “And stupid. You overestimate your importance to me, boy.” He pulls back, staring down at Carlos with disdain. “Finish it.”

And Carlos doesn’t have time for another thought as he’s grabbed again, fists flying at every inch of his body. At some point, the chair tips over, and the cold pain of his face being pummelled into concrete is the last thing Carlos knows.

*

He can’t breathe. 

He can’t - 

Carlos brings his hands up to his throat, eyes flying wide with panic as everything comes flooding back to him. There are voices, shouting, but Carlos can’t figure out what they’re saying through the haze of fear. A face comes into view and it feels familiar, but it’s gone too quickly, replaced by strange hands and eyes and a beeping that’s getting louder and louder - 

Carlos falls into the dark.

*

The next time he wakes is a lot calmer. He can breathe now and relishes in the feeling, before remembering that he’s not supposed to be breathing at all. 

Carlos cracks his eyes open, squinting at his surroundings. 

Ah. A hospital.

He doesn’t know how he got here, but he’s too exhausted and his throat is too sore to bother trying to ask. Instead, he rolls his head to the side, instantly cheering when he spots the figure slumped in the chair. Carlos notices T.K.’s hand sitting limply in his own, so he squeezes it gently, knowing from experience of this situation in reverse that T.K. will be on high alert for any sign of life.

True to form, T.K., jerks awake, wide-eyed gaze seeking out Carlos. “‘Los,” he croaks, voice still thick with sleep, but to Carlos it sounds like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Tears slip down T.K.’s cheeks, but he brushes them away and presses a kiss to Carlos’s hand. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he whispers.

“Me too,” Carlos admits, but the effort of speaking scratches his throat and sends him into a painful coughing fit. T.K. holds him through it, and when it passes, there’s a cup at Carlos’s lips, pre-empting his request.

He settles back into the pillows, his eyes drifting closed. T.K.’s hand cards gently through his hair and Carlos drifts back to sleep, at peace and safe.

[duker42]

Could I get a request where the boys were playing jokes on each other by dropping Viagra into each other drinks, but the reader accidentally drank it. It made her felt werid and they ended up confessing. Jean was designated to help her get off, but his 4" couldn't do the trick. Levi walks in hearing the commotion, knowing that they all should be in bed. He see the reader literally shaken in tears from desperation. Her face flushed with neediness. He fucks her and taught the boys some tricks.

So this is naturally crack of the highest caliber 😂😂😂😂

*****WARNING*****NSFW

💜Teaching💜

“Hahahaha I can’t believe you drank that!” Connie laughed as Y/N wondered why Jean and Eren were looking a bit concerned as she finished her glass of water.

“What? It was my drink.” Y/N hadn’t tasted anything funny, so she obviously missing something.

“Shit! Connie, why didn’t you stop her? It was supposed to be Eren’s drink!” Jean growled.

“Nothing’s going to happen, don’t worry!” Connie said, causing Y/N to panic slightly.

Everything was fine except for the creepy ass stares from Jean and Eren as they continued playing cards. Something had obviously happened when she went to go to the bathroom, but she didn’t know what.

It made her wish that one of the girls had decided to come with her to the boy’s dorm for poker. But everyone else claimed they were too tired and Y/N had come over on her own to win all their money.

Ten minutes later, her body felt like it was on fire, she was flushed and the juncture between her thighs was throbbing uncontrollably.

“What did you guys do!” She cried. She needed something, and she needed it now.

“Oh shit!” Eren said. Jean and Connie started looking scared.

“Guuuuuyssss!” She wailed. Her body was starting to shake, the intense pressure in her pussy beginning to hurt.

“We....uhhhh. We were putting Viagra in each other’s drinks. And you drank the one meant for Eren.” Connie said, now looking worried as he took a close look at her.

“What does it do???” Y/N asked, her voice shaky.

“It....it’s to give a guy a boner that lasts awhile.” Jean explains, turning red as he looked down at his tented crotch.

“So what the fuck do I do?” She demanded. She was close to tears. The intensity growing and it felt like she needed to scream.

“Jean. You should take care of her. You were the one that started this shit.” Eren said, looking at Y/N before glaring at Jean.

“How?” Y/N asked.

“You need to be fucked apparently.” Jean mumbled.

Y/N quickly agreed. Anything to get rid of this feeling. She wanted to claw her own skin off it was so hot, so needy.

They stripped down and she saw that Jean wasn’t packing much in the size department, but she didn’t care. As long as she was fucked until this went away she didn’t mind it.

Except for the fact that she barely felt anything. He was coming up too shallow to make relieve any pressure and no amount of movement was making her feel better.

“What the fuck is going on here?!?!?!?” The stern voice of Captain Levi thundered from behind them.

Jean quickly got off of Y/N and turned to the Captain and all three boys started tripping over themselves to explain. Three voices, talking at once, raising to be heard over one another until finally Levi raised a hand to silence them.

He had heard them from across the castle. Brats were supposed to be in bed. And when he comes to tell them to hit the rack, he finds Jean trying to fuck Y/N with Eren and Connie giving him advice? What in the absolute fuck?

When they started shouting at him, he managed to piece together the situation. Fucking around, they had managed to slip up and Y/N had drank the damn Viagra laced water and now needed to be fucked because of her reaction.

He sighed. Goddamn brats. It was a good fucking thing that he found Y/N attractive. She was a pretty mess right now, her body flush and trembling, aching to cum. Her eyes filled with tears from desperation.

Her body was still spread wide, giving him a first class view of her engorged clit and her perky tits with budded nipples. He had thought about her plenty while jerking off in the shower and now she needed someone to take care of her sexually.

He glanced over and saw why she wasn’t being pleased by the taller brat. His cock was only 4” and it was obvious from the way he had her positioned, he had no fucking clue how to make his short size count.

While Levi had no problem in the length department, he knew exactly how to make sure she came on his cock. Just the idea of it was making him hard.

“Eren. Lock the door. It’s time I teach you brats a few things.” He looked at Y/N. “Let me take care of you.”

When she nodded so hard he thought he heard her teeth rattle, he started to get undressed. The boys whistled when he took off his pants and revealed where the rest of his height went. He was long, 8.5 solid inches of thick cock that was curved slight, for her pleasure of course.

“Brat, you could have satisfied her, but you didn’t have her legs positioned right. With that thing, you need to fuck her with her legs up on your shoulders for maximum penetration.” Levi said as laid down beside her on the bed.

He hooked a leg over hers and spread them wider, giving her a kiss as he moved his hand down to her clit. “This is where most women have their best orgasms. You could have gotten her off with your fingers.”

She moaned as his slender finger rubbed around the bundle of nerves, he ran them up and down the slick lips of her pussy and moved back to flick the nub of flesh. She shuddered and Levi looked at her nipple.

“If you suck on her breasts, it helps. Most women love their tits sucked while you fuck them.” He drew a distended peak in his mouth and her hands shot into his hair with a moan that filled the room.

The boys watched as their Captain played with Y/N’s pussy. Her body jerking and shivering with every press of his fingers or rub on her clit. He slid the flesh between his ring and middle finger and toyed with it with his index finger until she came, shouting out in relief as her first orgasm rocked her body.

He knew that she needed more, though. He released her breast and moved his fingers down to her dripping core. “You can also finger fuck them. They love when you curl your fingers up inside them, and pump them in and out. But clip your nails, brats.”

He curled two fingers into her tight pussy, her walls clenching around him. Shit. If she’s that tight around his fingers, he couldn’t wait to drive his cock into her body and let those walls pulse around him.

She reacted to his touch so well. Her back arched up as he started pumping his fingers into her, pushing hard with every flick of his wrist.

He had forgotten about the three boys watching as she came again. Her throaty cry and the way her eyes widened was amazing to experience. Her juices coated his fingers as they poured into his hand.

He moved that hand over over his cock, running her wetness over him as he moved to kneel between her spread thighs.

Y/N’s face was flushed and her pupils were blown with lust as he stroked himself with her watching. He looked over at the boys and offered, “Just watch because I’m not talking to you while I’m fucking her.”

He turned back and leaned down to give her another kiss. He moved her legs up to prop on his waist as slid smoothly into her core with a firm push of his hips.

He grunted in pleasure as he sank into her, the sound covered up by her gasp. He bottomed out and immediately pulled back to pushed into her again, harder.

His moved swiftly, every thrust of his hips making her moan or shudder in pleasure. His name rolled over her lips continuously, but his cock twitched when she called him Captain as she cried out in bliss.

He felt her walls tighten around him, making him grit his teeth as his eyes rolled back. Fuck, she was squeezing him so tight. He snapped his hips against her faster, driving himself into her harder.

Her legs tightened around his waist, her hips rising to meet his. He brought himself up to his knees and gripped her hips hard, using his arms to pull her to him faster. Her voice cracked and caught with each thrust.

When she finally came, she screamed his name, her juices squirting out to to splash up his stomach. He shuddered at the feeling of her vice-like grip around him.

His own orgasm washed over him right after. He pumped her through her orgasm as his cock pulsed, filling her with his cum as he growled his pleasure into the air.

When they came back to themselves, Levi pushed up and gently pulled out of her. He turned to the boys and scowled. “You three shitheads are cleaning the stables for the next three months. And hand over all that shit. It’s not a toy to joke around with.”

The boys hung their heads as Levi and Y/N dressed. Connie handed over the bottle and Levi ordered them to get to bed. He pulled Y/N into the hallway and started off towards the other wing of the castle.

“Sir? My room is back there.” Y/N said as she was pulled along.

He didn’t look back or release her wrist as he answered her. “I’m not done teaching you about pleasure, Y/N.”

Mobile MasterList

[theoriginalladya]

#15 kiss for Michael/Kaidan 🥰

from this prompt list

On AO3 here

Okay, so this one got away from me a bit.  Like 2100 words away! lol  Anyway, it helped me sort out a few things for these two which I needed before I start Nano in a week.  Thank you, m’dear, for all of your love of my pairs!  I hope this meets with your approval!

prompt:   a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss

~~~~

Two weeks seems an eternity to wait, but if it means a chance to figure things out between them, Shepard is willing.  His mission after the Collectors is nearly over, and as determined as he is that they will make it back out of the Omega-4 relay, having an extra added incentive never hurts.  Well, that plus it sticks it to the Illusive Man and his heavy handed interference.  That definitely counts for something.

From the moment he opened his eyes on Lazarus Station, nearly everyone has reminded him, Don’t trust him.  Garrus, Anderson, Tali … even Liara.  Hasn’t he made it clear yet that he never has and never will?  So, maybe they have something … in common.  The Collectors need to be dealt with, end of story.  But it doesn’t take a genius to see too many corners are being cut in the process, and maybe he’s paranoid, but to him that reads like Cerberus has an ulterior motive.  One that they won’t share with him.   Add in the fact that TIM’s decision to drop hints and rumors at whatever whim he decides to follow, putting innocents at risk needlessly, well, the way Shepard sees it, taking a day for personal business should fly under the radar.  Only, he isn’t willing to risk that, either.  He’s about done with the whole damned thing.

He slips onto the Citadel easily enough; working with Bailey assures him that much.  Finding the meeting point takes a little longer seeing as it’s buried deep in Zakera Ward.  Still, he times it just right, even better than he could have hoped, and as he enters the building, he spies Kaidan at the front desk.  Good.  That’s one risk out the window, not having to expose his true identity, and instead he waits in the shadows near the bank of elevators. 

He’s always been good at hiding in plain sight, and slips onto the lift easily.  The elevator is crowded – of course it is, but who is he to judge if it means they have some peace and quiet they need to talk – and by the time they arrive on the twenty-ninth floor, he’s pretty sure Kaidan knows he’s there.  He follows after him, hopping through the doors just before they close, and hurries down the hall to his left.  He doesn’t know the room number, but he nears a door that’s left open in invitation.  It could be a trap, part of him still believes it is, but he slips inside the room without hesitation anyway, sealing the door behind him. 

Still facing the door, he ask softly, with a certain urgency, “Did David get to Grissom without any problems?”  Only then does he turn to face a room thick with shadows and very little light.  It takes a moment to find Kaidan, but he does, and he isn’t as far away as Shepard thought he might be.

“David is fine,” Kaidan replies.  “Anderson put me in touch with the woman in charge of the place.  Cerberus won’t have any contact with him there.”

“Good.”  Shepard takes a few more steps into the room looks around.  His lips twitch slightly at what he finds.  “Kinda small in, here, don’t you think?”

Kaidan’s cheeks darken a little, and for a moment, Shepard has hope.  He remembers all too clearly the last time he said that, and while he would give anything for a similar outcome tonight, he knows his chances are slim to none.  Especially when Kaidan folds his arms across his chest and gives Shepard a pointed look in return.  “You said you wanted to talk,” he argues.  “I didn’t figure size mattered.”

“Size always matters.”

The heat flares a little more though Kaidan fights it; Shepard sighs softly and backs down, and for the first time since waking up on Lazarus Station, his entire presence softens.  The Butcher of Torfan is not longer present, instead replaced by a man with too many regrets spanning two lives.  He takes a seat on the corner of the bed, leaning forward until his arms rest across his thighs, head drops low, and he can stare at the floor.  “Kaidan, I –.”

Kaidan stops him with a disgruntled huff and starts to pace.  It catches Shepard off guard for a moment; he’s the one with the history of impatience and frustration.  Kaidan has always been the one to hold himself together, cool under pressure.  As their eyes meet and hold, he notices the regret that shines in Kaidan’s eyes, bright as a signal flare. 

Kaidan comes to a stop directly in front of him.  “Look, before we really get into it, let me just say something first, okay?” 

Shepard nods and remains silent. 

Kaidan takes a deep breath and releases it slowly before beginning, “About Horizon, I just want to say … I’m sorry I took it out on you like I did.”

Shepard reaches deep for the patience to wait this out, for the willpower to keep his mouth shut and let Kaidan continue.

“To see you like that … well, it was a shock, to say the least.”

Shepard’s lips press into a tight, thin line.  “I understand,” he says.  “I’m sure I would have reacted similarly had our positions been reversed.”  They both know that’s not true; Kaidan would never be with Cerberus, but it’s the idea that counts. 

“All I could think was, why didn’t you get in touch with me?  Contact me somehow?  We once meant something to each other.  At least, I thought we did.”

Shepard winces.  Once.  The past tense hurts, but he expects it.  “For what it’s worth, Kaidan, I did try.  I even asked Anderson.”  When he looks up, his smile is halfhearted.  “He wouldn’t tell me where you were, nor would he deliver a message from me.”

Kaidan picks up the pacing again and runs a hand through his hair in agitation.   

“Do you really want to keep rehashing this?” Shepard asks.  When Kaidan glances over at him, he shrugs.  “I can think of other things we can discuss that won’t lead us down a potential path of self-destruction.”  Kaidan frowns.  Shepard’s brow lifts.  “What?  You think I didn’t notice when you started to flare on Horizon?”

“Point.”  Kaidan stops pacing and sits in a chair by the window.  “Alright, what do you want to talk about?”

Shepard clasps his hands before him, stares at them as if they are the most interesting thing in the galaxy in that moment.  “I … wanted to tell you, to let you know …”  He pauses, considers the best way to explain.  “Look, fact of the matter is, I’m about to lead my team through the Omega-4 relay.”  Kaidan’s breath hitches, a soft echo throughout the room.  “I wanted a chance to … well, to just see you again.  To talk with you.  Maybe to clear some of this mess up?”  Shepard shakes his head but doesn’t look Kaidan in the eye just yet.  “I know your opinions on my current situation; you made that abundantly clear on Horizon, and that’s fine.  But I wanted you to know …”  He lifts his head finally and is suddenly pinned by the whiskey brown pair across from him.  Throat suddenly dry, he swallows twice before he can continue.  “At this point, I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you anymore, but I wanted to let you know I still care.  Believe it or not, you were the first person I thought of when they woke me up.  I had no idea where I was, what happened, where you were; but you were the first.  And I … I just wanted you to know that.”

Kaidan’s jaw tightens as he grinds his teeth.  “Shepard …”

God, he hates that this has to be so hard, for the both of them, because he really doesn’t want it to be.  No matter what happens, he still cares.  Is that really so hard to understand?  To accept?  Taking another breath, he asks, “How’s Kandra?”

Kaidan blinks.  “What?”

Shepard chuckles.  “Your sister.  How is she?”  Probably hates him, too, just like her twin.

“I - Kandra?  She’s … fine, I guess?”  Kaidan’s head tilt’s slightly.  “Why are you asking about her?”

A wry smile twists his lips.  “You know, there have been a few times where I’ve wished she was the cook on the Normandy this go ‘round.”  Gardner tries, but even with better ingredients, he still doesn’t make anything Shepard really likes.  Kandra, on the other hand, performs magic in the kitchen.  He’s been witness to it first-hand.

Kaidan manages a short laugh.  “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”

Silence fills the room as they both sit across from one another.  Michael fidgets with his fingers; Kaidan stops grinding his teeth. 

“Look, Kaidan –.”

“Shepard, I –.”

The laughter returns, easier this time for both of them.  Shepard rises to his feet and moves to stand next to Kaidan’s chair, but he stares out the window at the Citadel beyond.  “I am sorrier than you will ever know,” he whispers after several minutes, “for what you’ve had to go through.  I never wanted to hurt you like that.”

Kaidan’s sigh is weighted.  He pushes himself to his feet slowly, like an aged man for whom mobility is no longer easy.  But once he’s on his feet, he turns to face Shepard.  “I was lost for a long time.  I can’t even put into words the hell I went through.”

“I know.”  Shepard turns, facing him, then hesitates.  The whole purpose of this meeting was to let Kaidan know he was about to head through the Omega relay, which he’s done, but now?  “I just …”

No one is more surprised when Kaidan reaches out a hand to cradle Shepard’s cheek than Shepard is himself.  He holds his breath, waiting, watching with wide eyes, as Kaidan closes the distance between them and leans in to press a soft, gentle kiss to his lips.  The touch is brief, and leaves Shepard’s lips tingling.  “Michael,” Kaidan breathes, his voice practically a groan, “I love you.  I loved you before, I still love you now.  Despite everything that’s happened.” 

Without conscious thought, Shepard’s hands slide around Kaidan, securing around his broad shoulders and tugging him closer.  Time stands still as he covers Kaidan’s mouth with his, taking the initiative this time as he savors, devours, and more importantly, remembers.  He breaks free only when he cannot breathe, dropping his forehead to rest against Kaidan’s.  “I … I’m sorry, I ….”

Kaidan huffs softly.  “Yeah.”  His voice is as rough and raspy as Shepard’s.  “Um, s’okay, but … what I was going to say was … I, um, can’t …”

A small smirk twitches at Shepard’s lips as he looks into his eyes.  “Left you speechless, have I?”

Kaidan nearly chokes on a laugh.  “That’s one way to put it.”

“Good to know.”  Shepard’s hands slide up to frame Kaidan’s face.  “Answer me two things, okay?”  Kaidan nods.  “Have you found someone else?”

Kaidan blinks, tries to pull back, but Shepard doesn’t let him.  “What?  No!  Why would I?  I … I was still mourning you up until Horizon, dammit!”

Shepard smiles.  “That’s fine, that’s good,” he replies quickly.  His heart feels like it will jump out of his chest.  “Second question, do you …  Would you want to try again?”

This time, Kaidan does pull free.  He backs up across the room until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits.  “You’ve just told me you are about to go through the Omega relay!”

Shepard nods.  “Yes, but we have a way to get through safely.”

“Can you be sure of that?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to assure him it is, but he doesn’t.  “One hundred percent?  No,” he finally replies.  “More like ninety-four percent it will get us there and back again.”

Kaidan bites his lip hard.  “And what then?  You do realize the Alliance wants to talk to you about what happened in Bahak, right?”

“I am aware, yes.  I promised Hackett I will turn myself in when I get back.”  Shepard shrugs then walks forward, dropping to crouch in front of him.  “Look, Kaidan, I know things won’t be easy, and it might be a while before we see one another again, but … I just … I kind of need to know … you know?”  Kaidan sighs, heavily, and for a moment Shepard thinks he’s blown it.  He's pushed too hard, too fast.  It’s too much, been too long, it's too … 

“Yes.”

[ladyemberswrites]

[Oh boy, OH BOY! Like some people are going to hate me for this, but here it goes!]

Author's Notes: Okay, so like I've had this in my drafts for awhile now. So, this is like a very, very rough draft of a Gargoyles Human Au I was working on, but then I ended up changing a whole bunch of things as I went along, so this is pretty much a scraped draft, drabble sort of thing, though I will probably end up keeping many of the main elements in the final product. So, yeah-

!Warnings! [ Adultery/Cheating/References to Toxic and Unhealthy relationships/Age Difference/Age Gaps]

● If any of this isn't your cup of tea this isn't for you!]

Summary: "Elisa?" She hated the way he said her name. He said it so delicately, so soft as if he feared it might break on his tongue. She hated that she loved how he spoke  it "Elisa". It made her feel wanted, feel desired, feel protected with just an utterance of her name. And that's where the problem lay.

Why she can't look him in the eyes, but she does so anyways to catch his tired, obsidian eyes.

"We need to talk." She blurts and she can see him physically wince the moment the sentence leaves her lips.

"I know"

It was long after midnight, but of course, New York isn’t called the city that doesn’t sleep for anything. 

But, the point was moot.

For the first time, she hated the noise of the city that she called home. The lights too bright, the sounds, the smells of greasy street vendor food made her want to vomit. She just wanted everything to shut up and give her some peace. She wanted to wallow but she had work in the morning so getting drunk like any sane person would have was out of the question.

And the thought of sitting around any longer in the silence of her dark, cramped, shitty apartment made her want to rip her own hair out and scream.

So, where does that leave her?

Not much of choice, no, not really she has a choice, a choice that needed to be made no matter how much she didn’t want to do it. She can be a coward and run, but her mama didn’t raise cowards. She’s no coward even though at this point and time she wanted to be. 

To go run and hide away from the big scary world.

The 23rd precinct came into view and her dread only intensified. No one was there which only worsen the feelings even though the building being entirely vacant is a blessing. No one to hear, no prying eyes nor ears. Yet, that didn’t lessen the fear; her heart felt like a rock sitting inside her chest and every exhale and inhale of her breath burned as if her lungs were drawing smoke and brimstone. 

The scent of roasted Ethiopian coffee wafts under her nose and it warms her, almost comforting her as she turns the corner and finds the only light in the dark beckoning her. Her feet kept going, they wanted to stop and turn around and run until her feet bleed.

But, she can't. She had to do this, she had to, not just for herself, but for them and too selfishly appease her own guilt that's been gnawing away at her consciousness every waking moment. 

The rap of her knuckles across the worn wood sounded like a death toll in her ears. In a way it was.

"Captain Wyvern." Her voice wavered, she sounded so damn mousey and timid, but the door and rumble of his deep baritone made her feel so small and tiny. 

"Come in." She didn't notice the tremble of her fingers until she struggled to turn the knob of his office door, she stopped and swallowed, her throat feeling raw and scratchy. Inhaling, she finally finds the courage to open it and meet Goliath's boring stare.

The dark circles of his eyes were hard to ignore nor the fading blemish that stained his dark skin a nasty shade of blue and black. She recoiled at the sight, darting her eyes away to peer at the floor.

"Elisa?" She hated the way he said her name. He said it so delicately, so soft as if he feared it might break on his tongue. She hated that she loved how he spoke it "Elisa". It made her feel wanted, feel desired, feel protected with just an utterance of her name. And that's where the problem lay.

Why she can't look him in the eyes, but she does so anyway to catch his tired, obsidian eyes.

"We need to talk." She blurts and she can see him physically wince the moment the sentence leaves her lips.

"I know" she steps closer, her eyes briefly scanning the mess of his desk scattered files and unfinished documents laid about, a whole pack of cigarettes burnt to their very buds sizzles in the mini ashtray she bought him as a last-minute birthday present. Her eyes lifted to meet his scrutinizing gaze and hated that too, that inhuman inquisitiveness his eyes give off, watching her every movement like that of an apex predator.

"I want to transfer" the words tasted bitter on her tongue, heavy as they were she had managed without tripping over her them in haste. Goliath looked at her like she had just punched a hole through his gut and suddenly that bruise on his face didn't sting so much.

"What?" 

"I-want to transfer" 

"Why-" as if he didn’t know. 

"I overheard you arguing with your wife about me the other night." His face fell blank "Captain-Goliath you know why I can't stay here. You know that I can't." Dammit, she hissed she fumbles with her oversized police bomber and rubs her watering eyes. She hears a creak of his mobile chair and the soft pad of shoes hitting the floor and suddenly he's towering over her.

"Elisa, you belong here" of course she did, didn't she? But, the matter isn't about her sense of belonging, it's about what is right and what is wrong. And she can't stay no matter how much she didn't want to leave, she can't because she knows she won't be able to control herself. 

"You're making this harder than it has to be" she mumbles exhausted and emotionally worn "I have to go" 

"The problems between me and my wife have nothing to do with you" he's trying to placate her, to affirm what she has so unsuccessfully tried to do for months on end.

"It has everything to do with it me!" She snapped pulling away from his warmth "how can you say that!? I kissed you! And before that, I confessed to you drunk off my ass!" She shouted as she had to hammer those facts into his thick skull because he wanted to ignore the blatantly obvious. To put behind them and pretend that night didn’t exist at all.

You're a married man dammit!" God, she can only imagine what it would've sounded like if the 23 precinct was packed airing her dirty laundry for all to hear without a care in the world. Even in the quiet of the empty halls, she felt beyond mortified.

Goliath watched her almost apathetically mingled with what she had come to know as his " unable to process anything" look. 

Whatever torrent of emotions were stirring through him she hadn't the faintest idea. Her captain was known for having a rather volcanic temper, but she had never, ever had him lash out at her, raise his voice yes, but never unadulterated anger. Right now, she wished he would get angry, lash out at her, throw something, flip the desk and let all its contents crash upon the floor. It'd make things easier for her, easier to pack her things and leave and never look back. And not cling to him like a lovesick puppy.

But he doesn't. 

He runs a hand through his long mane smoothing it back for a lack of anything better to do or say. 

"I need coffee." he mutters. For Goliath its code for "I need a minute to think".

He wanders out his office lost and leaves her behind struggling to keep her dwindling mental state from going straight to utter hell. 

The silent tears do the opposite of what she's supposed to do, to keep a level head, but they come anyway, pouring down her cheeks in pathetic, wet globs. By the time he returns with two mugs of piping hot coffee her eyes are red and scratchy and he looks worse than when he left. Still stolid, still uncomfortably rigid as if he's standing trial.

She takes it and sips at it, just the right amount of sweetness she liked because of course, he knew exactly how she wanted it. Because he's attentive and she comes to hate him for that.

"Goliath?" 

"Yes." 

"Was she right? About what Demona said about you being infatuated me? About having a thing for me?" His chair squeaked, deafening in the silence.

"I-" her brows scrunch "you kissed me back that night. It was brief, but I noticed" 

"...Yes…" he confesses and her fingers squeeze her mug so tight she feared it might break.

~

Brooklyn came in like a whirlwind, slamming the glass door of his office behind him it resounded like a thunderclap. Goliath glanced up from his documents, his prescription glasses sliding off the bridge of his nose.

"What the hell did you do!?"

"Pardon?"

"You're transferring Elisa!?"

He looks away from Brooklyn's accusatory gaze "Yes…"

"Why!?" He slams both hands on his desk "Elisa's a damn good cop and you know it! Just what the everloving hell did she do to make you want to transfer her!" Goliath hardly faltered under his younger brother's fury, he remained passive and unnerved.

"I thought you liked her"

"I do." He murmured, but Brooklyn took note of something, the perks of living with each other so closely for so long.

"But, I'm betting a little much, huh?" His tone was far from sarcastic his voice instead dripped with condescension, if not disgust.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Is that what you're doing!? Huh, covering your own ass because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants!? Never thought you'd stoop so low-"

"Enough!" He barked detesting the very insinuation that he'd kick Elisa to curb, that he'd use her to only abandon her for mere lust made him sick. As understanding he is of his brother's upset; he refuses to be accused of such a low, foul deed. Like a scolded puppy Brooklyn reels away with wide eyes.

"I know you're upset but I will not stand here and let you accuse me of something I did not do."

His gaze sharpened "This is not a decision I make lightly, but it has to be done." 

"But, why!?"

"Enough, Brooklyn. You do not need to know the specifics only that I'm transferring Elisa to the 22nd precinct. My decision stands and you will accept it all the same."

"Just like that." He snapped his fingers.

"Yes." He says with finality.

"You're not getting away with this…" he hissed before he tapered away, slamming the door the way he had opened it earlier with a thunderous clatter.

As Brooklyn's loud, angry footsteps recede, Goliath resisted the sudden urge to hurl his mug across the room, to watch it crash and hit the floor, to shatter into a thousand little pieces upon the polished wood. 

An appropriate metaphor for his current state of mind. 

He heard his office door swing open again this time without a deafening noise.

"Always a lively lad" Hudson jeers. Goliath cracks his knuckles scowling at his desk.

"It is not always a good thing" his mentor hummed "Brooklyn lets his emotions run wild without thought or consequences too often." 

"Aye, but the sentiment rings familiar" Goliath grimaced "lettin' one's emotions run rampant" 

"I wasn't that bad" 

Hudson laughed but shook his head "perhaps, but I'm not speakin of that" his mirth falters "it's about you and the lass" 

There's no accusation in his voice.

"There is nothing between me and Elisa" as if it needed to be stated.

"If you're going to be carrying on an illicit affair, ye should be sure the walls don't be having eyes and ears" Goliath stiffened.

"I was in my office gettin some shut eye until the yelling woke me up. Nice thing to wake to seeing the two of you gettin' to know each other" Shame curled at the pit of his stomach his eyes left his mentor's questioning gaze.

"I had a serious lapse of judgment" 

"I'll bet!" Goliath swallowed. Hudson crossed the room and took a seat.

"I do not  know what's coming over me." He rubbed the bridge of his nose ", this isn't like me, Hudson." 

"It'd be love I suppose" 

"I don't-" 

"Don't love the lass?" Hudson lifted a bushy brow "ye sure?" Goliath didn't answer, he didn't want to answer.

"I'm married, Hudson. A married man with a child! How can you say that!? In fact, you of all people should be furious with me!" 

"And say 'I thought I taught you better'?"

"Yes!"  he slammed the desk “What I did was wrong! I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t-” he ran both hands over his face in utter frustration “I should never have kissed her the way that I did. I shouldn’t be infatuated with her in the first place! Dammit….” 

~

Goliath did not know what lunch with his wife might entail. He considered canceling out of guilt, but his conscience won in the end. He needed to face her, Demona, his angel, and to confess to her how he betrayed her in the worst possible way. He wasn't looking forward to it as he traps through the tables and chairs of her favorite french restaurant.

"Love." She was eerily at ease "you came."

"Of course."

"You are troubled" 

"You stormed away last night. I was worried." Demona only let her lips downturn only a millimeter as she dusted her pencil skirt of invisible dust.

"I suppose I let my emotions get the better of me" 

"I-before we eat. I must confess something to you" 

"Is it about the Maza woman?" her tone dropped. To be fair her momentary jealousy wasn't as intense as it was before. She felt more aggravated by the fact she hadn't noticed earlier, she hates rude surprises. And what did she have to scorn the Maza woman over anyway? She's rich, she's powerful all gained and created by her very own hands. What exactly did she have to prove to her? It's an embarrassing sentiment, but a sentiment all the same.

Goliath nods mutely and Demona speculates that something serious between must have happened and as he spoke-not as nearly serious as she had thought. However, she found it both shocking and utterly amusing that Goliath of all people-it was almost laughable. He was cute; being completely racked with guilt. This Maza woman had certainly worked a number on him without actually intending to do anything at all. Quite impressive.

"I will not excuse my behavior"

"Why didn't you?"

"What?"

"What caused you to stop?"

"You of course!" 

"A bit too late for that."

"I-" he swallowed "Y-yes." 

"Seems my assumption was correct then?" 

"I'm not going to leave you for another woman"

"But, Maza isn't just another woman." She cuts him off "Is she?"

Goliath froze.

"You feel a strong attraction to her more than anything I can garner "

"That isn't-" 

"Isn't what? Why are you trying so hard to deny the obvious truth? You want Maza." 

~

"So what!?" Elisa snaps "Do we just bang each others brains out? Then what?! Be consumed by a lifetime of guilt? Or do we just play pretend and spend the rest of our lives shacking up at some moldy, shitty motel acting like we did nothing wrong once the lights come on?" 

Her shoulders sag, her voice cracks "Is that the kind of life you want, Goliath? Living out some lie that we know damn well isn't true?" She wiped her eyes with the back of her palm, she was crying again. Dammit! 

Before she knew it, she's enveloped in warmth, his large arms and body wrap around her and she's pressed into his chest. Him and the oversized blue police bomber that he had given her to replace the once she lost on her first-night compasses her. 

She inhales his scent; the heady smell of burnt oak. 

And before she knows it she crumbles, her vision is blurred, everything outside is nothing more than white static in her ears as she wails against his chest. 

A childish part of herself wanted to scream and say it wasn't fair, but she knew she can't-couldn't say it out loud.

"No." He finally says "that isn't the life I want for you." He squeezes her tighter, his fingers brushing through her short hair "you're young, so much younger than I am, you have your whole life ahead of you. I cannot keep you here, no matter how much I want you to stay." 

It wasn't fair for him either. Forced to stay within a bitter, toxic marriage. But, that wasn't her issue to meddle in. 

She sniffed "you're not that old" her tone is watery, heavy with grief, but she tries to lighten her mood.

"I'm old enough to be your father, Elisa." He says dryly with no ounce of humor.

"Yeah," she sniffs "but you're not my dad." She sniffs again "he's been gone for a long time…now.." as if this wasn't depressing enough, she shudders. Goliath holds her closer, letting his head fall upon her head.

[magpie-scribbles]

Incarceration: Rappa x OC

Okay lovies this is 100% N//S//F//W please do not read if you are under 18.

I needed to write some good Rappa smut content because I’m starving so have some Rappa x OC FILTH!!

Rating: E

Warnings: Smut, size kink/difference, masturbation, public sex, mild daddy kink 

Pairing: Kendou Rappa x OC (Hoshi Sakuretsu)

2 weeks…It had been 2 weeks since he and the other bullets had been carted off to Tartarus. From what he could tell he wasn’t in the highest level of security; and at least he didn’t have to share a room with anyone; which was fine by him, the room was already damn small with just him in it. Probably would have used his roommate for a punching bag anyway by now, he was so pent up; his blood sang and his bones rumbled; body aching for something more than being held up in this dog pen.

3 weeks… he had heard that if he was on good behavior he might be able to go out in the yard and mingle, and take lunch in the dining hall. He thought they were stupid when he first heard that ‘cause he’d probably just go batshit at the first smell of freedom; fuck he was starting to grow crazy in here. He had already made a few decent sized holes in the wall on the far side of the room, his knuckles hardly bled and his attitude only soured when it did nothing to relieve him.

There honestly wasn’t much to do, until he got to wander on good behavior; just eat, sleep, shit, and jack off. And jacking off he did a lot of, and it only seemed to make it worse, fuck it wasn’t the same.

He put another hole in the wall after one particularly aggressive session that left his cock feeling raw; cum splattered across his stomach and chest in thick ropes. Still he was hard and aching, twitching in the stale air of his stupidly small cell. 

He fisted his own hand in his hair and tried again, trying to pretend the hand gripping at his mane was exceptionally smaller. It wasn’t the same…

This time his knuckles bled a little more when they bit into the wall but it wasn’t in the least bit satisfying. He wondered what Hoshi was doing, if she was going as crazy as he was…well if she was cooped up she’d probably be going even more crazy than him. The idea of her going feral in her own cell, tipping over the bed, ripping pillows and sheets out of sheer boredom and stir craziness had him pumping his cock again. He missed it, fuck , missed her near manic energy, her scrappiness; missed her nails digging trenches into his back and chest, missed her biting mouth and wild eyes. 

He missed the sounds she made; her sighs, her coos, her screams; he missed the way she could barely take him but would always ask for more, more, more. Missed the way she made him feel, what she made him do. He missed the way she owned him. 

He wondered if she was laying away on her cot, whimpering out, hands down her panties, fingers pressed into her tight, wet pussy. He wondered if she was calling out his name as she desperately tried to get herself off.

“Rappa, Rappa,…Kendou”

He snarled as he painted his chest again, this release a little more satisfying than the last but still no where near close to what he needed.

He grumbled into the quiet air, still unsatisfied, still pent up and now covered in his own mess. He could hear the material of the scratchy sheet around his knees strain when he tugged at it, balling it up, wiping himself down before throwing it on the floor. It didn’t fucking matter if he didn’t have a blanket anymore, this place ran too hot anyway; he hated that too. 

He settled back down, god these beds were comically small! At least the pillow still had some fluff in it as he folded it under his head. 

He decided to not even bother pulling his pants back up; the fuckers could have a nice view when wake up call came the next day. At least it would provide him some entertainment.  

______

4 weeks… 

Finally, FINALLY he was getting to stretch his legs, though he really wasn’t sure he had been on any good behavior at all; they had probably just gotten tired of him breaking shit and cleaning up his messes. Didn’t matter, finally he could walk more than a few yards without hitting a wall.

The restraints biting into his shoulders weren’t exactly pleasant, though he guessed it could be worse, at least his arms still had some mobility…If the were smart they would have bound his arms completely. Still he wasn’t completely stupid and he really wanted this brief moment of freedom even if it was just going to the dining hall to get some grub.

The two escorts at his side were armed with nothing more than rubber bullets and stun guns, he had laughed when he saw them. He had made a snarky comment on how “that’s all they give ya’? Fuck it’s like they want ya’ to get pummeled.” They didn’t say anything as he laughed at them and their puny defenses. They had tried to act all nonplussed about his statement but he could see the apprehension in their eyes; and maybe…a little fear. That definitely brightened his mood some.

He had tried to make small talk as he was escorted but the two guards wanted none of it and ignored him for the most part, not that he really minded, they were probably boring anyway. 

The dining hall was a lot bigger than he had expected, and certainly much brighter than his cell, it nearly hurt his eyes when he entered, despite the air being filled with the smell of prison food, it somehow smelled fresher and less stale than the cell-blocks. He found himself breathing deeply.

“Don’t cause a ruckus.” 

He turned to the escort to his left giving him a hard sideways glance.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” he rumbled, flashing his teeth.

By the quick retreat and bristled expression of the guard, he knew he had scared him off; good.

“What’s his problem yah?” he turned to the other guard, his grin widening when the other man turned and left much the same way as the other. That’s right, fuck right off.

It was nice to finally move around, even though he knew he was being watched like a damn hawk, at least they weren’t all up in his face about it now. He struggled, the restraints becoming mildly irritating and moved to get a tray for some grub; the food was shit here but he’d had worse before, and it wasn’t like he was some sort of culinary expert. He just need calories, and a lot. When he got out of here there was going to be a lot of bulking he’d need to take care of.

For the most part people moved out of his way when they saw him coming, the few that didn’t see his approach to the line ended up on the ground; it wasn’t even like he body checked them, just elbowed them out of the way. His size and strength of his stride being enough to knock people over. 

At least the line wasn’t awful when he joined it, he wouldn’t have to wait too long to get some grub. 

“Woah you’re mega tall.” 

He looked in front of him and down. A woman stared back up at him apprehensively, grip on her tray trembling.

She wasn’t short, normal height, if anything maybe a little on the tall side, but he was a behemoth; he grinned menacingly.

“Ate my vegetables as a kid.” he replied snarkily.

“Ah…” she gave him a nervous smile and turned back around, clutching her tray closer to her chest. 

Fearful after just talking to him, pathetic, was he really stuck in here with such cowards?? 

A light bulb suddenly went off in his head and he glanced back down to the woman in front of him; puzzled for a second before looking around. It seemed like this was a co-ed dining hall; After the moment of curiosity he shrugged and supposed it didn’t matter, with everyone having some sort of quirk they were all on somewhat even ground.

He turned back to face the front of the line, bored now that his curiosity was satisfied. 

Then a flash of pink caught his eye, exiting the line ahead. All his attention zeroed in and his blood ran hot.

Hoshi

He hardly even registered the sound of pain as he dropped his tray directly on the head of the woman in front of him before making long strides towards the petite woman exiting with her food.

“Hey dude! No cutting!” someone grabbed his shirt. 

“Wait in line like everyone else h-” the fucker didn’t even finish his sentence before he was grabbed by the back of the head. He brought his knee forcefully up into the man’s face, a sickening crunch as the his nose caved like a house of cards, blood pouring out over his face and onto his pants. 

He felt his blood pump even hotter as he watched the now unconscious man crumple to the cafeteria floor.

Around him there were soft gasps, a few groans and ‘ew gross’ but once again all his attention was on the woman, who was now looking straight at him, eyes bright and face glowing with a smile.

“PUMPKIN!!” she screamed, throwing her tray and all the contents over her head in her excitement.

And he’s running to her, bulldozing anyone that got in his path, even pushing a few dining tables out of the way in his mad rush. 

She reached out to him, bouncing on her toes as he closes in.

By now security is probably trying to figure out what the hell is going on but fuck she’s right there, and he’ll be as bad as he wants to be. 

She jumped in anticipation and he scooped her up, hauling her up into his arms, grip most likely bruising as he squeezed her thigh in one hand and roughly cupped the back of her head. He stumbled, taking a few more steps before falling onto one of the dining tables; knees connecting uncomfortably with the attached metal bench, it didn’t fucking matter, nothing fucking mattered. She was already clawing at him.

He crashed his lips against her, growling loudly as he shoved his tongue into her mouth, his teeth clacking against her own in an animalistic display of dominance. She’s already making such pretty sounds for him and they’d barely done anything, she’s missed him and fuck he’s already so fucking hard.

He budged her further up the table, fully kneeling on the bench, which groaned under his weight. 

She bit his lips and pulled at his hair, and he can hardly stand it, it’d been a fucking month; he could feel himself leaking, the taught fabric over his dick becoming painful. He couldn’t stop himself, his hips already subconsciously humping the air, clothed dick rubbing against the cool metal table.

He doesn’t want to stop gripping the soft flesh of her thigh, but he wanted to know how much she missed him, just how sopping she already was for him. He removed his grip and pressed two fingers roughly against the crotch of her prison pants; she’s already soaking through them and he groans lowly.

“Fuck, lil’ sparkler, ya miss me? You’re fuckin’ soaked .” he growled against her mouth, before backing up a bit to see her expression. He’s embarrassed to admit he almost came right then and there when she looked back up at him, lips bruised and slightly bloody, pupils blown wide with lust. 

Her hand moved to his wild mane and she wound a chunk around her fist before yanking, bringing a lustful whine from him as she viciously tugged him back down.

“Don’t be so meeaannn. Rappa, please, no teasin’ be faaiirrrr.” she arched into him. 

God, she’s practically delirious for him, his cock twitched, and he humped against the table a few more times. 

He smashed his lips against hers again, drinking in her squeals as he ripped her pants from her hips and shoved a large hand into her panties. She practically screamed into his mouth when he pressed a finger into her tight heat.

“Fuuuuccckkk, dunno how ya can still be so tight aftr’ I’ve wrecked ya so many times.” he snarled against her lips, shoving a second finger into her and her back bowed in a pretty arch. “Look at ya take it.” 

He began to piston his fingers in and out of her, swallowing up her wails as she coated his hand in her slick. He knew he was going to have to be quick about this, to be honest he was surprised no one had done anything yet to to stop them, probably too scared, or maybe they’re getting off on this too. He growled at the idea, wanting to stake his claim even more.   

Hoshi scrabbled against his chest at the crook of his fingers and he felt her clamping down like a vice, he couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh; fuck he missed that feeling.

Barely allowing her to come down from her first high he pulled her closer, further beneath his huge form; using the hand that was already covered in her essence he ripped her ruined panties down her thighs before pushing his pants down (pleased that he had decided not to wear boxers this morning) just enough for his cock to spring free.

He looked down at her small trembling form, her bright eyes honed in completely to his dick that was now bobbing between them.

“Yesyesyesyes pleasepleaspleaseplease.” he heard her chanting under her breath, fuck she was practically drooling at the sight of him; his head swam and he grabbed her hips harshly.    

“Fuck, sparkler, you’re gagging for it ain’t ya?” he pressed the tip of his dick up against her. 

“Rappaaaa, Kendou.” she squirmed in his hold, trying to impale herself on him, and it takes all his remaining brainpower to not just shove inside her.

He leaned in further, lips brushing against her ear almost tenderly. 

“Have ya been a good girl?” he rumbled, lustful grin splitting his face.

He felt her turn and then she whispered back.

“No.”

The sound that broke free from his chest was a feral laugh as he leaned back slightly and plunged his cock into her completely.      

She screamed in delight, and probably a little pain, but fuck he knew she loved it, and he quickly started a brutal pace, pleasure and heat zipping up and down his spine nearly immediately.

“Fuck, missed ya Hoshi; missed your mouth.” he gave her a biting kiss. “Missed your fucking tits.” he tweaked her nipples harshly. “Missed your pretty. little. pussy.” each word punctuated with a harsh snap of his hips. “Missed watching ya barely being able to take me.” he watched how her stomach bulged each time he bottomed out in her heat.

He leaned close again, one hand fisting in her hair, the other reaching up to grip the lip of the table; he yanked her head back sharply, causing her to arch and show her pretty neck.

“Missed everything about ya.” he growled licking a wide tongue up the expanse of her throat. 

The sound she made, he promised to burn into the back of his brain for the rest of his life; and then she was coming around his thick cock, soaking him and milking him for all he was worth. At this point he’d lost all control and he savagely pounded into her, using her as his personal cock sleeve, chasing the pleasure building and crackling along his spine.

Three more harsh thrusts and he’s coming, holding her down, balls deep inside her, as he throbs. The sound that bubbles up from his chest is more the sound of a beast than a man.

He can hear her moaning and giggling as he filled her to the brim, pulse after pulse of his hot seed until it’s dripping out of her and onto the table. 

His body hummed, flushed in utter pleasure, but he already knew it wouldn’t be enough, even before he came off his high.

“More.” he growls lowly and fuck if Hoshi didn’t wiggle excitedly on his still hard cock. 

He huffed, exasperated and in absolute adoration of her eagerness; ready to flip her over and mount her like an animal. But he was suddenly being restrained, thick cables slingshotting around his biceps, forcing his arms to his sides. Even in his lust filled mindset he could figure out what was happening and he couldn’t help but laugh; the cable tightening, he could hear what he assumes are the guards finally getting their shit together with a few ‘what the fucks’ and ‘fucking christs’. The cables tug at him and he took a step back, slipping out of the petite woman, he’d rather remove himself from her; it would be gentler than being forcibly pulled away. 

“Looks like our fun is over Hoshi.” He grinned. 

Two guards appeared at his sides and he sensed there are more behind him. Two more guards and a few nurses round the table and bundle up next to Hoshi. He bristled at the idea that they thought they’d need to bring medical support; he’d never hurt her, not in anyway she didn’t want.

“Oh but daddy we were just getting started.” she whined, coy smile on her lips, she was still laying on the table completely ravaged by him. He can see the nurses recoil for a moment, unsure of how to respond to this tiny woman who had just been fucked an inch within her life, asking for more. He knows how.

He laughed straining against his bonds, the guards at his side, readying for him to struggle.

“Well kitten, are ya going to be good for next time or bad?” one of the nurses is helping her to a sitting position while the other is wrapping a blanket around her. The look she pinned him with was enough to make his cock jump again.

“Definitely bad.” she licked her lips, gaze smoldering. 

“Enough! Jesus CHRIST!” one of the guards cursed beside him, trying to shove him into turning around and marching. 

He was in a good mood now, so he turned to face the much smaller man.

“Ya gonna help me pull my pants up, cause…ya know” he flexed his biceps against the cables. “Unless ya like looking at my dick then carry on.” 

He reveled in the man’s sputtering and watched as Hoshi was ushered on shaky legs passed him.

One thing was for certain, he wouldn’t be spending another month in here, and neither would she. 

Besides prison break would be fun.