#switch!sour belt

[shrimpalbuspotter]

Severitus fic where little Harry, around 7 or 8, is an avid reader of fairytale books because he can imagine himself in another world. He loves all the ones about Knights saving Princesses from tall towers, and although he'd never call himself a princess, it was always his favourite scenario to imagine getting saved by a Knight in Shining Armour. One day he writes his own fairytale, where a Knight saves the young Prince from a troupe of evil monsters who had kidnapped him as a baby, and slaughtered his family. The Knight is everything Harry wants in a Dad personality wise, but he also had to look badass, so Harry drew him like the illustrations in his book, sharp boned men with long blonde locks and beautiful blue eyes, but instead gave him black hair and black eyes, so he could scare off all the bad guys. You know, all that good stuff. Harry adores the story so much, and he begins imagining his Knight whenever he's scared.

Upon a series of events which could cause Severus Snape to be sent for a Welfare check, because Dumbledore insisted a friendly face would help ease Petunias mind, Harry is met face to face with a man who has a shocking resemblance to his Knight(a little more grouchy looking than expected, and he'd imagined more luxurius hair, oh, and the nose was a tad big, but Harry had just been drawing dots so he couldnt complain), and coincidentally shows up at a time where he was getting seriously reprimanded by a red faced Vernon, who had a folded over belt in hand.

Harry is convinced Snape was actually his Knight, and from some unknown force he'd imagined him into existence. Meanwhile we have Vernon now screaming at Snape, who was ignoring him to focus on his conversation with a Sour faced Petunia, detailing why exactly he was here.

But anyway. More shit happens and basically Harry is taken away from the Dursleys by Snape and the whole fic is him following Severus around and calling him "Sir Snape", accepting everything about magic because it just further explains how he magicked his character into reality. He's also truly convinced he's a Prince, because Snape takes him directly to Hogwarts, a humongous castle, and everyone is treating him with utter importance. It's just meant to be fluffy okay but I think it'd be interesting if the POVS switched and with Severus it's alot darker, because at the point where he does care for Harry he's going through a whole "I can't look after him and work with the Dark Lord its too dangerous" thing, and it's just crazy whiplash jumping between the povs with Harry being filled with joyous fairytale whimsy and Snape going through the horrors. He's basically acting like a Knight through pov, because he's taking all the hits and Harry is allowed to just have some fun for most of it.

For endgame it'd be rather normal adoption or blood adoption so the wards stayed up. Thats probably my favourite route for a Severitus fic to go. It would be self indulgent as hell if I decided to write it.

OK thanks for my coming to my presentation

[nerdlvr]

you had gone a tiny bit too hard pregaming cause after a couple shots with renjun, he had to help you button up your shirt, carefully taking the time to tuck it back into your skirt claiming:

"nobody likes a messy secretary, they only wanna fuck them cause they're neat."

before brushing your hair out of your face and planting a kiss on your cheek, quickly dragging you outside to meet jaemin and chenle.

as you shut your front door you heard whistling behind you,

"oh wow you look even better in person."

jaemin grabbed your hand to spin you around, getting a full view of your outfit. you gave them a cheeky smile as chenle nodded his head in agreement, giving you a light pat on your butt.

the drive to the party was relaxed. there was occasional bickering between chenle and renjun about the test results of their most recent patient, while you and jaemin laughed as they switched between languages, making sure to use every insult they knew. your buzz was starting to fog your mind, a small smile permanently plastered on your face as you made yourself more comfortable in your seat. jaemin looked at you through the rear view mirror,

"how we feeling back there baby? you're not gonna flash anyone tonight right?"

you nodded slowly as you smiled wide, holding up both of your thumbs for extra confirmation. chenle turned around in the passenger seat to pat your knee,

"you better, cause we're all gonna do our own thing tonight, we can't babysit you, okay?"

you stuck your tongue out at him,

"as if you ever watch me zhong chenle, you always disappear as soon as they give out jello shots."

"chenle don't try to pick a fight with her, we just got here."

jaemin unbuckled his seat belt before nudging chenle to get out of the car. renjun stepped out, extending his hand to help you. as you stepped out and straightened your skirt your eyes met mark's. it was hard to miss him, right at the entrance of the house, bright blonde hair standing out in the crowd. he raised the drink in his hand, greeting you. you quickly turned back to renjun,

"if you guys leave me alone tonight i'm going to get into so much trouble"

𖦹

"dude did she just ignore you?"

haechan let you a loud laugh next to mark, reaching out to grab his arm for support.

"shut up, maybe she didn't see me."

jeno downed the rest of his drink, reaching forward to rip haechan off of mark,

"it's getting cold, lets go in, we finally saw her arrive, happy mark?"

mark let out a sigh before going in, turning his head back one last time to catch a glimpse of you greeting some party guests.

𖦹

as expected, inside the party was insane, the neo theta phi house was notorious for throwing the best parties on campus. free drinks, chicks, and dicks to go around. but tonight mark only had one thing in mind. he'd barely drank the mystery liquid haechan had concocted for him before he set out into the party to find you. hopefully you weren't actually avoiding him, there was no way in hell you were that much of a virgin that some male moaning scared you away.

when mark found you he felt a sour taste build up in his mouth. there you were, hot as ever, sitting comfortably on the leather couch as jaehyun leaned over you, whispering in your ear. he was too close for mark's taste.

mark flinched as someone grabbed his shoulders from behind, slightly shaking him.

"mark, buddy, if that's your girl, now she's not. you know how quick jae is."

mark turned around and was greeted by johnny's lazy smile.

"didn't know you went looking for girls, they usually come to you."

johnny questioned, raising a brow, before briefly looking over mark's shoulder to eye you.

"she's hot dude."

mark moved his shoulders, squirming out of johnny's grasp.

"how much have you had to drink?"

johnny pinched his fingers together, putting them up to his lips pretending to inhale,

"i'm 100% sober, if we're talking about alcohol that is, but we got real good stuff in the back if you want markie."

johnny gave him a sly grin before grabbing his shoulders again, turning him back around to face jaehyun.

goosebump's rose on mark's skin as he felt him whisper in his ear,

"but i think that can wait, cause it seems jae's already pulling the moves on your girl."

jaehyun was no longer leaning over you, but sitting right next to you, hand on your thigh, playfully pulling at your stockings.

mark's feet were already on the move before he processed was he was doing, now standing in front of you and jaehyun as you both eyed him. he saw your teeth shine as you broke out in a smile, getting up to wrap your arm around mark's shoulders, tippy toeing so you could reach.

"jae, this is mark, mark lee, we go wayyyy back, we've been neighbors for yearsss!"

mark could smell the liquor of your breath, as he looked over at you, smiling warmly at the silly grin on your face. jaehyun stood up, grabbing mark's hand to shake it.

"of course i know mark lee, silly girl."

he booped your nose with his free hand, mark felt sick as you giggled. he finished jaehyun's thought,

"we're frat brothers, actually."

he ripped his hand away from jaehyun's feeling a sudden distaste for his so called brother. jaehyun raised a brow at mark's sudden cold tone, biting back a smile as he realized what was going on.

thankfully haechan came to the rescue breaking the tension.

"there you are! i was just looking for you! we're playing a game, come on. oh! and you're definitely coming too"

haechan pulled your arm away from mark, tightly gripping your hand as he dragged you towards the circle of expectant party guests. mark followed after you two, wondering what haechan was possibly up to now.

𖦹

haechan sat you down on the couch next to him before introducing the game,

"tonight to celebrate two very hot people who had sex to make my very beautiful friend right here-"

he gestured towards jeno that sat on the opposite side of you.

"we will be playing 7 minutes in heaven, or what i like to call.... closet quickies! someone will spin the bottle and whoever it lands on has to go with them and spend 7 minutes locked up in a tight space together, soooo sexy. y/n first!"

you sat up quickly, surprised that your name was called. the initial shock killed your buzz, the relaxation quickly leaving your body as you looked around the circle. your eyes landed on mark's as he gave you an apologetic smile for his friend's actions. you smiled back feeling silly for even considering avoiding him tonight, he was just a friend like jaemin or chenle.

you looked towards haechan now, his hand pointing towards the bottle on the floor

"okay, yeah sure."

you leaned forward towards the bottle using your hand to turn it. the crowd watched as the bottle spun and spun, excited to see who the lucky player would be. as the spinning came to a halt it landed directly in front of haechan. you slowly turned to face him fighting the urge to strangle yourself, he smirked at you,

"oh! so lucky baby! but since i'm the host, i'm not playing, so you know what they say! next player is to the right of the dealer!"

he turned to look at his right, already knowing mark was sitting next to him. mark's eye's widened as he realized what haechan meant.

"m-me?"

"anyone else on my right markie?"

mark felt a blush creep past his neck as haechan nudged him suggestively.

"so our first pair for tonight is y/n and mark! lets give a round of applause to give our couple some strength!"

you got up and stood in front of mark, placing your hand out in front of him,

"come on mark, we've spent longer than just 7 minutes together."

the crowd ooo'd and aaa'd at your words, only making mark blush harder. he took your hand and followed behind you as you led him to the closet nearby.

𖦹

when you opened the door, the closet was smaller than you imagined, like a lot smaller. it was full with coats and sweaters, the floor space limited by the boxes that covered it. you pushed some of the hangers back making some space for you and mark, before stepping in and closing the door. you heard haechan from outside,

"okay guys! the timer just started, be careful not to dirty anything in there!"

you both rolled your eyes at his words, laughing awkwardly at the situation you found yourselves in. you and mark lee were chest to chest in a frat house closet, breaths heating up the tight area.

"sorry, my friends kind of an ass, we don't have to do this is you don't want to."

he turned slightly to reach for the door but you grabbed his shoulders to stop him,

"it's fine mark, really, it's just 7 minutes, we can't let donghyuck think we're wimps."

he nodded his head in agreement, big mistake. as he nodded downward his eye's landed on your cleavage. your breasts were plump and shiny, and now that he was conscious of how close you both were he realized how good you smelled right now. he shifted uncomfortably feeling his pants tighten. you moved your hands from his shoulders to his chest, pulling back as he flinched away from your touch letting out a little groan.

"mark are you okay? you look kinda red."

he coughed, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth,

"uh, yeah, yeah, just hot in here."

you let out an airy laugh,

"oh yeah, it is hot in here."

you had just realized the heat that had built up in the closet, bringing you hands up to move your hair from you chest and push it back, revealing more of your cleavage. mark thought he could faint right now. he didn't know if he should be happy or mad at haechan for putting him in this closet with you. he reached forward to help you move some hair from your face, trying to do anything to ignore what was growing in his pants. you smiled at him, lightly patting his chest as a thank you. mark was lost in your eyes, well, not just your eyes, your lips, your smile, your tits. think of haechan lap dancing a pillow, think of haechan lap dancing a pillow, think of haechan-

"do you wanna kiss?"

he would've missed the question if you both weren't literally 5 inches away from each other. it was almost a soft whisper that left your lips.

"we don't have to but, that's the point of the game, and your boner's kinda poking me so-"

"yes, yes, fuckk, yes, lets kiss."

he didn't care if he sounded desperate, you asked to kiss him and his dick was about to fall off he didn't at least get some type of action. he'd deal with the consequences later, he gets to kiss you. he wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you impossibly closer, lips just a breath away from yours,

"are you sure, you're not drunk are you?"

damn that question just made you wanna kiss him more. you didn't know what had come over you. maybe it was mark's new blonde hair, or the spit filling your mouth as you felt mark growing in his pants. or maybe it was heatstroke, but right now mark looked so damn good you couldn't miss this opportunity to kiss him. after hearing all that moaning last night, maybe just one kiss would tame your dirty thoughts.

"just had a couple shots before coming."

he brought his hands up to cup your face, stopping to brush some hair behind your ear. he chuckled,

"how many is a couple pretty girl?"

you let out a sigh,

"are you gonna kiss me or-"

he pressed his lips softly into yours, melting into the kiss. you placed your hands on his chest, pulling his tie. he turned his head deepening the kiss, poking your lips with his tongue, asking for permission. you pulled away from the kiss giggling softly. he chased after your lips.

"don't tease me brat."

his hand went up to the back of your head, pulling you back into the kiss. this time you let his tongue roam your mouth, moaning softly at the warmth spreading through your body. you traced your fingers down his body, stopping at the tent that had formed in his pants, lightly squeezing him. he released your lips, pressing his forehead into yours, letting out a deep groan,

"shit, don't do that, we don't have enough time"

and just like that you heard banging from the other side of the door, you both jumped, backing away from each other like you'd just been burnt. haechan yelled,

"are you both decent, times up, you can come out nowwww!"

you looked at mark, both of your cheeks flushed.

"uh you go first, i gotta get this-"

he pointed at his pants,

"to go down."

you nodded quickly, hand already reaching for the door knob.

"yeah yeah, i'll go ahead."

you turned the knob but stopped yourself, turning back to mark. you reached towards him to straighten his tie, using your fingers to wipe away the gloss that had transferred onto his lips.

"there, that's better."

mark could've melted at the smile you gave him.

"the blonde looks good on you by the way."

he reached up to touch his hair, but you had already walked out of the closet, leaving him to wonder, what the hell just happened?

𖦹 .ᐣ.ᐟ₊ ⊹ cryptic crush — [24] brat

previous — masterlist — next

notes : i wasn't gonna make this kiss but the kitty wants what it wants ifyk what i mean ☝️🙂‍↕️. enjoy this before y/n's intense panic on what the hell is going on between her and mark hahaha

taglist : @sunghoonsgfreal , @dalsosapple , @nanaxwi , @neverbeurs , @miichellehciim , @h-aechanie , @hizhu , @mystverse , @ppeachyttae , @jae-n0 , @onlyhyunjin , @alethea-moon , @onyourmark-99 , @sunnystarred , @p-d1ddy , @hisrkive , @flwrs4marklee , @haechskiss , @rutheaflowers , @busy-daydreaming02 , @byeonwooseokabs , @bunniin , @odxrilove , @injunnie-lemon , @sunflowerhae , @nosungluv , @222brainrot , @vklve , @aerivrs , @slayhaechan , @aek1ra , @honeynanamin , @roseangelxfuma , @starfilledgaze , @meowtella , @grassbutneo , @hyuck-me , @lovm4rk , @minkyuncutie , @babystrlla , @tynlvr , @jakesbubu , @yutasputa69 , @mrkleelvr , @spiderm444rk , @zzurao , @haechoshi , @brii-sunwoos-version , @nneteyamss , @blxcknwhite-lady , @nessaassen02 , @jkslvsnella , @donghyucksslut , @urlocalbeaner5

[joannasteez]

starship pain

pairing: cody rhodes x reader , cm punk x reader warning: explicit content (smut) minors pls dni. angst. emotional infidelity? loads of description!!! a lot of space related metaphors. authors note: lovely little request from @harmshake i hope i did your idea some justice. this takes place after mania. somethings are changed and switched around to fit my ideas. so it's a bit of an alternative universe from present kayfabe. the one flashback i have in this has a little red text noting when in the timeline of the year its set in!! word count: 14k tagging: @333creolelady @theninthwonder @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce @crxssjae @coyotegirl-ramblings @luchorgasm @xbriexx @wanna-see-my-lease

...what gives a star it's character?...

temperature

color

mass

luminosity 

size 

...and with the display of such magnificent character, do stars not go about tirelessly with the work of inspiring awe? living wondrously bright amidst the deafening swallow of that deep void called space, so much so, that even with great distance, they exist bold enough to be witnessed. if so, then can we not be stars too? though not as great, can we not aspire, with terrible diligence, to be as breathtaking?... 

and with the conclusion of wrestlemania forty, the philadelphia crowd erupts thunderous. earsplitting even. the american nightmare, cody rhodes, kneeling with tears at the heart of the ring. clutching the weight of the title belt. gold in hand, the newly crowned undisputed wwe universal champion. the hearts, minds, joys and displeasures of the people performing well to revolve in orbit around such star-like greatness.

"your moonsault needs a bit of work still". your father's voice coarse from age. his eyes unblinking. a perfectionist's stare. his penchant for over examination as lively as the sun. existing still even with the residual thrill of wrestlemania. "you're hesitating too much before you press off'. 

you sigh. small enough that it goes incomprehensible. sipping at early afternoon coffee complimentary of the hotel. "it was just nerves pop", you give. because facing rhea ripley for the title, center stage in front of thousands was no easy feat. preparation took a back seat, amongst the lights and screams and hard bumps to the body. it was natural to have a seconds worth of overthought. "the match was fine'.

because it was fine. it was good. great even. two women telling a story with the violent bursting and clash of their bodies. loss be damned. it felt good to withstand the cold. to toil through limitation so fiercely. an easy break of a glass ceiling that worked well to loom above your head for some time. but your hall of fame of a father couldn't see pass the minor inconsistencies. a scrutinizer to the greatest degree. 

"you should come by the gym soon. we can catch up. work through a few things together'". 

catch up and work through meaning your body bouncing off a turn buckle till his satisfaction reached a good, sore, exhaustion. you pivot quickly at the thought of it. at the thought of drilling through moves and the terse cut of his voice. 

you pick up your phone, hearing the shift of feet from across the hotel room. another sip of coffee that plays well over the soft closing of the bathroom door. because your father didn't need to know the details of your latest tryst. especially so soon after the events of the biggest sports entertainment night of the year. everything to him, that isn't the four sided ring, a distraction. 

you smile. "doesn't sound like anything's wrong with my wrestling. sounds like you miss me". 

he softens. blinks his eyes and lets his pride show through a small smile. "any father in their right mind would". 

"so then say it".

"your moonsault is near flawless...", he gives. like relenting but not really. "...and i miss you". 

the bedsheets ruffle behind you. your cue to end the moment before it has the chance to sour.

"we'll talk later", you give. "i have to go". 

"alright. be good".

the face time call ends. gentle touching steps along the carpet of your hotel bedroom before you're slipping under puffy sheets. the philadelphia sun bursting beyond thin curtains to shape his face. blue eyes more sky than ocean under such bright warmth. his fingers quick to pull against your body. slipping up and over with a tender maneuvering till you lay against him like he seems to like. a drawn tune of a hum singing, your weight pressing in to comfort the sore, exhausted champion. his neck craning, rushing with movement to follow the run of your touch over his scalp and across the apple of his cheek. lips dipping into the heart of your palm. 

"did i wake you?", you ask. 

"no", cody gives. voice tired. "my phones been going crazy all morning". 

your thumb caresses just beneath his bottom lip. soft and sweeping. "as expected. the price goes up when you're the champ. so does the attention". 

"is that right?", tone suggestive. eyes a heavy linger along your lips. 

you oblige him. a small sweet reward for all his tiresome effort. your lips, sweet and rich, tasting of coffee as they meet his. a tender meshing before they slip to slot passionate. his fingers curling into your hips. a venture to endear you, moaning lazy as his body forms deeper into the sheets. mouths parting only so his indulgences can lead him else where. wet, tongue led kisses along your pulse. hot breath and the dull graze of his teeth. surely overwrought still by the thrill of the night before. this morning version of him performing with a delirious high. his every touch sure and firm. the hands of a champion. 

"how does it feel?" 

a deep breath. weighing the question with silence. finding a home for his yet to be spoken thoughts in the dip of your neck. the part of his lips there producing a shiver up your spine. 

"good. it feels good". the shine in his eyes threatening to wane. "scary. now i have to actually carry it. do some good with it". 

you kiss him sweetly. a plant of reassurance. "you will". words kind as you roll on your side to face him. catching the beginnings of an etch in of adoration as he fails to look away from you. a semblance of something near unpleasant troubling your chest. like being under the weight of his gaze is too much to bare. 

"thank you for being here". 

"of course". 

"i couldn't get to you properly last night. it all moved so fast after the match. one thing after the other". 

you find yourself ruffling through his hair again. your own will, making to ingratiate your senses to him. like staining the skin to lay a good base for memory. "it's ok. m'here now", mouth on him. an urge that lives with imperfections, your tongue flicking soft, lapping over sweetly till it works away that ambivalent trouble in your belly. urges growing greater by the second till they form with an edge too defined to ignore. eager now, to feel him against skin. the way the mellow heat of him flares under your palm, melting the worry till it runs off into desire. this performance of a great gravitational pull.

regulating yourself to one drink for the night is a testier task than originally thought, but it works well enough. the celebratory buzz of the room filling in where the warmth of liquor doesn't. the philadelphia skyline sparkling the dark chill of the night as the closed in rooftop swells up to a comfortable fullness. wrestling stars at every corner. drinks in hand and simple, cheery conversation. the scene of it all, once a dream, talked of and imagined, now a reality as you maneuver amidst it all.

a firm take to your arm pulls you toward the secrecy of a corner. your lips failing to keep away from a pull up of excitement. heels clicking to keep the pace as you're rounded about a tall column and tucked away behind it. cody pressing in. a lazy little kiss against your mouth that tastes like his drink of choice. the glass clutched in his hand still, attempting not to spill it. 

not so long after your intimate morning did you both part. post-mania obligations too much of a priority to ignore. 

his free hand slips into the slit of your dress. fingers curling into your thigh. a silky brown number that matches his undone suit. his tie loose, his jacket gone and the vest unbuttoned. cheeks dusted a faint pink. his mouth pressing into your pulse. housing there to feel the warmth corralling under the skin. 

and with only a few weeks of this relationship have you confirmed just how affectionate cody is. his every touch made to linger, his smile luminous and his words warm as they work tirelessly to sink into skin. 

"you look", a kiss to your cheek. "absolutely beautiful angel", and another to your mouth. 

you smile. lip tucking under your teeth. "thank you". fingers running to crease his shirt. pulling him closer. the curt shuffle of his shoes clicking forward as your back flushes up into the corner. your eyes sweeping over his mouth. reaching to lick in for a kiss that makes him groan. "you look good too". tasting the bitterness washing his tongue before going in for more. "very good", a purr of a moan floating in that makes his breath hitch before he's groaning soft. a mindless overworking of nerves you're sure. because the weeks with him thus far—albeit fresh—have been nothing short of a teasing game. heavy traveling and the looming possibility of a good passion not yet explored. that trouble in your belly shortening the full breath of your desires. 

you break for air, remembering where you are. he downs the rest of his drink. clutching the glass still. 

"you had a lot to drink?", you ask. wiping at his mouth with your thumb. licking at the residual bits of liquor.

his eyes trailing over your lips. unhurried to meet back at your eyes. "not too much. this was my last. m'tappin out early". 

"good", you give. tugging at the undone part of his vest. keeping him flushed up against you so that the strength of his cologne steeps in. "cause i need you sober. we have unfinished business". 

his free hand still finds itself making a home beyond the slit of your dress. kneading just where your thigh rounds out into the supple flesh of your bottom. a firm squeeze that's all possession. the action risky, but exhilaratingly so. his words toughing out with a groaning. "fuck the party then". 

"no. enjoy it". slipping from under him slowly. "we'll have plenty of time later". 

a final look of promise before you click away. deep tempering breaths that work to quell your own rise of desire. cheeks hot and your body beneath the delicate dress teeming with the memory of his touch. sensations comfortable enough that they leave you wanting. borderline desperate. but yes, what lives of the the draw, the pull of him, all a symptom of simple necessity. his everything sure enough to fall into. a security exacting to an almost bothersome degree. but maybe this full consumption isn't a bad thing, after past failures and flings too loose and undefined. shapeless, wordless things. maybe cody is what you need. your body tucking to lean into the wall that meets the end of the rooftop bar. "gin and tonic", you order. 

soft clutching hands at your shoulder. you turn. bianca belair beaming with excited knowing eyes and a smirk. "you got blondie real red in the face", she starts. slipping up next to you. "no thoughts, just half of a three piece suit and a vibe". 

you smile with her. feeling heat in your cheeks and a swirl in your belly. the intimacy of your relationship with cody no outright secret, but the confirmation of it never really reaching the great private sphere of your friends and friendly acquaintances. because it was business only yours and cody's to keep or share, but bianca is a good friend. closer than most. a former tag team partner. a nxt sister. and the playfulness of her curiosities were always as fun to indulge in as they were to hear. 

"a real nasty vibe", you chuckle. "that man was trying to give ya'll a PLE from the corner. i had to slip away while i could". 

"and i get it cause this brown and gold!?", her hand taking yours to spin you around. appraising the the beauty of your dress and accessories. her fingers dabbing up under an eye and sniffling with faux tears. "i taught you so well". 

"you really did". 

both of you laughing and sipping at your drinks. 

"is it serious?", her tone shifting firm. 

the question forcing you into a bout of consideration you've attempted to stray from on many occasions. but it's crucial nonetheless. a conclusion you'll have to come to regardless. 

"i mean, i don't know". thumb rubbing against the chill of your glass. taking to a silent mull over. the past few weeks or so a whirlwind of affection. secret rendezvous' and late night calls. the tenderness of him working with an endless drive, even amongst the world of work set before the both of you. "we're slow burning it a bit but i think the end goal for him is to have something serious". 

and your wording doesn't go unnoticed, not that you want it to. some part of you maybe looking to gain some much needed perspective. a nudge in the direction you feel is necessary. and she doesn't fail in delivering it. "you deserve something stable. the casual shit is cool but it's not forever". 

you sigh. memory serving well of your former trysts with a different superstar. "i agreed on that being casual".

"you can agree to a lot when you think the dick is good". sipping at her drink. "he's here by the way". 

and if you pretend not be be affected by the possibility of seeing him, of being seen by him, then doesn't that null the existence of the feeling all together? that twist in of nerves in your belly. residual things, like words and perhaps sentiments left to wander the void of space formally known as a very casual but fevered, undefined union of legs and lips. a deep passion left to succumb to the suffocating elements of space and time. 

"i figured he'd be".

his name is a draw. of money, eyes and thoughts. his return causing this gravitational pull of the people, controversial or otherwise. a veteran in his own right. for him not to be seen at a celebration of the greatest night in their business would be confounded and weird. 

"you good with all that though? i know it ended kinda all of a sudden". 

from passion all the time to none at all. hour long drives and last minute flights. apartments and not so high floor hotel rooms. his name seemingly forever written into the slip and work of your tongue. free and casual but still working so sure in that space of passion that the feeling of being beholden to one another felt more truer by the day. living too sporadically—and maybe too unrestrained—still though, to last well enough on its own. because without the consistency of light, how is anything sure to grow? and then in came cody, prying away your attention with the ease and experience of a star born to evoke awe. his light pleasant and safe. 

you shrug. "you live and learn, you move on. i'm good where i am". 

bianca smiles. her arms a nice embrace. "as you should be. m'happy for you".

"thank you", you give. her warmth contagious. your body squeezing into the hug. 

and when she's called away, montez drunkenly whisking his wife to another corner of the room, she parts with an apologetic smile. mouthing "sorry", as her sloshed to capacity of a husband drags her along with him. leaving you to live alone at the end of the bar, newly made acknowledgements of your relationship resting over you thickly. a tight take of adrenaline to your nerves. small sips of your drink working only to occupy your hands. unwilling to decipher the root of such a rush. fear or excitement. either way, the feeling of it drops your belly and leaves the tiny hairs everywhere to stand on end. because this has happened before, drawing too close to the power of a star too soon, burning amongst the void before the possibility of impact. 

shoes click, approaching beside you. his cologne familiar. a scent made to intrigue. memory slipping in to harshen the roll over happening in your belly. of course he'd be here. the self proclaimed 'best in the world', the second city saint, the straight edged superstar. after some months of nothing, cm punk is alive and looking too well for you to stand. 

you sip again. a cool lean up again the wall. eyes patient as they go about examining him whole. his doing just the same. 

he looks good in a suit, much to your dismay. 

"you clean up well", you give. meeting his eyes. standing firm against the heaviness of his gaze. 

"so i've been told", slipping closer. his body leaning up against the bar to rest just as coolly as you have against the wall. a casual disposition so incredibly indicative of your times together. "you look beautiful. nothing new for you though".

"you're letting your grays grow out again". 

"a new era, a new look". his palm smoothening over the salt and pepper patches of hair. a smile running through his lips. "you always did like them". 

a fight to arrest the heat in your cheeks and old memories. "so what, this is about me?"

"such a smart girl", he chuckles. "i love it when you state the obvious". 

you grin at his teasing. "i just had one of the most important nights of my life', shoving up against him playfully. "you can't be a dick to me". 

"you did well by the way". a sincerity that makes something bloom over the skin. a jittered feeling you choose to ignore as he continues. "a nice bag of new little moves and tricks, it was good shit for your first mania. get rid of that moonsault though, it doesn't fit you". 

you scoff. "oh cause you know what fits". 

body bracing for impact just after such a wild take to flight. the words leaving before you can think them over. his shoulders shaking as he laughs. 

"i've had the pleasure of knowing a time or two". 

"oh fuck you punk". 

"i mean...", dark earthy eyes sweeping over your lips. a lazy, patient journey over your body. a show of his appraisal. "...i don't know if you can. given your new boy toy and all". 

"i'm bound to get a new toy if the old one breaks". not that cody is a toy. no. he's no play thing in the slightest. a sudden need to defend him in that right springing up till its thick in your mouth. stitching into words. his every intention appearing precise and laid bare. sweet gestures and impassioned words. his everything lingering long enough for you to notice. "it's a lot more serious than you think". 

"so it seems", voice neutral, but appearing in his eyes to live, these little slivers of disappointment. 

its something not meant to harp on for the sake of your own peace. but they try their damnedest to penetrate. working diligent. enough for the air to feel too warm and thick to breathe in. your barely touched drink a nuisance and the friendly crowd of the celebration too much to handle. and thank God for cody, your attention catching his motions for you. slipping through the crowd to head for the entry-exit doors. a make to leave as he catches your eyes to join him. 

"i should...i should go-"

"that's a smart decision". 

cody's tongue tastes like his drink of choice. room temperature whiskey. the lap of it lazy and patient, aiming to steep into the palate. his lips soft, twisting wet as they go about the work of ingratiating the senses. his hands following suit. a tight journey over the skin, heat flaring up in the wake of such an ardent touch. curling in to leave cratered impressions. his movements breathtaking, your body hoisted up in his arms before you're bouncing into the fluff of the bed. persistent fingers and his mouth ready, tongue dipping into where your body pliantly unfolds for him. your legs spreading with guidance. an exposure to the air that pulls a shiver through the body. 

"so pretty", musing to himself. tongue slipping deep. warm and wet and earnest. groaning from a pleasure that comes with pleasure. your inner thighs suffering under the gripping weight of his touch. a steady hold that keeps you open for him. "been thinkin about this all day". 

you hiss. touch filled with delirium. your belly overwrought and filling in hot. skin breaking away from the chilly philadelphia air. your hips testing their limits. a gentle swing up that catches against the rhythm of his mouth. a sweet suckle to your clit that shortens the air in your chest.

his thumb joins the fray. teases the messy drool of arousal pooling to drip lazy like. a dull circling at that broaches the possibility but nothing more. leaving you with the desire to be filled to the hilt. your pussy pulsing hard against his tongue. clenching about nothing, waiting impatient as he revels in his own play at giving pleasure.

"cody please", voice near broken. a sweet little plea. 

he leaves you spread. watches your little performance of appeal. nails painted a color that leaves a beautiful contrast against your soft skin. slipping sweet at the bud of your clit. holding his eyes. enchantment and lust. the light of his desire bright enough that it reflects beautifully off your skin. curving its way up the body. paints itself warm over the work of your pleasure. melting in till its swirling heavy at the base of your belly. a sensation that grows easy. another groan erupting, surely from that clinging sensation you've bought to his tongue. pulsing and shivering. singing and moaning wispy for him. a full consumption that breaks the resolve you've built so easily. and when his thumb sinks into the fat of your clit, circling deep and persistent, you sink further into the sheets. a sharp "fuck", breaking into the air. your nerves unruly as they go in their frenzy. 

your body drunk, senses beautifully askew. a quick to arrive release that speaks to his determination. 

his mouth messy and slipping over your inner thighs. working to kiss your belly and through the valley of your breast. tongue peaking before it flattens over the perk of your nipples. an involuntary rut in your hips rushing up into him. the sensation like kindling for a fire. 

you taste yourself. pulling your lips to his. the whiskey and that dangerous steep in of your own arousal. his hands nailed into the sheets. your own freeing him from his underwear. hot and hard in your hand. slipping him through slick arousal, to feel how awfully ready he is for you, before you're guiding him in with a desperate hand. head tipping into the bed as you feel the wet split as he goes. a hiss of enjoyment as he deepens, resting just over the end of you. 

cody hums. diving his nose into the scent of your perfume. the stain of it at your neck arresting him. hips knocking in firm. deft and easy. working you open to take him. 

your palms sweep over muscle. to layer over that already laid foundation of memory.  his back taut and strong. nails clawing in as he fills you whole. your lips parting. breaths taken. belly coiling with the threat of release. and here the work of taking him in feels more than good. that troubling knot of ambivalence that once warred beneath the skin, trampled upon with a temporary defeat, as his hips work steadily. 

"you feel so good", a moaning drawl of words. 

an admission that slips its way to settling into thick air. performing well enough to saturate the room. and its true. cody feels good. amazing. his warmth gentle, and his everything near flawless.

the man wrapped in your arms, the reigning undisputed universal champion, is only near flawless. this, a thought that slips deep into your conscience. taking root aggressively so. but are stars not perfect in shape? bright and the enormity of them sensational. great enough in size that the draw of them from within performs well enough to gather equally at every side. a faultless sphere of a shape indeed. and has he not—in spite of your damning early morning sentiments—taken on that part of a stars character? wearing it warm and well. the wrestling world revolving to orbit his dazzling spectacle of victory amongst the mania. then what of it could be so wrong as to call him only near flawless and not flawless simply? the touch of his skin and the pull of his lips gracious even in hunger and looking to consume. a ready made heat not so dissimilar to a great star. 

it's clear. so very fucking clear, amidst the slow creep in of the morning, as your phone vibrates with a call, just where the doubt reeks from. 

'the best in the world' showing up as caller ID. because you never changed the name. because you never had the heart to leave him nameless even. slipping from the sheets, from the comfortable weight of cody's body. a fluffy robe over your skin as you slide the balcony doors of the hotel room open. answering his call. 

those slivers of disappointment in his eyes from last night. performing well enough to disrupt your feelings. like the grand effects of a solar flare. 

"have breakfast with me", he starts. 

no preamble to give you room to deflect. a sigh heavy as it leaves you. his morning voice coarse and unfortunately satisfying. maybe you should've stayed in bed. wrapped yourself deeper beneath the sheets and the lay over of cody's body. 

"we lose a little contact and you forget your manners. that's unfortunate". 

he chuckles. "please?"

"that took a lot out of you huh?" 

"not really". a dramatic little pause, because punk does have a flare for it. albeit in small doses, in his own way. and you can feel him smiling through the phone. can feel the change in tone just before he can give it. "begging is just usually more your thing than it is mine". 

and the truth only hurts, vexes the nerve so, because it is the truth. because it has life. breathing and smiling with the sole objective of tethering itself ungraciously to every little thing you do. 

"can you not?" 

"you like it".

slivers of guilt. peering to look through the glass of the balcony door. cody still sleeping, peacefully unaware. but what is there to be guilty of? the past solely the past. this little phone call but a blip in time. a soundless action amidst the airless void of space. 

"ok, m'sorry". he relents. receiving your silence in full. "i'll stop". 

"i can't do breakfast. it wouldn't feel right". 

"it's just coffee and a little chit chat". 

lies. "i've never had just coffee with you...", memory serving right as the words grow heavy and thick. leaving the tongue less easy than you'd like them to. months of passioned tryst' and rendezvous, from city to city, before and not so long after his return to the company. "...it's always had some accompaniment to it". 

he hums. "i know how to respect a boundary if that's what you're worried about". 

slivers of guilt still. a pang in your chest. the cool morning philadelphia air doing nothing to lessen the heat in your cheeks. "the boundary isn't just for you", admission quick and terse. angered that it had to leave.

this slow to slip along silence. a lazy passing over before he's chuckling again. like the type of amusement you get after a small win. his voice is all raspy satisfaction. "i see", he gives.

"i'm sure whatever you want to say over coffee, you can just say over the phone right now".

"you gonna make me bare my soul over some fuckin radio waves?"

it'd all be a less ceremonious go of words. not so serious. as shapeless and uncategorized as the months were with him. 

"you are notorious for saying things you probably shouldn't, so keep that in mind".

"old habits unfortunately die very hard sweetheart". 

a chill creeping up the spine. riding in along the morning air. "it's almost eight a.m., it's not even a good time to be sharing all this...sentiment". 

"then give me a time and place". 

"i don't know punk, whenever you can get to a target closest to you", laughing a little. the rejection feeling sweet and easy as it leaves you. "they sell journals and diary's with matching pens. that's a good place to put all of your little feelings". 

"ouch".

you stand. watching cody slowly make his way to the bathroom through the glass balcony window. your hand against the handle to slide it open. "i have to go". a quick throw of words before you end the call. pride slowly inching over the skin. 

a successful deterrent.

the “archangels moonsault", a name coined by a collective of your fathers contemporaries. his performance of the golden triangle moonsault habitually flawless. appearing more angel than man as his body soared for some seconds. awe forever struck across the color of your eyes at such a spectacle, so much so, that you wished to live it. and so it went, a song and dance done many times before. the child of a legend attempting to step beyond that harrowing shadow in hopes of creating their own. the awe inspired, attempting now to inspire awe. like the cinematic feat of interstellar travel, viable only through the art of imagination. a play at the impossible, and nothing more. the perpetual falling short of a dangerous aspiration. nerves fraying at the seams and a deep plummeting of the heart. angst, a side effect of near flawlessness. starship pain.

"just keep workin at it", cody said once. watching your frustration after failing to perfect your fathers beloved moonsault. the precision of it lacking. your body insistent on underperformance. resentful of the air.

the encouragement working against its own intention. a bitterness rising to meet your tongue. but the near success of it grows palpable on your fingertips. nagging the nerve endings there so much that it forces into the skin a deep repetition. a cycle of the same thing for weeks on end—house shows, and training, and live events and training, and meet and greets and training, and merch signings and training, and interviews and training, and photoshoots and training—till the system grew faithful. and whichever cracks of free time expose themselves are quickly remedied with cody. because if all these distractions exists, then the time to decipher the bitterness growing on your tongue has no room to live. the ambivalence attempting to sneak in your belly once again, snuffed out by other things. 

and friday night smackdown becomes an interesting state of affairs amidst your little world of moonsault turmoil. cody and punk both drafted, a feud storyline written up by creatives. the new undisputed champion versus the self proclaimed best in the world. a guarantee for money and ratings. which always means good business. your draft to smackdown a grounds for opportunity just the same. a fresh creative direction post-mania. but such good chances don't stop your body's war with itself. feeling the toil of the work, that faithful routine, and refusing to surrender from it's grudge. resentful of the air still. 

but cody remains. his touch heated and sure. a sweet kiss to your skin in the privacy of a dressing room before your first match on the smackdown brand. the memory of his words sticking as you make to kiss him. 'just keep workin at it'. the rush of affection feeling odd. 

"you okay?", his eyes searching. thumb swiping gentle, palm holding at your cheek. 

"yeah", your body odd in it's skin. tempted to leave but feeling the need to stay. you grab his hand. a gentle squeeze of assurance. "i think it's just nerves". 

"you been workin at it hard. it's gonna pay off", he gives. his smile small but bright still. a hand roaming gentle. soothing up your back. 

but the second city saint was, is, never too far behind. posturing himself as the metaphorical rock, adamant on flushing you uncomfortably against a hard place. slivers of mischief in his stride and in coarse perfected words. the smackdown before backlash interesting to say the least. proving itself as the first domino. the main event of the night a strategic volley of words. the returned superstar and the undisputed champion. the knot tying itself about your belly barbarous as it works, watching them dig into each other with dramatic promises of destruction. the usual song and dance of a good promo. waiting for something terrible that affirms the odd abrupt spring ups of guilt and that bitterness refusing to leave your throat. everything of your romance, center stage and dazzling with bright lights for all the world to see. and when the words stop, the crowd jeering for who they hate and loud in delight for who they love, the air grows thick with the way it deafens. 

rough thudding drops of their microphones before that faithful rushing in. fire in their eyes and a close size up of the competition. good drama for the crowd. 

punk breaks with a laugh. similar in an amusement you've heard, felt before. like he's won a small victory. wholly fucking satisfied and happy about it. reaching to whisper something in cody's ear. words that penetrate more than they're supposed to. something a little less fire filled than anger striking bold along cody's expression. like a smoldering yet to come fully ablaze. 

and it is said that for every star, there is a loss of mass in it's life time. a lessening of that gravitational pull. a change of character that threatens its awe. 

his skin warm, but not as balmy. his kiss sweet but the comfort of it waning. the journey to seeing to its ease seeming more painful than letting it be. but the need to try breathes still. living bored and tired and thin, but alive nonetheless. the late hours between the end of the live show and his first official title defense quiet and terrible. all of his little bright smiles and tender touches gone. the beauty of the french hotel drained by this sudden standstill. blue eyes colder and distant. taken by the trouble of overthinking. 

text message | outgoing: wtf did you say to him?

text message | the best in the world: what's my name saved as in your phone? 

your fingers feel weak. tired and unable. the nerves there doing well in fraying at the seams. held hostage by a guilt that refuses to leave.

text message | the best in the world: i'm not really a write my feelings in journals kinda guy, you should know that. i want to see your pretty little face for a chat still. whenever you decide to stop avoiding me. 

text message | outgoing: boundaries remember? or are the new gray hairs screwing your memory

text message | the best in the world: well i figure a little courtesy closure is in order before your boy gets his ass whipped on live television. 

text message | outgoing: closure? can't really close a door that never existed can you? 

a thick, curling cloud of steam rolls into the hotel bedroom from the open door of the shower. a silent invitation to join him—an olive branch living still in spite of his sudden brooding—that your body refuses to indulge. but the air does well in an attempt to suffocate you anyways. skin sweltering uncomfortably. or maybe it's just the ambivalence in your belly and the dull taste of something wrong on your tongue. frayed nerves and this half shaped desire to leave. all of these symptoms living as the summation of...of something that feels too harsh to speak to. your eyes take a steady read over the chain of messages. a once over that happens too many times to happen just once and yet there is no clarity of thought here. 

closure? a type of reconciliation afforded to people once terribly impassioned. and yes, your times with him were fevered. fierce little meetings that left you craving more. but never did the attraction burn so much as to bring about such a heat, that lived closer to something like love than not, or whatever he seems to be feeling. 

but there was that one time in albany. a confusing, charged little tryst. different from the others. his fingers curling in so deep then that he'd bruised your skin, like he was trying to remember you-

"so...", cody starts. a simple word edged with hesitation. bath towel wrapped about his waist as he pads out of the steam of the bathroom. skin wet and tantalizingly inviting. "...you and punk?" and finally it comes. the source of his brooding, his silence. that dejection of touch and affection. 

your phone grows heavy in your hands. plops along the sheets like a weight. "old news", words ironed and pressed. dressed up in a surety, that if spoken with enough, can be believable. because the second city saint is old news. 

his eyes are cold. a gray-blue snatched from the impending roll in of a storm. "feels pretty current", he sighs. turns to the table below the bedroom mirror. searching through a small bag of things. lotions and colognes and clothes and such. his perfect teeth spreading mirthless. "very current actually". 

your body anchors to the bed, and curiosity an anchor in your body. inspires a refusal to move—to go to him, to ease the tension in his shoulders—as the sharp edges of it rip through till it holds deep enough. 

"what'd he say to you?" 

"nothing worth repeating...", hands rubbing about his face. a serum moisturizer. taking up small work as he finds and treads slow through words. tone like that of an interrogators though not nearly as violent. but the suspicion in him bothers to root well enough that it can't be hidden. can't be done away with easily. "just implying a bunch of... of shit. which is interesting because punks not that type of guy on the mic. if it needs to be said, he makes it plain..."

"its a work probably...". tone cool. indifferent. the sensation resting in your belly just the opposite. words spilling, living two fold. an attempt at persuasion overflowing so well that it performs for him and yourself just the same. "...ratings, clicks, views. it's drama for tv". 

"well it feels pretty damn personal". 

"and what?", you scoff. "winning mania wasn't?" 

cody recedes. softens. because winning at mania was personal. business but very personal. the stakes of such a win clinging to the base of his emotions at every breath and turn till the belt rested in his hands. that much you could feel, drawing closer to him in those months—a sweet, innocent friendship born from this great host of similarities—till nearly every moment was spent with each other. his words and his thoughts and his touches becoming more intimate. affections as clear as the perfect beauty of his smile. and then comes the guilt, a drizzle against the air, like the first damning drops before the inevitable chaos of a down pour. your body lighter now. the will to leave him be, to wrestle with his feelings by his lonesome unanchored by the shame of doing so. 

"am i being crazy about this?", he asks. 

you move to him. crossing the exceptional size of the room to embrace him. arms encircling and your eyes gentle. his skin warm and comfortable. your body fighting itself still though, even amidst the vulnerability of him, battling back these slivers of a temptation to leave. "it's a mind game. don't let him win". 

his hands venture. a smooth, sweeping take along your arms till they cradle your face. thumbs tender as they roll at the apple of your cheeks. "and us? this is it right? we're solid?"

your eyes flick to his lips in a means to inspire within yourself some true meaning of devotion. desire and fidelity. your mouth pressing sweetly to the seam of his as you pull him into a deeper embrace. words kept unsaid. buried alive before the work of a damning departure. your tongue soft and slipping gentle. wet and precious enough to elicit a moan. the tension in him waning as he goes, falling further into your show of affection. shoulders unburdened and the heat returning pleasantly to his skin. a performance that convinces only his hesitations and nothing of your own. 

and that lack of conviction reigns over heavily. devastatingly so. failure thundering about your chest, slipping wild through the arms and legs, till it swims heavily about the head. ambivalence working ungracious in the body, like a storm of solar proportions. because cody had done well at backlash, performed greatly against the second city saint as they went head to head in their first of a best of three match. 

but you—your knees buckling just after the press off for the archangels moonsault—do terribly. a harsh botch that leaves your feet to slip, head hitting against the ring before your body can be properly caught. a concussion that blurs your vision for the remainder of the match. 

a number of horrible executions that follow, equilibrium disrupted, all amounting to a slow paced performance. your body resentful, spiteful now too. 

this attempt at a diligent work of resting comfortably in the security of cody's everything, like a roaming out into the hostile environment of space. unprepared and certainly unfit for such an expedition of passion. a fast deterioration of desire and the weakening of a strength to see to its survival. 

this longing for a good and whole and secure thing, a need pulsing your heart strong and persistent, now inverted, though working with the same vigor, to bring you under with a maddening sort of frailty. a self induced bout of muscle atrophy. 

"a break", is what hunter is calling it. his words and eyes this odd, cold meshing of empathy and business. a command that lives without the room to resist and it stings even the strongest parts of your ego. 

punishment by the ether, for aspiring to reach so far, with so much confidence, for something never meant to be had. because stars exist out of reach, with light years of distance, for a reason. 

and the doctor gives a definitive "no" on flying back to the states. a futile joke to follow about getting much needed rest in the "city of love", which in full effect lurches your stomach into a fit so disgusting that it empties. that bile troubling itself in your belly, waiting for its call to action, finally revealing its putrid nature to be formidable and unrelenting. a symptom of the concussion they say, but you know, above all things medically sound, that this is just violent revenge inflicted upon the self. the body taunting the mind for its ill-purposed ambition. trying to fall into something comfortable and love-like with cody was, is, and would always be ill-purposed ambition. 

the air of the suv heavy with that leather interior smell. rolling smooth and slow against the parisian streets on its way back to the hotel. 

cody's finger playing along yours with a soothing caress. a patient concern brushing up the drained make of your face from his eyes. soft music living under the sound of his voice as he goes. "they'll probably clear you to fly in a few days. i can get someone to book a flight for you, and you can just… just be with me...", a gentle tone but living definitive. committing himself to your care. a security you'd always hoped to fully adore. "...and im not saying this like you're unfit to take care of yourself but i wanna help...", his blue eyes looking for a response and receiving much of nothing. a shallow head nod that keeps him rambling. "...i wanna—just let me do this for you. please?", his hand squeezing yours. a feather weight gesture. "let me take care of it, okay?" 

you blink. eye lids heavy with exhaustion. a drained sensation that leaves you too undone for any proper recognition of feeling other than emptiness. your voice hoarse, the acid moving up violent enough that it stole away the fullness of it.

"i hear you cody". 

the last words said to him before his departure from france in the morning. 

an army of texts and calls heating your phone as the sun rose and rested amongst the clouds with a far comfortable distance. a reminder of terribly fated ambitions. water at your bedside that felt like heaven as it settled in and down the body. 

five calls from bianca and encouragement texts of the "i love you" variety. one call from your father and a message that read more definitive than suggestive. "come home when you can", it said. and a text from him. 

text message | the best in the world: heard hunter put you on a bit of a break. im here for you when you need me. 

not if, but when. the confidence even amongst the sympathy, frustrating. an imagining of his cool, more sage than forest, green eyes screwed with pity. the thought of it beating a harsh heat pass skin into blood. rolling in amongst the red till it rushes to anger. a pounding in your skull and a light nausea rocketing the delicate lining of your belly. laid out along the length of a too beautiful parisian couch, your body forced to endure the harsh gravitational pull back down to earthly reality. for there could no longer be an ambitious voyage to that outer enormity, in search of bright, wonderful, comfortable lights. a star so secure in its character that you make no qualms with the threat of it burning your skin before even the reach of full impact. and truly how stupid and cowardly was it anyways? fearful of a different end so much as to suffer with something that just barely scratches the surface of fulfillment. 

fearful of the ill-controlled, imperfect things so terribly that you looked upward in an escape to the stars. 

and though albany, new york is not the perfect choice, it is the most suitable option for what you need. a quiet, reclusive setting that works well for all this wonderfully, amazing, burdensome introspection you've been forced to endure. truths roaming tirelessly about your skull as they look and wait with impatience to be fully actualized. and maybe—agreeing with his decisions against your better judgement and instinct—hunter was right. this "break", needed. a thing that could not be put off on the account of some bruised ego. countless little mishaps and slip ups in ring that had eventually led to a nasty botch during the biggest PLE since mania. the look of it not great for business or your health. but to hear it, to feel the full rejection of it, tears through you something fierce. a complete tattering of your pride till it remained undone in mangled pieces. raw and red and blood filled. and once the doctors give their clearance for you to fly, you leave france silently. without a word to anyone. bags and suitcases packed and ready. the flight to new york like a shipping over into uncharted territory. 

because some truths had made themselves painfully aware already. did not wait for your slow foot drag of a realization. funneling up hot and disgusting with the bile from your empty stomach. 

trying with cody was only a dream, forced and sculpted by your hands and a stubborn will, till it formed with jagged edges. the struggle to fit two unmatched puzzle pieces.  

"your old man'll kill me if he knows you're up here with me and not training with him". a ghost of a laugh living along with the coarse age of his voice. jimmy "the butcher" cruz, a dear old friend of your fathers, and a hall of famer in his own right, sighing agreeably as he speaks over the phone. "but you're welcome any time kiddo. you like my own, y'know that? the gym is here whenever you need it to be". 

"i appreciate you butch", you give. the slow ride to your hotel quiet and familiar.

"let me know if you need anything else".

"will do".

the call drops. a blow of air past your lips working well enough as it plays an odd tune of some mild mannered frustration. a soreness of spirit where the body breathes and functions well, systems and internal processes going on as they should but still there rests this adrift feeling. a weightless sensation. fatigue and an imbalance of any direct thought. confusion. symptoms of the concussion surely, which only do well in leaving you to exist in this dead space limbo. an auto pilot of movement. muscles remembering the weight of things. your suitcases and bags, and the heavy swing back of the hotel doors. memory bruised but alive. because you don't have an explanation for returning to albany. your foot stepping into the quaint beauty of the hotel room like aggressively lifting the unfinished heal of a scab. being here, in this place, like your body is taking the long, necessary journey back down to earth. hot on impact of the surface but ready to land. 

your lips suffering under your teeth and your fingers tingling. a wistful air working about you, brushing up against your skin as a reminder of times past. here in this place with him, before the abrupt end of it all. 

flashback - january 2024 - albany, new york

and it is said, by scientists and theologians alike, that before the creation of everything, there was nothing. whether the world came to be from a Godly "let there be", or this abrupt but explosive expansion across the cosmos, the truth remains here, that we exist not of our own casual volition. and so if this coming into being—a devastatingly beautiful ripple through that forever stretch of space—is as ornate in nature as it is said to be, then how is it that one can exist so unceremoniously with another? passion this slow, steady expansion like that of the universe. his name on your tongue and his grip nestled into delicate skin. eyes fashioned with colors to rival that of those painting the faraway galaxies and the breaths singing between coarse little moaning songs, a great imitation of the wind. surely these are bouts of madness, giving frivolous, near shapeless names, for such heavy performances of affection. 

or maybe it isn't insanity. because don't we always give awful, insufficient names to things we hate. and even more terrible names to things we fear. 

the apple state inn, a small time hotel in albany, new york, is not known for it's size or luxury. a just off the exit, two and a half, maybe three star rated establishment—google reviews and the website beg to differ with one another—with a scarce housekeeping staff and forever stale, day old coffee. always near empty vending machines and a just out of high school receptionist who doesn't know the difference between credit and debit and counts change like they're counting sheep. but the walls are thick and the privacy is immaculate. immaculate enough that it'd be more useful and cost effective to keep from printing do not disturb cards than not. because once the door closes behind him and that roll of his mini suitcase follows him in, you figure—with the way he's nearly suffocating you with his mouth—that he needs all the undisturbed time he can get. 

the cloud over of steam and a stream of hot, prickly, shower water. your fingers sudsy as they comb through the slick, soaked ways of his hair. thumbs sweeping at his nape before the caress behind his ears. these tender little dotting ministrations that make him groan some. a dark, near weightless, trembling sort of song humming up his throat. tattooed fingers feeling stitched into the soft flesh of your hips as the water works to wash away the soapiness of his hair. his nose nudging into yours and the slight height of him leaving this impression about you that he's surrounding you some. working to consume. to prove with a wordless go of his everything that he's the best in the world. 

that thick curl of heat and the prod of his hard dick against your leg don't help either. his tongue jutting against your lips—a little lick that you chase with enthusiasm—as he smooths it over his own. such a damn tease. your body alive and burning with a war of feelings. not so little sensations that burst at your neck and your mouth and your chest and the warmth pulsing between already wet legs. the proximity of him damning to whatever words you used before to name your current state of affairs. because this seems a little more than casual. a little too charged and full of breath and life to be just a fulfillment of those nagging, sultry, desperate, bodily desires. because it's never felt this impassioned before. this slow and meticulous. a strangulation about the heart that makes the muscle somehow pump harder, faster. like if it fights for life, for it's right to be as its always been, than maybe it can survive the domineer of whatever this is.

the soap dissolves from his hair, washing down into the drain. your fingers remaining still. running dull over his scalp. a deep caressing. an act living so well that it forms it's own memory in your fingers. the seam of his lips pecking at yours. tiny, lax, unhurried kisses that work like they have till the end of the expansion of the universe. 

a laugh cuts up from your chest. like it's unsure it even wants to escape. a fear that it'll have to explain itself. 

cool green eyes and a spark of diligence you've only seen him have when he's wrestling. "what?"

"nothing, it's just...", eyes failing to meet him. dim as they take to the littered ink all over his chest instead. "...this is strangely intimate no?" because it is. the usual air of your rendezvous' living with a more curt edge to it. an urgency of spirit. something great and simple and to the point. made and brought about from a deep mutual attraction, but for the pure sake of fulfillment. 

and maybe your words, amounting to this cautioned little question, have put some distance between your bodies. like the air and nerve to say it leaves the both of you just a little more distant than seconds before. and it must have, because he's fastening himself to you. skin pressing hotly over skin, a slow mold, leaving you to shiver up against cool tiling. mouth still a sweet tease over yours. palm sweeping down and under to cup your thigh till it's hitching up into his palm and cinched to his waist. "i take last minute flights to nameless little, kinda three star hotels, to eagerly stick my dick in you...", his hips canting up. nudging at the sensitive bloom of your slit. lips at the curve of your ear. his breath hot and your skin shuddering. "...and i'm not knockin the hotels..", he chuckles. "...i'm just sayin. it's a bit of a journey to make it to you. this whole thing has been pretty intimate in a way for a while". 

you take slim little nips at your lip. "does that bother you?"

an earnest moan escaping as he slots his lips along yours for a real kiss. the gentleness of it turning sharp as his teeth glide to pull your lip. "why would it?...", tongue led kisses. hands cradling him hostage. his mouth tasting like the sweets he indulges in before he meets you. "...our whole thing is a little informal but that doesn't mean we can't have a moment...", nipping a trail to your neck and kissing over the slights as he goes. breath at your pulse and the thick heat of him slotting and nudging still between your legs. "...or moments". his words these actors of persuasion. as if muddying the lines of a casual thing has ever been good for anyone foolish enough to do it. 

"does it bother you?", he gives into your neck. fixing your hips to the wet wall as he grinds into them. 

the air thick still. his hair fine under your fingers as they find a home there. your lips kissing his shoulder. dazed by the sensation of shared little whispers and the hard ride of him provoking your arousal to slip and your belly to roll with delicious quiver. "no", you hum. meeting his hips with a roll of your own. "i think it makes our thing more enjoyable". words shaky and a shitty contradiction to the inevitable. 

because this thing, this flare of a sensation—soldering hot to melt your bones—is neither unceremonious or fleeting. it is that forever expansion, forming from nothing into something after the abrupt snap that wills it into being. a universe of a feeling housed in the fragility of skin, simple sweeping touches and the persistence of his eyes. 

your body is this picturesque take to the sheets. his arms strong, a gentle carry before he's settling to slot between your legs. wrapped up in your thighs and his lips placing delicate. and no, not like the simplicity of it would work in a means to break you, but like the need for reverencing runs deep enough that it'd feel like sin to ignore it. and cm punk has never been a man of self-denial. his tongue curling against yours, sweet and patient. hums of moans and the warmth of him working in beautiful opposition to the cool sheets. his thumb soothing up your jaw, palm cradling your cheek, like he's keeping the angle of your lips just where he likes it to be. control living easy in him. pressing kisses in without the urgency of forethought. 

and maybe the apple state inn deserves a five star rating. a review that speaks to the allure of low yellow lights and that natural smell of lavender stuck to the walls. 

an embarrassing sort of greediness spills over. hips rocking clumsily to rush into the simple glide through of his fingers at your slit. a firm circling with his thumb but still sedated. a measured touch that nearly aches your teeth in anticipation. breaths short and brattish whimpers. your back curling, attempting to steer him to the tight throb of your entrance. 

he's enjoying this. teeth nipping your lips with a small smile. nails digging at his arms in need. "please". a drawl of a whine. 

a gentle, testy, shallow, slip into your pussy makes him groan. raw and unmoderated. your legs falling over the muscles of his thighs, spread for him as he dips and retracts. the lewd little sound of it hot to the ears. "don't rush my process", teeth gripping into your neck. tongue following to sooth. 

you squeeze his arm. digging what exists of sharp nails into tattooed skin. impatience unruly. "fuck your process, i wanna-"

an emptiness. the dip of his lone finger gone, replaced with the swift swat of his hand at your slit. a gasp cutting up quick, your body jostling from the speed and the cruelty of it. nestling then in pleasure that rolls in after. his tongue still at your neck. remedying skin sure fated to bruise in the morning. your clit overly wet and throbbing and sliding messily along the idle way his finger just sits there. resting right over without a mind to do something useful. the second city saint, a bastard and a half. 

his laugh breaks into your skin. a little wry and a little mean. like maybe he thinks you're too audacious. so vulnerable and desperate and still making demands. "you barely know what you want for breakfast sometimes...", he starts. forehead pressed into yours. his right hand playing through the easy slip of your folds and the other tight as they ball the sheets near your head. like all of his control is stored there. knuckle white tight and fighting to stay strong. "...so whatever shit you think you want, it's just you being impatient and greedy. i guess its that only child syndrome shit". 

"fuck you", you cut. nudging your face against his. cheeks roughing over the gray of his beard. defiance rife. 

"oh sweetheart", he sings. a drawl of a tenor voice that makes you shudder. makes your hands cling to him tighter. like your hold there could maybe cause it to wring out more of his voice and breath, warm and sweet over your body. "you got not the slightest idea how much you're gonna eat every letter of what your just said". kissing your mouth harder. tongue sweeping with a less gentler purpose. lips pulling and suckling and nearly suffocating. looking to savor the dirty taste of your words. touch taking an abrupt curl into your pussy. a steady wet stroke that rattles your body with an almost ugly moan. almost. "you been drivin me crazy since before i got on that flight...", tongue lapping at your yours. a stress of a moan working up as he seats his finger deeper. "...been thinking about touching you for days". 

and you rush to meet the feed in of it. an upswing of your hips, urging him just that much deeper. praying for the feel of it along that sensitive little spot inside that makes your skin jitter and your breathing short. your hands cradling his face close. a tough hold in his hair as you suck his tongue. a lazy timeless go if it, nearly falling so well into it that you almost lose yourself. 

"someone sounds a little obsessed", you give against his lips. 

his eyes green but nearly black and piercing. forehead pressed to you still. "unfortunately yes". an almost whisper if not for the bass of it. 

your heart hammering. fearful and exhilarated all the same. 

and you can feel his mouth on yours still, moving and hot and dangerous even as your eyes close for some feen for reprieve. a break from the diligence of his own. but you can hear him, the pry the noise of him takes to flesh, like he's opening up and splitting your nerves at the seams. "want you to show me what you do when i'm gone...", kissing your lips sweetly. a second finger joining the first. burying deep to the knuckle and balancing with perfection the deftness it takes to numb your brain with bliss. clit nudging against the add of his thumb. sensitive and the sensation of it blooming it's way till it reaches your toes. "...wanna see how good you take care of yourself when i'm not with you'. 

that lavender smell soaked into the walls filling your lungs. the tips of your fingers pressing his thumb in till it's flush up against the swell of your clit. control ill suited to your body as you groan in his mouth. 

back curling in with another arch. nipples aching and needy and up against his chest. 

your longing this breathy, moaning, call to action. his mouth quick with a salacious answer, finding your body there. a flat, wide, lick over the twist of it. deep in it's savoring. curling and flicking and smiling about the perk of it as he feels you cling wet to his fingers. the pad of his thumb touched by the throb in your clit and the tight press you lay over it. keeping him there as he drags long and steady through your pussy. a greedy moan of his bleeding into your skin as it leaves him, the ball of your nipple playing in his mouth before he's suckling with tongue and prying with his hot mouth. wringing up the pleasure till it's voicing pliant and needy for him. teetering a line of overindulgence where he forsakes control. breaths heavy and hungry as he moves on to the other. a similar treatment that forces your hips to buck. a harsh, abrupt spurring that slips him deeper. right there, nestling and stroking lewd still. "harder, baby", you gasp. clutching the sheets. control lost. sporadic ruts that feen for that touch again. 

"there?", humming at your breast. fingers just a little more vicious. the sensation sweetening your blood as it heats.

throbs undulating your skin, like the rippling push of something that goes on to last forever. his thumb releasing to let your have at your own undoing. lips suffering under your teeth. eyes glazed and your head tipped into the sheets. chasing that bliss as it waits to unfurl all over. 

"yes", gasping. a tiny, pleading soprano. small and aching as it leaves you. trembling soft under him, the beginning of it rocking into you slowly. "oh God, i-", labored breaths and groaning. your fingers running up sloppy at your clit and his mouth suckling still. fucking into you with a purpose you're sure that entails seeing you go mad. "i'm coming ". 

he releases your nipple with a simple pop of his lips. returning to sweep his tongue through the awestruck expression of your mouth. a sloppy kiss. wet and meshing and a little mindless. pussy drooling still as it steeps and clings and throbs. 

"not sure he'd love hearing you say that but i sure do", a frail kiss at the edge of your mouth. "say it again". 

"i'm coming", you pant. short cuts of breath he presses his lips over. 

a glint to his eyes. gaze cascading over. appraising the state of your unraveling. "and so pretty doing it too". 

you hiss. body collecting with a short hitch, like it means to ease the landing of this brace-less thing. an effort made in vain as the violence of it takes you. his throat humming satisfied, and the work of his fingers going on still to brush up against that deeper, delicate, slip of skin in you that drives you crazy. a bright, pitchy, "fuck", flying off the tip of your tongue as you curl in and lose yourself. a wordless, world of a feeling. an inconceivable burst of color behind the eyes and your lungs fighting for those better takes of air. unruly and exposed. skin teeming with too much of a good thing. the bed dipping and un-dipping, the shift of him living just at the edges of your awareness. the taste of former words heavy and thick in your mouth, like he said they'd be. his fingers collecting your thighs to adjust the way they reveal the mess of you. 

a trail of dainty kisses as he ventures low. a journey over flesh to mark his appearance. a quiver playing your nerves, his tongue slipping to lick long along the full bloom of your slit. messy and drunk, like the careless indulgence of a reward long awaited. drawling moans and the grip in your thighs meaner than any touch he's given you thus far. a drive of his tongue through where you pulse and drip. weak hands near dead, trying their hardest to ease him off. eyes recovering and lazy, watching him go greedy. another hiss through your teeth, one now that indulges. a little less than brutal hold in his hair that keeps him close. the end of an old pleasure making way for a new one. suckling your clit like he did other parts of skin. little bursts of pleasure breaking to the surface, your hips rutting to following the sensation blindly. 

his quickness, a jarring little feat. feeding tongue into your mouth to share the taste of you. your thumbs over his cheeks and your thighs hiking over his hips. the hard heat of him grinding along till it's snug and laying at your slit. 

and even the thought of him slipping in is enough to leave you shivering. 

"how do you want me?" 

"deep". a thoughtless answer. your tongue wetting your lips, aching for it. "just take it, take me. i-", desperate and thin feeling. "please", you stress. 

his earlier words a little clearer. thoughts and imaginations disrupted, having been troubled by the thought of you. his diligence running vengeful. 

and there is nothing exactly satiating about this, about the pace, the life of it, of this. heavy feeling as he makes to stretch you deep. filling to the hilt and nestled comfortably so. like perhaps he was always meant to be there. your throat singing, breathy and filling his mouth as he makes to kiss you. a softness to you, boneless and subdued. the slightest touches made into something bigger and greater. a hand held at your thigh, a smooth reach till its hooking under your knee and the other calm and patience, the thumb of it stroking your forehead. 

"not much for being a selfish prick but i need you lookin at me", he rasps. cool green eyes just a bit warmer under the low lights. gentle and arresting. "so beautiful", like a whisper to himself. "i wanna see em when i'm coming in you", he gives. testing your devotion with a push of his hips. 

something heavy and dismantled erupting in his chest. bass-y and coarse, breathing over your mouth. his lips making like they mean to kiss you but never fully getting to the completion of it. your thighs housing a sweet aching and your ears burning hot, pleasured by the noise of him. the way his body slowly conforms to being taken in. easy and patient and terrible for his nerves. "yeahhh", he drawls, like an agreement of some staggering pleasure made with the self. or maybe a noise of satisfaction made pure by completion. 

whimpers stuttering and cut with short breaths. your eyes glassy and your throat gaining that bit of heaviness. softly trembling, and feeling crazy under the weight of his eyes. like such vulnerability would soon be your end. a quiet sob breaking free, fingers sinking into his skin for dear life. your pussy quivering desperate, clutching hot as he gives a slow, firm, slipping stroke, pressing in enough that it makes you whole. 

terror delighting it self in your bones. pressure in the body heavy enough to make diamonds. a tear slipping tenderly, falling over your cheek, the trouble of another release gathering in your belly. 

he kisses the wet streak along your face. lewd and hot and wet, pussy pulling at him softly to stay. an endearing path being made upon the skin, a light press of his lips everywhere. silent and filled with purpose.  

it isn't enough to let go, to deny the self of a former ambition. solid ground must be met, a full impact made regardless of how unsavory the process is. this quiet, contemplative, stretch of time in albany, not so dissimilar to a travelers great return to earth. readjustments made to air and the gravity. a re-stabilization of things—your walking and your turning and your weight against the ropes of that faithful squared circle and your ego—because a concussion only made your body's resentment more of a hell to deal with. compromise, a great ordeal with the self, a testier thing to endure even. a month of falling away, deep into the recesses of a particularly dark shadow. a host of memory lanes and the diminishing of self importance. FOMO a real bitch and a half to deal with. the frustration buried beneath skin feeling more childlike than anything else, eyeing the others as they roam and enjoy, from the window of your injury styled detention. week after week, nestled at the back of a little less than dingy sports bar, watching your friends and colleagues perform at the greatest arena's and stadiums. 

but the time away made for an easier reclamation, a confession you wouldn't speak well too aloud, lest it proved hunter's opinions right. your head clear of that horrible knock of an ache against your skull and the nausea more than minimal. 

minimal, but not gone. a small swim of it rippling your belly. flowing against the slosh of ginger beer you've become friendly with since discovering the existence of 'porters dive bar'. an albany staple for the city's exuberant wrestling community. the spice of the ginger steeping your tongue and the fizz of the liquid rolling over to test the limits of your stomach. like the first weary steps of a travelers feet back on earth. a fear of failure but an eagerness of spirit regardless. the building back of strength and resistance. a well made sort of exposure therapy. 

your phone pings. another one of his messages appearing. his televised win against cody at an arena in albany, working like a kindling for this abrasive flare styling his words. ego on fire and looking to consume. 

text message | the best in the world: soon i'm gonna stop asking to see you and just show up unannounced. you know i'm close right? where are you?

text message | outgoing: porter's dive bar 

and this here is the full impact. a hypersonic re-entry. soaring past atmospheric layers as the body is once again enveloped by earths gravity. reality styled with its many worldly limitations. rich colors and coarse ground and a pulling weight in your bones. 

talking to him is that meeting of skin against solid ground. the unsavory process. 

your phone pings again. fingers slipping against the screen to reveal who. dread coursing wild and unfettered. a quick washing in your blood that plunges the heart. 

text message | cody r: can we meet sometime soon? to talk? 

text message | outgoing: of course.

you owe him that much. an explanation—regardless of how terrible it will form on your tongue. bile and a lack of brilliance born from guilt.—of your faults and self misguided decisions. but it's all just another step. a heel toe to reclaim familiarity with the earth. building back the strength lost from that unruly lack of ambition, from that great deal of muscle atrophy. 

the wooden chair opposite your booth seat scoots harshly against the floor. his entrance screeching your nerves to wake with a horrible sort of surprise. the cool green of his eyes hidden beneath the curl over of a ball cap brim. shoulders squared and wide and persistent. "you look good", he gives. sitting across from you. "refreshed". 

you settle your phone down. a soft tremble in your fingers as you make to embrace one hand in the other. the feel of his gaze, like the easy thin slice of a razor over thick skin. a surgical opening that leaves you bare to eyes and air alike. useless to yourself and a short ways from uncomfortable. fighting against a painless pain, against that shameful, irritating weakness that comes with vulnerability. fears and slivers of frustration born from this ill-controlled performance. because cm punk, the best in the world, makes you vulnerable. 

you take one of the two ginger beers off the table. sipping at the cool spice of it for some reprieve. "your first words are always about how i look".

"because i'm unfortunately very invested in your wellbeing". 

"unfortunately?" 

"s'not a whole lot of reciprocation on that front". words not minced. eyes trailing to look over the cold glass left untouched. his curiosities moving him to bring it closer. "what is this?"

"ginger beer". watching him sniff at the rim of the glass before he tests the taste. the spice of the ginger and the fizz delightful and cold sober. "reciprocation". the truth of it cutting across the air, to give something deep and sharp and exacting against whatever assumptions he's made amidst his resentments. because while your investments into his wellbeing weren't as vocal as his for yours, they still hold firm in some form of existence. 

"where you been hiding out?"

"our little go to hotel".

he shifts the curl of the brim to reveal more of his eyes. in a manner that allows you to see them well enough. to get the gist of whatever mixture of emotions they take. a hardened sort of confusion styling them now as your answer sinks in. "why there?" 

hesitation. like the stutter of your foot after a misstep. body afraid to fail, afraid to fall after that great coming back to earth. "not sure". 

his nose flares. a fierce movement. and then his jaw. a chain reaction of many things. as if to curb the brunt of his anger. this overbear of a deep vexing, he pulls into the constraint of words. hard eyes and a harder tongue. "you got a real nasty habit of not saying the things you mean and i can really do without it". 

but it was enough, too much even to admit such wrongdoings amidst the court of your own thoughts and imaginations. resentment housed by the body, less sore as the days venture on, but still aching in the skin. felt in the abruptness of harsh maneuvers. swimming knocks in the head and your balance disturbed. those disgusting dull bursts of nausea and a heaviness in your body. exhaustion from nothing. "...and what is it exactly that you want from me?" 

"a little transparency", he grits. "some honesty".  

"i was fine with cody...was on my way to something substantial even', you give. a corral of words you feel were truthful sometime ago. back when the ambition felt sure and not so unattainable. before muscle deep resentment and injury. "we fell away from each other naturally...", words more like a tool. these builders of persuasion. and God what horrible persuaders they were. everything falling off the tongue half made and shoddily voiced. "...but in true cm punk fashion, whenever you don't like something anymore you get pissy about it. threw a dirty little wrench into my relationship to screw me over". 

his chair stresses against the floor. body pulling in closer. fury stored in the pull in of his brows. "you screwed yourself. threw yourself headfirst into bullshit because you're scared. called what we had a thing, because if you actually put a decent name to it then you'd have to admit how you feel about me, and how much that terrifies you...", his tone hushed and curt and piercing. "because cody is safe and easy and if he fails at making you happy, it's no real loss at all right? because you were never really in all the way anyways". 

you feel thin. subdued and quite overwrought by all this exposure to him. "you had time to say something. why wait till when i'm with someone else?"

he sighs. settles into an answer like it's the hundredth time he's come to the conclusion of it. "spent since january trying to get rid of you and it didn't work for me, and you were on live tv botchin the hell out of everything, trying to get rid of me, so i don't think it really worked for you either...so here we are". 

the air thick and the silence loud. the droning of the bar easing in to fill the space. a hard siphon of the energy by words and the confession of not so dead feelings. your ginger beers icy still and watered. a waitress comes, strutting up to your table. 

"you guys need anything?"

"two more of these ginger beers please", punk gives. a small smile as she leaves. 

his eyes the color of garden sage. softer now. flitting over your face with a renewed sense of diligence.

and it's more clear now than it's ever been. he isn't going anywhere. 

your fingers curl, a slow coming together into your palm to ball. multi-purposed, squeezing to live a little in that familiar burst of an ache. bones and muscles flexing as the skin pulls some. a summation of weariness. knuckles breaking against the door to knock. a similar rhythm playing in your chest, because cody could be many things. sad. angry. vexed. indifferent. he could speak wild or terribly soft, but inspire another layer of guilt to lay at your skin just the same. 

"just a second", he gives. bass in the voice and words slipping thick like over his tongue. in that way that he tries to cover some but can't help. 

a shift in your leg, like the anxious pinch of a nerve. a jerk or maybe a pulling. you're not sure what it is, but it's asking to move. to leave. to maybe do this another time. "i can come back later if you want", shouting some over the regular drone of pre-live show buzz. one hand slipping away from the cool metal of the door handle and the other undoing from that ache of a fist. making to about face into the fray of crew members. but he must recognize your voice, even through the thickness of the door. must've settled himself enough in whatever emotions he's living in.

his voice rushing. like he can feel you falling away from this long overdue talk. "no no, come in. i'm good. come in". 

your hand returns against the door handle. cool metal more like an icy burning. stepping into his dressing room like a re-entry into the world of him. his hair retouched to the roots, a cold blonde that pops his already sky blue eyes. his hands roughing with his wrestling boots. blinking up at you silently. mouth parted and slightly lost for words. like he'd maybe rehearsed everything and has now forgotten all the brilliance of it. a sigh leaving with that realization. like he'll have to forsake all the prearranged self made discussion and go about this a little less practiced. "you look well", he gives. with a nod. "the break did you some good". 

"yeah", stepping in further. arms folded over. body overly aware of his appraisal. "that seems to be the consensus". 

his throat clears, brows pulling together before they fall away quickly. this awkward abrupt movement that reveals the slow work of his thoughts. gears oiled and turning and trying out words before he says them. a farer cry from his in-ring persona, where he's suited and pristine and seemingly always ready. the little action of it making him more human to the eyes and less star-like. something you would have shrunk away from before out of fear that it would cause him some lackluster effect, now finding in its own imperfections, very endearing. 

"was it something about me, or anything i ever did that kinda just-...?", his voice falling off. left to motion oddly between your bodies with his hands. miming a separation. like finishing the words, allowing them to live in the air, would cause them to be true. 

"no! no, it was...", trying to find something not so terrible to soothe him with. stepping a little closer to him. arms unfolded. like the honesty begging to leave you for some time has now taken command of your body and it's functioning. "...i wasn't being honest about a lot of things with myself and it spilled over into what we had going on, and i'm really sorry about that". 

and he nods. not like he's accepting of it all but like he gets it. like he's relating to you. eyes softer, made vulnerable by his own truth. "all the...all the asinine bullshit leading up to mania just...", his eyes rolling as he remembers the trouble of it. "...on top of already wanting the belt for personal reasons, it just drove me crazy. and i think in the midst of that, i leaned in on us a little harder than i should've. maybe more than i planned to". fingers scratching and curling up into his hair, going about aimlessly almost. giving himself something to do to remedy the weight of his words. "we have quite a bit in common so...the intimacy was good enough, it-it was easy to just hold on to. i think we were both faking it to make it". 

your throat grows heavy, face warm with the well up of tears. relief meshing easy with the sadness of it all. the both of you willing to settle, if it meant being comfortable and not alone. a heartbreaking circumstance to force upon the self for sure.

"can i...?", your hands motioning for an embrace. 

"of course, c'mere".

his arms warm and comforting as he takes you in. wrapped tightly, with a friendly sort of affection. an earnest touch, made not to linger in a performance of desire but to give solace. sniffling against his chest as he squeezes tightly. 

"don't you start crying for real...", he jokes. "...cause then you're gonna make me cry".

you smile. slipping away from him gently. "well that don't take much so..." 

his eyes roll. grabbing the outer jacket that completes his in-ring gear. 

your fingers sweep under your eyes to rid of the wet streaks. shoulders less heavy and the dread in your chest no longer fighting to consume. making to leave his dressing room. "don't go easy on him either. i need him a little softened up". 

"will do". 

you make a full exit. slipping your phone from your pocket. his name under your thumb as you press against it. memory serving well, thinking of that sports bar in albany and all the empty glasses of ginger beer spread across the table. the vex about his face growing gentler as the night carried on. that line in the sand washed away, the boundary blurred and then made new into something with a better shaping. his cool, pale, sage eyes working like he wanted to remember that moment. like the satisfaction of having you in front of him again without any attempts to break away from him, was too good to simply be lost to time. 

you click to call and wait for his answer. an impatience running in your fingers as you make to join the producers and tech operators at the staging area. 

he answers. a simple, coarse, "yeah", that sweetens your ears.

"have breakfast with me tomorrow", you give. plain and a little demanding. "please?" 

he hums. amusement in his voice like he's smiling. 

"time and place sweetheart". 

[luvfy0dor]

“His Hands are in my Hair, His Clothes are in my Room ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol

Warnings; Nikolais and Chuuyas are hardly proofread, Nikolais was rushed, Nikolais nearly got scrapped, I don't like Nikolais, maybe a little ooc

Description; sharing clothing w the BSD boys

A/n; GUYS OH MY GOD I GOT A 5 ON MY FIRST AP EXAM IM SO PROUD OF MYSELF AHHHHHH IM GONNA CRY also I'm sorry posts are so few and far between. It's so hot and hard to function. I know I said the exact same thing to excuse minimal posts in winter but like. its literally hot as balls and all I got is a puny ass 8yro fan and the occasional sip of iced water.

Osamu Dazai ★

• Dazai likes to take your old T-shirts to sleep in when you lend them to him for the night. After a few nights of having Dazai at your house, you wonder why your sleep-shirt collection has nearly cut in half.

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You unlocked the door of your apartment and pushed it open with your unoccupied hand. The other arm held a large brown paper bag filled with gas station food and snacks for you and your boyfriend, who followed you inside. Once you set the bag down on the coffee table, you retrieved your keys from the door and closed it. When you came back to the kitchen, Dazai had already dumped everything out and was sifting through all the options. "The walk back from the gas station was hardly five minutes and I've already forgotten everything we got." He says with a grin, opening a bag of chips and eating a couple. He offered you some, holding the bag out to you. "Want some?' He mumbled.

"Yeah, let me just change into pajamas first, I don't wanna do anything until I'm comfortable." You said, shrugging off your jacket and starting to undo your belt before you even make it back to your room. Dazai followed suit, bag of chips still in hand. "Can I borrow some?" You nodded before taking off your shirt and tossing it in the laundry hamper, going through your closet to find a shirt for your boyfriend and yourself. "Thank youuu~" He plops down onto your bed, keeping the chip bag upwards so he doesn't get any crumbs or dust on your nice blankets. He watches you pull one of your band shirts over your head, admiring your body from his position on your mattress. He's snapped out of his daze when black fabric comes flying at him, but he catches it before it can smack him in the face. "Thanks, babe, you're so kind."

He switches his work clothes for your old ones, the big shirt nearly swallowing his scrawny torso comfortably. "Alright, I want snacks, come on." You gesture for him to follow you back out to the kitchen where the array of snacks was waiting for the two of you on the counter. There were numerous kinds of chocolate, and Dazai had grabbed a couple bags of gummies for himself. There were a few more bags of chips for variety, and you scooped everything up in your arms to bring to the living room. You dropped them all on the coffee table and grabbed the remote. "Alright, what movie are we feeling?" You ask, turning to the brunette man. "Uhhhhh, how about an action movie. Somethin' that looks exciting." He says, slinging his arm over your shoulder while he munches on sour gummy worms. Eventually, the two of you decide on a Godzilla movie, slumped against the couch with chocolate residue on the tips of your fingers from your candies. Dazai let out a long sigh as the movie came to a close, leaning into you and resting his head on your shoulder.

You ran your fingers through Dazais messy and slightly greasy hair, scratching his scalp and listening to his pleased, quiet hum. "Are you falling asleep or are you up for another movie?" You ask him, watching the credits roll on the TV. "I'm up for another movie, I just think I might be having a sugar crash." He says, groaning as he sits back up. You nod and grab the remote again, browsing through all the film options. Every now and again, your eyes involuntarily flickered over to your boyfriend, and you couldnt help but smile. He looked really cute in your shirt, and it almost made you wanna treat the movie like chopped liver and cuddle up to him.

"You look really cute." You say, playing whatever movie you absent-mindedly started in your daze. "Oh, I know, right?" He grins running his hand over his body. "As a matter of fact, I've never felt sexier." He teases, moving his eyebrows up and down with a smirk. You can't help but laugh at him. "Let's get you on a playboy cover." Before you know it, he's standing up in front of the TV. "Scrap the movie, you have me for entertainment instead." He puts his hands on his hips and strikes a pose, making you laugh some more. "You want some attention? I mean, I guess since you asked so politely." You stand up with an eye roll and pull him in, kissing him and running a hand down his side. He keeps one hand on your chin, tilting your head to meet his lips, sighing quietly each time your lips part for a quick moment. Soon, you both need more air then small gasps and have to pull away. He smiles and messes with the fabric of your own shirt. "How about we ditch this mess for now and go to bed, yeah? We can continue comfortably there?" He offers, You glance back over at the piles of snacks, opened or not, scattered acrossed the floor. Normally you'd make him help you clean up before doing anything else, but tonight you really couldn't be bothered and just wanted to follow Dazai wherever he'd take you. "Alright, let's go."

Chuuya Nakahara ★

• Everyone knows that Chuuya adores his hat, but not everyone knows he's got a decently sized collection of fancy hats on top of his closet. One day while rummaging around and trying to find one of Chuuyas button downs for him, you notice them all on the top rack.

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"Chuuya, you didn't tell me you had so many hats!" You called out to him, standing back and staring at them all. Chuuya was currently in the bathroom, shaving his peach fuzz to keep his smooth face. "Huh? Oh, yeah, I've got a ton." He calls back, washing the shaving cream off of his skin. "They're pretty..can I try some of 'em on?" You ask, reaching to grab the one on the top of the stack. "Go ahead." He walks out of the bathroom with his towel around his waist, leaning against the doorframe to watch the little fashion show you were about to put on. The first one you grabbed was adorned with flowers of various colors. You placed it on your head and turned around, posing with your hands on your hips.

"What do you think? Vogue worthy?" You ask him. He smiles at you and nods, his arms crossed over his chest. "One hundred percent, that's peak fashion." He says genuinely, standing up straight and walking over to the closet. He reaches up and grabs another hat for you to try, switching it out for the flowers one. This one is a dark, reddish brown color. "This one's cute too." You giggle and head over to the bathroom to see for yourself. "Ooo, I'm not sure this kinda hat is necessarily for me." You giggle. "What do you mean? It looks great on you!" He says, following you in and hugging you from behind. "You only say that because they're your hats." You say, grinning.

"I mean, I guess not everyone is destined to look good in them like me." He says, squeezing your hip. "I gotta actually get ready for work now, I'm probably runnin' late." He says, turning around and dropping his towel. He tossed it into the hamper before getting dressed in his usual attire, spotting the button down that you had forgotten about in favor of his hat collection. "Okayyyy." You yawn, stretching your arms over your head and treading through the bedroom to start your own morning routine. You didn't have to leave for another hour, but Chuuya had to get to work within the next 30 minutes. After brushing your teeth, you notice Chuuya searching the bedroom for his usual hat.

"The nightstand." You point out to him. He sees it and lets out a sigh of relief, grabbing it and plopping it on his head. "Thanks, doll. I gotta get going' now, but I'll see ya tonight, okay?" He says, pulling you in by your waist for his daily goodbye kiss. "Yeah, got it." You smile before kissing him sweetly for a quick moment before he backs away. "Alright, I love you, see ya later." He playfully smacks your ass before letting go of you and heading out to the door. "Bye Chuuya, I love you, I'll see you later!" Once you heard him leave, you smiled to yourself and headed right back to the closet. You didn't necessarily have to get dressed just yet, so that gave you some time to try on a couple more hats on your own.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

• Fyodor doesn't mind letting you borrow his cape if you seem cold, or he'll simply wrap it around you and pull you into his side. He prefers the latter, considering it doesn't take much for him to get chilly.

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Fyodor held your gloved hand in his as you both walked down the snowy streets of Yokohama. It was the winter solstice and you both decided to take a walk down one of the most popular roads and do some window shopping. By the end of the evening, the hand that wasn't occupied with holding Fyodors held a warm cup of hot chocolate that you sipped on periodically. "Have you enjoyed yourself tonight, Myshka?" He asks you, adjusting his ushanka and gazing up at the sky, noticing some snow start to fall. "I did. Thanks for coming with me, I know you have a lot of stuff to do." You respond, bringing the cup to your lips for another sip. He waves his hand dismissively. "That doesn't mean I can't accompany you." His thumb rubs over your knuckles as snow starts landing on his hat and your head, the street lamps illuminating the darkness with a tangerine-colored glow. You nod at his words, leaning into his shoulder and shivering.

"It's so cold, Fedya." You say, your head on his shoulder and your hand squeezing his tightly. He lets go in order to put his arm around your waist, pulling his long cape over your shoulder. "I know, the walk home isn't much further, don't worry." You smile and hold onto the old, worn material to keep it in place. "You're right, thanks." You say, feeling butterflies in your stomach. It never mattered how long you and Fyodor had been together, every affectionate action made you feel like you had just got together. He held you close with his cape still shielding you from the cold and adding a layer of warmth to your jacket. He would peer over at you every now and again, laughing under his breath at all the snow that was getting into your hair. "What's so funny?" You ask him, a smile spread acrossed your face. "You've got a whole bunch of snow on your head." He tells you. "It looks like dandruff."

You roll your eyes and yank the ushanka off of his head, placing it on yours instead. "There, now you won't have to look at it." You hold the fluffy hat on top of your head and try to prevent him from taking it back when he tugs on it. "No, you can get your own, my ears are cold." He says with a smile, eventually pulling it back into his own possession and patting it off. "I will say though, you look better in my hat than Dazai did." You give a proud smirk and rest your head on his shoulder. "I'd hope you'd think so." Your street comes into view and you pull him along as you speed up, wanting to get into the warm, cozy house as soon as possible. "I know running isn't exactly your thing but pick up the pace a little, I wanna get under the covers and cuddle." You tell him, getting closer to home with each passing second.

He picks up speed for you and listens to the sound of your feet hitting the pavement. It's not long before you've pulled him all the way home and you're unlocking the door, nearly spilling inside to get into the warm living room. Fyodor follows suit, unlacing his shoes and hanging up his cape and ushanka. You wait for him in the open doorway that connects the living room and the hallway, ready to curl up in bed away from the harsh cold. "Alright, I'm coming." He says, treading through the hall with you and opening the bedroom door. His hand rested on your lower back as you both walked to the comfortable mattress, crawling under the covers and pulling each other close. "Your cape is really warm and comfortable. You should wrap me in it more often." You say, scooching closer to him and letting his arm drape over your waist.

"Hmm, I guess that wouldn't hurt. You really like it?" He peers down at you, his head propped up on his fist. "Yeah, I might have to steal it, actually." You say seriously, making him click his tongue. "You're welcome to steal it if I'm not wearing it." He says, chewing on the inside of his cheek habitually. "Then expect it to be off the hanger more often then not." He smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, laying his head down on the pillow. "Okay, that's fine, but right now you have me and the blanket to keep you warm." He murmurs, closing his eyes. "Well you're not contributing to that as much as the blanket, but whatever you say." You kiss his cheek and brush his bangs out of his face. "G'night Fedya, I love you." You say, resting your head on his chest, ready for sleep. "I love you too, y/n, sleep well."

Nikolai Gogol ★

• You always loved Nikolais outfit and couldn't help but wanna put it in one day. You were sure he wouldn't mind, after all, sharing attire was nothing foreign to your relationship.

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It started with you trying on his blouse for fun, but then you decided the blouse wasn't complete without the vest, pants, gloves, collar, shoes, or hat. Everything fit you a little differently than it fit Nikolai, but it didn't matter, because when you walked over to the nearest reflective surface, you found yourself cute, and you almost couldn't wait for Nikolai to get out of the shower to show him. You just needed one more thing, his cape. You ran out to the coat rack by the door and swung it behind you and then over your shoulders excitedly, grabbing it by the edges and moving it around. You felt really fancy with his cape, swaying your body just to feel the fabric move with you. As a matter of fact, you were so caught up in how good the cape made you feel that you didn't even realize the bathroom door open.

"Oh, wow, dove! My outfit looks so good on you! I've never noticed how much the red gloves pop until now." You turned around so fast, as if you were sitting in silence and all of a sudden a full file cabinet tipped over and crashed onto a linoleum floor. "Wah-! When'd you get out? I mean, thank you, but you scared me!" You say with a nervous laugh. "I thought it looked cute." You murmur, starting to pull off the gloves, but he stops you. "Hey, wait, you should stay in it for a moment, I'm not done admiring you yet!" He tells you, walking over and grabbing your hands gently. He leans in to kiss you, his smile palpable on his lips. You hand falls on his shoulder, rubbing it up and down affectionately before pulling away. "You really like it that much, huh?"

He nods. "Ofcourse! Oh, I'd love to show everyone how wonderful you look. Would you let me?" He asks, squeezing your hands tightly. "Sure, Kolya, go ahead." He quickly skitters off to fetch his cellphone, returning with the camera app already open. "Pose." He says, watching you place your hands on your waist and cock your hip a little bit. "Ah, gorgeous." He says, spamming the capture button. "Okay, I think that's enough." He says, his cheeks a bit pinker than before. He tossed his phone onto one of the side tables and embraced you once again, resting his head on top of yours. "Come on, y/n, I'd like to see you in my whole wardrobe now!" He says excitedly, pulling you along back to the bedroom. You don't necessarily know what you ignited in him, but it was certainly something, and now you were preparing yourself for a god-knows-how-long fashion show for your boyfriend. Not that you really minded, ofcourse.

A/n; another post that was supposed to have sigma and then didn't have sigma because I wanted to watch Jersey shore instead of write. ALSO I WENT TO THE DENTIST YESTERDAY terrible experience I cried but don't tell anyone I said that

[marlynnofmany]

Singing the Return

(A followup to Singing the Approach)

Our ship touched down like usual, with the captain in the cockpit along with a pilot (it was Kavlae’s shift), talking to the locals about where to park. In a slight departure from usual, this landing pad wasn’t anywhere near the ground. It was on top of a cactus-tree-thing that thankfully (very thankfully) didn’t sway in the wind.

I waited in the cargo bay with Zhee. He was a little twitchy, flicking his antenna and shuffling his legs and generally not holding still. I wasn’t about to say anything about it, but I suspected Zhee wasn’t a fan of heights.

Luckily for him, the landing pad was broad enough that he didn’t need to get close to the edge. Unluckily for him, Captain Sunlight had suggested that he be part of the delivery crew today because he’d been there when we met the clients before, and they would be expecting him.

With the amount he was flexing his pinchers, you’d think he was the one the clients had offered to give a tour of their skyscraper cactus city.

As the bay door started to open, Zhee asked me, “Did you check if that belt has a full charge?”

“Yes I did,” I told him, pushing the button on my gravity belt to display a full line of power lights. “And Mimi even looked it over for loose wires or whatever. I’m all set.”

“Good,” Zhee said, angling his torso so that his front half was higher — the Mesmer equivalent of standing up straight. I was continually amused by how much praying mantises resembled centaurs, and how much this particular alien species resembled Earth bugs. This wasn’t the time to bring it up, though.

The door was open all the way now, and there was Captain Sunlight, come to lead the way out. I could see a cluster of many-limbed locals waiting outside in the bright sun. The landing surface looked like it was made of red rocks mined nearby. Hopefully they were stable on top of this cactus-tree. The captain waved us forward: Zhee with the crates on a hoversled and me singing my best approximation of the local greeting song.

I’d practiced it on the way here. It was high-pitched but slow, like a songbird in slow motion. Or, more accurately, like a songbird trying to sing like a whale. This particular culture interacted regularly with their ground-bound evolutionary cousins, who wouldn’t have made it past the first climbing spike on these cactus towers.

The Tree-grabber in front stepped forward, chirping a reply song, then switching to the more recognizable trade language. “Greetings! We are delighted to smell you.” He waved his mousy ears happily, all four arms folded in front of him.

“And we you,” replied Captain Sunlight, whose people actually said that kind of greeting themselves. Her yellow scales were extra bright in this sun. “Would you like to inspect the merchandise?”

They would. Zhee did his part by prying open the crates with his mighty mantis arms — I don’t know why the supplier of these fruits insisted on packaging them this way, but it was good we had him along — and the Tree-grabbers all made a big deal of sniffing the fruits. The antigrav belts in the other crate got sniffed too, though thankfully they didn’t stink.

I could smell the fruits from where I was standing; that sour smell made my eyes water even at a distance. But no one was paying attention to me, busy as they were with signing for the delivery on the tablet that Captain Sunlight held out. Zhee put the lids back on. I wiped my eyes and admired the view. It was a nice scenic desert scrubland out there, with only the other cactus-trees in the way. I could see the entire sprawling city where the Ground-grabbers lived, and just barely make out the buildings on the distant Air-grabber mesa.

“Are you still interested in a tour?” someone asked.

I turned back and smiled without baring teeth. “Yes please!”

The lead Tree-grabber was returning the tablet to Captain Sunlight while the others moved the crates onto their own low-tech wheeled cart. Behind them, a hatch slid open in the red stones of the landing pad. Zhee towed the hoversled back toward our ship as soon as it was empty.

Captain Sunlight looked up at me. “Travel with care,” she said, which was a polite way of urging me not to trip and fall off the cactus.

“I will,” I told her. “And I have my phone if anything comes up.” That covered a lot of ground. We’d already discussed keeping an eye out for possible delivery needs: offworld items that I might tactfully suggest to the locals. They wouldn’t have thought to ask about the antigrav belts if the subject hadn’t come up in conversation the last time we were here.

“Then kindly follow me to the handpath,” said the many-limbed monkey-mouse. Dang, what was his name? I thought. He had a name. It translated as just a sound. Chirp, right, that’s what it was. I knew that. Totally professional over here. I kindly followed Chirp in the direction of the handpath.

Which was over the edge, because of course it was. Metal handrails like the kind I usually saw at swimming pools waited next to the steps. Chirp led the way.

I set the gravity belt to “catch me if I suddenly plunge downward,” and followed.

I like climbing, right? Big fan. I was all over the playground as a kid, and I never really stopped. It’s particularly fun when I get to be “the one who can reach things high up,” or otherwise be appreciated for climbing a tree or a spaceship or what have you. Occasionally I’ll meet someone else who enjoys being above the ground. Most species seem to prefer being on a safe, level surface.

Not these guys. Wow. I was glad that Captain Sunlight had insisted on the gravity belt, because this was intense. The entire city street system were basically ladders on the outside of skyscrapers.

“This handpath is designed with elders and the occasional visitor in mind,” Chirp called up to me. “Artificial steps and platforms placed regularly.” When I looked down, I saw that he was indeed standing on a platform already, which even had a railing around it. There were more ladders on either side, and other platforms that could be reached with the help of metal handholds.

“That’s very considerate,” I said. Other cactus-trees were close enough that I could watch the agile citizens scurry along the surfaces, using only the natural cactus spikes and small branches. Wild. “Do you have any handpaths inside?” I managed to make it sound casual as I stepped down onto the platform with a perfectly normal heart rate. There was a door here that I hadn’t seen from above.

“There are some,” he said. “Mostly for emergencies.”

I had to laugh. “That’s the opposite of where I’m from.”

“Really?” He perked up in curiosity. “How so?”

“We have tall buildings like this that we made,” I said with a wave toward the towering plants. “Nothing on Earth grows this big, but we can build it. And we do all our travel between levels inside, except for emergency escape ladders on the outside.”

“Fascinating!” Chirp said. “I suppose if you make the whole things yourselves, you can make sure the inside is strong enough to support as many rooms as you need.”

“Yeah, definitely,” I agreed, laying a palm against the smooth cactus wall. “These are pretty soft at the core, huh?”

“Oh yes, that’s why the rooms are kept strictly to the outer layer,” Chirp said. “Come in; let me show you.”

He opened the door and I got ready to duck, since it was just under human height, then a rapid succession of shadows passed over us.

Chirp made an irritated click. “Air-grabbers, come to get in the way again!”

I looked, curious to see what they actually looked like. Both the Tree-grabbers and the Ground-grabbers had complained about them last time.

They looked a lot like I expected: bats with skinny arms held close while they flew. Everybody seemed to have six limbs on this planet.

And varying opinions about personal space. The Air-grabbers fluttered around the cactus towers, inspecting anything that caught their interest. They circled people carrying groceries. They poked their heads into open doors, only to get shooed back out. They arrowed in on the spaceship parked above. And they flew past me repeatedly, almost enough of them to run into each other. High-pitched voices floated on the breeze, but none of them addressed us directly.

“Inside,” Chirp said, opening the door. I followed him in. He shut it firmly, leaving the squeaking cloud of bats outside.

The ceiling was a bit low here, but at least this was a proper civilized room, not something carved directly from the wet cactus innards. Multiple desks, counters, and couches made it look like an info center, or some other kind of “just arrived from above” hub. I wondered if there was a lot of travel between cactus cities here. Several locals waited in line.

Then someone else rushed in after us, complaining in her own chittering language, and she pulled up short when she saw the tall alien bent over by the door.

“Hello,” I said.

“My greetings,” she said, edging sideways. “Pardon.” With a quick arm gesture that was probably polite — one to her chest and three outward — she hurried off to stand in line. Everyone else was staring.

I’ve been stared at plenty in my time, so this was only a little awkward. I waved. Small windows that I hadn’t noticed in the walls flickered with passing shadows.

Chirp said, “I apologize for the Air-grabbers. They hardly make a visit pleasant.”

“Is there any way to ask them nicely to leave?” I asked. “I assume you’re tried discussing it with their leaders?”

“Many times.” Chirp looked tired. “They don’t care. As far as they’re concerned, the air is their territory, and it’s our poor luck that we have to breathe it.”

“How rude,” I murmured, not wanting to cast judgement on an alien culture. But my present audience more than agreed.

“Yes, they are very rude,” Chirp said, working up to a proper rant. “Shouting at them does no good, since they just find it funny. Bad weather will make them leave, but that’s a problem for us too, and hardly something we can conjure up on a whim. Though they did seem to dislike the sound of the wind through the observatory when half the windows were left open; that we could probably do on purpose. Not very helpful here, though.”

“What kind of sound was it?” I asked, half an idea forming.

“A very high shriek,” he told me. “Almost too high to hear. The wind did some strange things with those windows.”

“I wonder if you could ward them off with noise,” I said.

“Maybe,” he said, not sounding terribly optimistic. “Like I said, yelling doesn’t help, and that’s loud too.”

Somebody else scrambled through the door, complaining. This guy didn’t even see me, just slamming the door and hurrying forward like he was ready to have words with whoever was in charge here. Maybe he was. More shadows passed over the windows.

“Can I try something?” I asked. “A quick loud noise? I’ll do it outside.”

He looked curious at that. “Go ahead. Just make sure not to startle anyone on the handpaths nearby.”

“Of course,” I said. Then I turned my back on the staring eyes, opened the door, and stepped out to where I could stand up to my full height.

No Tree-grabbers nearby. Perfect. I put two fingers in my mouth and let loose with the most ear-piercing whistle I could muster.

Startled bats changed course in midair, flapping and diving to get away, a cloud of chattering alarm and confusion. Judging by the shadows, some of the ones from above had lifted off as well.

I watched for a moment to see that they kept their distance, then I ducked back inside.

“That seemed to work,” I told Chirp.

Chirp was rubbing his ear. “I’m not surprised. Very loud. How well did it work?”

I waved him outside to take a look for himself. He perked up when he saw how far the Air-grabbers had moved back. “That’s the best result I’ve seen yet! I’m sure some of it might be from the surprise of it all, but even so.”

“You said the wind shriek was almost too high to hear,” I said. “Do you think the Air-grabbers can hear sounds that you can’t quite pick up?” Their ears were bigger, but what did I know?

“Now that,” Chirp said decisively, “Is an idea worth pursuing.”

“So there’s this animal on my planet called a dog,” I said. “And a certain kind of whistle that only they can hear…”

By the time my tour was over, I had a representative of the city very interested in having us deliver some offworld noise-makers that might help them keep the peace.

(The rest of the tour was nice; they had some impressive architecture inside those cactuses, and everyone greeted me politely. I didn’t fall off the side once.)

When I climbed back up the ladder to the landing pad, taking care not to focus on the long drop behind me, I was surprised to find a handful of Air-grabbers perched there in conversation with the captain.

Chirp made a disapproving grunt, but said nothing as we walked over.

“Ah, welcome back!” Captain Sunlight said to me. “It looks like our next visit will involve a delivery of fruit to the other above-ground city in these parts.”

The Air-grabber in front smiled with sharp teeth. “Ours is the best.”

“As you say,” Captain Sunlight agreed politely.

“We will need the items delivered directly to an entrance,” said the Air-grabber. “Not to the high ground. Is that something you can do?”

Chirp muttered something that sounded like “Knew it.”

“I’m sure we can manage that,” Captain Sunlight said. “Our ship has some very stable thrusters, and talented pilots. And, failing that—” She looked at me. “Someone experienced with antigrav belts and high places.”

I chuckled and turned off the safety. “That you do.”

~~~

There's an exciting mini-project coming out next week! Details here!

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[delawaredetroit]

So Yuga Aoyama obviously shares parallels with Midoriya and arguably Shigaraki (I actually read a pretty decent thread on Twitter a while ago talking about the similarities and parallels shared between Aoyama and Shigaraki) , and my question is, is any other character that could be seen as a parallel to Aoyama?

Yes. For starters, you're right that Aoyama parallels both Izuku and Shigaraki. Aoyama is similar to Izuku in that he was born quirkless and became involved with the AFO-OFA blood feud to, among other things, escape the social consequences of being quirkless in a quirk-based society. He is also similar to Shigaraki in that All for One took advantage of his family situation as a child to take control of his life. Aoyama had an easier time of the two of them because Aoyama was a minor piece in All for One's grand plan while Shigaraki was his self-insert.

But there are other characters that parallel Aoyama. The first one that comes to mind is Touya. Both Aoyama and Touya crossed paths with All for One as a consequence of their parents' poor life choices. The source of both Aoyama and Touya's childhood angst was that they weren't born with the traits their parents wanted from them. Touya wasn't born with a fire quirk that could surpass All Might and Aoyama didn't have a quirk that would allow him to fit in with mainstream society.

Both were harmed by the use of their quirks due to their parents' choices to achieve the ideal child they wanted. Aoyama was given a quirk incompatible with his body. Touya's body was incompatible with a fire quirk because Enji decided to play eugenics and combine quirks that would require polar opposite secondary traits to support the quirk. So Touya had the body of an ice user but primary quirk of a fire user.

The difference was that Aoyama's parents accommodated him by getting him that belt, so Aoyama could still become a hero if he chose to do so (though the gesture was soured by the fact neither Aoyama nor his parents really had the power to decide that once All for One was involved). Endeavor on the other hand just told Touya to give up and made more children until he got the quirk he wanted.

Another potential parallel to Aoyama is Hawks. They were the traitor characters to each side. They had largely no one they could genuinely talk to for most of the story. They were both put in their respective situations because they were basically sold off by their parents to a shady entity as children. They both had one person they were tasked to spy on that they became too chummy with to the point it compromised their mission: Twice for Hawks and Izuku for Aoyama. They both attacked the enemy they cared about when confronted. However, Aoyama switched sides in the end while Hawks doubled down on his original position.

[sharp-silver4795]

A ‘Fun’ Mission (NSFT)

Summary: Liu and Toby go on a mission together and Liu almost falls asleep while driving to their destination. So, Toby helps and, well, it kinda causes a domino effect to a lot of fucking sex.

Content Warnings: Will be as they go, Toby likes big dick to a stupid extent, Honestly, this should probably be multiple fics but I just rambled and tried to make it coherent

Nicknames/Pet Names: Love, lovely, babes (for Toby) stitch, stitches (for Liu)

Pronoun Notice: I hc Liu as gender fluid and use all pronouns, I use he/they for Toby.

Part I: Stay Awake

Blowjobs, unsafe car shit, do not do this, Liu gets mean, gaging, degradation, he calls Toby a mutt a few times, semi public sex, Liu is pissed and takes it out on Toby sort of, dw he loves it

To Liu, missions with Toby is… interesting. Especially when they’re the only one who can drive.

The way to the job was easy, it’s the way back that sucks. Not this time, though. Before they ever reach their destination, she’s already tired, covered in blood, and a little pissed.

Brian and Wilson switch when the other gets tired in Brian’s car. Meanwhile, he’s here, in Toby’s truck, trying not to fall asleep at the wheel.

Hey? You good? - Yeah. Just tired.

He must’ve caught on to their sour attitude. Her words came out a little more harsh than she wanted it to. Oh well.

I can try and k,keep you awake! - alright then.

The younger man’s mind wandered, trying to come up with a conversation when his eyes landed on something a bit more… fun.

How do you even carry that around every day? - What? Carry what around? What are you talking about? - That weight in your jeans. - Oh my god, Toby.

He sniggers a bit regardless of the crude remark but didn’t notice the way Toby kept staring at his jeans.

Seriously, though. Th,That ha,has got to be problematic to s,so,some kinda way.

Another suppressed giggle from the older male and, with a flash of previous memories flood Toby’s brain, his own clothings are starting to feel a bit tight.

Not really. I’ve had it my whole life past puberty. - D,damn. *squeakers* - It shouldn’t be that surprising. You’ve had your cock as it is for most of your life. You don’t see me ogling your crotch.

He’s been caught. Well, no point in hiding it now…

Pull over. - what?! Why? - Just p,pull o,over. - Okay, I guess.

A car honks from behind them as Liu jerks the truck to the shoulder from the road, shifting to neutral and pulling the emergency brake-

What do you, WHAT THE FUCK?!

Toby leaves the truck, closing the passenger door behind him. He walks around the front of the vehicle and rips open the driver’s door.

You can’t drive, Toby. I’m not switching with you. I can handle it. - I’m n,not trying to drive. I said I’d keep ya awake. S,so *mhm* I will.

He climbs into the truck, sitting in the floor board in front of her.

What the fuck are you doing? - Can you reach the clutch? - yeah… - the gas? - yeah… - the break? - yeah, why? - good. Get driving. - I… what?! - D,drive.

Confused, he releases the emergency break and goes to first gear. Once they get off their little bank, Toby reaches up to fondle them through their clothes.

TOBY! Wha,what are you doing?! - K,keeping you awake.

He grips the wheel tighter as his pants follow suit. Toby smiles, watching their bulge grow the more they touch him. The shaky breaths Liu lets out are pure gold.

Toby… this isn’t exactly safe - y,you want me to stop, then? - No! No. I,I didn’t say that.. - then focus o,on the fucking r,road.

Their face keeps getting more and more flushed as Toby slowly undoes their belt then each individual button…

Oh? W,what’s this? - Huh? Is something wrong-

Their sentence is cut off with a moan when Toby dives past his jeans and roughly grips their dick.

Since w,whe,when do you not wear underwear? - I, uh, I almost n,never do. - Oh r,really!! Th,that will be useful knowledge f,for later.

Liu hits the head rest as his body relaxes just a bit as Toby pulls down the zipper, inadvertently releasing their cock from its confines.

As much as Liu wants to lift her hips to help Toby get the stupid thing off, that would be a recipe for disaster since his foot is still on the accelerator. So, she just sits there, eyes not once leaving the road as Toby fully reveals her.

His hot breath fans over the sensitive flesh, making their thighs tense for a moment. Toby has to take a moment to appreciate the amazing creation before him.

Wow. G,Goddamn. *squeakers* So nice. So beautiful.

They blush brighter as compliments pour from Toby’s lips and he takes pride in the way their cock twitches.

Looks so f,fucking good. D,do ya mind if,if I have a taste?

Their breath catches- is he really gonna suck her off while she’s driving?

They pull up to a red light, shifting slowly from second to first and resting on the break.

Uhm… I, uh. I don’t mind. I’d like that.. yeah. - Great.

He doesn’t miss a beat and wraps his warm lips around them.

Hah, fuck.

She reaches her arm down, wrapping their fingers in his hair. Only for Toby to pull away.

Wh,wait, what? - Focus on the road, stitches.

They huff, and press the accelerator, accidentally pushing Toby’s head down a bit. He groans and gags, barely able to pull back as to not hit the clutch.

He coughs a bit, and Liu brings his hand down to gently pet his head for comfort.

You ok, love? - Y,yeah. - Move to the side a bit.

They nudge their foot to guide Toby to a place where he can still access his cock but also not end up gagging as Liu changes gears.

Get a lil closer. - Heh. Y,you sure that’s not j,just f,for the pleasure aspect? - 100 percent. I need to reach that pedal behind you and not choke you.

He goes down again, groaning at the sounds escaping their lover’s lips.

He’s never been the best at giving head, especially not with Liu. With Jack, it’s a bit easier since he can stimulate just one or two of his dicks and still get a good reaction. Liu, however, not so much.

It was difficult to go too far down or too fast since he was just too big for it and Toby doesn’t have the best gag reflex.

He couldn’t deny, though, how nice it feels. The thick, warm, and heavy, shaft resting on his tongue that just tastes like Liu and his general musk. The pieces of metal that decorate the organ makes it so much easier to gag, but gives great reactions when he rolls them with his tongue. It’s so fucking nice.

He’s snapping back to the present as Liu whines so nicely…

C’mon, Toby, stop teasing.

Liu practically pants out every word. He hadn’t realised he’s only got the head on his mouth. An easy issue to solve.

Liu groans as he takes their cock about half way. He pushes the break and shifts to first as they go through a small town. As they turn to another road, Toby lets his teeth drag ever so slightly against his cock, making Liu’s thighs quiver.

He moves his head up and down about half of their length, bringing a hand up to pump the rest up to the base, occasionally reaching a bit higher to stimulate his balls.

It feels so good. The extra suction when he swallows a bit of his drool back, the way his tongue pushes back the foreskin and laps at the underside, it’s all too good. When his tongue drags across the first few rungs of his ladder or he swirls around the head, Liu has to consciously stop himself from trying to push deeper. When Toby’s teeth clash at his cross, he can’t help but shiver.

He wants so badly to watch the man go down on him or least hold onto Toby’s shoulder to ground himself, but he can’t, otherwise Toby’ll stop.

For Toby, it’s both heaven and hell. It’s so gratifying to know he’s making this scarred masterpiece of a man feel so good, but the way his erection pushes against his jeans and boxers is tantalising. He’s just too horny. So, he goes to humping the edge of the seat like a dog.

When Liu feels the subtle movements, they instinctively look down before shooting his gaze back.

Damn, you just can’t help yourself, can you?

The pathetic muffled whine tells her everything she needs to know.

You do realise that you’re acting like a stupid slut, right? Then again, it isn’t too far off from the truth, is it?

As he shakes his head, the cross hits the back of his throat and he gags. Liu gives a shallow thrust, revelling in the way Toby slightly struggles for air.

He knows it’s cruel, he knows he shouldn’t, but he loves it. He shifts his right leg just a bit to make it difficult for Toby to pull away.

Oh my god, Toby. Don’t, don’t stop. Fuck.

When they see small droplets of rain on the windshield, they immediately pull over. In response, finally given a way off Liu’s cock, Toby pulls away, wiping drool off his chin.

Wh,What gives? - it’s starting to rain. - and? - I don’t drive in the rain. - since when? - since right now. You wanna go to the back seat?

Toby looks up and sees the lust in Liu’s eyes before pumping at her cock again.

Can I at least finish this first? Please? - F,fine. Just… stay still.

Although confused, Toby keeps his lower body as still as he can, hissing when he feels Liu’s leg slip between his own.

You wanna act like a dog? Do it right.

Toby whines, but complies, rubbing his bulge on Liu’s shin.

She sighs, leaning back in her seat, taking in the show before her. They reach down and pull Toby’s head snug with their pelvis and smile when he chokes.

Aw. Poor mutt. Can’t even give any good head. What a shame.

His hips speed up against their leg, and Liu reciprocates, dragging his leg against him.

Might have to train you on this, huh?

He lets out muffled whine, begging for air. Liu thrusts his hips met with a harsh snap as he hits Toby’s face.

I’ll take that as a yes.

Once released, Toby backs away again, coughing and hacking as his hips pause.

Liu presses his leg against him a little more insistently, forcing a small moan from his lips. Toby latches back onto their cock, noticing the impatience in Liu’s eyes. His jaw goes slack, ready for the inevitable.

Liu grabs him by the hair, eyes dancing with a subtle rage. They drag him back and forth while snapping his hips against the man’s mouth.

Toby’s body goes slack against their leg, drooling against their clothes. He looks up at Liu and is almost… scared.

He’s got blood stains on his shirt from when someone caught eye of him and sweat marks along his collar from chasing them down. He has a slight sweat on his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut. He’s still pissed about it. Well, now, he has an outlet. And poor Toby is getting the brunt of his bottled up anger.

It didn’t take long, not long at all, before Liu is shooting his hot load down Toby’s oesophagus in hefty waves. Toby grips his thighs, struggling not to let any past his mouth while trying not to gag.

A few extra thrusts and spurts and he’s releasing a satisfied sigh.

Toby pulls away and waits to make eye contact with the beauty above him to swallow every drop. The act makes them shudder as Toby leans up to Liu’s chest.

Now, let’s g,get in the back seat.

Liu props himself against the window while Toby wastes no time straddling them to start grinding on his thigh. Liu chuckles a bit at that.

Wow. You’re so desperate. Not even gonna take our clothes off? - c,can’t. Too,too horny.

He pulls Toby to shove his tongue in the younger man’s mouth while his other hand slides up his shirt to play with his nipples.

That feel good? - mmhhmmm - yeah? You like this? Basically humping my fucking leg like a bitch in heat? - yeah yeah yes - mm, damn you’re such a whore for this, huh?

They grip his hips and lift their leg up a bit, having him go a bit harder and giving in to Toby’s need.

How’s that, babes? - good! G,great! - you gonna cum soon? - y,yeah, yeah. A,almost,almost there. - good job, doing so good. You look real fine and sexy like this. Desperately trying to get off. Riding my damn leg like a dirty dog. Are you a dog? Hm? - y,yea. Yeah. I’m your dog. - stick out your tongue.

Liu put his two fingers against it, pushing them to the back of Toby’s throat, making him gag.

God, you’re hot. Anyone ever tell you that? - n,no. No. No.

Liu laughs at the lust-clouded responses before Toby’s hips are stuttering. They firmly grip his crotch, watching the boy come undone before him.

Good boy, cum for me. Show me what a good whore you are.

He whines as he releases into his boxers and jeans, ridding out the orgasm with Liu’s hand, which is still cupping the front of his jeans.

They twitch a bit more and their head slumps against their shoulder.

We should get back on the road. I’ll fuck you properly later.

***

Part II: The Gas Station

Anal, semi-public sex, more blowjobs, threats, choking, Liu can be mean and Toby likes it

They make a stop at a gas station to fill up the truck, get some snacks, go to the bathroom, all of that.

Toby comes back with two RedBulls, two monsters, Sour Gummy Worms, and some chips for them.

Thanks, lovely.

Liu turns his head up to give him a small kiss.

Yeah, yeah. I,I love you too, st,stitches.

They roll their eyes. They take their keys off their belt and throw them to Toby.

Do you need to get anything else? - Nah, I think I’m good. - Alright, I’m gonna go pay for this and take a piss. I’ll be right back.

Toby locks the truck and snatches the cash and receipt from his hand.

I’ll pay for it- with my money - ye,yeah whatever. you go to the bathroom, ya been d,drivin the whole time.

Toby waits for the cashier to finish counting change and puts it in his jeans pocket. He walks over to where the bathrooms are and waits for Liu.

After about 5 seconds he gets bored and walks in and immediately sees Liu washing his hands at the sink.

Hey. - HOLY shit - haha! I scared you. - fuck off. What are you doing? Weren’t you just gonna pay? - well, yeah. B,but it’s polite to,to wait on y,y,you, so I did. But I got bored. - really, Toby? - Yeah! - Well, I’m done now, so let’s just go - where’s the fun in that?

Liu looks at him like he’s a mad man which he is.

And what do you suggest we do, then? - I donno, fuck? Y,you said you would.

He grabs Toby by his hoodie and throws him in the Handicapped stall.

He locks the door behind him and pins Toby to the wall. The kiss starts slow and sensual, before it becomes heated and driven by carnal lust.

They trail kisses down Toby’s neck, taking bites and making marks, making hickies against his collar bones and teasing his nipples from above the hoodie.

God, a,and you called me a tease - you haven’t see a tease yet.

He slots his knee just below Toby’s cock, nested between his legs.

Their kisses are heated and full of passion. They’re pulling at each other’s clothes until they’re both basically naked.

Toby sets Liu’s scarf to the side and leaves kisses and love marks along the burn line on his neck.

He pushes his hands below Liu’s shirt, gently rubbing at the scar on his side before lifting it off his head. He kisses at the centre of the cut X on his chest, and traces the scars littered on their body as if soothing the pains of the past.

For a moment, it’s sweet. Liu keeps his hands on Toby’s shoulder blades, lightly playing with his hair, letting him shower the parts he is most insecure about with love and gentle touches. When their lips meet once again, it’s much more soft. A declaration of love and affection. They hold each other close in those few moments.

How far you wanna go w,with th,thi,this? - I thought I’d return the favour for what you did in the truck.

Toby smiles and Liu sinks to her knees, licking up the underside of the other man’s shaft.

You know, I forget that circumcision is a thing. What is with that? - Religion. - Ah.

Almost as if the conversation was a distraction, Liu immediately takes Toby down until their lips meet his pelvis. He bobs his head back and forth, sucking him in as he moves forward, and dragging and he moves back.

Toby’s squirming, unable to be still.

Liu! L,Liu! Holy fuck… Liu-

He grabs Toby’s legs and hips resting the smaller man on his shoulders and pushes him flush to the wall, fully supporting the man’s weight. He’s scrambling for a grip. He tugs at Liu’s hair, trying desperately to ground himself, only to no avail.

They don’t let up, not even as he’s releasing down his throat with an adorable whine, rocking his hips into the wet warmth provided to him. The sloppy thrusts have some dribbling out of his mouth and onto his chin. As Toby shakes in the aftermath, Liu sets him down and wipes his mouth. They stick out their tongue, proving not a bit was wasted other than what had come out of their mouth.

Holy fuck. - So, it was good?

His breathing is ragged as he nods.

Good. - wait! Don’t you need to get off too? - hmm? Did you think we were done?

He guides Toby to sit on the floor, after making sure it’s somewhat clean, and spread his legs.

Liu’s all smiles while Toby’s eyes glance around, trying to avoid Liu’s gaze.

I don’t really want to go in dry

Toby spits on his hand

I c,can jerk you o,off *bitch*. We don’t really have any lube, s,so this can work, I,I think. - yeah.

Liu rests his arms on the stall door, head leaning against his forearms. He practically salivates at that sweet cock being presented right in front of his face.

Liu isn’t stupid. He knows Toby is just a dick guy, a big dick guy, in fact. They know that’s the main reason he loves playing with their dick: it’s big, and he likes big dick. But it doesn’t change how much of a tease he is about it, even if it’s not on purpose.

He watches as Toby wraps his hands around the thick shaft, moving up and down with feather light touches. Any extra saliva is spread across the older man’s cock while the other hand strays between his legs.

G,god. - hm? - c,can I ju, - if you can get yourself spread out enough, this can probably go faster.

He doesn’t think twice, drooling on his hand once more and raising to his knees.

Liu kneels in front of him and spreads his thighs just a bit more before moving his fingers to his ass.

I’m not going to take too long on this, we don’t want to fall behind the other two.

Toby nods before a sharp whine escapes him as Liu shoves two fingers in without much warning. She allows maybe 2 seconds before moving back and forth, finger fucking him and making scissoring motions.

I,I’m good. I can take it. - are you sure? - y,yeah. J,just put it in al,already.

He has Toby straddling their hips and he tosses his head back with a choked moan as Toby sinks down.

Hah! GodfuckingdamnitToby

He’s so fucking tight. His walls gripping their cock like a vice.

Toby, TOBY! Don’t move. - huh? Why? - I need a minute. - ohh, l,look h,who ne,neeeds pre,pre,prep, now. Huh? Big ba-

Liu reaches up and grips his throat.

Watch it.

Toby’s realisation hits hard. For a moment, he forgot how dangerous the man below him is and how sensitive words can be…

You and I both know I can snap that pretty neck of yours on the fucking spot. Watch what you say. Your damn boss won’t be very happy…

Liu’s fingers tighten around Toby’s neck, their free hand grabbing his hip. Their hips snap up into Toby’s hole. It’s both a threat and a promise.

If his beloved proxy shows up dead. I love you, Toby.

Liu bites on his shoulders and kisses at his cheek.

But I won’t hesitate to break you if you don’t fucking watch what you say.

The point is clear as day, and they both know he doesn’t entirely mean the threat he’s presenting. It all just makes Toby feel lightheaded. The unrelenting pressure and the violence of Liu’s thrusts just break him.

I’m gonna let go, okay?

Toby grabs at their shoulders, fully aware of where that adrenaline from being choked is gonna go and what going to happen as a result.

Good boy, hold on tight, ok? I’m not gonna last much longer.

Liu releases his throat and wraps their arms around his waist.

Toby screams. The newly obtained oxygen gets caught in his throat as the adrenaline hits him like an eighteen wheeler.

Toby’s walls clamping down too much for him to take it anymore as they finished off into the welcoming heat.

Liu’s hand clamps over his mouth as pale ropes of cum cover their torsos. Toby’s thighs are shaking, shoulders caving inwards as his toes curl. Once his voice dissipates to nothing but shallow whimpers, Liu releases him.

You did so good, lovely.

He kisses Toby’s head struggling to lift him off. Cum drips down his thighs to which the pair both laugh.

They clean up the mess they made and walk out to the truck to see Brian’s car just pulling into the station.

***

Part III: Experiments

Light cock stepping, it’s really more like using his boot

They eventually make plans with Brian and Wilson to pull into an empty lot and sleep in their cars.

As the two settle in the back seat, Liu slips a little idea of his.

Hey? Do you mind if we experiment something really quick, if that’s alright? - O,okay… like sexually? - Yeah

He pulls Toby to kiss him, the two quickly escalating their intentions.

G,god, since when do you get this riled u,up on missions? - you don’t talk to Jack very much about what we do on these things, do you?

Toby shrugs and the pair continue their activities.

They’re both still fully clothed when Liu guides him to the floor board. They move the passenger’s seat forwards, giving Toby room to sit in front of them.

Do you seriously just want an,ano,another blowjob? - nah. I wanna see if you like this as much as I do…

Liu lifts his foot to rest their boot over Toby’s hard-on, not giving any pressure, just tempting the idea.

O,oh… th,that… - is it ok if we test it? - yeah! Yeah… I,I like trying n,new things.

He’s seen Liu get his cock stepped on before, watching the usually dominant male crumble within seconds, rutting up against Jack’s shoe. He’s also seen Jack kick him in the same region very… violently… and seen Liu cum on the dot. He’s kinda wanted to do it too. Wanted to watch Liu fold. He’d never considered it as the recipient. He’s never thought about it that way. But, now, with the offer in place, why the hell not? He slowly nods, bracing himself on Liu’s knees.

I,if I don’t like it.. - Hm? - c,can I do it to you? When we get to the hotel?

Liu doesn’t answer, just immediately applies pressure which Toby squirms to. He doesn’t seem to sway to pleasure, he just seems uncomfortable.

How does it feel? - I,I donno m,move it u,up and do,dow,down. - Okay.

And he does. They slide the toe of their boot to the top of their bulge to the bottom and does the same with the heel. They’re only rewarded with a few shallow pants.

Not your thing, huh? - n,no.

Toby can’t help the devilish smile that crosses his face.

B,but I know it’s yours.

***

Part IV: The Hotel

Cock & ball torture, Liu fucking lives for this shit, Toby over-does it a bit, it gets randomly sweet? Liu basically teaches Toby how to step on his dick

Not even two steps into the hotel room, and Liu is reminding Toby of their interaction in the truck.

Don’t get too comfortable. We had a deal.

They wrap their arms around Toby’s waist and pull him to the bedroom and he rests on the floor against the foot board with Toby in front of him. He gets on his knees, still leaned back, and spreads his thighs.

Toby’s eyes widen at the raging boner pushing at Liu’s jeans.

Toby relieves both of them of most of their clothing, leaving Liu in his jeans (knowing that Liu likes to have a slight barrier between their cock and whatever is crushing it) and himself in his boxers. Liu grabs his neck and pushes Toby into a nice make out sesh. Toby pinches at Liu’s nipple piercings, receiving a nice moan in return.

They bite and suck at each other’s necks and chests, Liu reaching down to palm Toby’s cock. He sits flat, staring up at Toby with lust filled eyes as he takes in the sight of Toby being in a dominant position.

O,oh. Ac,ac,act,actually, I, uh, I got a question for ya. - Hm? and what’s that? - do ya like gettin kicked?

Toby knew they did, but it was never officially stated between the two. He’d rather be safe than sorry. So, he isn’t surprised when Liu nods violently.

Damn, y,you are a freak.

The dresser of the room sort of pinned the two right up next to each other, and it made things a bit more interesting.

Since we’re in s,such a confined space, th,this wi,will have to do.

Toby truly just wanted to see if it would have the same effect if he didn’t use his actual foot. It doesn’t matter anyway. Especially not when he brings his knee down and grinds the organ down within their jeans.

Liu moans and flings his head back, both hands flying to the foot board to steady himself. He tries to buck into Toby’s leg, only to realise that there is no space between his knee, their cock, and the floor. They keen pathetically.

It’s perfectly snug against him, crushing him in the best possible way.

The brunette leans down, readjusting Liu’s and his own position, while removing the other’s jeans. Toby rests his hands with one on the board, the other on Liu’s shoulder, leaning over him…

Y,you ready? - for what?

He answers with a powerful impact. His knee hits Liu’s bare skin shaking as they recoil. The buzzing pain quickly turns to pleasure as they moan.

Toby stands.

You wanna keep going? - huh? - hah. Y,yer still br,brain dead from th,that. You want me to keep beating up y,y,yer dick,dick?

Liu’s eyes are glossy when he nods and is immediately given a harsh kick to the nuts. She screams. Not from pain. From pleasure. Toby is fascinated as Liu’s cock twitches, red and angry, begging for relief.

He notices Liu shaking their head, and kneels as tears go down her face.

Hey, h,hey… you good? - yes… and no…

All the air in his lungs is just gone, and Toby feels that sharp pang of guilt in his gut.

Was it too much? - a little bit. - you w,wanna t,tay,take a break? *brrr* - y,yeah.

They grip his shoulders, leaning into the smaller male’s neck.

Deep breaths, stitch. Deeep breaths.

I,I’m sorry. - It’s okay… I asked for it, and I did like it. It was just a bit too much and a bit too fast. You have to give me a little time to recover. - Oh. - I.. should have given… you a bit more guidance - I,I’m s,so,so,sso sorry.

Liu nuzzles into his neck once more, inhaling into Toby’s neck.

Okay. I think I can handle a bit more. - A,are you *shhh* sure? - yeah, just be gentle. - oh,okay I,I,*squeakers* *bitch*,I’ll try.

Liu grabs Toby’s leg, setting the heel on the base of his cock. Before releasing him.

Toby puts a bit of pressure, paying sharp attention to the sounds Liu makes. He moves his foot up the length with his heel and slowly shifts to the ball of his foot to press at the head.

Oh,oh god. Fuck yes.

He slowly picks up and looks at Liu like he’s never seen a cock before.

Hah. C’mere.

Liu grabs his leg once more, setting the ball on the centre of his shaft. With a confirming glance, Toby picks his foot up and comes back down with a thud, making Liu’s back arch from the impact.

Fuck fuck fuck

Toby lifts again, worried he’d hurt them again. After making sure he’s ok, Toby presses his foot against their lower abdomen, so his heel is at the base.

He applies a bit of pressure to have Lou squirming.

You okay i,if I ki,ki,kick you again?

Liu whines at that and looks down, seemingly assessing the scene before them.

No, but…

They pull Toby off and leans back, letting his cock rest against his stomach.

Step on them. Hard.

Toby listens, stomping and crushing her balls before pressing Liu’s cock into their abdomen.

Toby, toby, Toby- you gonna cum? Already?

He nods his head and grips into Toby’s shin as they cum on their own torso and Toby’s leg.

The smaller pulls away, noticing the still hard cock against his lovers stomach.

Damn. Y,ya sssstill wa,want more? - j,just… Could you just jerk me off? - y,yeah. O,of cc,cor,course.

Liu hisses almost immediately, still sensitive from the moments before.

Ah! Ow, fuck. - Sorry! You ok? - just sore. Please, be gentle…

Sorry, sorry again - it’s fine… just be gentle… like I said, it’s a bit sore… - got it got it

Do you want some treatment too? That can’t be comfortable.

Toby laughs nodding.

Liu cups and rubs the prominent bulge in the other’s boxers and, with Toby’s nod, releases the man’s cock and begins stroking it nicely.

F,fffuck, Liu. - is this good? - y,yeah… yeah it’s good

They have one hand gripping the base, the other twisting as it comes to the tip and swipes pre from the slit. He’s got a nice, steady pressure that he knows Toby likes. He’s not going too fast nor too slow, but just enough speed to drag it out a bit and prolong the pleasure.

Their heads lean together, moans synchronising in a dirty symphony.

Toby takes the pre pooling at the tip down the rest of their length and they nearly choke on their own breath. He rolls the piercings at the head while ghosting over the underside’s, whispering sweet nothings into Liu’s ear.

Y,you nnn,know I love you.. right, stitch? - yeah. Yeah. - I,I’d never hurt you on purpose

A tear rolls down Liu’s face, which Toby’s licks off.

I love you so, so much, Liu. I,I couldn’t ask for a better partner.

They speed up to just the right pace and make it feel like he’s milking the other man’s cock.

When Liu finishes, it hits hard. The man is all but screaming, as his vision nearly going white. His legs wrap around Toby’s waist, pulling him closer. And, as Liu’s grip tightens, dragging along his cock, Toby follows suit with his own climax.

Damn… how’d you get so pent up? - I’ve been hard since we woke up.

He playful nudges Liu’s shoulder.

Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?!

They two laugh as fatigue takes over their bodies, holding each other in a loving embrace.

(Cue Brian and Wilson being traumatised when they came in so they fucking left and said ‘we will come back later…’)

[archangeldyke-all]

omg i was on cai (yes, i'm a loser) and did like a sexy bully scene in a janitor's closet... imagining that with sevika. like reader on their knees, sev's hand gripped in reader's hair to direct her where she wants, sev having to move reader's head when they get too tired... BROOO IM SO HORNY :(

no, i wasn't horribly bullied by beautiful girls during the most important years of my social development, what could possibly give you that impression?

men and minors dni

sevika hates you. that's a fact.

you started working for silco a few months ago, and for a while, sevika treated you like anyone else on the crew: a little cold and curt, but nothing targeted, she was just a busy woman who didn't have time to mince words.

you don't know what you did, but two months into your employment, a switch flipped seemingly overnight, and sevika suddenly had it out for you.

it started subtly. she kept giving you the shittiest, longest assignments on the roster, making you do grunt work even though you were nowhere near the strongest on the crew. you didn't say anything... you were the rookie, you had to earn your place.

but then it got worse. every time you'd talk in front of sevika, she'd roll her eyes and scoff. any ideas or comments you made at crew meetings were met with immediate denial and an insult thrown your way.

on your off hours, when the crew'd invite you to hang out at the last drop with them, sevika would get up and leave the table when you sat down.

in the hallways, if it's just you and sevika, she'd shove past you far too aggressively, sending you slamming into the wall opposite you.

and then the teasing started.

your looks, the way you talk, the things you say-- everything you do was spun into an insult and taunt by sevika. she even made fun of the way you breathe one time.

you don't know what you did to her to make her hate you.

you try your best to keep your head down and avoid her.

it only makes her angrier.

she doesn't hit you, but she shoves and pushes and trips you at any opportunity she can get. on a particularly memorable day, she even pulled on your hair.

you don't get it. neither does the rest of the crew.

you're getting fed up with it.

it comes to a head one afternoon at the last drop.

you're chatting with ran about a new mission at the bar.

"what if we came in from behind? one team out front to distract them, and then we ambush them through the back?" you ask. ran huffs and looks down at the blueprints for the building you will be raiding soon.

"that could work, we'd have to--"

"that's the stupidest fucking idea i've ever heard." sevika says, suddenly appearing beside you and ran.

ran bites their lip to keep from laughing at the sour look that takes over your face.

"i'm gonna fuckin' kill her one of these days." you mumble under your breath to ran. they chuckle.

"what was that?" sevika asks. you roll your eyes and turn around to face her.

"i said, what the fuck is your problem with me?" you ask. sevika blinks. "i don't know what i did to make you hate me but i'm sorry! fuckin' get over it!" you say. the bar goes silent. sevika growls. you gulp.

suddenly, she's got your arm in her hand as she drags you out of the bar and flings you into the liquor storage room.

fuck. you think. i guess this is how i die.

you hold your hands up, ready to block sevika's blows, cringing away from her as she stalks toward you.

sevika chuckles darkly, smacking your hands away and then stepping into your space.

"you think i hate you?" she asks. you scoff.

"what else am i supposed to think?" you ask. sevika grins, and then she's kissing you.

you freeze. your brain short circuits. sevika pulls away with a smirk.

"what the fuck?" you whisper. she chuckles, then pushes you backwards.

your back hits a shelf, and bottles clink from the impact. sevika saunters over to you as she slowly unbuckles her belt. you gulp.

"w-what are you doing?" you ask. sevika chuckles.

"i think you know." she says. "you're not that stupid." you lick your lips subconsciously. sevika smirks. "get on your knees." she commands. you gulp and shakily lower yourself down to the ground.

fuck. you've never considered it before, too busy defending yourself from her to notice, but sevika's fucking hot. especially now, as she towers over you and shoves her pants down her thighs.

her cunt's glistening, like she's been teased all day. you gulp, and then look up at her.

"...you gotta crush on me, sev?" you ask. sevika growls.

"no!" she spits. you smirk, your eyes trailing back down her happy trail to admire her bushy cunt.

"you sure?" you ask with a giggle. "'cause it looks like--"

"shut the fuck up." sevika grunts as she grabs your head and shoves your face between her legs.

you moan, immediately opening your mouth to suck sevika's swollen clit between your lips. sevika sighs and starts rocking her hips incrementally against your face.

it gets messy quickly. sevika's dripping wet, and soon her arousal and your spit start dripping down your throat. her thrusts get wilder, until she's just riding your face.

she's got both hands on your head, guiding you where she wants you, scratching against your scalp.

she's making... cute noises. you never considered that sevika could even be cute, but the little whimpers and whines she lets out when your nose nudges against your clit, and the moans she lets slip when your tongue nudges against her g-spot-- she's adorable. you moan against her cunt, and sevika's thigh twitches.

"f-fuck." she whispers. you chuckle against her and flick your eyes up to meet hers. "shut up." she grunts. you roll your eyes. "can't fuckin' stand you." she grunts as she humps against your mouth. "so fuckin'-- shit just like that-- so fuckin' pretty." she grunts. you whine against her, your hands clawing at her thighs. "wanted to do this for months, baby, shit." she moans.

she's getting close, you can tell. one of her hands is still on your head, but the other reaches up to grab the shelf behind you to support herself.

"i-- fuck i'm gonna-- shit!" she grunts. "fuck! quit-- quit lookin' at me like that." sevika grunts out. you chuckle against her and blink up at her innocently. "fucker." she spits. you moan. "fuck, you piss me off. walkin' around all pretty, distractin' the shit outta me-- fuck i hate you."

you raise a skeptical eyebrow at her from between her legs and she whines.

"f-fuck off!"

sevika cums with a gasp, her legs twitching and her cunt soaking your face as she rides out her orgasm against your face. when she stops her grinding, you continue your ministrations, lapping up her cum and kissing her twitching clit. sevika pushes you away harshly, then grips you by the nape of you neck and pulls you back up to your feet.

you're both panting, staring each other down as you catch your breaths. you start giggling as the reality of the situation hits you. sevika rolls her eyes.

"fuck off." she says. you laugh and pull the hem of your shirt up to wipe your face and neck clean from her cum. when you ring it back down, you expect to see sevika's retreating figure. instead, she's still standing in front of you, staring at you.

"what?" you ask. sevika sighs and rolls her eyes.

"i don't--" she huffs. "i don't hate you." she says. you laugh.

"yeah, i gathered that."

"shut up." she says. you expect this to be the end of it, but again, sevika surprises you. "i'm sorry i've been shitty." she says. you shrug.

"i'm sure you'll figure out a way to make it up to me." you tease her. sevika doesn't laugh though. instead she hesitantly reaches out and grabs your hand in hers.

"how's dinner sound?" she asks. you blink.

"what?" you ask.

"dinner. like a date." she says. you blink again.

"what?!" you ask again. sevika groans.

"just answer the fucking question!" she says.

"you always this mean to the girls you're trying to fuck?" you ask. sevika rolls her eyes.

"no." she says. "but..." she starts, then cuts herself off. you raise an eyebrow at her. "i don't just wanna fuck you." she whispers. "i... i don't normally feel this way about people. i don't know what to do with it." she says.

a smile starts creeping up your face and you dart forward to peck sevika on the cheek. she blushes.

"dinner's a good start." you say. sevika gulps.

"yeah?" she asks. you laugh and lean forward to kiss her lips. she sighs against you.

"yeah." you whisper against her lips.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666

[lilithschosen]

7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 

this uhhhh got crazier than i anticipated! oops sorry not sorry ehehe

The party was droning on, everyone around them was getting increasingly more intoxicated. Christmas parties for the Westview Police Department tend to get ... sloppy over time.

Agatha nurses her beer, sweeping the banquet hall with her eyes as she mentally takes notes for who is doing what with who. She laughs to herself, watching the Chief's wife try to pry the whiskey sour from his hands. She huffs and stomps off, leaving the moustached man grinning as he slams the entire glass and places it back on the table before swinging his hips off beat to the song playing.

"This is a shit show ," Rio says, sliding next to Agatha and wraps her arms around her waist, "I've never been to a Christmas party before, to be fair. Didn't expect it to be this wild."

Agatha pats Rio's forearm, pointing with the beer bottle at the crowd of people forming in the dance floor. "Herb is about to show off the one dance move he knows. It's not great."

Rio looks to where Agatha points but can't help but notice the crowd of people is growing exponentially, leaving only the two of them standing by their respective table.

"Hey," she leans in, whispering in Agatha's ear. "Wanna sneak off and fool around?"

Agatha's eyebrows shoot to her hairline as she sets her beer down harder than she intended. Rio smiles, mischief in her eyes, and grips Agatha's tie to lead the two of them out of the banquet hall and down a hallway neither of them wandered down before. Rio keeps walking, turning again down another hallway until they could only hear the subtle beat of the bass from the dancefloor.

She stops, reaching for a doorknob and twists it. It opens with a soft thunk and she flicks the light switch on, laughing.

"A broom closet?" Agatha asks, "Really?"

Rio pulls Agatha by her tie into the room, slamming the door and pinning her to it. "You have a better idea, baby?"

Agatha shakes her head, hands reaching up to cup Rio's face as she closes the distance between them and kisses her. Rio's hand grips at Agatha's suit jacket before they wander down and grazes against the the bulge underneath her slacks.

"You always pack for these?"

Agatha swallows hard, running her fingers through her hair. "Normally, it's easier when the pants aren't as shape defining. You'd never know unless I want you to."

Agatha layers her hand on top of Rio's, having her cup the toy through the slacks. She groans into it, pressing her hips into the harness so it hits her clit. Rio looks up at Agatha, smirking.

"I know that look," Agatha runs her tongue against the inside of her bottom lip. "Tell me what's on your mind, pretty girl?"

Rio takes her hand from underneath Agatha's, maintaining her eye contact as she unbuckles her belt. She tugs at the clasp on the slacks, dropping them to pool around Agatha's ankles. She has the harness overtop of loose boxers, ones with the button fly on top for access.

Rio flicks her tongue into her mouth, eyes dropping down to the toy before she spins around in front of Agatha and hikes her dress up. Agatha can't help herself but touch the new exposed skin on Rio, her smooth hips and backside. She nearly doesn't notice the lack of underwear.

"You planned this all along, didn't you?"

Rio nods, bending over and grabbing her knees. "Wasn't expecting you to pack, but I was expecting to get fucked during this party."

Agatha grips at the toy, teasing it into Rio's cunt as she sighs happily. Regardless of how chaotic their lives became, she'd always find solace with her cock buried inside of Rio.

"We'll have to be quick," Rio hisses, wiggling her hips to take more of the toy faster than Agatha was allowing. "Someone's going to notice the agent and detective somehow gone."

Agatha growls, the thought of anyone pulling her away and out of her girlfriend striking a nerve. "Don't care about them, just you."

Rio catches the deeper tone, stilling her hips to let Agatha push the toy further inside. The thoughts of someone banging on the door cloud her mind and she snaps her hips into Rio, filling her suddenly.

Rio exhales through her teeth, hand gripping into Agatha's on her hips. "Easy, daddy. It's just us."

Agatha sheds Rio's hand, instead she bends down to press her chest against Rio's back and wraps her hand around her throat. She pulls the both of them up, one hand still on Rio's hips, and she jerks her hips into Rio harshly.

"You're mine," Agatha rasps in her ear, fingers gripping her throat and pressing in at the sides. "No one can take me from you."

Rio gasps, eyes unfocusing as Agatha fucks into her relentlessly. Her hand drops from her throat and palms at her chest, squeezing one over the dress. She keeps Rio held tight against as she ruts into her.

"Fuck," Rio chants, trying to keep quiet as Agatha works the toy in and out, "I-, you can't-, I'm not gonna last, baby."

"Good."

Agatha keeps going, maintaining her pace. Rio cries out, having to lift her hand to muffle herself. Her hand is forced away as Agatha pins her arm behind her back instead.

"Let 'em hear you," Agatha snarls, "Wanna let 'em know you're mine."

Rio bites her tongue to keep quiet, knowing she'd be heard otherwise if anyone was actually looking for them. Agatha drills the toy deeper into her, the wet sounds of the soaked toy thrusting in and out of Rio's core filling the tiny closet they were in.

"Whose making you feel this good?"

Rio pants, lips parting as she relents against her internal fight. "You, baby."

"What's my name?"

"Agatha!"

Rio cums in an instant, coating the silicone cock as she loses herself. Agatha keeps her thrusts up, fucking her through it until she cums as well. She feels her boxers sticking to her thighs from her overwhelming wetness but can only grin wickedly.

Rio's chest heaves, gulping in breaths to regain control of her brain and body. Agatha pulls out, tugging her slacks back up around her waist and buckles her belt.

"Not gonna clean it off?"

Agatha shakes her head with a smug lopsided smile. "I like the thought of your cum all over my cock while I drive us home. I'll clean it later."

Rio stands up, now no longer held against Agatha's body after the onslaught. She blinks hard, wetting her dry lips, and exhales with her cheeks puffed out.

"Possessive?"

Agatha shrugs nonchalantly. "A little."

Rio places her hand on Agatha's chest, over her heart. She takes her lips against hers in a gentle, soft kiss.

"I'm only ever yours, Agatha," Rio says plainly, brown eyes staring into blue. "No one will ever change that."

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly blurb mystery box (2)౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid prompts from @panickingstudent2

giving billy a shave:

He'd been stressed lately. You knew it, he knew it. Even though he was still kind, still caring, it soured the mood in the house. Billy was coming home late every night, collapsing into bed next to you without even taking off his work clothes.

You'd do your best to help him relax, smoothing your hands over his chest and giving him gentle kisses, but it was no use. He'd merely give you a loving motion on your back and close his eyes, the tension in his body palpable.

One weekend, you looked up from where you were reading at the kitchen table as he came in, smiling brightly. "Billy-oh-!"

He'd collapsed to his knees next to you, burying his face in your stomach and wrapping his arms around your middle. His hat was knocked off his head behind him, and he didn't bother to pick it up.

"Billy?" you smiled, your fingers lightly roving over his curls. "Everything okay?"

"Mhm," he said into your tummy. Billy nosed against it, and you thought you felt him press a kiss there. "'S jus' safe here."

"Oh, love," you cooed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Just relax. It's okay."

Billy lowered his head to lie in your lap, his arms still around you. You felt him slump, as if he'd been holding himself up for a while.

"You've been working so hard lately," you muttered, fingers still trailing through your hair. "So stressed."

He nodded, then looked up at you. The look in his eyes was tired. You ran your hand over his face, feeling the prickly stubble on his cheeks. It was rougher than usual.

Humming quietly, you asked, "How long has it been since you shaved?"

Billy chuckled lightly, taking your hand on his face in his, kissing it lightly. "Been awhile I reckon. Haven't had the time."

You nodded, your other hand coming to the side of his face as you considered. "Would you let me? Bet it'll make you feel better, being a little cleaned up."

He smiled tiredly, taking your hands and pressing a kiss to them, looking at you adoringly. "Sure, sweetheart."

You smiled excitedly, standing and switching him places, sitting him down on your chair and skipping off to get his razor.

When you returned, he was perked up a bit, sitting back with his legs spread lazily. You lathered the soap onto the little cloth you'd brought in, and then sat on his lap, your legs on either side of his. Since there were no arms on the chair, Billy held your legs so they wouldn't slip off.

You carefully patted his face concentratedly, then picked up the blade, shifting on his lap so you had a better vantage point. Smiling softly, you tilted his head so you could start, moving the blade with the grain.

"Leave a little bit, yeah?" he requested, squeezing your legs. "Need to stay a lil' rugged."

Laughing lightly, you moved his head slightly to the side to get another section. "Of course," you smiled, catching his eye briefly. "But just so you know, I think you're handsome in any state."

"Thanks darlin'," he grinned, waiting to kiss you until you put the blade down.

Your hands moved to his newly smoothed cheeks, and you leaned in to kiss him again, softly. "Feel better?" you mumbled against his lips.

"Better," he confirmed, one hand moving to your waist.

He forgot he had been holding you up, and one of your legs slipped to the floor, surprising you and breaking your kiss off with a "Mmph!"

"Oops, sorry baby," he chuckled, looking down at your leg. "Here-" Billy stood up, helping you do the same. Then, he lifted you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his midsection.

You nestled comfortably against him, the edge of his gun belt pressing up into your bottom. Billy had one arm under you, supporting you there, and the other around your waist. "There you are. Now..." he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a hungrier kiss this time, the little stubble he had left rubbing against your skin.

billy helps you get dressed:

You tugged the corset up, positioning it against your chest so it was level. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you frowned, trying to figure out the logistics of tying it while still keeping it where it needed to be. Every morning you did this, and yet it was the same amount of difficulty every time.

Billy wandered in, leaning against the doorway and grinning. "Now how're you gonna manage that one, sweet?"

You threw him a helpless look. "Good question."

"Let me help ya," he smiled, sauntering over and picking up the laces. "Ready?"

Nodding, you held up the front of the corset with both hands. He gently pulled and tightened it. You could see him biting his lip in concentration through the mirror, the brim of his hat shading his eyes as he looked down at what he was doing. You almost liked the feeling of him helping you put clothes on more than him tearing them off. Almost.

He tied the knot easily, setting his big hands on the curve of your waist afterward. "Better?"

"Much better, thank you," you smiled, leaning back into him. You nodded at your dress that was draped over the chair by the mirror. "Now I have to put that on."

"Mm, have to?" Billy muttered; his arms fully twined around your waist now, cheek pressed against yours as he looked at you in the mirror. "I dunno...think ya look pretty just like this..."

"Billy," you smiled, leaning in his arms and reaching for your dress. He dutifully helped you slide it over your head, fastening the little buttons in the back for you. Billy kissed the back of your shoulder when he was done, spinning you around to look at him.

"Pretty...m' pretty girl," he said, wrapping his arms around your waist again, lifting you off your feet just a bit to kiss you lightly. "Can't wait for ya to be just as pretty wearin' nothin' at all later tonight..."

You squealed in delight, kissing him with your arms around his neck in a way that practically, as he would claim later, forced him not to let you leave the bedroom for another hour.

billy loves your new dress:

Formal events weren't something Billy necessarily loved to attend, but sometimes it couldn't be helped, so he'd put on a smile and his nicest shirt and bear it. Of course, the happy addition of you in his life helped matters greatly, as you were very involved in what passed for a social season here in town.

Your family was wealthy, and you'd been raised to attend things like this, parties where manners triumphed truth. In fact, he'd met you at one of these events, captivated by your charm and sweet manner just like everyone else.

Even though you'd been together for months, this would be the first one he'd attend with you on his arm, and he was a bit nervous about it, about you being seen like this with him. The outlaw and the sweetest girl in town.

Billy waited anxiously on the porch, pacing slightly. He saw you as soon as you turned the corner, and his face split into a grin, instantly feeling giddy.

You were as pretty as he'd ever seen you, in a stunning pale blue dress he'd never seen before. It accentuated your waist, and was cut low in the neck, so he could faintly see the tops of your breasts. But what really got him was the necklace you were wearing- a simple chain with a silver heart. It was the one he had gotten you. The one he'd felt so bad about it being simple, but you'd thrown your arms around him as if he'd given you jewels.

His smile didn't leave his face as you ran up to him, jumping right into his open arms. "Billy!"

"Hey beautiful," he greeted, catching his darling in his arms and hugging you tightly. You squealed as he spun you around once before setting you back on your feet.

"I missed you today," you said, your arms still around his middle as you looked up at him, chin on his chest.

"Missed ya too, darlin'," he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Then he pulled back a bit to look over you. "This a new dress?"

You nodded, bouncing a little on your heels. "Brand new. Like what they're wearing in New York."

"Well, I don't know anything 'bout that, but you look pretty as a peach sweetheart," he smiled, holding your hands out so he could look fully at you. "Goddamn. My girl's a knockout."

That made you smile wider, and you leaned up for a kiss. Billy obliged happily, pulling back slightly after a moment. "Don't suppose we can skip this 'n just keep kissin' out here?"

You laughed, taking his hand and pulling him up the porch steps. "Come on, handsome. You didn't get all cleaned up for nothing."

"I got all cleaned up to see my girl," he emphasized, catching you in another brief kiss outside the door.

Putting one hand on the door handle, you gave him a look. "We don't have to be in for too long, I promise."

"Yeah?" he muttered in a mischievous way, pulling at your hand so you were leaning back against his chest. "How long we talkin'?"

"Not long," you promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek and then opening the door, dragging him inside.

He'd been worried about how the two of you would look together, but it was for nothing. Nobody batted an eye at the two of you, and he was glad for it. He could keep an arm around your waist the whole night. And that's exactly what he did.

Billy did not stop touching you at all that evening, keeping one or more arms around your waist and making you lean back into his chest. For the first time, he felt truly comfortable at a party. Your presence kept him satiated for more than three hours. He was content just standing beside you and holding you while you talked to everyone, working your charm.

But after that period of time, he grew rather impatient, squeezing his arms around your waist and leaning down to whisper, "Can I talk to you outside for a second, baby?"

You thought something was wrong, and so you nodded, excusing yourself from the conversation you'd been in the midst of.

Once you got outside you turned to him. "What's the ma-oh!"

Billy's lips found yours immediately, hungrily moving against them. His right hand wound around your waist, pulling you nice and close while his left found its way to your hair, tangling into it.

You smiled into the kiss, breathlessly murmuring, "You couldn't wait a few more minutes?"

"Not with you in that dress, baby," his lips chased yours as he spoke. "Uh uh, m' girl looks too pretty f' me to keep m' hands off much longer."

You kissed him softly, letting him press you to the porch railing. Your back arched against it, but he propped an elbow up so his hand was supporting you. Billy's lips parted against yours, the brim of his hat poking your forehead. "Oh baby..." he kissed you again, relishing in your sighs.

He parted his lips from yours with a pop and leaned his forehead against yours. "Anyone else you need to talk to tonight?"

You shook your head.

Billy grinned. "Good." He hoisted you into his arms and swept you away, many kisses afoot.

come talk about billy here!

[madhatterbri]

Thanks | J.W.

Summary: Jay White tells you what you should be doing for the dominator king switch. (Suggestive)

Author's Note: Listen, I got nothing. 😂😂 Just in a silly goofy mood at 3 AM. Came from the 2:45 time of this video.

@plentyoffandoms

Pure fiction

"I can't believe you guys are having a BBQ after what you guys did last week," you pointed out and crossed your arms. Your brothers shrugged as they lounged in the pool with their belts. A skeleton figure representing Darby was also there. It was just a little BBQ to celebrate a win over Darby Allin and the break away from the Acclaimed. Nothing serious, at least to them.

"Come on, sis, lighten up already," Austin groaned and splashed some water towards you. You quickly moved away from the water and crossed your arms. You didn't want to take any part in the celebration.

"The old man needed to retire anyways," Colten pointed out about their own dad. "Leave the wrestling to the younger crowd,"

"Besides, Jay saved Darby's life. He was never going to nake it out of Everest. No one has bothered to thank him. It's kind of rude if you ask me,"

You rolled your eyes yet decided to drop the subject. The boys would never agree that what they did was wrong. Hell, none of the men would ever agree they did anything wrong. Wrestling was every man for themselves.

"Hey, what's with the long faces? This is a party," Jay asked once he stepped outside. Your boyfriend wore a white buttoned down shirt and white pants. He left the buttons open to reveal his perfect upper body. You couldn't help but stare. He noticed you with a sour look on your face and your arms crossed.

"I think our sis needs a lesson on being thankful," your older brother teased and exaggerated your pout. He stuck out his bottom lip and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What you guys did wasn't right. Our dad and Darby didn't deserve this,"

Your brothers laughed in the pool and attempted to splash you to "cool you off." Jay smirked. A plan suddenly popped into his head. He was going to show you how to be more thankful.

"Enough, boys. Why don't we talk about this inside, darling? Come on. Let's let the boys have their fun," he waved his hand towards him. The boys agreed, and you huffed yet followed him inside. Jay closed the door behind him and led you to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him so the two of you could have some privacy.

Once inside, he grabbed your wrist and led you to lean against the wall. You faced him as he stared into your eyes. You gulped as his hand wrapped around your neck. He didn't squeeze it, but you knew to listen to him closely. His thumb rubbed across your bottom lip before his hand found its way to the back of your neck.

"No more of this kind of talk, darling. You should be getting on your knees in front of the King Switch and thanking me. Look at me with those pretty eyes and say thank you, and afterward, well, since you are down there, you know what to do,"

He smiled once he saw the realization flash before your eyes. Slowly, you dropped to your knees and obeyed him.

[goldenzx]

Finally made new forms for my magical girl inspired Kamen Rider OC! redid some of the lore and explained his new abilities too!

Serizawa Kane: A high school student who becomes the magical boy, "Kamen Rider SuCross." A delinquent with a surprisingly strict moral compass, his menacing looks make it hard for him to make friends, so he distances himself from people in an attempt to not bother them. Usagi Taro is Serizawa's only friend. His true personality shines when he becomes SuCross, a helpful and slightly nerdy teen.

Usagi Taro/Prince Rabbold: A prince sent by his parents from a magical world who grew up on earth, he chose Serizawa to help him fight a threat from his home-dimension called "Bromare Beasts." His powers are limited on earth, so he takes a bunny magical girl mascot form when supporting SuCross in battle (much to his disdain). He's a shining member of many school clubs, and he's also the class president. Taro's quite beloved by classmates and teachers alike, and he tries to use this popularity to get Serizawa some friends. He's quite prideful, but usually puts this aside when in battle.

Kamen Rider SuCross (Base form/Magical form): Usagi Taro combines his magical power with the transformation belt "ProtoCast Driver" to change Serizawa into Kamen Rider SuCross. He's great at hand-to-hand combat, and with the help of Taro and his weapon, the "Wand Crosser," he can cast a variety of weird yet powerful magical attacks. When the enemy is weakened, he finishes them with his special move!, the "Hat TricKick!" Using these abilities, he fights against the Bromare Beasts and unfurls the conspiracy behind their attacks and the truth of the magical world.

SuCross Caveman Form: "Royal Knight Smile-on" is a resident of the magical world that was saved from the corruption of a powerful Bromare Beast by SuCross and Prince Rabbold. He takes the form of a small, orange Sabertooth cat-like entity with red fangs. He seems to switch from snobby to crude on a dime. He shares his magic power so SuCross can use "Caveman Form." Pummeling the enemy with enhanced strength and cutting them apart with his weapon, the "Swe-Heat Hawk!" This form specializes in physical attacks and fire magic. "Sweet Heat! Burning Savage! SuCross Caveman~"

SuCross Jester Form: "Royal Jester Bitterette" is another magical world resident saved from a Bromare Beast. She's a small, slightly fuzzy, purple spider with a colorful abdomen. Always eager for new ways to lift the spirits of others, she ironically takes her job as a fool way too seriously. When she shares her magic power with SuCross he gets "Jester Form." Tripping up and out-maneuvering the enemy with super webs and hitting their weak points with her weapon, the "Sou-War Sniper," this form makes battles a performance fit for a king! "Sour Shot! Performing Sharp! SuCross Jester~"

[queer-ragnelle]

📜📖🎨 :3

📜 What was your favorite Medieval story you read this year?

Answered here, but I have several. Another would be Wigalois. I read it all in one sitting while sick in bed. I'm partial to the character Gingalain already but this was way more developed as a story than the French version. I loved all the characters including his mother Florie, the lady knight Marine, and Wigalois's lady love, Larie. She's a little bit magic? It seems Tolkien himself may have taken inspiration from this? Obviously I can't be sure but Larie seems to bake Lembas bread for Wigalois which restores his strength with a single bite! (The textual reasoning is the bread of the Last Supper but elven bread is more fun.) Wigalois also wears a mail shirt which prevents his death against a dragon which reminded me of the Mithril mail that Thorin gave to Bilbo then Bilbo gave to Frodo which protected him from being crushed by the troll in Khazad-dûm. So anyway point being you would like this one haha. After Wigalois and Larie marry, she's accepted as part of the family so she calls Gawain daddy it's so cute. I love Wigalois's funky jeweled belt he got from his mommy too what a look.

📖 What was your favorite Modern retelling you read this year? (Single book)

Answered here, but another besides those two would be a tentative recommendation for Bedivere: The King's Right Hand by Wayne Wise. I really love the set up. That was 10/10 no notes. Without spoiling too much, there's a frame story similar to Bernard Cornwell's Warlord Chronicles so Bedivere is an old man writing out his life story and the perspective will switch between old man Bedi and kid Bedi. Wise does some clever things here, such as writing a history for the older generation that foreshadows what's to come. Ector was Uther's seneschal, and Bedwyr, the father of Bedivere, was with Uther in his last moments. All the older guys call Bedivere "Griflet" because Bedwyr's symbol was the griffon, so little Bedi is a little Griffon. Very sweet and clever, even if I like Griflet as his own character. Lucan is Bedivere's older brother, which surprised me because Bedivere has such older brother energy, but it works, and their mom is a character present in the village as well. Arthur is Bedivere's bestie and his characterization is wonderful, he's great. Kay's older than them both and can be a jerk but the narrative reassures the reader he's a good guy. I like all the characters in their little band of future nobles: Gawain, Agravaine, Owain, Lancelot, and Guinevere. My biggest gripe is that Guinevere is much younger than the others so it feels weird when her father talks about marrying her to one of these noble sons who are at least 5 years older, which matters when she is only 13. Ick. I also don't like any retelling which writes Arthur in love with his sister, in this case Morgan. (Morgause is still there as a separate character as wife of Lot, mother of Gawain and Agravaine, implied Gaheris and Gareth but they are off page babies.) The book was meant to be set up for a series which as of yet hasn't come to fruition, so I'm counting it as a single book. A shame really but there it is. Another one that has a really sour ending. But overall there was more good than bad.

🎨 What was your favorite Arthurian art piece made by YOU this year? (Any medium)

I didn't make much unfortunately so I have to give it to Laurel and Agravaine. The lavender marriage to raise the bar for all other lavender marriages.

[iirayjayii]

MARIO AND LUIGI AU DESIGNS! PART 3

Princess Daisy

Hello you all! This is my third part of the design au I’m doing for Mario and Luigi and this time I made Daisy! Here’s how I thought about her outfit

Daisy is a really confident and smart person and she is also very strong! In my AU Bowser doesn’t really see appeal towards Daisy as he technically fell head over heels for Peach already so why would he switch up? But in case he did or anyone tried anything with her she figured wearing a dress or skirt isn’t going to help her fight, so she has a small tailcoat that is connected to her white belt.

I kept her gloves and her gems but I made them more noticeable because Daisy, yes loves to fight but she also wants to be at least recognizable before someone does something to piss her off, in my AU across the lands Daisy has built up a reputation with the name “sweet but sour”, she is one of the known princesses that people know not to mess with.

Daisy wears heels rather more than peach because as we see in the games and shows she barely has a role which is sad to me so I gave her heels because she likes to show off her feminine qualities as well! She isn’t just fighting.

That’s all I have for today! Do you like this design? Anything you’d what changed?

[6rookie-writer0110]

A male reader x regina “roni” mills g!p (once upon a time) request -

Around S7E06 Where reader works as maintenance man for Roni’s pub. As reader works underneath, Roni can’t help but stare at y/n’s butt crack that’s showing above his pants while he’s working under the sink. Y/n also can’t help but stare at Roni too. Seeing how gorgeous she looks, especially how nice her arms. Roni invites reader in the back room for some “help”. In the back room, they start tongue kissing each other then they unbelt their pants, so they can jack the other person off, the loser cums first. Reader loses, so he has to drink roni’s “special drink”. Where Roni grabs an empty cup, she opens up her pants to aim her jizz in the cup, then she grabs booze from storage rack, to mixed booze with her jizz for her special drink. Y/n drinks Roni’s “drink” saying it tastes sweet & sour.

Then they have dirty naked sex in the back room like Roni fucking reader’s ass, even grabs reader’s face from behind. Then she grabs his arms, eventually finishing reader, while y/n cums on the wall. After that Reader wants to do something different: trading clothes since he likes what Roni is wearing. So the two start switching everything (clothes, shoes, underwear, even earrings). Roni wearing reader’s plumber outfit, his boxers (which she finds comfortable), & boots. Reader wearing Roni’s shirt, jeans, her earrings & shoes. Even her underwear in which he bends down to show Roni. - Roni: Well, it’s a good thing I wore a thong today.

Reader had a great time. Says that Roni should call often, so he come over to pub for some “maintenance work” 😏 again. Y/n talks his tool belt, stumbles a little bit, getting used to wearing Roni’s heels, then leaves the pub. Roni goes to the back room seeing reader’s leftover cum stain on the wall, thinking the sex was worth it.

Just wow 😮

[unfriendlyamazon]

restaurant au (wheeler sibs)

rewatching the bear thinking about my au idea where joey inherits his father's restaurant i don't really have things hammered out just yet but i did find some test pieces i wrote exploring joey and serenity's relationship to each other (and their trauma)

read it tell me if you like it might make me feel motivated to write more

Joey pressed his head against the window of Serenity’s car as they crawled through the streets of Domino. The old neighborhood left an unpleasant broiling in his stomach, a nostalgia that soured like milk. It’d been years since he’d been here, even longer for Serenity. The last time she’d seen this place, she’d been driven away in the backseat of a car as the two cried out fitful goodbyes.

Joey had already re-acquainted himself with his childhood stomping grounds. He’d come back the week before to clean out his dad’s rathole apartment and go through the mess of papers and receipts crammed into odd corners and underneath stale pizza boxes. He’d died right outside, too drunk to walk, and he’d tripped on the stairs before bashing his head into the sidewalk. The police had told Joey he’d died on the way to the hospital, saving everyone a lot of time. Joey was still listed as his emergency contact. The thought had burrowed between his lungs, making it hard to breathe. Five years without so much as a phone call, and Joey was still the only person he’d had.

A week of digging through the old man’s life. A week of trash bags and old photos and empty beer cans. A week wondering what he was even doing here. And then he’d found it, stuck into a stack of personal paperwork that had been crammed into a desk drawer so tight it’d barely opened. The address had been a familiar one, and the streets leading up to it even more so. Serenity pulled up to the curb outside and put the car in park. She didn’t turn it off. Her hands stayed on the steering wheel like the Uber driver onto her next gig.

Joey leveled his head to peer out the window. The place had changed enough. The corners had different stores on them, and the billboards were changed. They’d redone the sidewalk outside, and now it was coffee shops and microbrews. The small shop front stuck out like a sore thumb. It had been boarded up for years, so long the cardboard was peeling back, showing corners of the faded wall and dirty countertops inside. It was a restaurant. It had been a restaurant. Years and years and years ago. It’d been theirs.

Serenity didn’t take her hands off the steering wheel. She breathed in and out intentionally.

“It looks pretty bad,” Joey said.

She shook her head with a strained laugh. “I didn’t think it’d look good, Joey.”

He unbuckled his seat belt. “Are you coming inside?”

She looked for the first time. Serenity had been quiet through this whole process. He didn’t ask her to clean the apartment with her, or attend any funeral. She’d been empathetic and sorry since he first called her from New York, but she hadn’t been sad. As far as Serenity was concerned, she didn’t have a father, didn’t have to worry over one, didn’t have to shoulder any trauma from one. But they’d both been here. They’d both reached their little hands over the counter or played in the back office behind the kitchen. There’d been happy memories too. It was the first crack she’d shown on her face, the first tremor in her lips. She stared at the store front like it was a haunted house.

“You don’t have to,” Joey said.

“No,” she said and cut the car off. “No, I said I would.”

“You don’t have to,” he repeated.

“We’re already here, Joey,” she said and opened the car door.

The lights didn’t work inside. Flipping the switches didn’t do a goddamn thing. Joey doubted anyone had paid the electricity bill for years. Even in the dim space, with decades between the last time they’d been inside, Joey knew the way through the kitchen. He followed the line past the prep stations, around where the grill had been, where a sink full of dirty dishwater still sat stagnant. An alcove of lockers sat on one side, and a small door led to the back office. Ancient grease caked the walls and the stainless steel. The front wasn’t much better off. Dust covered everything. The vinyl seats were torn with stuffing eaten out of it. Bugs moved in his wake. Plenty of creatures had probably made their home here. Serenity’s phone cast blue light across the graying walls, leaving stark shadows around her.

“This place is a dump,” she said, scrolling through something on her phone. “I can’t believe it’s still here. You’d think the city would shut it down.”

“I bet he got letters about it.” Joey kicked one of the stools at the service counter. The scraping sound echoed over the tile. Sunlight peeked in through the cardboard on the windows.

“The rent in this neighborhood is crazy now.” She flashed the Zillow listings she was looking through. “Maybe someone would actually buy it.”

“Yeah.” He breathed out, eyes scanning the decay and rot. The dust made the place feel oppressive, and his chest tightened. “I bet someone’s been waiting to snatch it up.”

“I can’t believe it’s still here,” Serenity said again. She glanced up from her phone, and then her eyes went down again.

“It’s a mess,” Joey said and turned back around.

“It always was. You remember when we played here as kids?”

“I remember throwing raw hamburger meat at cars,” Joey said.

She laughed, slapping a hand over her mouth. “We did do that! I totally forgot. No wonder I’m a vegetarian now.”

“And they’d stuff us with fries to keep us quiet.”

“We were little brats.”

They moved back into the kitchen, using the phone light to navigate to the office. Their laughter echoed off the aged equipment. More paperwork was stuffed into more drawers. Joey’d never accuse his old man of being organized. Ledgers were kept with a language all their own.

“Did he ever let you work the line?” Serenity asked.

Joey shook his head as he opened a folder of what looked like overdue bills. Large red letters stared angrily up at him.

“I never worked the restaurant here,” he said.

“But it’s kind of where you got your start.” Serenity glanced at the empty kitchen. “You didn’t go to culinary school for no reason.”

“I didn’t go to sling burgers.” He tossed aside the folder and picked up another one. Names were side by side with numbers. Wages owed, he figured out. He doubted anyone had been receiving regular checks.

“It was really cool to see you in New York,” she said. “The whole meal I kept thinking, my big brother made this. I thought for sure they were gonna turn us away at the door too.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t that fancy.”

“It was pretty fancy! Tristan wore a jacket.”

“He did that to impress you,” Joey said with a grin.

“Nah, he was worried the whole time we weren’t ritzy enough for your new friends.” She smiled fondly at him. “You finally made it to the big leagues.”

Joey was grateful for the shine of her flashlight, that he couldn’t quite meet her eyes. He opened the bottom drawer, and a heavy bottle clunked against the filing cabinet. He pulled it out, and the clear vodka reflected blue light. Half the bottle had been drank. The levity left the room at once, like all the air had been sucked out. Serenity turned her head away. Joey held it fisted in his hand, and for a brief moment he imagined cracking it against the desk so it shattered apart, spilling vodka and glass all over the floor. Instead he set it on the table and stood up from the chair.

“I don’t think there’s anything left here,” he said.

Serenity didn’t say anything, and he felt that weight pushing his lungs apart. He shouldn’t have asked her to come with him, but he didn’t think he could face it alone. The good times hurt worse than the bad sometimes. Happy memories wrapped his head in barbed wire. It wasn’t something he’d ever wanted his baby sister to feel, and yet he’d dragged her through the trenches with him.

And then she said, “Do you think there are any glasses?”

Joey rubbed his eyes. The glare of the phone was getting to him. “I dunno.”

“I know they usually sell this stuff off, but I bet there’s something. Bring the bottle.”

He followed her around as she opened every door and cabinet she could find. Eventually she managed two tupperware containers, rinsed with the water that shuddered out of the faucets. Clean enough for the both of them, they settled at the counter. Serenity sat so her feet rested on the stool, and she poured them each a shot.

“It’s been a fucked up week,” she said.

Joey didn’t respond. She hadn’t been the one digging through literal garbage. Avoiding drinking when working in restaurants was nearly impossible, though he did his best. But it had been a fucked up week, and standing in the wreckage of his childhood, Joey downed the shot in one go. Serenity shot hers back and poured them both another one.

“Did mom say anything?” Joey asked. He’d been dreading the question, but now seemed as good a time as any.

Serenity downed a second shot and squeezed her eyes shut. “Not really. And what’s she supposed to say anyway? ‘Sorry that abusive piece of shit died’?”

“She doesn’t like to talk about it,” Joey said.

“No.” She swished the bottle. “I told her you were in town.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“She was gonna know anyway. I thought maybe she’d call you, or I dunno.”

Joey tossed back the second shot. The burn didn’t do anything to lighten the weight in his chest. “I don’t expect her to do any of that.”

“I just want…” She trailed off, tipping the bottle into her cup again. Joey took the bottle from her and poured some in his. “Do you ever think things could be different? We could be different?”

“Yes,” he said. “Constantly. All the time.”

Her lips quirked up in a smile. “I was so proud of you when you went off to school. Not even ‘cause you thought you wouldn’t go. You found something you loved to do. That’s more than most people.”

“What about you?”

She laughed. “No one loves being an accountant, Joey. I picked a safe job and a safe career.”

“That’s more than most people have,” he said. “It’s not like I love waking up every day not sure where I’m gonna be.”

“But you’re where you’re supposed to be. You’re at this restaurant–”

“I’m not going back to New York,” he said.

Serenity’s mouth snapped shut. She wobbled a little bit as the alcohol hit. He didn’t bother pouring another shot as he tipped the bottle back into his throat.

“But you–” She peered at him like a puzzle she was figuring out. “You’re at a Michelin star restaurant. You’re doing what you love.”

“I don’t love it there,” Joey said. It was the first time he’d explained his reasoning out loud. The words had rattled around in his brain for months, and now he had to put them in order. “You gotta understand what it’s like in the restaurant business, Serenity. Every day you wake up at the crack of dawn and put your heart and soul into something that hates you. Every day is eighteen hour shifts where your chef screams at you and holds you to the fire because you’re not doing something absolutely perfect. Every day is blood and sweat and tears and for what? A restaurant I don’t give a fuck about? It’s not about the food for them. It’s not about feeding people. It’s keeping that fucking star and making sure people know it. You can only tweezer so many sprigs of mint onto an aperitif before you start to feel like an asshole.”

“So what?” she said. “You’re just going to abandon your whole life up there?”

He sunk his head down onto the counter. It smelled like mold and rat shit. “What life? I got nobody there. You’re here. Tristan is here. Everyone there is so fucking full of themselves there’s no room for anybody else. I wake up, I work, and I get just enough sleep to keep myself from going crazy.”

“But you worked for this. You put yourself through school. You made it.”

“Yeah, well.” He closed his eyes. Underneath the grime and grease, he could imagine for a second what this place used to be. “Not everything is what we dreamed.”

She went silent. He didn’t know how long it stretched between them. The vodka burned in his stomach, rising up like acid reflux. He wished for the hundredth time since getting the news about his dad that he could cry about this whole thing. It’d be easier just to be sad and not relieved, and then sad again over the worst chapters of his life closing. Sometimes it was easier just to take the pain of it.

“I thought,” Serenity said slowly, “you were happy, at least.”

“Are you?” he asked.

She grabbed the bottle from him and swigged it. He nodded. It was answer enough.

“I try thinking of the last time I was happy,” Joey said. “Is it fucked up if the answer is here?”

Serenity laughed. “Yes!”

“You remember this place too.”

“We were babies, Joey.” She shook her head. “And it was before shit got really bad. This place is just…”

They looked around at it. Empty, dirty, it felt like a void. But the sunlight peeked through, and it streaked bright light across the dingy ceiling, making it look alive.

“It’s got good bones,” Joey said. “Nice front of house, in a busy area. Someone’ll snatch it up.”

“It’d take an industrial crew to get this place clean,” Serenity said with a sigh.

“Most of the equipment’s sold off too.” He swirled the vodka in its bottle. “But that’s an easy fix. I still know some people around here.”

“They’d probably bulldoze it anyway,” she said. “They’d be paying for the lot.”

“Yeah.” Joey thought as he took another shot. The melancholy was stirred in the gears of his mind as they started to churn. “Yeah. It’d be a shame to see the space go to waste. A little clean up, some new equipment, it’d be a good bistro spot.”

“It doesn’t–” She looked at him. “Joey, it’s not gonna matter. We’re selling it.”

“Why?” he asked. He stood from his chair, spreading his arms out. “People would kill for a spot like this.”

��So let ‘em pay,” she said. “Joey, I think you’re drunk.”

“Probably.” The buzz went straight to his head, but he could see it. Not how it used to be, but how it could be. “Don’t think of it as some shitty burger joint. We could pull out the booths and the seating nice. Those windows are huge, you’d be able to see onto the street. Nice ambiance. Keep the counter seating here, it’d be great for lunch or a bar.”

Serenity laughed. “It’s not happening! This place is a dump, Joey, it always has been.”

“Then back of house,” he barrelled on. “Remodel would be easy, it’s already all emptied out. Efficient work spaces, minimum time between spaces. Windows, people love to see the chefs. And the food–”

“What would be the food?” she asked. “Burgers?”

He shook his head. “Karaage, probably. I used to eat that all the time when I was working. Maybe izakaya style. Friendly, welcoming. Not too full of itself.”

“Japanese, then.” Serenity nodded. “You really want to do a sake bar?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m just tossing out ideas.”

“Joey, I know you’re spiraling or whatever, but coming back here isn’t really moving forward.” She ran a hand through her hair with a huff. “Maybe you should take some time. You can crash on my couch. Once we sell the place, you’ll have some money to start something else.”

“I just think there’s something here,” he said.

“Fine, okay,” she said. “Let’s say we don’t sell it. How are you gonna get the money to fix it up? Restaurants cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. They take real work. You’re going to have to get new equipment, staff it, pay people, pay vendors.”

“I’ve got connects. I can beg, lie, cheat, and steal. It’s nothing I haven’t done before.” He took his sister’s hands, squeezing tight. “Give me at least a little bit of time. I wanna see what this place can be.”

“You said you were tired of not knowing where you’re gonna be,” she said. “Joey, this is all risk. There’s nothing here that’s worth it.”

“What about you?” he said. “What about me?”

They looked at each other, two kids again, holding on tight. Serenity shook her head and picked up the bottle again.

“The place is yours,” she said. “I don’t want it, and I can live without selling it. I just don’t want you getting caught up in something to torture yourself. It’s okay, you know? You don’t have to be stuck here.”

“What if I wanna be?” Joey asked.

She downed the drink and coughed out a laugh. “Then you got bigger problems than the both of us. But I’m your sister. I love you. I don’t want you doing anything alone.”

He threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight. She laughed again, hugging him back. They rocked back and forth for a minute. The vodka was definitely affecting them. And Joey loved nothing more than to do something stupid.

“Okay,” Serenity said. “I’m done breathing in mold. Can we go to a real restaurant now? I would die for some hot wings.”

“Alright, alright.” He released her. “Let’s go.”

They locked the door behind them and stepped into the sunlight, a little rocky on their feet. Joey knew Serenity would give him a bigger fight when they sobered up, but the idea had wormed its way into his skull. His brain was on fire. He felt the same way he always did when making a life changing decision that should leave him buried in the dirt.

He felt alive.