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whatitsdecending · 6 months

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Chokehold: Pt. IV

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Things have already become a little messy as you spend more time in the UK. Lies being made and overwhelming thoughts are occupying your mind, despite the need for that to not even exist.

A/N: I did not realize how quickly two weeks just flew by since I last updated… so here’s a longer part with some drama for all of you<3

Word Count: 6.3k

Content warning: instances of extreme anxiety and overthinking, distressing situations, sexual tendencies, harassment, violence

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“Hey pretty girl, I’ve been waiting for you to call.” Hearing his voice on the other end nearly blindsided you. Although you were the one to initiate the call, him actually picking up is what had you nervous.

“Hey Noah.” You responded, running your hand under the water coming from the faucet to check the temperature. You heard the sound of him shuffling around, presumably in his bed due to what time it’d currently be in LA.

“Are you taking a bath right now?” He asked, you could hear the tone of his voice perk up. You roll your eyes, typical Noah. “What are you getting ready for?”

You sink into the warm water and sighed when it hit your sore cunt, knowing you’re going to be feeling all of that for the rest of the day and into tomorrow. “Nothing, I just needed to take a bath. So what’s up with the sudden urge to talk to me?” His chuckle echoed through your phone speakers and bounced around the bathroom walls, not even giving you a chance before you find yourself smiling at it.

“I miss you that’s why.” He eventually says. “How did that technology detox go? Feeling less whacked out on it?” You snorted as you remembered the excuse you told Noah yesterday after the plane landed, technology detox… how convincing.

“Yeah… feeling like I should read more now and empower my brain with that rather than a screen.” You cupped water in your hands and splashed it onto your shoulders, not wanting to fully sink into the tub because you know you’d never get out.

“Don’t you read enough already?” Noah’s serious tone wrapped around you like a glove. One of the many things that irked you a bit about him was how much he enjoyed poking fun at your hobby for reading. He’d never been the one to just sit down with one of the books you recommended and actually see why you liked it so much. “I think you need to get out of your apartment more. Maybe come spend some time out in LA with me?”

There it was.

You squeezed your eyes shut. He was so quick to say it too, he couldn’t at least ask how you’ve been first? You didn’t know how to respond and once again found yourself fumbling to put a sentence together. Your best choice would be to tell him the truth, every single piece of it too. But yet something nagged at you from the back of your mind, does he really deserve the truth?

“You’re a little late for that Noah.” You responded, taking the folded cloth on the edge of the tub and adding body wash to it and began to gently clean yourself.

“Of course I am, let me guess you’re away at your parents house?” Well, if you insist. The smile that tugged at your lips was devilish, knowing that this will become much easier without him having a clue.

“I am. I spent my technology detox catching up with them.” You hoped you were sounding convincing enough for Noah. He’s gotten pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to him, so you grit your teeth as you await his response.

A chuckle from the line filled the silence. “That’s good to hear, Y/N. I know you were missing them. Chicago is still looking nice this time of year?”

You laughed at his attempts to make such casual conversation with you, any kind of conversing the two of you did ended with him fucking you senseless. “It’s nice, a little cold. It’s snowing here too.” You looked out the window that was tucked away a bit in the bathroom, giving some form of privacy despite the fact that Vessel had no neighbors. The snow had stopped falling sometime ago but the white dust that covered every piece of nature outside was relaxing to stare at, especially now that Noah had brought up being home.

Home. You mentally punched yourself in the gut over the fact that you just hopped on a plane to go all the way to London to stay with a man you’d only seen in person once, but constantly forgot to make trips back home to see your parents. You didn't even tell them you were coming here… That’s going to have to be another phone call you make today.

“I’m sure the snow is nice right now.” Noah snickered a little over the line until you heard another voice that sounded like Jolly calling for him. “Ahh duty calls, I must help Jolly move some shit around.”

“Tell him I said hi please!” You say enthusiastically.

“I will, but I better go before he comes in here and drags me out of my bed. Talk later?” The hope in his voice at the end is what made you want to sink into the water and never return.

“Of course Noah. Now go help Jolly out before he kills you.” You laughed a bit at the end as you could hear the door opening to Noah’s room, Jolly’s voice ringing out as he grew impatient. There was a little bit of a scuffle and some mumbled arguing then the call ended. You stared at your phone that rested on the ledge next to the tub now that it's gone silent, leaving the distant sounds of Vessel cooking in the kitchen to bring you back to reality.

You rested your head back against the tub and took a deep breath. For some reason you could not shake the anxiety that racked your body after the call with Noah, it came out of nowhere and made your chest feel tight. You took long and deep breaths, knowing this method usually helped when it came to your anxiety. But this time it made you feel worse.

The thoughts you tried to hold back hit you all at once. What the hell are you doing here? Why did you say yes? You have feelings for Vessel, but were they really enough for you to come all the way here? And if Noah had asked you before he did, would this be a completely different situation? Most certainly it’d be very different, but you didn’t even want to think about that.

You stared blankly at the water that has gone from warm to a cooler temperature and left your fingers pruned. Your foot moved through the water and you watched how swiftly it moved through the liquid, it was easy. If only your life could be like that, an ease to move through. But at this point it feels like you're moving through setting concrete.

And what if Vessel only wanted you here because he was bored and wanted something to do until he went back on tour? What if all those small things he did for you was just a facade? The second he leaves for tour is the second he stops caring about you, the second that all this gets thrown away and you’re left struggling once again to find the type of affection he gave you. He could so easily walk out of your life like so many have done before, what could possibly make him any different?

Hands gripped your arms tightly, pulling you out from the trance you’d put yourself in. Your eyes burned underneath the water when you opened them and your lungs screamed at you for air. Your body was pulled up from the position it had sunk into, allowing for you to take a deep breath and wipe the water from your eyes. Vessel was yelling but it sounded muffled to you, his eyes were wide with fear as you watched his mouth to try to figure out what he was saying.

“…Y/N please just focus on me.” You perked up once your ears had unclogged themselves and his voice was finally audible. “Jesus Christ you gave me a fucking heart attack.” His hand gripped tightly on your forearm, seemingly holding you up from slipping back under.

“What happened?” You asked. The confusion you felt from how you even ended up like that in the first place was all that came to mind as you tried piecing everything together.

Vessel sighed and pushed your hair behind your ear. “I don’t know. I came up here to tell you dinner was ready, when you didn’t answer I got a bad feeling and walked in on you just under the water and not moving.” He sounded terrified and looked like it too, he had tears threatening to break from his eyes as he spoke. “Why? Why would you try to do this to yourself?”

“I-’’ You didn’t know how to answer that. “I didn't intend for that to happen.” The look on his face broke your heart. He looked like he was so afraid to lose you, and in that moment you hated yourself for all that had run through your mind just moments before. His eyes searched yours for more than what you were giving him, he eventually gave up and sighed, pulling you to him and kissing your forehead.

“We can talk about that whenever you're ready.” He says quietly, holding you as tightly as he could. “Let’s get you out before you start turning blue again.” He lightheartedly said, standing up with his hands still wrapped around your arms which brings you to stand with him. He guided you to step out of the tub and onto the mat on the floor, taking the towel that was set aside for you and wrapping it around your body. He had you sit down on the toilet so he could towel dry your hair, his torso was pushed against your back as he carefully ran the towel through the strands.

“I can do this myself, Ves.” You say as he searched for a comb.

“You’re a delicacy at the moment. Anyways, I don’t mind it one bit.” He rummaged through the drawers and cabinets, looking for where you put your comb.

“Middle drawer on the left, it’s purple.” He happily pulled the drawer open and grabbed the comb, admiring the shade of purple that it was. He came back to you and gently ran it through your hair, being careful not to tug too hard when it came to any knots that formed. He focused until each strand was pristine and knot free, placing a kiss on the back of your head as a way to appreciate his work.

“What drawer do you keep your pajamas in?” He asked as he went towards the bedroom.

“Oh Ves please, you do not need to do any more for me.” You stood to protest him, following him out of the bathroom and into the room. “I promise you I will not break in half if you don’t help me with everything. You’ve done a lot already.” Your hand wrapped around his arm, squeezing it gently to reassure him. His eyes focused on your fingers that rested on his skin. He took a deep shaky breath, then stepped away from the drawers to let you find your pajamas.

You found your favorite t-shirt to sleep in; a very large gray shirt with a dinosaur couple on it sharing a spaghetti noodle like in Lady and The Tramp. You threw the towel that was wrapped around you onto the floor, pulling the shirt over your head and searching for a pair of boxers you loved to wear.

Picking up the towel to put it back to hang up in the bathroom, you could feel him watching your every movement. As you walked back into the room his eyes were stuck on you and not leaving anytime soon. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed against his chest as he watched.

“So what did you make for dinner?” You asked, ignoring the fact that he would not take his eyes off of you.

He stood up straight and cleared his throat, eyes finally moving elsewhere. “I made potato soup. I thought the weather today made it a perfect soup for dinner kind of day.”

A smile tugged at your lips. “Little do you know… I love potato soup.” His eyes lit up so bright when you said that, almost like a kid who just walked into a candy store. “But will yours be as good as my mom’s?”

“Guess we’ll have to find out.” Vessel motioned you to leave the room first, quickly following behind you. The aromas coming from the kitchen were enough to make your stomach grumble loudly. Perhaps not eating all day wasn’t the smartest idea, but that just meant you could savor this dinner as much as you wanted to.

You stepped into the kitchen and let out a gasp at the sight in front of you; Vessel had gone out of his way to make the little table in the corner look like you were about to dine in a fancy restaurant. He covered the wooden table with a white cloth, pulled out some china that looked like it’d never been used before. There was a bottle of wine on the table waiting to be poured into the glasses nearby. You glanced down at what you were wearing and felt a tad embarrassed, maybe that’s why he wanted to choose your pajamas…

“You like it?” He asks.

“I love it,” you respond, walking to one of the chairs to take a seat. Before you could even reach for the back of it, Vessel had pulled it out for you and waited for you to sit before pushing it back to the table. “Did you really do all of this for me?”

He smiled as he walked away to grab the pot of soup. “Maybe.” He filled a bowl for you and then for himself, settling down across from you with an expectant expression on his face. “Aren’t you going to try it?”

“I was waiting for you before I started, I never eat until whoever is in my company is ready to.” You say taking the spoon and picking up the thick liquid, taking a quick whiff of it before putting it in your mouth. His eyes were on you again as you let your tastebuds decide whether it was better than mom’s or not. “Hmm.”

Vessel raised a brow as you teased. “Did I beat your mum’s recipe or not?”

“Woah, slow down there pretty boy. Give me some time to decide.” You chuckled while taking another scoop of the soup to your mouth and tasting it again. It felt like you were a food critic and Vessel was the chef whose reputation depended on your word, you honestly found it adorable. “I’ll give it a 9.5/10.” His face lit up as he smiled wide, finally digging into the food himself.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence as you ate. The slight tension that was between the two of you after the bathtub incident had gone away, at least you felt like it wouldn’t exactly be the main topic of conversation at the dinner table. But, you remained silent anyways, not wanting the word bath to come out of his mouth.

—————————

Two days have passed since then, no word about it has been spoken between you guys. Vessel seemed to not want to start that conversation and just leave it to you to bring it up whenever you're ready, if you’d ever be ready.

You spent a lot of time cooped up in his house, sitting in silence with a book in hand and enjoying each other's company. It was really nice. A refreshing feeling in your life compared to every other failed attempt at something you would even consider a “relationship”.

He’d cook for you and you’d watch, putting random songs on that made him laugh each time he’d turn around and notice you dancing around. You’d stand behind him and place your hands on his hips, moving them around to try and get him to dance along as he laughed even harder at your attempt.

That was one of the things you were really starting to like about him; his laugh. The way his nose scrunched up and how tight his eyes would close as he let out the most genuine, hearty laugh you’ve ever heard. The times where he’d just make absolutely no noise and stand there bent over with his hands on his knees after you did something stupid were your favorite.

It was something you knew you couldn’t deny for longer, how you felt for Vessel. It was becoming so obvious to yourself now and more than likely he picked up on it too, certainly he had feelings for you as well and he was not afraid to show you that he did. But there was that part of you that was slightly afraid to admit it and show him the same.

Your eyes flickered from the words on the pages in front of you when Vessel’s phone lit up on the table beside him, a sigh coming from him as it disrupted the focus he had on the book he read. You went back to yours, realizing that you’ve completely lost where you even remembered reading last.

You rested your head back against the couch and put the book in your lap, looking over at Vessel as he smirked at his phone while typing away. You watched curiously as he paused, seemingly waiting for a response, then quickly typing again. He glanced at you while you watched and a smile now sat on his face. “How do you feel about clubbing?”

You perked up in interest. “Did it a bit when I was younger, why?”

“Just got a text from III asking if we’d want to join him and the others at a club tonight.” He sat back on his side of the couch, mimicking how you were currently sitting. “He kinda wants to meet you. As does II and IV…”

“They know about me?” You ask in surprise.

He rolled his eyes. “Well duh, Y/N. They’re my closest friends, of course they know about the beautiful American girl staying in my house.” He ended his sentence with a wink that made you blush.

“As long as I get to meet your friends and spend time with you, I think clubbing sounds like fun.” You smiled and then laughed as the thought hit you. “And maybe I’ll be able to get your ass to dance with me.”

“I’m always in the middle of making food when you try, would you rather I let it burn so I could dance with you?” Vessel is quick to sass you as he stands up and stretches. “I’ll call an Uber at 9, does that give you enough time to get ready?”

You glanced at your phone to check the time, it was only 7 o’clock. “That gives me plenty.” You hopped up from your spot on the couch, walking past Vessel and giving him a kiss on the cheek that flushed immediately after your touch.

As you headed back to the room to get ready, you couldn’t remember if you packed any clothes you’d consider clubbing attire. When you used to go all the time as a teen with all your friends, you’d pick the sluttiest thing in your closet, which would always help you get into the club despite the bouncer’s suspicion on your fake ID.

You rummaged through the closet, looking for your dresses you knew you’d packed. And nothing. Absolutely nothing. Instead of giving up hope on your past self for packing everything, you go to the dresser drawer where you had put away the skirts you took with you.

The gasp that escaped you when you realized you had packed the one skirt you’d been dying to wear came into view; it was a black leather mini skirt that zipped up on the side. You threw it onto the bed as you ran back to the closet, searching for the perfect top to go with it. You settled for a black lace bodysuit that was long sleeved and decided putting on your platform calf boots would complete the outfit well.

You never got the chance to dress up and look nice anymore, so you decided it was best to go all out. Even if you were going to be in a dark club where the only people who would be able to see your makeup would have to be standing nose to nose with you. At least you knew Vessel might like it.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror and started your makeup, taking a little bit of time to try and make sure you didn’t fuck up the eyeliner and your eyebrows too much. It was refreshing getting ready like this and feeling like your younger self again. It didn’t take long for your makeup to come out the way you wanted it to, a good sign that tonight was going to be a great one.

Finding your phone, you check the time; 8:45, not bad for being rusty in your makeup abilities. You grabbed a small purse you like to use occasionally and put your wallet and phone inside.

“Ves?” You called out as you spritzed your perfume on.

“Yeah?” His voice echoed back from his room.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You left your room and entered his room, eyes growing wide once you saw what he was wearing; black skinny jeans paired with a black t-shirt and leather jacket, his black boots completing the attire. “Are we that emo or what?” Despite the chuckle that came from you, it was hard to take your eyes off of him and how fucking attractive he looked. He turned around and did a double take at you, his eyes wandering over every part of your outfit and face.

“Funny thing is, we’re all just going to be a group of emos.” He smirked as his eyes glanced at the amount of your thighs that were exposed by the skirt for the millionth time. “I’ll order an Uber now since I’m all good to go, and also let III know that we’re heading out.” Vessel stepped closer to you as he tapped away on his phone, after a minute he put it back in his pocket and noticed how close he’d accidentally got to you. His eyes lingered on yours again as he pushed your hair behind your ears, his fingers trailing along your jawline and lifting your chin a bit to examine your makeup. “You look good, really good.”

Your cheeks heated up as he kept his fingers on your chin, his thumb ran over your bottom lip with a little force. “Are you trying to smudge my lipstick?” You asked, lightly swatting his hand away.

A smirk curled at his lips. “I’m just testing it to see if it’ll stay after a makeout or two.” He grinned cheekily as you shoved at his chest making him stumble back a tad. His phone buzzed in his pocket, the notification coming from the Uber informing you that they had arrived.

You followed Vessel downstairs, letting him lead the way to the car waiting outside for the two of you. The Uber rolled down the window and double checked that she was picking up the right people, after Vessel confirmed it was right he opened the back door for you to get inside, letting you settle before shutting it behind you.

The Uber turned in her seat and looked at your outfit. “My dear you are beautiful, I love the top.” You smiled wide at her compliment and thanked her, returning the compliment on her brighter hair color.

Vessel joined you in the backseat and the driver pulled off, putting on some music for you to listen to. Vessel’s hand rested on your thigh as he stared out the window, you watched him as the passing lamp posts illuminated his face ever so often and he would tap his fingers along with the beat of the song playing on the radio. You placed your hand on top of his, pushing your fingers between his and encasing his hand with yours. The size difference was a little silly, especially since yours was on top, but it didn’t matter to you.

The drive took only thirty minutes from his house to the club that was in the middle of London. It was pretty packed already, a line was extended out the door as a bouncer slowly let people in.

“You can drop us off here,” Vessel says. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Thank you honey!” You say as you got out of the car and waved to the sweet driver. Vessel’s hand rested on your hip as he guided you to the sidewalks, his eyes scanning around for the familiar sight of his friends. The brisk air hitting your bare thighs sent shivers up your spine as you found yourself trying to look for them too, but realizing you had no idea what they looked like.

You noticed the group of three guys standing together, one waving over at the two of you and the others in a conversation with one another. Vessel’s pace quickened a bit as you grew closer to the group, watching as the tallest of them was giving Vessel a thumbs up the entire time.

“Gentlemen.” Vessel says sarcastically, earning a glare from the one who stood more eye level with you. “This is Y/N.” He motioned to you. “Y/N, this is III, II and IV, my bandmates.” The tallest out of the four of them and the one giving Ves a thumbs up was III, a bright smile on his face as he reached to shake your hand. The shortest (and probably the one who looked the most innocent) was II, he took your hand in his and kissed it after saying a hello. IV is who you stood eye level with but only because of the shoes you were wearing. Instead of taking your hand in his, he opted for pulling you in for a hug.

“I’m a hugger, sorry.” He says as he felt you tense up a bit, not expecting a hug.

You just smiled and hugged him back. “That’s alright, hugs are never a bad thing.” IV pulled away with a grin on his face and turned his attention to your outfit, he gave you the “okay” symbol with his hand and a nod of approval.

“Let’s get inside as soon as possible before you freeze.” II pointed out the fact that you were shivering, leaving Vessel to swiftly put his jacket over your shoulders and wrap his arm around you to pull you into him. “I was waiting for you to do that for her.”

“Shut up.” Vessel said as he turned to the line. It had shortened quite a bit since you’d arrived, now only a couple of people stood waiting to be let in. Thank goodness because it was really cold out and you needed a drink.

Luckily the bouncer just glanced at all of your IDs and let you inside, he clearly had enough of dealing with people for the night and at this point did not care who he let in. III had taken over leading the group through the club as he had a clear path splayed out in front of him of where he wanted to go. He stopped at a larger booth towards the middle of the club that was pushed further away from where the dance floor was in comparison to some other booths. He flung himself in and sat in the middle, letting II and IV fill in next to him. Vessel motioned for you to sit and he followed, squishing you a bit against his shoulders and IV’s.

A waiter had come over and III was shouting an order for shots over the loud music, giving him a thumbs up as he walked away. You sat back and listened as the boys caught up with each other, constantly yelling back and forth with Vessel occasionally leaning against you in order to hear II a little better.

Once the first round of shots arrived, you had become part of the conversation as it moved onto concerts, a topic you were very familiar with. You all cheered each other with your shots, then threw it back into your mouth. The liquor burned at your esophagus as you did your best not to make any faces at it. After not drinking as much as you used to, you weren’t exactly that great at hiding the fact that you hated tequila.

“Are you not one that likes tequila?” III shouts to you.

“I’m not one to do tequila shots.” You laugh at yourself, the others join you. Vessel draped his arm over your shoulders, his fingers traced delicate patterns on the fabric of your body suit. His face was close to yours, as you felt his lips grazing against your cheek.

The boys cheered on the waiter as he brought two more rounds of shots for the table. Vessel laughed at them as they downed them with ease, you on the other hand watched in jealousy. You brought two shot glasses to sit in front of you, taking one in your hand and throwing it back. The burning wasn’t as bad as the first time, but it still made you make a face.

“You’re keeping them down at least, that’s a good sign.” II shouted from across the table. “Please do not throw up. I don't want to see that.”

You shook your head. “Oh I don’t throw up anymore. Too many years of partying has turned my stomach to steel when it comes to most alcohols.”

“Most.” IV teased. You gave him a good shove as you raised the next shot to your lips, this third one going down a lot easier. “See you just needed to warm up a bit, miss party girl.”

“That’s exactly right.” You said, leaning back to rest against Vessel’s chest. He held you close with one hand that pressed gently against your stomach, you both sat and listened to the conversation the others had. It was interesting to see how they interacted in a regular setting compared to on stage, their personalities were so different but yet at the same time, you could see their stage presences shine at some points.

The first notes of the song that you always had to dance to when you were in a club began to play: S&M by Rihanna. You were a basic woman, you hear Rihanna come on you have to dance along to it. You sat back up quickly, turning to push at Vessel to get him out the booth.

“Move I need to go dance.” You say, shoving him closer to the edge.

“You like this song?” He asks with a smug look on his face, leaving the booth and putting a hand out for you to take.

“I love it, actually.” You say as you stand up. “And you’re going to dance with me.” Your grip tightened on his hand and you pulled him to the dance floor, where many people crowded around and danced to the beat of the song. Pushing your way through a bit until you found a spot you liked, letting go of Vessel’s hand so you could move around. The alcohol in your system really had you feeling yourself and the confidence boost it had given you was like no other, allowing you to move your hips around like no one was watching.

Your eyes flickered up to meet with Vessel’s, noticing they were fixated on you as you danced around. You smirked as you took one step forward and pressed your body against his, taking his hands to rest on your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to yours, your nose brushing against his.

In one sudden gesture, Vessel had flipped you around and pressed his chest into your back. His one hand now resting on your lower stomach, and the other? He couldn’t help but place it around your neck. Your eyes closed at the light pressure he was applying on it, a new found butterfly fluttering around in your stomach from the sensation.

The song ended and transitioned into another one that wasn’t as fun to dance to. You pulled Vessel off the floor and back to the booth, noticing another round of shots on the table. You laughed at how pleased III looked with himself and choice of liquor.

“Are you ever going to order an actual drink?” You shout at him, noticing that II and IV had separate drinks they were sipping at.

“No! Those aren’t as fun.” He protested.

You shook your head. “Well you have fun with that, I’m going to find the restroom.” They all waved you off, except for Vessel who landed a smack on your ass as you walked away.

The restrooms weren’t too hard to find as the bright neon sign practically blinded you no matter where you stood in the club. You only went in there to check on your makeup, specifically because of Vessel choking you a bit as you danced. Your eyes teared up some and you couldn’t help but wonder if it messed up your eyeliner at all. Standing at the mirrors you checked your eyes closely, noticing nothing smudged. Perfect. Your hair got a little messed up though, but nothing that didn’t add to the intensity of your look already.

Your ears were ringing from being around the loud music and your throat felt a little scratchy, probably from the amount of yelling you’ve been doing trying to have a conversation with the group. Perhaps a club wasn’t the best choice for your first time meeting Vessel’s band… oh well you were having a great time and couldn’t really care about the practicality of it all.

Once you were satisfied with yourself, you left the bathroom and returned to the loud club. Squeezing past multiple people making out along the back wall and eyeing the small group of people doing lines, you accidentally bumped into someone while you weren’t paying attention.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.” You shout to the man, hoping you didn’t spill anything he was holding. He turned around and the expression on his face went from annoyed to elated.

“Is alrigh’ darlin’.” He slurred, patting your shoulder. You gave him a smile and went to head to the booth, when you realized he would not let you move from in front of him. “Where… do ya think you’re goin’? Come dance with me…” His hand gripped your shoulder tightly as he pulled you towards the dance floor.

“No, I’m not interested. I need to get back to my friends.” You pry at his hand that was seemingly glued to you, his grip was that strong. “Man let go of me!” That only spurred him to drag your body to be pressed uncomfortably tight against him, the smell of alcohol poisoning your airways as he breathed heavily on you.

A loud smack and a sharp pain rang from your ass as his hand came down hard against it, giving it a painful squeeze afterwards. You were quick to react; shoving him away as hard as you could muster and then landing a hard blow on his face with your fist. The people around you gasped as he fell to the floor covering his nose that was bleeding profusely. Your arm raised again as you stepped over him, about to give him another for good measure, until a hand wrapped around your fist. You turn around and see that Vessel was standing behind you, his eyes burning into you.

“Good god woman.” II said as he stood by Vessel’s side, analyzing the damage you did.

III and IV came over and pulled us away. “Security is coming, we gotta bounce.” Vessel kept you close as you followed the others out the back door of the club and into the freezing night. You walked a few blocks until it was decided security wouldn’t go that far looking for you.

“What the hell happened?” Vessel was the first to speak, his voice remaining calm as he could tell you were shaken up.

“Um-” You begin, but cut yourself off as you hissed at the pain that started to radiate from your fist. “I was coming back from the restroom when I accidentally bumped into that guy. I said sorry and tried to leave but he wouldn’t let me. He had such a tight grip on my shoulder and he wanted me to dance with him. He then held me super tight against his body and smacked my ass hard, I’m probably going to have a bruise.” You glanced at your hand that had a splatter of the man’s blood on it. “So I just punched him.”

Vessel held your hand gently as he examined it, careful to not press too hard against your bruising knuckles. “You okay?” He whispered.

“I’m sure I’ll be okay once I take some pain meds.” You shrug.

“Y/N.” His voice was stern and his eyes burrowed deep into yours. “I didn’t mean like that.” It clicked in your mind, he was asking about how you were mentally. You glanced at the others that stood around, clearly worried about you as well. All you could do was shrug in response, not exactly feeling like breaking down crying in the middle of a London alley right now.

Vessel nodded and glanced at the boys over his shoulder, giving some sort of unspoken message to them. “Let’s get you back home then, yeah?”

You smiled at him. “That would be wonderful.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #sleep token #vessel

61 notes · View notes

marzipanandminutiae · 3 months

Note

I see you talking about ouat and it unlocked thoughts that have been neatly filed away for years so here I am, yelling them at you.

I assume at this point spoilers arent a problem anymore for you but you said you originally didn't watch past the frozen but a warning just in case.

I kept watching for quite a long time, but I quit after the whole thing with ruby and Dorothy because what? it just felt so incredibly forced and badly written? and I'd gotten so annoyed because before we'd already had the whole thing with aurora and mulan, which I was rooting for but okay, that didn't work out, too bad for mulan. then we get a perfect set up for ruby and mulan. and it's just. never mentioned again???? ruby comes back eventually but wtf happened to mulan? it annoyed me so fucking much let me tell you.

also I remember trying to write out family/relationship trees and stuff for ouat to see how weirdly convoluted everything got. was very impressed that it seemed they managed to avoid accidentally having incest or something in the show with everything that was going on there.

I have so many more things but this has already gotten way longer than intended. do you have a favourite part of the show? I'm assuming your favourite characters is either regina or emma?

Oh man all of that brings back memories. I didn't stick around long enough for Ruby and Dorothy, but I got the sense that they were doing it to try and counteract the "avoiding Swan Queen because homophobia" allegations.

(I actually don't think they WERE avoiding Swan Queen because of homophobia, necessarily. I think it was never their intent to begin with; they just happened to attract a sapphic audience who were deeply on the Enemies to Lovers train. I do think they may have indulged in a bit of queerbaiting, though, because of some Emma/Regina moments that happened after the writers definitely knew the ship existed. I think it was never going to be canon, but they handled it poorly once they realized that people saw it as an option.)

I stopped watching around Frozen for a couple of reasons:

On a personal level, I just got sick of seeing the characters I shipped with other people. That's not an objective problem; it's my opinion and not everyone will agree. But to me, Hook was a whiny insecure manchild and Robin had the personality of Clippy the MS Word paperclip, and damnit, I wanted Emma and Regina to kiss each other instead of them!

On a This Is Bad Storytelling level, I HATED how Frozen was integrated. Earlier stories had been a nice blend of traditional fairytales with Disney adaptation elements- Beauty and the Beast where Gaston and Chip are both kind of there but in subtler ways, for example, or Cinderella where her dress resembles the 1950s animated version but everything else is different. Frozen, though, was just...Frozen. The entire plot of the movie Frozen had happened before the characters entered the OUAT storyline, their costumes were identical to those in the movie, and while I've heard that they added some different backstory- it just wasn't the "Hans Christian Andersen story with subtle Disney touches" that I would have expected from earlier seasons.

Personally, I don't think the initial curse should have been broken in a season. I feel like that locked them into a pattern of having to continually invent a new Darkest Evilest Most Powerful Magic EVER!!!!! to top the previous season, and that took them to some really weird places (I heard they went to literal hell at one point?). The show had a cool premise and some interesting ideas- I loved how they managed to give individual kingdoms distinct cultures and even fashions. You can tell the "look" of Snow White's kingdom from Cinderella's and Cinderella's from Ariel's, etc.

Everyone who would watch an entire season of Abigail's Ancient Greek Steampunk-ish kingdom, raise your hands. Seriously, so cool.

But something went wrong, IMO around season 4. I'm not sure if the show had just outlived its original concept or had outside pressures pulling it in different directions or what. All I know is, as far as I'm concerned, the show ends when Emma and Henry leave Storybrooke in season 3A. Pity It Was Cancelled So Soon, etc.

(although OOC Matronly SnowTM would have been perfect for live slug reaction memes, so there's that)

#long post #ask #once upon a time #ouat #anon

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springbloggy · 10 months

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The secret of Nimh was Don Bluth's debut as an independent animator, fresh out of working at Disney and disappointed with how Disney storytelling was going.

"We haven't been telling better stories than Snow White, and we should be. We're doing the same thing over and over again, but we're not doing it any better. Yet we know enough now so that we should be preparing the films in which the color and the music and the layouts and the backgrounds all change to fit the moods of a story in which everything combines to touch you. The pictures now are entertaining, they're fast-paced, and they're clear. Walt had all those things, and he touched you besides."

-interview with Don Bluth

So does the movie hold up to these ideals? Well after watching it, I'd say yes and no. First of all, the art is fantastic, it's absolutely beautiful and there were many moments that made me go "wow". Nimh absolutely holds up in terms of art and animation, with little details in the background that would catch my eye that made the world feel really "alive". The soundtrack also added to the feel of the movie, with orchestral scores that added to many of the beautiful visuals. But I am not here for just the animation and the music, I also watched for the story, and the story simply does not hold up. The first half of the movie has poor pacing, and the characters don't hold much appeal. Specific ones that caught my attention were Jeremy the crow and Mrs. Brisby, the main character. Jeremy might be one of the most insufferable characters in all of animation, if you haven't watched Nimh, picture Genie from Aladdin with all his charm removed. Every scene Jeremy appeared in, I immediately wanted to dart away from the movie. He is just insufferable as a character, not charming, nor funny, nor entertaining. Mrs. Brisby is the opposite, where the problem is for the majority of the movie, her character is pretty blank, and I consider her one of the blandest main characters of all time. Most of her character is being concerned about her son Timmy and being the wife of Mr. Brisby. The Bechdel test is a meme these days, but watching this movie made me understand why it was made. The rest of characters range from unlikable to bland, there isn't much of a reason for you to feel for any of them, root for the heroes, or feel anger towards the villain. Even if you don't mind the characters, the story as a whole doesn't really get interesting until halfway through, when Mrs. Brisby finally gets into the Rats of Nimh's hideout and learns the backstory of them. I remember watching this movie once as a kid as a Blockbuster rental and the backstory scene was the one that stuck with me and still is striking to me as an adult. If there's one specific scene from this movie to seek out, it's that. Sadly even after the backstory, there's still a lot of empty holes in the movie's story that aren't patched out and a lot of questions left about the world that are never answered. I like a good mystery, but NIMH has too many and the audience will go in and out of the experience with as much information as Mrs. Brisby does. Which is next-to-nothing.

------

TLDR;

✅ What I liked:

Great animation

Great score

Fantastic backstory scene

❌ What I didn't like:

Left too many questions

Characters range from outright insufferable to bland

Doesn't pick up until halfway through

Overall ranking:

At the end of these I like to ask: "is it a good replacement for Disney movie?" For those who want to live a hypothetical Disney-free life for themselves and their children.

For The Secret of Nimh, I think it solely depends on which era of Disney you are referring to. It's a good replacement for a 70s Disney movie, back when they were releasing stuff like "The Rescuers" and "Robin Hood". Not so much for any other Disney eras. The fantastic animation is the highlight of Nimh, but everything else, sadly, has aged poorly and no longer holds up in the modern era of animation storytelling.

#don bluth #the secret of nimh #secret of nimh #animation #cartoon #review #springy thoughts #b

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anxiety-thyme · 9 months

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First Friday fic night is here again!

For a refresher you can see what this is about here. Last month was Snow White With the Red Hair .

In last month's poll you degenerates voted for Real Slow Burn - 100k words or more. I should've known. Since we are focused on fic type we are going to hit a few different fandoms.

Voting for next month's topic at the end!

I had a couple of requirements for myself when choosing fics this month otherwise I wouldn't have known where to start and the list would be too long. It's already really long tbh.

The 100K word count had to be for the single fic - not for a series.

The wordcount had to actually be above 100k. No cheating with those 98K fics.

The ship had to be a main part of the story, not an afterthought.

No more than two fics per fandom.

I have to have read it more than once. <- I'm aware of what this says about me. I'm the degenerate actually.

If you've read some of the fics I've posted previously you might have picked up on the very specific vibe in most of what I recommend. Yes, I am just now realizing it and no I don't want to talk about it. Yes maybe a hug wouldn't hurt. We actually have a few that won't leave you emotionally damaged this month!

I thought I'd start with some fandoms we haven't hit yet. As always mind the tags. There is definitely smut.

My Hero Academia

Pairing: Todoroki/Bakugou I'll admit, I was unsure whether to include any MHA since the fandom can be A. Lot. especially when ships are involved. That said, I live in my own little corner of the internet and there are some phenomenal writers hidden away if you go look for it.

The lights are all out (its a big big city), by shaekspeares

"Izuku leaves for America for six months; Shouto fights his way into the Top 5 Hero Rank, takes out Godzilla, reconnects with a criminal, adopts a cat, and has several belated emotional crises (not necessarily in that order). He might also be in love with Bakugou, but that's another problem altogether.

Izuku probably shouldn't leave him to his own devices anymore."

I enjoy everything shaekspeares writes in the fandom. Their prose is beautiful and their work feels fully rested within the universe while telling compelling and emotional stories.

Candy Canes and Christmas Crackers, by bigdorkenergy

“So….your huge family somehow all think that you have a long term boyfriend and are insisting that you bring him to your week long Christmas family reunion?” Despite his efforts the end of his question raised in pitch as Kirishma swallowed down a giggle.

“How does that even happen?” Kaminari added popping some of the hashbrowns Bakugou made into his mouth.

OR your classic holiday romcom where Bakugou needs a fake boyfriend to bring home for Christmas and Todoroki is willing to take that bullet."

I'm not big on Christmas fics. Not for any particular reason I don't think? But, I am a big sucker for fake dating fics. This is adorable and so pure as these two do the whole friends to lovers thing.

Okay. Are you ready for this?

BBC Sherlock

(I know, right?? What is this 2012??)

Pairing: Sherlock/Watson

Performance In a Leading Role, by Mad_Lori

"Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world?"

I know I've said this a few times, but I don't read a lot of true AUs but of course there are always exceptions. This is done so well that I don't think you have to be in the fandom or know anything about the characters at all and you would still enjoy it. The slow build from distain to love is really well done.

Community

Paring: Annie/Jeff (don't @me) I know Community isn't everyone's thing but there is some great fic out there just sayin'

It's Always Open Season on Princesses, Elsiesnuffin

"Annie is given the opportunity to do some travelling over the summer after her second year at Greendale."

This is very Roman Holiday-esque. It's a fun romp through Italy while Jeff figures his shit out. Jeff figuring his shit out is my bias. Also, is that a fanfiction.net link I see? 👀

Attack on Titan

pairing: Erwin/Levi

Small Mercies, by Calacreda

"Levi misses Erwin in the margin between sleeping and waking. He thinks about Erwin when he steps out of a hot bath into cold air. He imagines Erwin’s new life, his new vocation, his new family, when the seasons change, or when he blows the candles out, or now, as the sun sets. The only space he does so is a space of a threshold. It does not feel good or bad. It does not feel happy or sad. Levi realises now, however, that this is not the same as it feeling nothing."

Six years after the War ends and they part ways, Levi finds himself at Erwin's door again."

I cannot express how beautiful this is. I've read it so many times and I still cry each time. Levi feels so raw and real as someone who has never really known family and doesn't have the words to put to what he wants and how he feels.

Tiny Anthem, by onthearrow

"Levi swore to Erwin he would kill the Beast Titan. But how can he follow such an order when it's Erwin himself he pulls from its nape?"

Okay, imagine that you have spent years recovering from the grief of losing someone you loved, healing from a toxic relationship, learning to be comfortable in your skin, taking on a role you never asked for and fighting to create a space for yourself in the world. Got it? Now imagine the person you were grieving turns out to not be dead. And also, they don't know who you are. Oh and they have been brainwashed by the enemy. That feels good, right?

I am embarrassed by how many times I've read this. Every time a new chapter came out I would start from the beginning again. I finally promised myself 5 chapters ago that I wasn't allowed to start all over from the beginning until the final chapter comes out. It should be soooon.

Teen Wolf

pairing: Stiles/Derek

Home, by TheTypeWriterGirl

"January seventh. Seven days since the start of 2015, and seven days since his father’s death.

The bastard, he thinks bitterly. The past year Derek Hale had made it blatantly obvious that he hated his scrawny guts, taking every given opportunity to shove him up against a wall, growl threats in his ears and roll his eyes whenever he stepped into the room, muttering some snide comment about how spastic or idiotic he was.

So why did he fucking volunteer to take him in?"

Here is the thing. Not only is this fantastic, but the companion piece that is about Derek and Stiles' parents is also good. I didn't think I'd be able to read a fic about parents who are almost non-existent in the show without the characters from the show in it. I did here and I couldn't put it down.

The Hollow Moon, by thepsychicclam

"It's the summer after Stiles' first year of college, and he's working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he's okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn't care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he's just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people."

I know this makes me awful but I'm a sucker for post Nogitsune Stiles. Nightmares? Yes. Disassociation from reality? Bring it. Add in a dash of Derek recognizing what he's going through and I'm there.

There are two fandoms missing that I would have loved to include however:

Snow White With the Red Hair: There are only 2 100+ Obiyuki fics on AO3 so they didn't feel in the spirit of this month's recommendations.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Let's be real most of what I have bookmarked is just straight up porn and not terribly long. That said, there is one really good story that I love but when I went back and looked at the word count turns out it is only like 50K words?

Tell me how much you like them on a scale of Abba to shoulder cat!

Do you like looking at fics by themes or do you prefer by fandom? Let me know.

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nuagederose · 8 months

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As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Forty-Five: Arms Around Your Love

ao3 link

Alex had had two glasses of wine by the time their party began to wind down with the incoming nightfall, and Christine was eager to crawl up next to him in her own bed again. He was almost to the point of undoing all of the buttons on that white shirt, especially since she kept her eye on his chest hair. It seemed rather fine in texture, something that she had never noticed before until he wore that white shirt and left the buttons undone. There were points where he would straighten up his spine just to show off more of that smooth skin to the whole room, especially to her, and she wondered if it was intentional at all.

She sipped on her wine while Eric, Matt, and Nathan cracked jokes to each other: she found herself once again in the quiet corner of the room, and right next to Alex no less.

There was a memory that came forth right then, albeit a vague one, where Chris had invited her over to the Pereiras' house for Rosh Hashanah, and the first time that she had joined in on the festivities then. He had put on a white shirt just like that and wore a little white knit yarmulke on top of that: his long curls dangled down on either side of his head as if he was a little doll straight from the nearby toy shop. His father offered the two of them some kugel, while his mother showed her how to make matzo soup. It was so vague that she had no recollection of the kugel, and yet she could clearly recall the matzo balls in the chicken broth. A day of sweetness for the brand new year.

She shook her head as she brought herself back down to Earth again, away from the memory bank, and yet she had a feeling that she would be visiting that bank for a while from that point forth. Alex leaned back against the couch cushions with a piece of his hair strewn over his head as if he had just come from the beach and his wine glass rested on his knee, and he turned his attention to Christine on his left, and he showed her a little smirk.

“What're you smirking about?” she asked him.

“I'm smirkin', baby doll,” his voice crackled from the wine and from quite the performance out there.

“You should've had some bread with your wine,” she suggested to him.

“Didn't even think about that,” he confessed with a shrug. “Oops.” He chuckled at himself, and she knew that she had him right where she wanted him. Alex leaned over a bit and then he brought his glass up to his lips again.

“What number is that?” she asked him.

“Hm?”

“How many glasses of wine have you had so far?”

“I think this is the third one,” he confessed. “I hardly ever drink this much, but... I definitely feel it, though.”

“Would you like to come back to my place?” she suggested. “I could call us a cab, unless Eric has room in his back seat.”

“I've got stuff to take home with me,” he told her. Alex then cleared his throat and turned his attention to across the room.

“Hey, Sluggo, you drivin' home?” he asked him.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Eric quipped with a straight face. He then squinted his eyes at Alex. “Why?”

“We're getting a little sleepy over here,” Christine told him with a wink.

“Ohhhh, I see,” he said.

“Yeah, you can see it on his face,” Nathan added with a twinkle in his eye. “Alex looks ready to cozy up in the snow out there.” Alex chuckled as he leaned forward and rested his wine glass on the table between them. He then ran his fingers through his hair and closed his eyes. Christine thought about giving him a big glass of water once they were back at her place.

“The two of us have to get home, too,” Matt said as he stood to his feet. “I worry about the snow, and I worry about drinking too much to boot, too...”

Christine and Eric offered to help Alex stand up, but he was adamant on doing it himself.

“You're like a little boy when you get drunk,” she said with a bit of glee to her voice: she and Eric put their arms around him to help him out of there.

“I have to go where it's cool,” he blathered out with a drooping of his eyelids.

“Three glasses of wine,” Eric declared with a shake of his head. “Man, you're a lightweight.”

“I really am... and one of you smells really good,” he added.

“It's the club,” Christine answered as they helped out to the backstage area. “They're making something cinnamon before closing time.”

“Oh, so good,” he sputtered. “It's so hot in here, though. I'm hot. I need to be cool.”

“Okay, we're going to the back door now,” Eric assured him as they walked on to the back door. He turned his head for a glance back at Nathan and Matt.

“It's dumping snow outside,” Christine added; with her free hand, she tugged her hood over her head. It was tricky given she only had her free hand, but she managed to do it once they were walking along. “You're gonna be cool in no time, Alex. Where's your jacket?”

“I think Nate has it—I don't really remember,” Alex chuckled at that as he closed his eyes. He shuffled along the floor between the two of them, but they managed to bring him to the back door. She pushed on the handle, and they were met with a rush of icy cold air and fine snow as it fell from the dark sky overhead.

“Oh, yeah, now we're cooking with macaroni,” she declared.

“Where are we parked?” Alex sputtered out.

“Across the street,” Eric replied. “Before you ask, Nate and Matt have your guitar, Alex.”

“Oh, good... where are we going?”

“Across the street, baby,” Christine assured him as they walked through the alleyway towards the street. “We're going across the street.” They rounded the corner and right up the block stood Eric's car. They put their heads down as the snow fell upon them at an angle. Lucky for them, not many cars traversed through that part of New York and at that time of night no less. Christine still glimpsed both ways before they crossed the street, simply because of Alex between her and Eric. She caught the sound of keys jingling as they neared the car, and Eric let go of Alex from his right side. He turned his attention to her as Eric unlocked the car.

“We're gonna go back to your place,” he croaked with a sweet smile on his face.

“Indeed, we are, baby,” she replied as she rested a hand on the side of his neck.

“We're gonna have... fun...”

Eric quickly opened the rear passenger door and pushed the back seats down as far as they could go for him.

“Yeah, there's no way I'm gonna sitting up on the way back,” Alex quipped as he let go of Christine. He held onto the edge of the roof to steady himself, and then he rested one knee down on the slippery upholstery itself.

“Careful, don't bump your head,” she warned as he climbed into the back seat. His arms quivered once his head reached the driver's side door, and he lay down on his side.

“Move your feet—” Eric told him, and he nudged his feet out of the way of the door before he closed it. Christine bowed into the passenger seat and then Eric rounded the front of the car with his head bowed away from the falling snow: once he climbed into the driver's seat, he had a fine layer of snow dusted all around the crown of his head.

“You look like Johnny Winter,” Alex told him, and Eric took a glimpse into the rear view mirror. Though it was dark in the car, he could still see his own reflection with the light closest to him.

“I kinda do, don't I?” he quipped back there, to which Alex chuckled again.

“By the way, I'm still hot,” he told them in a broken voice.

“Let's not turn on the heater,” Eric suggested to her as he rubbed his hands together. “As cold as the two of us are.”

“Good idea,” she said as she stuffed her hands into her coat pockets. “I worry about him.”

He fired up the car and, careful not to make Alex roll off the seat as well as slip on the white pavement, they moved along the street to the next stoplight.

“Are we going to his place, too?” Eric asked her in a low voice.

“Nope,” she replied. He paused for a second, and Alex chuckled to himself once again.

“Oh, I see,” Eric declared; Christine glanced over at him to find the twinkle in his eye despite the darkness. “I see.”

“You bet your jazzy ass, Sluggo,” Alex slurred out, and then he let out a giddy bout of laughter, the lightest Christine had ever heard from him yet.

“Have fun tonight,” Eric stated as the light turned green.

Given there was a fair amount of snow on the pavement before them, there weren't a lot of cars out there that night. Nevertheless, he drove along at a deliberate pace given they veered off the road at any given point. Even though they drove along at a deliberate pace, the signs for the bridge entered their view, followed by those cold black waters of the East River. Christine could feel the butterflies in her stomach, the first time in quite some time that she had felt butterflies prior to having a moment with Alex.

It was the first time she was going to have him at her apartment after he had one too many glasses of wine.

Once Eric brought them back to Queens and right outside of her apartment complex, he jumped out to help her help him up to the front door. Once she unlocked it, he held the door for the two of them: Alex leaned his back against the wall right next to the front door as Christine took off her hood and gave her coat a shake there in the front lobby of the building.

“So sweet of you,” Christine told Eric in a light voice.

“I try my best,” he said with a shrug. “And again—have fun.” He flashed her a wink and a shake of his black hair before he disappeared back into the night.

Meanwhile, behind her, Alex sank down towards the floor, but she caught him before he could sit down.

“Come on, let's go upstairs,” she encouraged him, and she held onto him with one arm.

“We gotta go upstairs... we gotta go upstairs... why is there no elevator in here?”

“There is, it just doesn't work,” she explained.

“Well, son of a bitch.”

Even though he had had one too many, he still made his way up the stairs to the second floor, but he nearly lost his balance once they reached the frame of her front door. Wendy had gone to bed for the night, but that entire wing of the hallway smelled of cookies.

“Mom baked some ginger snaps for tonight, methinks,” Christine told him as she unlocked her door.

“Mmm, that actually sounds good,” he said as he followed her into her apartment. “Maybe once I have the alcohol cleared out...” Alex closed the door behind him, and Christine wasted no time in putting her arms around him and her lips on his own. He leaned against the door panels with his hands down by his sides.

She undid the rest of the buttons for him and ran her fingers down his chest.

“So rough and bristly,” she whispered as she fingered his hair. “A part of me wants to kiss this—”

“You really are something else, Christine Sixteen,” he said with a clearing of his throat. “Wanting to kiss me in odd places.”

“I could kiss every inch of your little body if I wanted to,” she confessed, to which he raised his eyebrows at that.

“Would you?”

“I would. I would in a heartbeat.”

He showed her his tongue, and she brought her face close to his even though he stood a bit taller than her. He bowed his head so she could be closer to him. Christine could smell the wine on his breath and the cologne and the Iridium on his neck and chest. She ran her fingers through his black hair, from the roots outward: the snow had made his hair extra soft at the crown, and the fine grays at the streak seemed a lot finer than usual. The gray had made the gray extra softer in comparison.

His eyes drooped closed, and she knew that if she kept him there at the front door long enough he could sink back down to the floor, and then there was no way to help him back up.

“Shall we go into the bedroom?” she suggested.

“Phew. Yes, please.” He let the shirt fall off his body, and Christine held onto it before it could fall onto the floor.

“Nice satin,” she explained. “I don't want to see it get ruined.”

“It's nothing a little wash can't fix,” he quipped as his eyes closed. She lay it over the top of her recliner, and then she took him by the hand and guided him back to her bedroom.

He chuckled and let out a hiccup once they were at the edge of her bed.

“Take off your pants,” she commanded as she peeled off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. She stripped off her sweatshirt and her pants, only to find him still seated there on the foot of her bed with his pants still on. “Don't tell me I'm gonna have to take them off for you.”

“I think you are,” he told her in a hoarse voice. She giggled as she squatted before him in her underwear. She could feel him inside of his pants.

“Are you hard?” she asked him in a near whisper.

“Christine... I'm the tipsiest as I've been in years. I can't really do anything if there's no moving down below the belt.”

She licked her lips and unfastened his pants, only to find that he was erect to a degree. Nevertheless, she held onto his warm skin with one hand, and he raised his eyebrows once more at her.

“Okay, I see what you're getting at.” He locked eyes with her for a moment before he burst into ebullient laughter. She leaned closer into his face for a kiss on those smooth lips, smooth but a touch dry given he had had enough to drink for the evening. Nevertheless, Christine pressed her free hand on the side of his face to relish the feeling. There was something about him having had one too many drinks in his system, something that left him in a vulnerable state that made her want to move so slowly and deliberately with him, just like the drive home. To hold his inebriated head in her hands, and to cradle his body in her arms. The alcohol had loosened him and set him free, and she had to hold him until he came back down to Earth again.

“Sometimes all you need is a little love making to make the headache go away,” he crackled out: his voice was still very low and raspy with the alcohol as well as the euphoria.

“Don't stop kissing me,” she whispered to him. He lay down on his back across the foot of her bed, and all the while, he brushed the crown of his head against the wall.

“Ow.”

“Ooh. Yeah, I've done that before.” She crawled over his body, and with one hand, she reached up and took out her ponytail so her hair could dangle down over his chest and shoulders.

“Am I hallucinating or do you look really ravishing right now, my snow—bunny rabbit?” He nearly breathed the words.

“Who's to say you're not hallucinating and I'm ravishing as is, my prince?” Christine nudged a lock of hair behind his ear, and his eyes drooped closed. She then reached down again for another fondling.

“Shall I get on top?” she offered him.

“Please. I need it.”

Christine then peeled back her underwear and straddled him. She didn't care if he was laying across her bed rather than with the length of it: if anything, the fact that she came in from the edge of the bed only made it better. She rested her feet down on the floor to steady herself as she gently ground down on him. She gripped onto his hips to steady himself. The fact that their bellies nearly touched each other made a whole world of difference to her.

Alex looked on at her with a delirious look on his face and a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“We're doing it on your bed,” he grunted out, especially since she ground down a little harder.

“Yes, we are—” she gasped as the feeling quickly rose up inside of her.

“We're fooling around on your bed!” he declared with another chuckle.

“We are!” And she lifted up before she reached the climax on her end.

“Oh, shit, edging yourself,” he laughed, and she reached down with two fingers to get herself off. “Oh, my.”

“Yeah, you know it,” she told him. “I'm not as wet as I could be, big boy.” She let out a sharp yelp as she reached her first one, and then she took her seat again on top of him. That time, she gyrated harder on him, such that his lips parted and he treated her to a light euphoric whimper.

“I think—I think—I think—fuck—” He could hardly talk, but she knew what he meant. She lifted up again before he could reach his own summit, and he let out a low moan.

“Oh, shit,” he groaned out, and she lay down next to him with her arms around him.

“It's okay, you didn't even get any on me,” she promised him.

“Yeah, but... I got it on your nice carpet,” he sputtered with yet another chuckle, albeit a nervous one. Christine kissed him on the neck.

“Don't you worry. Let's get cleaned up, though. You and I should get to bed.”

#as the seasons grey #as the seasons grey fanfic #chapter 45 #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic with art #drawings #traditional art #alex skolnick #alex skolnick trio #eric peterson #testament #testament band #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

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insanelydeadlybookcollector · 1 year

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Heya saw you repost something about ouat I didn’t know you watch the show I am a big hook fan What you like about the show? (snow, charming and them are so boring huh? like that they support hook tho)

Hiya,

I only just recently watched Once Upon a Time for the first (second and third) time. And let me say, I am in love. It hits all my interests - literature appropriations, fairy tales, pretty boy actors who act with their eyes, Scotsmen and Irishmen and a cast who are friends outside of the show as well.

I love a story with good flashbacks and great transitions, and this show delivers. It also delivers on brilliantly appropriated fairy tales. This is the first time I've ever liked Snow White. I love that so many of the Red Riding Hood texts are engaged to create her character. There are so many beautiful and emotional storylines and interesting takes on characters. Any text where characterisation is favoured above plot is a win in my book and this show delivers in spades.

I will never get over how brilliant the casting is and how hard actors like Lana Parrilla worked to make the casting work in her favour. The choice of who plays a young version of Snow and Cora are exceptional. Robbie Kay is perfectly Peter Pan. The costumes are brilliant, especially Elsa's purple Frozen dress.

I love the parallels and callbacks in this show as well. They foreshadow and engage with information retrospectively brilliantly on Once. I love the extended family dynamics, the overall themes of hope and finding people, finding family.

I love Captain Hook too! I love his transformation from good to vengeful - for his brother, for Milah. I'm a sucker for anyone who can love that deeply, that loyally. And I love how hard he tries to return to the side of good, to disentangle the man from the legend of the fearsome pirate, and that while he may be a pirate he never completely lost his faith in "good form." (An episode I could discuss ad nauseum and not even for Captain Swan and Snowing feels but for the brotherhood of it all - that Hook and Charming are the replacements for the brother's they lost, that Hook lost and gained a brother to dreamshade, and that he was probably so scared that what happened to Liam would happen to David especially given that the last time the Jolly Roger flew he lost Liam in much the same way David is in peril). And that doesn't even broach the topic of how much I love Hook and Henry and their relationship over the course of the series. Or his relationship with Snow and how similar they are, how much she and Charming love him, both of which make me smile.

I do wish we had more information about Hook's backstory, in all honesty. Not just Hook, though, I suppose. It's probably the half-season storylines that mean we only get a snippet of the Darlings and Bae and a hug for a reunion but nothing more, a single moment of Tink being proud of Hook and Neal, that sort of thing, and I would have definitely loved more of that Neverland trio - especially because it was so important to Hook and Neal's characters. But then again, the old aphorism comes into play, "leave the audience wanting more."

I'm going to disagree with you on Snowing being boring, though. Although I can see why they may come across that way in the series that is so action-packed. But I don't think the action of domestic life is any less thrilling than the action of battle, and Snowing post-season four get a chance to have that settled down family life, "farm life" as Snow once called her dream for her future, after all the trials of tribulations they'd been through. There's a nobility in the simple life, of not being the cause or even part of the drama (much like Mondler, which is the way I would analogise this pairing given that those two get called "boring" or "uneventful" in much the same way despite living the domestic, quiet life) and Snow and Charming deserve a little bit of peace.

#once upon a time #ouat #hook #captain hook #captain swan #captain cobra #captain charming #mondler #snowing

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likeafairytale · 6 months

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[ Ursula's birds bringing Zelda to the location where Viserys' horse is waiting for her, for one of her birthday ]

Zelda had this wild habit to follow animals when she saw them in the hurry. Her favorite one to follow was a white rabbit who always said he was running late for the tea party, which she never truly understood. Most of the time, she wanted to ask him why doesn't he leave his home sooner, if he had this tendency to be late? But she barely succeeded to catch up with him, she wasn't really fast, after all, she was only physically seven, so maybe the older she'll get, the easier it'll be to follow the rabbit.

But today, it wasn't the rabbit that caught her attention. It was two birds that she couldn't talk to. As an elf, the princess had no problem to talk to animals when she wanted to. But no matter how many times she was saying 'hello' to the two birds, none of them said hello back, and she found it quite rude. Especially because it was her birthday today, so she didn't want her mood to be ruined by two little birds! She was already ignored by her father –not only it was her birthday, but also her mother's death anniversary, which always made King Daphne sad– she won't let two birds ignored her too.

What she didn't know was that the birds were dead, therefore not able to talk to her. That hiding somewhere in the forest, two people; Ursula and Viserys, were looking at her chasing the birds, following them to the sacred fountain. The Sea Witch and the Hunter stayed silent, looking at her doing when she arrived at the location they wanted her too. Immediately, the birds dropped dead in the ground, which confused the little girl. But she didn't have time to do anything about this information that already, her attention was on something else. In front of her, drinking from the sacred fountain, was a foal, as white as snow. It was the first time she saw such a magnificent creature; not the first time she saw a horse, but it was the first time she saw such a baby one. The foal brought its attention on her and neighed when she came closer, not in a menacing way though.

❛Hello!❜ Zelda happily said, and once again the foal neighed. ❛Oh, finally someone nice! You're not like the two sleeping birds here.❜ She added at the horse's answered.

Yes, she thought the two birds were just asleep, and not once death was a possibility in her mind. Maybe she was too young to think about such a thing, or maybe because of her statue of immortal being, she couldn't fathom that some creature didn't have a long life spam like she does.

Coming closer to the foal, but staying cautious, she silently asked her –because she knew somehow it was a girl– if she could pet her, and as answer, the filly came closer to the princess, and lower her head, so Zelda could pet her right between her ears, which she seemed to like. Hiding behind the high trees of the forest, Viserys couldn't hide a gentle smile, which was rare for him, and which brought Ursula's attention to him.

❛Where did you find her?❜ The Sea Witch whispered to him, and at first, he simply shrugged the question, which annoyed her.

❛I bought her. The other horses, even her parents, didn't want to do anything with her. Knowing her birthday was coming, I got a good prize out of her.❜ He finally answered to her, not leaving the young Zelda out of his sight, observing her every move. ❛She deserves a companion, and horses are very loyal animals. Plus, she will need it at some point.❜

This time, it was Ursula who shrugged. His last words were quite enigmatic, but she didn't bother to ask anything about them, maybe he was right, it was better for her to have a companion even if it was just a horse. Quickly her attention was back on Zelda who laughed, and both Viserys and Ursula were a little annoy they couldn't talk or understand animals the way the little girl did, because surely they were in such a deep conversation right now.

❛Oh... You're all alone? I am too, my father doesn't want to see me most of the time, and my mother is dead...❜ Zelda said those words to the horse with such sadness that it seemed to affect them both, but both Ursula and Viserys were quite good at hiding their feelings, so the other didn't notice. ❛You know what, we're friends now! What's your name?❜

❛Princess Zelda?! Where are you princess!?❜ When Zelda heard her nanny's, Impa, voice, she seemed a little panicked. The woman was often mean to her, but her voice seemed more worried than angry, probably because Zelda left so abruptly, she had to run all over the place to find her, and that made the princess feel guilty.

❛Come with me,Epona, I'll introduce you to Impa.❜ The little girl said while petting the foal who happily followed her.

#zelda of hyrule #zelda writing prompt #writing prompt #not that proud #i don't like it #but anyway #i'm going to stop trying to like what i'm writing #cause i feel like it'll never happen #i love baby zelda though #and as lately i played tloz and there were epona in it #i wanted to add her somewhere #icanbeyourgenie

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reblrths · 1 year

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SNOW'S MANSION, AFTER HOURS OF THE BALL.

maxim is no stranger to waking up in unfamiliar places. with a pounding head, fuzzy memories of just what happened before, and a mouth as dry as the deserts in 5 — safe to say this is no different. it doesn’t feel any different, not until he recognizes how silent it is. it’s never silent. there’s always indistinct and muffled voices, cars in the distance, music faint in the background, but this — this? it’s the kind of silent where your brain tricks you into thinking it does hear something.

and once he recognizes the silence, he also recognizes the restraints digging into his wrists.

TRIGGER WARNING: torture, drug and alcohol mentions, death, grief, mild mild emetophobia (literally just mentions it)

his eyes adjust to the light in the room and it feels twenty times as bright as the sun, the headache already forming in his head made instantly worse by it. his skin crawls and his neck aches from the way his head hung until he woke. one, two, three rough pulls on those restraints and all it does is hurt worse, like they’re getting tighter the more he resists. the panic sets in, delayed as it is. he’s struck with the events of before — caesar flickerman, a man max has become so acquainted with, announcing the death of four. among them, rhea crane. selenia ripley. women maxim knows, one of whom — his mother. his mother. the desperation claws at him, the denial — surely that’s wrong. surely there’s been a mistake. there’s hope somewhere in him, too — she’s alive. she’s still here. she can’t be gone, not after — not after the interaction he’d had with her just hours before. not after she’d approached him, asking about the clear scene he’d made with auggie, not after he’d blown up and made another scene in her face, not after—

so all it takes is a big argument with augustus at the president’s mansion to be seen by you? is that it?

it’s a blur after that. the entire night is muddled. the one moment he’d been alone (a mistake he never usually makes anyway and certainly won’t again after this) is the moment he could hardly remember. that makes it scarier. flashes of how spiteful he’d been toward rhea and the next he’s drinking, all the way to pathetic protests about the force with which he was dragged to this room, stumbling and completely out of it. he must not have put up much of a fight, hardly deemed threat enough to immediately strap into the chair, but threat enough to interrogate him anyway. all he can remember is this: as soon as they’d thrown him into this room, he’d collapsed onto the ground. from fear, overwhelming shock, or a mix of both with an addled mind added to it, who fucking cares — when he’d woken, he was strapped to a metal chair.

and when dilated blue eyes blink and squint and settle on that all too familiar white uniform, unwelcome memories flash across his mind. he holds onto the denial hope that she’s still here. she’s still here. he'll prove it -- he'll get himself out of this mess and find her himself.

maxim’s brain is pounding as he tries to retrace his steps through the night — what had he done? drinks and pills and more drinks. who had he talked to? livinia, atlas, dante, auggie… auggie. fuck, is that why he was here? fuck. fuck!

he gives those restraints a rough pull again and a nervous laugh escapes his lips.

“guys, you-" maxim’s voice shakes, is he shaking? his mouth pulls into a small quirk as he continues to pull at those restraints that feel too tight and ignores how cold his blood feels. “you gotta give a guy a warning before you steal him away from the crowd. there’s a line of people waiting to talk to me, my mom just died, didn't you hear? you’re gonna have to take a numb-“

the crack against his temple makes him nauseous, the white room spins and he barely registers the grumbling coming from the peacekeeper that approached him. don’t be a smart ass. you aren’t here to make jokes.

“pray tell, then, why am i here?”

maxim realizes then that there are two of them. he tries not to showcase his fear, tries to keep that nonchalant attitude he carries about everything. don’t show them they got to you. don't think about your mother. until he’s seen her body with his own eyes, he won’t think of her. he won’t think of the flash of hurt he’d seen across her features when he called her terrible, when he’d said just about anyone else would have been better than she had been, or how he and liv had talked about her earlier. he was right, what he'd said. how many times had she talked to him in the past year? hell, the past ten years? he could count on both hands the amount of conversations he's had with his mother that wasn't necessary for cameras and publicity. how dare she look hurt? he won’t apologize when he sees her next. but he cannot help the confusion, too. why had they targeted her at all? she was no rebel. she was hardly anything at all.

“what were you talking to augustus crane about earlier in the evening?”

maxim smiles. dazzling, golden boy smile that works like a charm on everyone else, why shouldn’t it work on a couple peacekeepers? it’s worked on a few before. he knows it won’t now, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try. “senior or junior?”

“don’t play fucking stupid,” one of them growls. maxim shudders, too familiar scenario that this is, but he’s trying. he’s trying. dante’s words continue to ring through his mind, ones that he’s told himself a million times before when faced with any type of adversary, but somehow hold even more meaning because the victor spoke them just hours earlier. don’t show them they got to you. don’t show them they got to you.

when maxim’s eyes close, the other one decides to speak up. “we know that’s hard for you, considering. but i’ve got a feeling you aren’t as dumb as you look, mister crane.”

“mister crane?” maxim laughs, fits of shaky giggles as he looks up at the peacekeeper now. “i didn’t think we were so formal, considering. i don’t even know your name, how am i supposed to address you in the same way?”

he’s simply buying himself time. it doesn’t work.

“i would rather not do this the hard way,” a little too late for that. “but we will. just answer the question. what were you talking to your sibling about? have you heard of the nightlock makeup stunt some are talking about? this is something augustus may have been directly involved in. and you’re particularly close to dante, aren’t you? he is from the district they style for. and that fight — it seemed heated. have you always had problems with your sibling?”

maxim is steadily preparing himself to act like he knows nothing, put those acting skills he learned sitting next to caesar and sycophant capitolites to use. and then— he goes silent for a moment. “what’s that noise?”

“there is no noise.”

“there’s—" a window, a small window through the door and he only just barely catches it. then he hears it, that sob. “is that— liv? livinia?! no, no, no—"

he struggles against the restraints again, knowing the skin is practically worn down to nothing. maxim falters for a moment, his cries are cut short yet again by a blow to the temple — same spot. familiar stars cloud his vision and he can’t help but think about how he’s supposed to be on television in a few days for these games. this bruise won’t do him any good. head damage won’t either. and that’s if he’s even alive in a few days. is he going to die here? is liv? fuck, fuck fuck. the pain is barely even registered as the white-hot fear grips him with vice and doesn’t let go.

“god, are all the crane’s made up of just a bunch of smartasses? the other two are tough, but i thought you would have been the easiest to break.”

through dizziness and nausea, maxim’s gaze snaps up. “what did you say?”

there’s a grin. an evil, evil thing and if maxim thought his father was bad then this man in front of him, whether because of the drugs or the blows to the head, fills him with so much unease he wants to scoot the chair back as far as it can go to get away from him but it’s bolted to the fucking floor. this grin, it’s evil but it’s knowing — they got him.

“no, no, no,” maxim pleads, he pleads with them, tears spring to his eyes instantly. fuck not showing them they got to you, this was the fucking way to do get to maxim crane. not his mother’s death. not fear for his own life. his siblings. and now they know. now they know that despite the fact that they will fight like children and hit each other where it hurts the absolute most, maxim’s weak points are them. now they know. and maxim may have gotten himself and his siblings killed because he kept talking to augustus about ambrose and that fucking makeup and-- and he yelled at his mother that she could have disappeared and nothing would have changed and now she was might be dead. when was the last time he told her he loved her? she disliked him. but he loved her.

when was the last time he told auggie he loved them? or livinia? would he die knowing the last words he’d said to auggie were hateful, that the last ones he’d said to liv was about fucking nail polish? he wants to yell it now, scream it so that maybe they’d hear him from whatever room they’re in, terrified of losing even more time. maybe that would be enough.

“they didn’t do anything,” he cries, but it’s not what they want to hear. he doesn’t stop even as they close the distance, voice panicked and loud. “i started that fight, that was me, not them! auggie? augustus! augustu-“

another crack.

it goes on for so long maxim loses track of time. every question they ask is one he can’t, or won’t, answer. ones about seneca, about lysander, ones that seem fucking pointless and lead to nothing, about makeup and avoxes and dante and kaleb and— he’s wheezing, every breath short and clipped because that one spot at his temple was not enough, they’d gone after his torso as well — they couldn’t have him too lucid from the head trauma. how many hits now? he can’t remember. he can’t tell if the cries he hears are his mind making things up or if they’re real or if they’re entirely his own. it all blends together into one big line of interference, his vision had begun to darken three hits ago and he knows he won’t be able to wear anything but long sleeves and a fuck ton of coverup for a while after this. he cries out for his brother, his sister, his mother, and he can’t tell if that was kaleb’s smart-ass voice he heard down the hall or if maxim’s mind simply supplied it to ease his panicked brain. nevertheless, he has a single goal if he gets out of here: he needs to find them. he needs to find them.

he’s given them parts of the truth: we fought over a boy, we fought over our father — that’s just dumb enough that they’d believe that’s all they spoke about, family drama and boy drama, god knows the crane’s have more than enough of both, and absolutely nothing to do with max throwing avoxes in their face or talking about makeup. but the longer it goes on, the more he can’t remember. nails digging into his chest, backed against the wall. auggie’s angry, tear filled eyes. atlas’ casual nonchalance. hickey on their neck — yes, a boy, they were fighting over a boy.

“we’ll ask you once more, mister crane,” one of them says, he can’t tell them apart now, and if maxim is ever called mister crane again he’ll lose his fucking mind, but the metal pole he holds is all maxim can focus on and— what do you know about the district two makeup stunt pulled tonight?

“auggie didn’t……” what? what didn’t auggie do? maxim struggles to get the words out, struggles to focus on anything that isn't how he wishes they'd just finish this already. he wheezes, hunched over. all he can think about is them. “they didn’t do anything. livi— livi didn’t do anything. we didn’t do anything. please.” maxim shakes his head. it makes it worse.

he looks up, and the peacekeepers look angry, angry he hasn’t given them the confession they want. angry and just about tired of this back and forth, as if maxim begging for his life is an inconvenience. i didn’t ask for this, he wants to say. he wishes he could feel victorious over the fact that they finally, finally, seem done with him. if he had the wherewithal to grin, he would. but he’s shaking, he can’t breathe, this was the worst come down from a high of his life, and he can hardly make out the two peacekeepers in front of him. he has no strength left to be a smartass or to egg them on, ask if that's all they got. he can't be here any longer. he’s past it all — he just wants out.

“i’ve told you everything,” he pleads, praying they won’t see right through him. praying that begging works, show them they've broken him. praying the others don’t say anything else. praying they're alive. this is so much worse than the lashes on his back, his head feels like it might explode. he looks to his left — is that his vomit on the ground? when had he-- “please let me go. please let me go. please let me go.”

he’s practically whimpering now, words coming out as whispered prayers than outright pleads, and he knows he looks pathetic but he cannot manage to bring his usual hubris into this. he suddenly recognizes the silence once more. no more screaming, no more noise. he thinks he’s worn them out — he thinks he hears them sigh. he thinks this is over. he thinks he’s won, but at what cost?

the cost is another blow to that spot at his temple strong enough to make his vision mercifully fade for good.

#tw drugs #tw alcohol #tw emetophobia #tw death #tw torture #tw head trauma #self paragraph | maxim crane #tribute ball | event

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henrike-does-writing-sometimes · 1 year

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Can you hear me out there ?

A little after Kayara awakens, still unfamiliar to the lonliness, they try to speak with the other planets. Hoping for the silence to end.

I don’t know how this came to be, but I wanted to explore Kayara before they got comfortable with their role as “Mother Earth”

This is also probably the only time I’ll every write in first person so, enjoy !

Word count: 784 Warnings: I don’t know what it’s called, but basically someone being isolated with no means of escaping Wip: The Divine Characters: Kayara, the sacred entity (planet Earth)

: Taglist - @vacantgodling :

Let me know if you want to be added/removed !

I know who I am, strange as it is. I understood the moment I woke up in this lonely space. Permanently stuck in this orbit. I tried to leave once, but I can’t move. I can speak, however. I’m thankful that I can, this silence would’ve been unbearable otherwise.

There are others like me, I think. I can feel them. Like we’re linked despite the great distance between us. They are clear to me, much clearer than the planets in my own system. I'm unsure why I feel them, but perhaps it is because they too carry life. Small creatures we’ve tasked to protect. By who I don't know, but I won't fail them. There isn't much I can do, but I can do enough. Maybe they feel the same. This sense of guardianship, and strange kind of love.

I hope they do. I hope they love their humans just as much as I do.

All I know about them are the small bits of information that transfer between my humans. Things they talk about, gush about. Dream about. I can’t hear them as they speak, they are much too small. But I gain their knowledge. That’s how I know the name which they use to refer to me. That is how I know the names of the planets I feel so strongly connected to.

And it’s with the curiosity to learn more that I one day call out to them.

“Hello.” my voice is strange. It’s layered, and echoes. It’s feminine, masculine and androgynous all the same. But other than my voice, it is silent. It’s silent for a good while before I try again.

"The humans call me Earth, or Terra. But my name is Kayara." truthfully, I don't know how I came to learn my name. Nobody has used it when talking about me. But I know it's my name, just as I know I'm a planet. “What are your names?” it’s a greeting costum to my humans, the sharing of names. It’s how they connect, by sharing. Name, time, home, food. They love to share, maybe I can do the same.

When no answers come, I turn my attention to what I believe is the closest planet to me. Turquoise and golden in color. It is also the smallest. I’ve heard my humans tower over its humans.

"They call you Effedonia, right? You have what my humans call dragons. Giant reptiles that can fly. They're just myth here, but to you they're real. Do some of them spit fire?" it doesn’t answer. Maybe its sleeping, turned away from its sun. I don’t think I’ve ever slept, but perhaps it’s something I will do in the future. I might be too young still.

Effedonia deserves some rest, so I move on to the next. The planet is a cold shade of blue, witch white clouds swirling within its atmosphere.

"Malcedom, is it cold over there, wherever you are? I heard you're the farthest away from your sun out of us. In some of my colder regions it snows all year around. Do you have snow?" I can get cold sometimes, usually when my moon eclipses the sun. It’s possible Malcedom is constantly freezing, or at the very least cold. Does it ever long for warmth? My question goes unanswered.

There is only one planet left I feel connected too. Its the biggest of us all, and in a constant state of blushing.

"You're like me, Tsym. We're both the only planets in our systems with flowing water. But yours is pink! And you have crystal lakes that are exposed and safe to swim in. That's super cool!" my humans fawn over Tsym’s pink and shimmering ocean. Effedonia and Malcedom also have water, but it’s the same blue and transparent shade as mine. I wonder if their humans fawn over Tsym’s oceans too.

I wonder if all of their humans find me spectacular too. Perhaps in my diverse landscapes and climates. Perhaps the sheer depths of my ocean, the deepest of us all.

Nobody speaks. Nobody answers. It's quite. Always is unless I speak. Sometimes I wonder if my voice even reaches them at all. After all, I'm only a conscience. A psyche. I don't exist in the physical sense. And sound doesn’t travel in space, so my humans claim. But perhaps it’s different for me, different for them.

Maybe they hear me, but cannot themselves reply. Maybe I am the only one of my kind, and that no other planet can think and hear and speak like I do.

But I feel them. I know they're out there. I can't be alone.

I don't want to be alone.

"Please say something."

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #wip #drabble #wip drabble #wip : The Divine #this technically is incompadible with the timeline but shhhh #angst

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ocenitram · 2 years

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“ Well, yes. Snow is my stepdaughter and technically your big sister. So yes, Emmy here is your baby niece. “ The mayor explained to her son. She gave the fussy blonde a look- she was of course, right. “ Now there’s no need for those words. “ she scolded, and wanting to test if the curse was completely working, added “ Emma dear, are you done? Or does your little tummy feel funny and you need to potty more before I finish changing you?” She cooed.

“ Yes, go play” The mayor told Emma. “ Oh and Henry, let me know if something happens.l

( Text from Regina to Snow White) : “ Yes she’s here and in a bad mood. I wanted to ask, have you been letting her wear big girl pants? She had a messy present once she got here. And I didn’t think she was ready for that yet. “

Henry was going to counter argue but he thought about for a while before he nodded, "Yeah okay that makes sense but... forget it your right although if Snow is my big sister and Emma is my niece wouldn't that make you Emma's grandmother?" The young author asked Emma. "I wait what? " Emma was confused she wasn't understanding what ws going on "hey if your y grandmother that means you ow me a decade or two of presents and spoiling me," the blonde said realizing what was going on maybe a little too late "I can potty in the big people potty," the blonde said then all of a sudden the girl's stomach felt weird, "Yeah my tummy feels funny why?" She asked not realizing she started to go again. "I do want to play am a big girl," The blond pouted but for some reason or the other Emma went on to play with her uncle. "Sure, mom I will," Henry called out.

(Text Snow White to Regina) "No i havent that naughty girl i had no idea she was wearing some of my clothes all I have for her are her baby cloths if you need to you can teleport some of her baby clothing on to her that little rescale is in so much trouble when I get her home, I mean seriously she should know better by now she can't go a day without messing herself.

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highpressurephotography · 10 months

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JUNE 1, 2013 – MT SHUKSAN – SULPHIDE GLACIER

Last year at the end of May we attempted Mt Shuksan, and were shut down due to getting up to the pyramid a bit late, and the soft snow zapping the energy from the bootpackers in the group. This year we aimed to have everyone on skis, set a higher camp, and get up there a bit earlier.

We started on Saturday AM from the Shannon ridge TH, which was easily driveable, in contrast to last year where we added ~1 mile of road walking to our trip. There was also less snow up on the trail, as we walked up to the third switchback of the summer trail before hoofing it up the snowslopes to gain the ridge above.

Nicole and Erika heading on up through the trees

Lunchbreak under the tarp – this setup was just practice, but it was put to good use soon after!

Two climbers high up on the Sulphide glacier (view from ridge below notch). CLimbers are on slopes above the 6400′ bench

Soon the ridgelines started to disappear into grey…

Nicole and Erika making their way up to the notc. Baker Lake and weather behind.

Pulling up to the notch just in time to catch a rainstorm

We huddled under the tarp to keep dry in the intense but short rainstorm that passed through. The UW model proved fairly accurate with its midafternoon system moving through and then general, close clearing

cleared up enough for a rainbow

Traverse track from the notch around to the Sulphide glacier

Bryan leading the way across

clearing skies as we climbed the slopes up to 6400′ camp

camp… I love camps with views of starry skies…

good morning Baker

Little snow peak above camp

Summit pyramid visible from camp

Sunrise provided some amazing light as we prepared to head up to the pyramid

High on the Sulphide glacier

Northern Pickets from high up on the Sulphide. Mt Challenger is the largest peak on the left – its namesake glacier shrouded by clouds from this view. Phantom Peak is the high point on the right.

…amazing scenery…

…mountains and clouds…

Looking back down on camp (We are the two BD tents center left. Nols group above us)

scenery off to the right as we approached the pyramid

Nicole climbing through the upper Sulphide

Bryan taking in the views

Nicole topping out on the steep slopes above camp

…getting there…

Climbers on top – jealous!

We watched them pitch out walking down the gully. They didn’t appear to have much trouble, but did take their time, which was another reason we went over to the ridge around to the right.

Upon reaching the base of the pyramid, I pushed up onto the notch on the right hoping to get a view around of a scramble route to the top. It wasn’t promising, as exposed rock moves with downsloping slabs and partial snow cover would make the climbing committing. We hadn’t really prepared for a full on technical climb on the pyramid – just a few pieces of rock pro to back up raps if we needed to. Bryan scratched a ways up and checked out the route before pulling the plug on trying the ridge. Being that it was only 11AM, I wish we had taken a shot at going up the gully, but we were afraid that the detached rime ice that was prevalent everywhere would start raining down once the sun really started to work on the upper pyramid. Looking back now I think we would have been OK to shoot for it, and should have just taken a rope up to have a belay down for Nicole as we worked our way down. I was fairly bummed about being shut down again, but now we have an excuse to try an April Nooksak traverse trip… Baker ski area to Mt Shuksan via the White Salmon, then traverse out below the Nooksak ridge before climbing Ruth and Icy and out Hannegan Pass TH. More likely for the gully to be fatter and better for skiing then too!

We flipped it and started out ski down, enjoying lots of consolation turns on the way down. Up high the conditions were great corn, though the visibility kept us from being able to open it up too much, it was difficult enough just staying together.

Bryan about to ski the last slopes down to camp

Back at camp we ate some more food, hydrated and started the packup for the long ski and walk out. Despite the thick heavy snow below, I only wiped out once, in spectacular head over heels flip action. The tripod and random junk I had tacked onto the outside of the pack all made the flip with me, though!

And the timelapse turned out OK – was a bit cloudy in the middle of the night, and the method I was using to transition from night to day has still left some significant flickering… more practice needed there! Also think the tripod sunk into the snow as it was warmed by the sun in the morning… will need to fabricate some metal clamps to attach to the legs…. or maybe some sort of repurposed snowbaskets…

vimeo

#northcascades #shuksan #skiing #Vimeo

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tabletjust · 2 years

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I have no mouth and i must scream comic book

Throughout the story he exhibits symptoms of delusion and paranoia. He claims to be totally unaltered, mentally or physically, by AM, and thinks the other four hate him out of envy. * Ted, the narrator and youngest of the group. Described by Ted as having ebony skin, she is the only member of the group whose ethnicity or racial identity is explicitly mentioned. According to Ted, she finds pleasure in sex only with Benny, because of his large penis. The others, at different times, both protect her and abuse her. She claims to once have been chaste, that it was AM who altered her mind so that she became willing to be the group's shared prostitute. At times he is known to wander away from the group for unknown reasons, and returns visibly traumatized. * Nimdok (a name AM gave him), who persuades the rest of the group to go on a hopeless journey in search of canned food. His former sexuality has been lost he now regularly engages in sex with Ellen. Benny at some point lost his sanity completely and regressed to a child-like temperament. * Benny, who was once a brilliant, handsome, homosexual scientist, and has been mutilated and transformed so that he resembles an ugly simian with gigantic sexual organs. Gorrister was once an idealist and pacifist, before AM made him apathetic and listless. * Gorrister, who tells the history of AM for Benny's entertainment. * AM, the supercomputer who brought about the genocide of almost all of humanity. He derived the story's title, as well as inspiration for this story, from by a friend, William Rotsler. The name was also used for a short story collection of Ellison's work, featuring this story.Įllison wrote "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream" in a single night in 1966, making virtually no changes since the first draft. It was first published in the March 1967 issue of. " I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream" is a postapocalyptic science fiction short story by Harlan Ellison. Disneyland in Hong Kong opened its doors in September 2005.Dablink|For the 1995 computer game, see I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream (computer game). In 1983, Disneyland Tokyo opened in Japan, and in 1992 Disneyland Paris–or “EuroDisney”–opened to a mixed reaction in Marne-la-Vallee. Epcot Center, Disney-MGM Studios, and Animal Kingdom were later added to Walt Disney World, and it remains Florida’s premier tourist attraction. Walt Disney died in 1966, and Walt Disney World was opened in his honor on October 1, 1971. In 1965, work began on an even bigger Disney theme park and resort near Orlando, Florida. Special events and the continual building of new state-of-the-art attractions encouraged them to visit again. Toad’s Wild Ride, Snow White’s Adventures, Space Station X-1, Jungle Cruise, and Stage Coach drew countless children and their parents. The park was not ready for the public: food and drink ran out, a women’s high-heel shoe got stuck in the wet asphalt of Main Street USA, and the Mark Twain Steamboat nearly capsized from too many passengers.ĭisneyland soon recovered, however, and attractions such as the Castle, Mr. Unfortunately, the pass was counterfeited and thousands of uninvited people were admitted into Disneyland on opening day. In the summer of 1955, special invitations were sent out for the opening of Disneyland on July 17. Land was bought in the farming community of Anaheim, about 25 miles southeast of Los Angeles, and construction began in 1954. He intended Disneyland to have educational as well as amusement value and to entertain adults and their children. In the early 1950s, Walt Disney began designing a huge amusement park to be built near Los Angeles. His first feature-length cartoon, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1938), took three years to complete and was a great commercial success. From there on, Disney cartoons were in heavy demand, but the company struggled financially because of Disney’s insistence on ever-improving artistic and technical quality. It was the first animated film to use sound, and Disney provided the voice for Mickey. In 1928, his short film Steamboat Willy, starring the character “Mickey Mouse,” was a national sensation. Walt Disney, born in Chicago in 1901, worked as a commercial artist before setting up a small studio in Los Angeles to produce animated cartoons. READ MORE: Disneyland's Disastrous Opening Day Today, Disneyland hosts more than 18 million visitors a year, who spend close to $3 billion. The $17 million theme park was built on 160 acres of former orange groves in Anaheim, California, and soon brought in staggering profits. Disneyland, Walt Disney’s metropolis of nostalgia, fantasy and futurism, opens on July 17, 1955.

#I have no mouth and i must scream comic book

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inkykeiji · 4 years

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all she want is payback for the way i always play that shit

characters: dabi | todoroki touya

genre: smut + angst

notes: aaaah yikes, sorry it’s so long???? the first part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you wont make it back; touya + reader have been fooling around for just under six months, our innocent lil good girl reader is the teeniest, tiniest bit more firm now. jealousy makes people crazy, yk how it is. touya is marginally softer for like, a second or two. | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), public sex, cheating, drug use, generally toxic relationship (possessiveness, jealousy), size difference, dubcon if u squint i guess???, the tiniest bit of cumplay

words: 11k

synopsis:

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

In early February, your parents finally tie the knot.

“Now it’ll be official,” you remember Touya whispering in your ear, the night before. “I will officially be your niichan,”

The wedding is gorgeous—elegant and classy, just like Rei herself. A wintertime wedding is so beautiful, you tell Rei as she’s busy being fawned over by several stylists, adding the finishing touches to her hair and make up. She’s absolutely stunning, a lacy ivory dress clinging delicately to her small frame, accentuating her natural curves. It glitters gracefully in the pale sunshine streaming through the large bay windows, sparkling any time she moves.

Touya doesn’t sit with his family. Their eyes sear into your flesh, although Touya keeps his stare pointedly in front of him, glaring at the alter. But you can feel their gaze on your skin, can feel their eyes travelling up your body slowly, critically, sending shivers skittering up your spine. It makes your skin crawl, both of your hands curling around Touya’s, a tangled knot of fingers resting in your lap.

You’ve never seen his other siblings before. Rei talks about them sometimes, but never when Touya’s around. You know that once every month, the three of them join Rei and your father for a family dinner, but you’ve never had the pleasure of attending.

You’d missed the first family dinner by fluke, held up late at the library studying for midterms. But every occasion after that, Touya had made absolute certain that you weren’t there. You hadn’t thought much of it the first time it happened, too enraptured and tangled up in Touya to care, grinding desperately against him in the backseat of his car as his tongue forced its way down your throat. But then it happens again, and again, and it becomes too coincidental to ignore.

“Why do we never go to those dinners with your siblings?” you’d tried to bring it up subtly the third time you guys skipped out on dinner, heart thudding in your chest and gentle voice quivering slightly.

Touya sighed, raking a hand through his hair roughly, eyes not straying from the road ahead of him. It’s complicated, he told you in a quiet voice, and you were so startled, so shocked by his sheer, unadulterated honesty, that you couldn’t find your voice, rendering you incapable of replying. Touya didn’t bother looking over at you, didn’t need to, to know that his response surprised you.

The other Todoroki’s are all strikingly beautiful—not that you expected any less. The one with pure snow-white hair and gunmetal grey eyes captures your attention the most, looking as if he’s around your age. He smirks at you when he catches your stare, giving you a small, polite nod—though you can see that tiny glint of mischief in his eye, the same glint you’ve seen in Touya’s a thousand times before. Choking on a surprised gasp, you rapidly avert your gaze, eyes snapping back to the pile of hands in your lap.

Touya notices, of course, because Touya notices everything. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand squeezes yours tightly, just a little too tight to be comforting, as his eyes dart to his siblings across the aisle, glare losing most of its heat when it meets his brother’s stare.

Tense shoulders relax, falling slowly with the measured breath he exhales as he turns back to glower at the alter.

You know other guests are staring at you—you can feel their eyes, too. You know the pair of you look more like a couple than siblings, know you should both probably put some distance between yourselves, at least try to keep some semblance of normalcy, some masquerade of a typical sibling relationship.

But Touya’s knee is bouncing, and he seems…unsure. It’s unsettling, really—Touya always seems so confident in himself—and you can almost feel the tense anxiety rolling off of him in heavy waves. So instead of scooting away from him or untangling your hands, your other palm finds a spot high on the thigh pressed tightly against yours, small fingers beginning to knead the flesh.

Sapphire eyes find yours, and he gazes down at you with an odd sense of fondness in his stare, the tiniest smile ghosting across his lips. It makes your chest swell with pride, makes you want to grab his face and crash his lips against yours, forces a tingling warmth to spread through your veins. It shouldn’t, but it does.

He barely lets you leave his side that day, keeps you glued to his body, an arm wrapped tightly around you. He’s a constant, looming, protective presence, glaring at anyone who dares to look at you for more than a second.

“Touya-nii,” you laugh a little while leaving the ceremony, watching as one of your cousins immediately averts their eyes. “That’s my cousin,”

“And I’m your brother,” he says flatly.

You suppose he has a point.

The two of you find your parents and the rest of Touya’s siblings—yours too, now, you guess—standing around a limousine, beckoning you over.

Rei begins to explain their protocol for pictures—and yes, you both have to come—but you aren’t listening. Their eyes are on you again, you can feel them, gliding up your skin, taking sharp note of the way Touya has you pressed flush against him, the way your arm is wrapped firmly around his waist, little fingers twisting in his suit jacket as your heart begins to speed up.

Touya can feel it, too, and he looks down at you in concern, his thumb caressing your shoulder, before he meets the stares of his siblings with a glare so ferocious you’re surprised it doesn’t turn them to ash on the spot.

They offer for you to ride in the limo with the rest of them, Touya cutting them off as he curtly declines their offer—no thanks, you’ll take his car instead and meet them there.

Rei tries to reason with him, but the pointed look he gives her causes her to trail off mid-sentence, holding his eyes for a moment before a sad smile settles on her face, nodding once.

✰ ✰ ✰

Shinjuku Gyoen is nothing short of stunning in the wintertime. It had snowed this morning, around six AM, blanketing the garden in a soft layer of pure white powder, glittering delicately in the early afternoon sun.

Wide eyes drink it in as your face presses against the glass of the car window, your breath fogging it up. There’s something so whimsical and dreamy about snow, you think, about the way it softens even the sharpest of edges, the way it makes everything look prettier.

“You’re so cute,” Touya remarks, watching you from the corner of his eye, a hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’ve never been here during the winter,” you murmur in response, still captivated by the grounds.

Rei and your father are immediately whisked away by several photographers to do their photos alone, leaving the rest of you to litter the parking lot.

But the moment they disappear from view, Touya’s got you trapped between his body and the cold metal of his car, lips moving against the shell of your ear as he whispers filthy promises, things that force soft whimpers from your lips, things that make your legs feel like they’re about to give out as heat pools deep in your belly. He knows, of course, smirks and teases you even more when he feels you squeeze your thighs together helplessly, tells you you’re his perfect little slut and vows to reward you for being so good as soon as he can.

His other siblings are staring, you try to tell him in a quiet, broken whine.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, pushing his hips harder into yours, practically grinding his hard cock against your waist. “Let ‘em. I bet they’d love to watch me fuck you stupid, huh? What do you think about that, baby? You want them to watch?”

A pathetic sound hitches in your throat and you bury your burning face in his neck, a low, wicked laugh rumbling deep in his chest.

He doesn’t let up on the absolute filth spilling from his mouth until he can hear your father hollering in the distance, calling for the kids and waving the five of you over.

✰ ✰ ✰

Pictures take too long, and Touya’s antsy by the end of it, picking anxiously at his cuticles as his knee bounces. He’s hauling you out of there the moment you’re officially released, a strong hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. You can hear his mother calling for him, and you look back at her desperately, mirroring her worried frown.

He doesn’t even wait for the rest of them to pile into the limo and leave, immediately rooting through his pockets the moment he’s in the safety of his own car, pulling out a little baggie of white powder. He can feel your wide eyes on him, watching his every movement, but his hands are beginning to shake, and panic is starting to rip viciously at his throat, and he just needs it all to fucking stop.

“There’s no way I could endure this shit sober,” he explains as he searches for something in the powder, cursing when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. Frantic cobalt eyes dart around the car, landing on the glovebox, and he leans over you, hastily pulling a reflective object from the compartment.

It’s a mirror.

A tiny, circular mirror that he uses to tap out a line, fingers unsteady and breathing slightly laboured. The gentle sounds of his platinum credit card colliding with glass echo throughout the car.

Hovering over the small mirror, he pauses, a finger pressed to his nostril. He almost wants to tell you to look away, almost does, but he knows you’d disobey either way.

He doesn’t like doing drugs in front of you—you’re too precious, too pure and innocent and he doesn’t want you around anything that could potentially tarnish that. But he also can’t stand that look you get in your eyes, almost like you’re scared of him, on the rare occasions that you have caught him.

He nearly snaps at you when you quietly ask if you can help, if he needs someone to hold the mirror steady, currently balancing on the center console compartment, but you’ve got that goddamn look in your eyes, wide and terrified.

No, he says sternly, telling you that he doesn’t even want you near this stuff, much less touching it.

But cocaine highs don’t last long, he explains to you when you ask about the little round white pills clacking together in his pocket. You’re positive he shouldn’t be mixing drugs like that, positive that your apprehension and disapproval are written clearly across your face, based on the simmering look he shoots at you.

Don’t fucking start.

So you don’t. You swallow down your worries and sit nice and pretty and good for him, just like you’re supposed to.

✰ ✰ ✰

He only leaves you twice, briefly, throughout the entire night. The first is almost immediately after you enter the reception venue.

Depositing you near the head table, he tells you to stay put before he hurries away. You know where he’s going, what he’s about to do, an odd ache taking root and throbbing deep in your chest.

He’d scold you if he could see you, able to read your expressions like a fucking book, would tell you not to cry for him—he doesn’t need your pity. The words cut through your mind in a snarl, and you work hard to rid your face of the frown marring it; he’s already having such a difficult time today, and the last thing you want to do is upset him more with your concern.

Distraction, you need a distraction. Wide eyes scan the extravagant ballroom, all shimmering golds and beiges and crystal chandeliers, searching in a frenzy for something—anything—to rid your mind of images of pretty boys with inky hair and white, white, white.

You swear you hear your name, then Touya’s, hissed out in a sharp whisper, and your gaze lands on a small group of people not too far from you, with snow and fire for hair—the other Todoroki’s, huddled in a loose circle.

The air around you just feels off, you catch his sister saying in a low but frantic voice, eyes darting between her brothers. She sounds worried about you, you think, and it makes you feel weird. She shouldn’t be worried about you; Touya takes fantastic care of you. It isn’t any of their business anyway, you can almost hear Touya sneering in your head, and he’s right. You know he’s right.

Her brothers don’t look too keen on discussing the subject, especially the youngest, who keeps pulling at his collar and fidgeting with his cufflinks.

“Well, why don’t you go and tell her that yourself,” the one with white hair says, grey eyes connecting with yours. She whirls around quickly, mouth snapping shut when she finds your face. Her lips morph into a smile half a second later, and she waves you over.

You avert your eyes, hands tangling nervously in front of you. No. You shouldn’t go. You really, really shouldn’t go. Touya told you to stay put, and you can’t bear to think—don’t even want to consider—how furious he’d be if he found that not only had you moved, but you had moved to talk to his siblings.

You must spend too much time deliberating, though, looking back up to find them advancing towards you, only a few feet away. Your heart’s pounding almost violently in your chest, breath accelerating with each step closer.

“Hi,” she’s saying warmly as she reaches you, causing you to subconsciously take a step back. “We haven’t had a chance to meet. I’m Fuyumi,”

You want to say your name, to introduce yourself politely, but your lips are sealed shut, only able to manage a small sound of affirmation.

“Shouto,” the youngest says, cold heterochromatic eyes glancing at you for a moment before looking away. “M’Shouto,”

“I’m Natsuo,” the man with white hair smirks down at you, eyes burning into yours.

Some of your anxiety melts away as you meet his stone eyes; there’s something comforting about the way that he has Touya’s smirk, Touya’s mischievous glint to his gaze, Touya’s playful lilt to his voice.

You feel like you can breathe again when you’re looking at Natsuo, so you keep your stare directed at him as you stutter out your name, gazing up at him through your lashes.

“You always miss the family dinners,” Natsuo accuses with a knowing smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Y’know, eventually, our parents are going to catch on,”

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, chills crawling on your skin. He knows?

And he says it so nonchalantly, so casually, as if he’s discussing the weather and not the fact that Touya deliberately kidnaps you to fuck your brains out in his car every single time they gather for one of those dinners. Fuyumi and Shouto look over at him with brows furrowed in confusion, but you choke on a gasp, coughing a little and nodding.

Touya returns then, saving you from having to respond.

“What’s wrong?” he’s asking immediately as his hands find purchase on your hips, pulling you back against his chest and wrapping his arms around you. A soft sigh leaves your lips as you lean on him, heart finally beginning to slow.

“N-Nothing, niichan,” you wrap your arms around his, hugging them to your chest, and he squeezes you in reassurance.

“You sure, baby?” Sapphire eyes search your face as you tilt your head back to look up at him, scanning for any sign of distress.

He shouldn’t be using that pet name here, not in front of his blood siblings, not loud enough that any of the passing guests can hear him with ease.

He shouldn’t.

But that doesn’t stop it from sending sparks skittering up your spine, heat beginning to coil in your tummy. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said you didn’t get some sort of twisted satisfaction at the loud gasp that leaves Fuyumi’s chest, or the sharp intake of breath Shouto chokes on, coughing as he tries to cover it up, all at the drop of that one, simple, four letter word.

Touya loves it, too—you can see it in the way his smirk grows into a full smile, a grin big enough to crinkle the edges of his eyes, can see it in his gaze, in the way his cobalt eyes almost sparkle at their reactions.

Your gaze flits back to the three people standing in front of you—your step-siblings, your mind corrects—eyes gliding over their faces slowly.

Natsuo looks thoroughly entertained, a stupid little grin stretched across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes. Fuyumi and Shouto, on the other hand, look thoroughly uncomfortable, shifting a little in place, their faces screwed up with poorly masked disgust.

Touya’s smile drops the moment he looks back at them. Azure eyes scan the faces of his siblings cautiously, giving Natsuo one quick, sharp nod of acknowledgment before his gaze lands on the youngest. And the glare Touya gives him is nothing short of terrifying, practically snarling at the boy, a rough, dangerous sound that gets lodged deep in his chest. It makes the boy cower away, shuffling ever-so-slightly closer to his sister, who shakily glares back.

Lips tugging down into a frown, you look up at Touya, forehead creasing in confusion. He’s still glowering at the kid, eyes narrowing just a little before he huffs and turns away, leaving without speaking a word to any of them.

“Don’t you ever talk to them again,” he’s murmuring as he whisks you away, something malicious in his voice. “You’re my little sister,”

You nod obediently, promising him that you won’t, reassuring him that you didn’t even want to as you relay the entire situation. But he can see it, the curiosity swirling in your eyes, a question dancing on your tongue.

Because although Touya appears to be on seriously awful terms with his younger siblings, Natsuo seems to be some sort of exception. From the interaction you just witnessed, you’re able to deduce that something, some line of communication, must be present between Touya and Natsuo, evident in their shared looks and swift, discreet nods.

He sighs, irritation coating his voice as he demands that you spit it out already.

It makes you jump a little, but the words come tumbling out of your mouth the moment he commands them to, powerless to disobey a direct order.

“Does that include Natsuo?”

Your voice is so tiny that he barely hears you, brows knitting together. There’s an odd look in his eye as he observes you—something that isn’t quite jealousy, but close to it—nose twitching a little as he considers.

“Alone, yes,” he finally says. “With me around it’s fine, I guess. But you are not to speak to him alone, do you hear me?”

Yes, niichan, of course, niichan.

✰ ✰ ✰

Dinner is absolute torture, and the two of you can barely keep your hands off of each other. It starts innocently enough, discreetly enough, with palms on thighs, fingers brushing down arms, hands interlaced under the table. But the need to touch grows, and grows, and grows, these simple actions too teasing to satisfy that dull burning in the pit of your stomach, flaring a little more each time his fingers press into your thigh, or his thumb runs across your knuckles.

And you shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t start acting up now, not while the two of you are seated at the head table, looking out amongst the guests—a few months ago, you would’ve never thought to do something so indecent, so dangerous, in such a public place. But you just can’t help it, you’re getting restless now, brain going hazy with thoughts of him as your fingers trail up his thigh and ghost over his lap.

“Getting bold, are we, princess?” his hand catches your wrist, holding your palm in place and grinding up into it. His voice is low, head tipped towards you, sapphire eyes dark. A breath catches in your throat and he smirks, an evil little quirk up of his lips, raising an eyebrow at you in expectation.

You’re lucky they’re seated in a straight line instead of a circle, he murmurs in your ear, Natsuo snickering beside him. “Imagine what your daddy would think if he could see you, acting like such a desperate little slut in front of all of these people,”

A soft, broken moan escapes your lips without your permission, thighs squeezing together in an attempt to combat the heat pooling in your panties. Someone down the line of the table says something, but you’re too enticed by Touya to hear them, your father writing off whatever the remark was with an easygoing smile.

“Oh, those two are always in their own little world,” you hear him dismiss, voice sounding muddled and distant.

“Be a good girl and sit still,” Touya growls in your ear, grip tightening to near bruising.

“But niichan,” you whine, much too loud, gazing at him with glazed, blown eyes. “Niichan,” you repeat, leaning forward to whimper in his ear, fingers flexing around the bulge in his trousers. “N-Need you,”

“If you can’t behave, niichan won’t let you cum later,” he breathes, though his voice is stern, heavy with the weight of the threat.

A pout forms on your lips as he releases your wrist, firmly placing your hand back in your lap and holding it there for a moment, a silent warning for your wandering fingers to stay put.

But he’s up and out of his chair the instant dinner’s over, moving so quick his seat wobbles a little as he grasps your hand tightly in his, practically yanking you up and dragging you along behind him.

The best thing about these fancy venues, he’s telling you as he strides through the halls, cerulean eyes searching for something, is that they have single person washrooms.

The granite is cold on your cheek as Touya shoves you up against the wall, head bouncing a little as it whacks against it.

You whine and he laughs, a cruel, piercing sound echoing off the walls.

“Aw, baby,” he coos contemptuously. “Did that hurt?”

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, eyes squeezing shut against the throbbing pain radiating through your cheek.

“Poor little thing,” he hisses, lips against your ear as his hands begin to bunch up your dress, gliding over your silk covered thighs, hands fisting in the material as he goes. Pushing it up around your waist, he leans back, hands travelling over the globes of your ass and kneading hard enough to make you cry out.

“You’re a slutty little brat, y’know that?”

Deft fingers hook in the waistband of your thong, all delicate baby pink lace, Touya snickering about how much of a whore you are, wearing such skimpy, slutty panties, as he lets the elastic snap back against your skin.

A little shocked gasp escapes your lips as he begins tugging the dainty fabric down your thighs—you had expected him to merely push them to the side, but he forces you to take them off entirely, stuffing the soaked material in his pocket.

“You think you can just tease niichan like that and get away with it?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head against the wall.

“No,” he murmurs, hips grinding against your bare ass. “Good girls don’t tease their niichans without delivering, do they?”

“No,”

“On your knees,” he orders, spinning you around and stepping back just enough to allow you to sink to the floor. “Get my cock wet,”

Little fingers work quickly, eager to obey, as they undo his pants, practically salivating as you free his cock from its confines.

“Your cock’s so pretty, niichan,” you breathe, eyes glittering with pure, potent desire as you take it in your hands, tongue darting out to trace the prominent veins.

“No teasing,” he growls, a hand knotting in your hair. “I wanna see you choke on it,”

You nod as best you can, mouth instantly falling open, reduced to nothing more than a wet, warm little hole for him to stuff.

And then he’s shoving it down your throat, the hand fisted in your hair holding your head still, and you gag around it almost immediately, working to force you jaw open even more.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he rasps out, voice echoing off the walls of the washroom.

The praise has your heart soaring, has you sucking hard around him as he thrusts into your mouth, coating his cock in thick saliva and desperate to hear more. It’s intoxicating, every quiet moan you manage to pull from him, every breathless good girl that falls from his lips, makes you feel lightheaded and heady and dizzy for more.

His hips pump a few more times before he’s pulling you off his cock completely, devious smirk forming on his lips at your whine of protest, and commanding you to go bend over the sink.

Calloused hands are bunching your dress up around your waist again, toe of his shoe kicking at your inner ankles and forcing your feet further apart.

He doesn’t bother stretching you out, not because he doesn’t have the time to, but because he simply doesn’t want to. It’s truly one of his favourite things, to see tears fill your eyes while his cock stretches your cute little pussy, and he knows you love it too, don’t you?

Yes, niichan, of course you do.

His cock glistens with your saliva, sufficiently wet that it slides in easily enough, with minimal pain for him. And the soft groan he lets out as he watches your little hole struggle to take him, paired with your sweet little whimpers of his name, is nothing short of gorgeous.

It has your pussy fluttering around him, pulling a breathless chuckle from his lips as he fills you to the hilt, hips pressed against your ass.

And then doesn’t fucking move.

Your brow furrows, eyes meeting his in the mirror. You try to fuck yourself back on him, but he’s too quick, hands stilling your hips immediately and tutting in disapproval.

“Niichan,” you whimper. “N-Niichan, please fuck me,”

“Do you think you deserve it?” he’s asking, tongue tracing the shell of your ear as he holds your gaze through the mirror. “After the way you behaved at dinner?”

“M’sorry,” you whine, wiggling back against him, his fingers digging into your flesh as he stops them, grip tightening. “Couldn’t help it, wanted you so bad,”

“Of course you couldn’t,” he smirks, hips starting to move slowly, teasingly, stilling after only three simple thrusts. A hand reaches down and finds your clit, forcing a gasp from you as his thumb brushes over it, back and forth, back and forth, featherlight grazes that have you arching back into him, trying to press further into his touch.

“Think you can cum just like this for me?” he asks, beginning to thrust shallowly again, just enough to have the head of his cock dragging against that spot buried deep inside your cunt, that spot he knows so well, then nudging your cervix. “Hmm?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, breath starting to come out in short little pants.

“Then do it,” he demands in a whisper, eyes still holding yours. “Show niichan how pretty you look, cumming all over his cock,”

And the combination of his deep, rough voice rumbling against your back as praises tumble from his lips, his thumb and cock, and the fact that anyone within a fifteen foot radius of this washroom could probably hear you, has you cumming within minutes with a sharp cry of Touya-nii!

Touya laughs at how pathetically quickly you came, about how easy it is to have you creaming on his cock, heat seeping into your cheeks as you try to look away.

“My turn,” he breathes, yanking your head back up by your hair, fingers finding root in the intricate updo that has begun to fall apart. “And I wanna see your face as I fuck you, so keep your damn head up,”

And then he’s slamming into you with enough vigour to propel you forward, face pressed against the mirror, toes barely touching the ground. Every moan and whimper and mewl he forces from your throat fogs up the glass, leaving tiny glistening drops of condensation as they fade.

You’re trying so hard to keep your eyes open, to watch him as he fucks you, because he always looks so damn pretty.

He’s stupidly attractive, with his shirtsleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, first few buttons undone and collar popped, revealing his sharp collarbone, smooth ivory skin stretched taut across it. Ebony hair clings to his forehead and neck delicately, coated in sweat, and he’s emitting the most glorious noises, heavy pants and little broken whines, peppered with praise.

Nails bite into your flesh as he holds you in place, hips snapping relentlessly, your fingers curling around the porcelain sink.

“You want niichan’s cum?” he growls in your ear, eyes burning into yours. You whimper in response, nodding against the mirror. “Yeah? Then fucking beg for it.”

Pleads are spilling from your lips immediately, nothing but senseless babbling as he pounds into you.

“Please, niichan, please, need it, your cum, stuff me with your cum,”

“That’s it,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “I want every single person in this godforsaken hall to hear you, I want every single person to know how much of—” he cuts himself off with a shuddery curse. “—How much of a slut my baby sister is,”

“Pretty please,” you whine out the words, eyes rolling back in your head. “Fill me up with your cum, niichan, I-I want it,”

His hips still just as your cunt clenches around him, cockhead pressed tightly against your cervix as he fills you with hot, thick ropes of cum.

He pulls out a few moments later, and you uncurl your fingers from around the rim of the sink, wincing at your appearance; lips bitten raw, hair beginning to fall from it’s elegant style, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

You look back at him to find him already staring at you, expectantly, impatiently, hands jittery as he quirks his head towards the door.

“We can’t leave together,” he says, as if it’s obvious, even though you stumbled into the washroom together twenty minutes ago.

He needs more.

You nod, slow and dumb, staggering a little on your trembling legs. Grasping the doorknob you pause, turning to look at him again.

“What?” he asks as he searches through his pockets, not bothering to glance at you. He can feel your eyes on him.

“Um...” you shift nervously from foot to foot, lip caught between your teeth.

He looks over at you sharply, brows rising as if to ask why are you still here?

“M-My panties, niichan,”

Oh.

A wicked smirk spreads across his face, eyes twinkling, brows relaxing.

“What about them?”

“Well, I—I can’t return to the reception without them,”

“Oh, and why not?”

You pause, blinking a few times, at a loss for words. Why not? Because you can feel his cum beginning to trickle out of you, mixing with your juices and dribbling down your inner thigh?

“Exactly,” he says, when you take too long to reply. “Now be a good little girl and go. I’ll be out soon,”

✰ ✰ ✰

You don’t go back into the ballroom, terrified that you’ll be ambushed by his—your—siblings again. Collapsing in one of the plush chairs, you cross your quivering legs tightly in a desperate attempt to keep the cum oozing out of you from getting on your dress.

People are looking again, probably think you’re drunk based on the way you teetered over to the seat, or the way your hair’s begun to come undone from it’s intricate updo, wispy strands framing your face.

He returns from the washroom only a few minutes later, eyes finding you immediately. There’s a stupid, smug smirk on his face, thinks it’s so cute that he fucked you so good you can’t walk, can’t even get up, that you need your niichan to help you.

A pout forms on your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Not funny,”

“Very funny,” he chuckles as his hands snake under your armpits, hauling you to your feet. You stumble a little, bumping into him and he laughs again, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and propping you up against him.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,”

“Oh, niichan,” you murmur and he pauses, glancing over at you. You reach up, your thumb swiping across his nose to collect excess white powder.

“Thanks,” he breathes, winking at you. You hum noncommittally, about to rub your thumb across his white dress shirt to clean it when he catches your hand, bringing your thumb to his lips and licking it instead.

It isn’t discreet. It’s slow and deliberate, tongue sticking out of his mouth, flattening it against your thumb and dragging it up, from base to tip. You’re sure someone saw that, but you can’t be bothered to care, not when another bout of intense heat rushes to your core, forcing you to squeeze your legs together, trying in vain to keep Touya’s cum from seeping out, from your juices traveling down your leg. A soft whimper leaves your lips, breathing beginning to accelerate as your eyes bore into his, now half-lidded and dark. He holds your gaze for a moment before something snaps.

“We need to go,” he says, voice firm with no room for negotiation. “Now.”

And, God, his voice is rough and raw and fucking dripping with desire. It’s got you nodding before he’s even finished speaking, a flock of butterflies invading your stomach at the downright sinful grin he gives you in response. Such a good girl for him.

Despite the fact that you’ve barely recovered from your previous orgasm, you nearly moan at his look alone, the urge to kiss him burning through your veins and alighting your entire body in direct juxtaposition to the shivers his eyes just sent rippling across your skin. The insatiable need overwhelms your senses, and it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous, how captivated he has you, entirely wrapped around his slim finger and hanging on his every word, how you’re positive that, in that moment, you’d do anything he asked.

You wobble awkwardly in your heels, legs still shaking and having trouble keeping up with Touya’s swift pace. You’re about to ask him to slow down just a little so you don’t break an ankle, when you bump into your father.

Who just so happens to provide you with the perfect excuse to leave early. You can practically see the gears clicking into place in Touya’s mind, sapphire eyes glittering as a sinister smirk spreads across his face.

Your father’s eyes widen as he observes your appearance, strands of hair sticking to your clammy face and eyes half-lidded, chapped lips beginning to crack, leaning heavily against Touya and seemingly too weak to stand on your own.

“Hi dad,” you greet hoarsely, wincing a little at how grating your voice sounds.

He frowns immediately. “Jesus, sweetheart, are you feeling alright? You look…” he trails off, forehead wrinkling with worry.

“Oh, she’s not feeling too good,” Touya says softly, smoothly, just the right amount of concern and compassion in his tone.

“Oh no,” your father breathes, frown deepening. “That’s terrible,” he clicks his tongue with a shake of his head. “Do you think you’ll be able to tough out the rest of the reception?”

You begin to croak out an answer, but Touya speaks over you.

“She’s burning up, sir,” he informs him, and it isn’t a lie—not exactly, anyway. Technically, if your father were to feel your forehead, your body temperature would be above average, a result of Touya fucking the absolute life out of you a mere ten minutes ago.

Touya looks down at you with painfully sympathetic eyes, but you can still see that little glint of mischief, buried under all of that artificial benevolence.

“Maybe I should take her home?” Touya muses, looking back at your father, mimicking his anxiety effortlessly.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. “I think that’s the best thing to do,” his eyes dart to yours. “You really don’t look well,”

Oh, you’re sure you don’t. Resting a little more against Touya, you play up the symptoms a bit, whimpering quietly as little fingers twist in his shirt, nuzzling your face against his side. A soft noise of endearment sounds at the back of his throat, large hands readjusting your body to support you better.

Another whimper falls from your lips, but this time it isn’t from pretending you’re ill. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, slimy and cool as it drips down your inner thigh, and a sick thrill shoots through your body, abused cunt throbbing greedily.

Rei comes up behind your father then, wrapping her arms around his midsection and resting her chin on his shoulder, eyes flitting between the two of you carefully.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“I’m gonna bring this little princess home,” Touya explains, nodding his head at you in indication as he speaks. “She isn’t feeling very well, poor thing,”

And it’s scary, scary how terrific he is at lying, how easily he slips into that niichan role, the one painstakingly crafted and flawlessly maintained around your parents, the one he’s perfected at this point.

Rei doesn’t say much, only cooing in sympathy, remarking that it’s such a shame, but your father’s eyes soften. “Such a good big brother,” he praises, clapping a hand on Touya’s shoulder.

Touya has to consciously work to smother the smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he responds.

“You have no idea,”

✰ ✰ ✰

Your parents don’t come home that night, opting to go straight to the airport from the venue, embarking on their honeymoon immediately.

It’s nice, playing house with Touya, having the entire place completely to yourselves. He’s been home an awful lot these past few weeks, more than he ever has in the past, and you get to experience things you never could before.

Every morning and every night, you cook breakfast and dinner together. You go grocery shopping together, wash the dishes together, fold the laundry together, all while stealing kisses in between; little domestic things you didn’t really do with your parents around.

You spend every night that they’re away in his bed, being fucked into his mattress, surrounded by the smell of him—campfire and Marlboros and expensive cologne—absolutely full of him in every sense.

You wake up in the mornings with his hand between your legs, playing with your cute little clit, or his cock pressed against your ass, grinding until you wake up. You have sleepy, slow morning sex while you’re both still half asleep, and it’s the most gentle he’s ever been. It consists of lazy, sloppy, messy thrusts against each other, hips meeting halfway—just grinding until he gets too impatient, though he usually lets you cum two or three times before he finally flips you over, trapping you under his body and slamming his hips into you, growling and grunting, your legs pushed up and folded on either side of you.

You get to fuck in the kitchen—not that you hadn’t before, but this time you get to take it slow. He eats you out while you sit on the counter and then fucks you into oblivion and it’s nasty, it’s disgusting, it’s so good. He cums so much that it’s leaking out of you, onto the counter, his chest heaving as he observes it with an odd little smile and a soft “fuck,”

And you get to fuck in the bathtub, that big jacuzzi in your parents room, water and bubbles sloshing around as you bounce on his cock, loud cries echoing off the walls.

It’s going great, until the last weekend of the honeymoon, a mere few days before your parents are supposed to return.

✰ ✰ ✰

A party.

Keigo tries to talk him out of it, tries to at least talk him out of letting you stay.

“She shouldn’t be here,” you hear Keigo hiss under his breath as guests begin to fill the house, Touya snorting in retort.

Keigo doesn’t think you should be around any of this at all—there’s no reason you should have to witness this shit, you catch him growling, gold eyes blazing. No, not a poor innocent babygirl like you, this isn’t the place for you.

But Touya’s too stubborn, too selfish to let Keigo take you out for the night. He knows he’s right, would rather not have you around these people, but he doesn’t have a fucking choice. The thought of you being out of his sight, out with another man, has anxiety rising in his throat, panic clawing at his chest.

As a result, you spend the entirety of the party being passed between Touya and Keigo. There are so many girls here, so many people you don’t know, wide eyes scanning the living room as your fingers twist in Keigo’s hoodie.

Niichan’s busy, Touya tells you, when you ask why you can’t just stay with him, when you ask where he keeps disappearing off to. Niichan’s working, don’t you know? Be a good girl and stay with Kei.

You can tell that Keigo isn’t happy about it. He coos softly when you timidly ask if he’s upset that he’s stuck babysitting you all night, in the middle of an apology when he cuts you off.

“It isn’t your fault, songbird,” he murmurs, gentle fingers tracing the curve of your face.

He’s even angrier at Touya when he takes that first girl back to his room, because the look on your face—the way it crumples accompanied by a soft, hurt sound caught at the back of your throat—kills him.

And it isn’t like you don’t know about his side whores. You do. They’re customers, he had snapped at you, the only time you had ever asked about it. But it’s an entirely different thing to actually have to witness it with your own eyes.

You can’t help the flare of jealousy that rises in your chest every time he takes a girl by the hand and leads them to his bedroom. It stings, burns, feels like a fire’s been lit in your chest, filling your lungs with dense smoke and making it hard for you to breathe.

Keigo tries his best to distract you, gentle fingers on your cheeks turning your face towards him, golden eyes softening in sympathy. He keeps you as preoccupied as he can, but it still isn’t enough. Your eyes are drawn to Touya every time he’s in the room—an automatic, instinctual reaction you couldn’t control even if you wanted to.

And every time you watch a girl giggle into his ear, or hop up with him, that fire smoldering in your chest blazes, rages, has you wheezing and hissing and pressing a palm flat against yourself, a desperate attempt to get the pain to stop.

Tomura’s here, too, though he’s sitting in a shrouded corner on his phone, the light from the screen reflected on his pale face, colours flashing intermittently. He looks absorbed with whatever he’s doing on there—probably playing a game, Keigo tells you, but why are you interested, anyway?

You don’t know, you aren’t sure, you can’t exactly put it into words. He terrifies you, but he sparks a morbid curiosity in you, too. He’s so silent, private, almost inobtrusive; and yet Touya never lets you anywhere near him. Your eyes keep flitting his way, as if trying to will something to happen, staring at him longingly and hoping he’ll look up from his phone for a split second and catch your gaze, that he’ll somehow magically get the hint that you’re desperate and dying to talk to him, and take the first step.

But it doesn’t happen.

Touya is thoroughly unimpressed each and every time he finds you sitting on Keigo’s knee or lap, leaning back against his chest as he speaks with that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, but there isn’t much he can do. The third time he returns to take you from his friend he can tell you’re beginning to get tired, can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re cuddling into a warm chest. He debates sending you to bed right then and there, but you protest, little hands tangling in Keigo’s hoodie.

“Aw, she’s alright for a little more, isn’t she?”

Touya’s sharp jaw clenches twice and he exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darting between your faces.

“Fine,” he says, although it doesn’t seem fine.

And you are exhausted, straddling Keigo’s hips, face pressed into his shoulder and hot breath evening out softly against his neck. Fingers ghost up and down your spine nonchalantly as Keigo talks softly to the people around him, his laugh vibrating against your chest and filling you with an odd, tingly sensation, a warmth that seeps through your body. You snuggle a little closer to him and he coos, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him.

“Don’t wanna go to bed with him,” you whisper, words muffled by his skin.

Keigo hums in question, squeezing you once. “Who, songbird?” he presses his lips to your ear as inconspicuously as he can, lidded gold eyes lazily scanning the room for your brother. “Touya?”

You nod sluggishly, little fingers curling in his hoodie, a silent plea not to let you go.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Keigo says softly with a small chuckle, but it sounds off to your ears—sad, even.

“Don’t wanna,” you repeat, pout evident in your voice. “Wanna stay with you,”

You wouldn’t have noticed the way his chest hitches at those four words if you weren’t pressed flush against it. But you feel it, feel his breath getting caught in his throat, reverberating against you as he clears it quietly. Unexpected guilt sours your mouth, makes your stomach turn to a block of heavy lead, weighting your body down.

“You know you can’t, sweetheart,” he finally responds, voice cracking just a bit, right on that last word. “Don’t hurt your niichan like that, he loves you,”

No he doesn’t, you want to say, but you can’t seem to force the words from your mouth, opting to shake your head instead, eyes shutting tightly against the burn of tears.

“He does,” Keigo says, more sternly this time. “Don’t doubt that,”

But you’re not so sure. If Touya loved you—really loved you—would he have disappeared no less than three times tonight, each with a different girl, leading them into his bedroom with those dark glittering sapphire eyes while they gaze up at him like he hung the fucking moon himself?

Honestly, is that even a question you want answered?

You keep your face buried in Keigo’s chest to block it out, to keep yourself from watching your big brother as he flits around the room, handing out discreet baggies in exchange for ridiculous wads of cash and talking in hushed voices, in code, to men who look much too old to be at a house party.

Eventually, Touya returns to retrieve you, bending down and speaking softly.

“It’s time for bed, princess,” A hand pets your head, and you flinch away.

“Hey,” you feel the couch dip beside you as he sits down. “Look at me,”

You’re shaking your head, trying in vain to press even closer to Keigo, but that doesn’t stop Touya from reaching out and gripping your chin, forcing you to face him.

Crystal eyes search your face carefully, wide and alert—he always works sober, you found out. He can tell you’re upset, can see it written plain as day across your face, eyes glassy with your lips set in a deep pout, eyebrows pushed together. Exhaling harshly, he closes his eyes, fingers rubbing at his eyes in exasperation.

“C’mon,” he says lowly, wrapping a hand around your bicep and tugging as he stands.

“No,” you nearly growl, shaking your head and viciously pulling your arm from his grip.

Touya stares at you for a moment, like he cannot believe you just had the audacity to tell him no, before he speaks, an incredulous laugh bubbling up from his chest. “What did you just say?”

Keigo’s sitting up straighter now, more alert as your body subconsciously curls into his chest, cowering away from your big brother. “Y-You heard me,”

Snorting in disbelief, Touya raises his eyebrows as his tongue runs along the front of his teeth, huffing out the remnants of a chuckle before his smile drops completely, blue fire blazing in his dark eyes.

“Get up,” he snarls, hand in a vice grip around your arm as he yanks harshly. The force of it has you practically falling off Keigo’s lap, though Touya catches you roughly before your knees hit the hardwood, hoisting you up by your arm to stand on unsteady feet.

“Move.” He instructs, giving you a shove in the vague direction of his bedroom. “Now.”

His chest bumps into your back and you stumble forward, yelping softly. He keeps pushing like this, strong hand clasping your shoulder so tightly you’re sure you’ll have five little bruises in the shape of his fingerprints in the morning, driving you to walk with the sheer force of his body.

“No,” your whispering, trying desperately to turn back and look at him as you approach his door, tears flooding your eyes, frantically shaking your head and trying your damnedest to plant your feet, heels digging into the floor in an attempt to stop him from pushing you forward.

“You really gonna say no to me a second time tonight? In less than fifteen minutes? You think that’s wise, baby?”

You don’t—of course you don’t. It’s probably one of the stupidest things you could do, in this situation.

But even though you know, know this isn’t a smart move, know you shouldn’t be testing him like this—challenging him like this, especially in front of so many people—you’re powerless to control the words that tumble from your lips next.

“I don’t want to sleep in a bed that’s been infested by your whores,”

They come out as a hiss—you don’t mean for them to, but they do, voice quivering under the combined weight of your fury and fear.

That gets him to stop, entire body going rigid. Icy dread rushes through your veins, panic clawing its way up your throat, forcing uneven breaths through your parted lips. Squeezing your eyes shut tightly, you brace yourself for the impact of his bellowing voice, shoulders tensing in anticipation for the blow, for him to really snap.

Except then he starts laughing, his hand relaxing around your shoulder, spinning you around to face him as he backs you up against his bedroom door, caging you in with his body.

“That’s what this is about?”

Eyebrows furrowing, you blink twice in disbelief, prompting hot tears to finally spill over. “I—Wh-Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re being silly, princess,”

It hurts, stings like three massive spikes just shot through your heart, causes a tiny whimper to sound from deep in your throat, chest hiccupping with pathetic little half-sobs.

“Sil…Silly?” Time feels as if it’s slowed, your sluggish brain having trouble comprehending the situation unfolding.

His lips pull down into a frown, eyes narrowing slightly as he regards you with extreme precision. “Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds far away, muffled, like you’re underwater and he’s speaking to you from above the surface. “Hey—”

Your head’s shaking again, in slow, delayed motions from side to side. “No,” you whisper. “No.”

You feel nauseous, and the proximity of his presence is only making it worse, making you feel like you could hurl at any moment. Little hands find purchase on his chest and push, stomach lurching painfully as your head spins.

He catches your wrists easily, holding them together in one large hand, his other coming to grip your chin and force you to look at him.

Thick silence settles between the two of you as Touya’s eyes study your face slowly, noting the tears flowing steadily down your face, the way your breath stutters with sobs you’re so desperately trying to hold back, the way your entire body trembles.

“Are you seriously upset over this?” he asks, laughing a little.

Your gaze holds his, tears casting a thick, gleaming screen across your eyes.

“Yes, Touya,” you whisper, wishing your voice didn’t sound as small and weak as it does. “I’m seriously upset,”

That’s the first time you’ve used his first name—just his first name, void of any honorific—in a long, long time.

It gets him to pause again, his usual and well-worn mask of passivity melting away for just a second as shock crosses his face. Then his features are hardening again, brows knitting together and creasing his forehead, eyes narrowing into near slits.

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he spits harshly, the words cutting into your flesh. “You know none of them mean a thing,”

“Then why do you fuck around with them?” you shoot back almost immediately, voice fading into a whisper.

He glares at you, as if you’re wasting his precious time with such childish questions when he’s told you this already, and you can see the blue fire simmering in his eyes.

“It’s late,” he says curtly, voice sounding off to you. “You need sleep.”

You try to fight him on it, but he’s too quick, reflexes too swift, and he shoves you into his room, door slamming shut less than a second later.

Tears obstruct your vision as you stumble around, finally finding his desk chair and collapsing heavily. You don’t even bother trying to open the door, know it’s locked without having to hear that soft click! as the lock turns into place.

He’s right—it is late, well past three in the morning, and you are utterly exhausted, drawing your knees up to your chest and curling up in the plush chair.

But no matter how tired you are, you absolutely refuse to sleep in his bed. The party’s dying down, you can hear Touya’s muffled farewells as guests begin to leave while you fade in and out of consciousness.

You think you might’ve heard Keigo say something, might’ve caught the word stay, might’ve detected the annoyance laced in Touya’s voice as he responds, but you’re too worn out to reflect on it.

At some point in the night, Touya reenters his room, chuckling a little at your antics and carrying you to his bed.

The move wakes you, and you weakly protest—no, you don’t want to be in this bed, please, just let you go sleep in your own bed—but Touya ignores you entirely, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you tightly to his chest.

It’s then that the tears start up again, salt staining your puffy cheeks, head beginning to throb from dehydration.

“Shh, baby, shh,” he hushes you, nimble fingers combing through your hair. “I’m here, right here,”

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Touya over these past few weeks, it’s that he becomes marginally softer in the middle of the night. Your fingers twist in his t-shirt, trying in vain to pull yourself impossibly closer, Touya making a soft noise akin to a coo in the back of his throat.

“I’ve got you, niichan’s got you,”

You hate it. You hate that he’s the only person you want comforting you right now, as you lay in his bed, surrounded by the smell of cheap perfume and clinging in desperation to him, needing him close, needing his body heat warming you and his hands on you. You hate the way your sobs come harder the more he soothes you, the heavy ache in your chest almost bruising, crushing your lungs and making it near impossible to breathe.

But you crave his comfort nonetheless. It’s a special kind of comfort, one that’s difficult to describe, one that only comes from the love and adoration and protection of a big brother.

Why can’t you just be mine? You want to ask, the words searing into your tongue, refusing to leave your lips.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick, angel,” he chastises softly, brushing your hair away from your clammy forehead as another shuddery sob rips through your chest.

“I want you,” you say instead, words garbled.

“You have me, baby,”

“All of you,”

His chest heaves with an exasperated sigh, head turning away and gazing up at the ceiling. “You have all of me, princess,”

There’s something in his voice that makes you stop, pause, his words reverberating in your mind. He sounds almost like…like he’s upset over this fact, like he wishes that you didn’t have all of him.

You want to press for more, to probe and prod and pick away at it, but exhaustion finally claims you, rendering you incapable of speech, your tongue moving sluggishly in your mouth as you desperately try to form words.

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s grey when you wake, only a few hours later, eyes sticky and dry from lack of sleep. Your head is pounding, feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton, lips cracked and dry from dehydration, and a painful lump forms almost immediately in your throat when you get a whiff of sickly sweet artificial vanilla, then another of intense, synthetic citrus.

The tears are starting up again, collecting in your eyes and clouding your vision. It makes you nauseous, makes your skin crawl and your chest burn as your throat fills with acid. The tears sting, but you blink hard to keep them at bay. You will not cry, not in front of him, not in his bed surrounded by the remnants of those other girls, not again. You refuse to give them the satisfaction.

You spring up quickly, halfway through climbing over Touya’s body when a strong hand latches onto your wrist.

“No,” Touya mumbles, face half buried in his pillow. “Stay,”

“No,” you whisper, pulling yourself free from his grasp and hurrying out of his room. You can smell them on your clothes, on your skin, and it makes you want to scrub your body under scalding water until it’s raw.

Everything hurts—it hurts so much it feels like your chest is collapsing in on itself, like you can’t breathe, gasping for air as you stumble onto the porch, nearly tripping over your own feet as you stop and realize you have nowhere to go.

Touya has cut you off from all of your friends at this point; any spare time you had was now claimed by him.

And that’s exactly why he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to follow after you, isn’t worried about you going anywhere, knows you can’t leave him, no matter how badly you want to. No, not a precious little girl like you, with nowhere to find refuge.

You sit down heavily on one of the front steps, vision so blurry with tears you’re barely able to make out the figure advancing towards you. They’re finally escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks as you blink twice, trying to clear them. Your chest stutters under the force of a sob you’re desperately trying to hold back, clapping both hands over your mouth in an attempt to silence it.

“Hey—oh no,” Keigo breathes the moment your watery eyes look up at him. You squeeze your eyes shut, causing more tears to leak out as your shoulders shake, whole body trembling from the force of your sobs, poorly muffled by your palms.

“No, no, no, sweetheart,” he’s saying as he rushes to sit down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders tightly.

Keigo’s the closest thing you have to a friend now. And really, you should be embarrassed by the way you practically fling yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your hands form fists in his t-shirt. He’s a little startled by your borderline violent reaction, but he recovers quickly, arms encircling your body and pulling you against him.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing your back while the other pets your hair. “Hey, it’s alright, I’m here,”

And you hate the way his words almost directly mirror Touya’s, the way his low sultry voice turned gentle and soft as he carded deft fingers through your hair echoing almost painfully in your head. But Keigo lets you cry, lets you stain his t-shirt with salty tears and saliva until you’ve got nothing left, never stopping his compassionate motions.

“You…Stayed the night?” you pull back a little, the fact that he’s still here, blonde hair all mussed up from sleep, finally dawning on you.

“Well, yeah,” he says, a little bashful as he looks away and ducks his head. “Wanted to make sure you were alright, s’all. Last night was…” he trails off, frowning. “What happened?”

Golden eyes search your face, his forehead crinkling in concern. A beat of silence passes.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…” kind fingers move to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ll feel better if you let it out, promise. And, not to brag or anything, but I’m preee-tty good at this kind’a stuff,” he chuckles a little.

“Got in a fight,” you whisper, eyes staring intently at the brick wall behind his shoulder as your chin trembles slightly, memories of last night flashing through your mind.

“A fight? With Touya?” Keigo moves his head a little, forcing his face into your field of vision and catching your face with tender fingers when you try to look away.

“Yeah,” tears are beginning to well up in your eyes as you think about it, the sheer fact that you’re in a fight making your heart feel like it’s ripping itself to shreds. A chaotic storm of emotions brews in your chest, switching mercilessly and swirling together so quickly that you can’t even tell what they are. Your insides feel all jumbled up, and trying to decipher what the heck’s going on only makes your head ache more.

They torment you, a deep sense of anguish finally settling at the core. You’re confused, livid at Touya for being such a jackass; jealous, because you want him all to yourself; heartbroken, because you want—need—his approval, desperate to hear him tell you that you’re his good little baby girl.

You want to be his good little baby girl.

But it isn’t fair. Life isn’t fair, sweetheart. Get used to it, he had told you once, when you had complained about something so silly, so simple as him eating the last ice cream cookie sandwich (he made it up to you, of course, telling you he wanted to taste your cream—such a cheeseball—and making you cum three times before taking you out to buy more).

No, it isn’t fair, but you don’t care. You want him to be yours, too.

Keigo tsks, bringing your attention back to him, mouth set in a hard line as sad eyes watch you. “What was it about?”

“I-It…H-He—” a shuddery breath cuts you off, and Keigo draws you into his arms, holding you against his chest as the sobs start up again, sobs that make it feel like your body’s about to tear apart, desperately clutching Keigo to try and keep yourself together.

“Oh, songbird,” he coos, rocking you gently. “Is it…Um, the other girls?”

“Yes,”

“But you know you’re his favourite, right?”

“D-Does it even matter, if he’s still fucking them anyway?” you ask, pulling back suddenly as hot anger flashes through you. “Why does he need them? Am I—” a sob cuts you off, but you swallow it, persevering. “Am I not good enough?” your voice breaks on the last word, fading into a whisper, big teary eyes scanning his face almost frantically, seeking an answer in his expression.

Keigo blinks, surprised by your sudden brashness, then gives you a small, sad smile. “Only he can answer that, sugarplum,” he whispers, using the pad of his thumb to catch a stray tear and wipe it across your cheekbone. “But just because he’s fucking around, doesn’t mean that you can’t, too,”

Your head tilts to the side, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Give him a taste of his own medicine,” Keigo shrugs, leaning back a little. “He definitely deserves it, for making an angel such as yourself so upset,”

You sniffle a little, wiping at your nose with the paw of your sweater as you consider the prospect.

“Y’know, it technically isn’t cheating, since you guys aren’t in any sort of official relationship to begin with,” Keigo reminds you gently, nudging just a tiny bit more.

It isn’t right—you know it isn’t. You’ve never been one to fight fire with fire, often preferring to avoid conflict and drama, but you’re so hurt; you’re so angry at him—angry at the way he reacted, as if it was you in the wrong, angry at the fact that he doesn’t even seen to care about your feelings on the issue, because he knows you’ll come running back either way, angry because he’s right, as evident in the way pathetically clung to him last night—that all you want to do in that moment is cause him a shred of the pain he’s causing you.

It’s an impulsive decision that has you pulling out your phone, quickly scrolling through your contacts, thumb jabbing at Tomura’s name—Touya had given you his number for emergencies only—before you have time to think it through, before you have time to regret it.

Tiny thumbs fly across the keyboard, your heart pounding in your chest as adrenaline accelerates your breathing.

Hey. Let’s hang out.

Keigo inhales through his teeth next to you, and your eyes dart to him in surprise, as if you had forgotten he was there.

“Well,” he begins, though his voice sounds odd to you—unlike his usually nonchalant, happy-go-lucky manner. “That’s, uh, definitely one that’s gonna hurt him, songbird,”

You look back down at your phone to see Tomura typing a response.

Yeah, definitely. Pick a day.

“Good.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #todoroki touya x reader #todoroki touya #no idea how this MONSTER grew so much???#big apologies #part two is DARK and it is coming tomorrow!!!#tw pseudo-incest #tw toxic relationship #tw dubcon #tw drugs #tw cheating

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nuagederose · 2 years

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kinktober 2022 // day twenty-four: cosa del pantano prompt: outdoor sex + passionate sex (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairings: eric/florence + eric/alex (flowers for alexander) also on ao3 💋

*based on the first and only time i ever got to go to yosemite, too, way back in 2005. i’m definitely due for another visit 😉

A light rain had just rolled into the hills that surrounded Yosemite Valley as the three of them rolled in from the western side. La Grange was only a mile up, while Coulterville only stood about another fourteen miles up the road through those thick dark trees that reached up towards the sky as nature’s skyscrapers, but the sheer number of switchbacks with the definite elevation changes up the road before them made Alex wonder if it was even further away from there. Eric was driving, while Florence stayed upright in the passenger seat and Alex lounged in the middle of the back seat; she was seven and a half months pregnant, and her sweater had grown slightly snug against her bump. Both men were hungry and tired from the amount of driving they had done from the heart of the Bay Area; at the same time, they had gone out so as to escape from everything that had been going down back over there.

Eric had been reluctant to leave the Bay Area for the mountains so soon before Florence’s due date, and with it still being well inside of the thick of winter as well: at least they weren’t about to drive in from the northeastern side of the valley and along that narrow two-lane road over there. But she had insisted, especially with Yosemite being one of the few places left in California that lacked the steam power as well as any signs of civilization. Every so often, he glanced over at her and showed her a little smile.

“How are you holding up?” he asked her as they passed through La Grange.

“We’re doing alright,” Florence told him with a gentle caress of her bump.

Even though he only had a slight view of her from the side, Alex swallowed at the sight of her. To think that they had once been a couple, and yet he didn’t want to think about it, especially with her being pregnant with Eric’s baby and the invasion on their doorstep. He had to be with them there in Yosemite lest one of the animatrons take him and tie him up to the nearest boiler only for him to turn to metal and steam himself.

Eric took a glimpse into the rear-view mirror over his head.

“How ‘bout you, Alex?” he called back to him. “How are you doing? Getting enough heat back there?”

“Oh, yes, I am quite comfortable back here,” Alex assured him with a gentle nod of his head and a nervous smile on his face.

Though it was still the middle of February, the chill of winter seemed to linger away from the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains before them. There had to have been only a few inches of snow on the ground outside of the car, sparse piles that lined the sides of the road like little white puddles embedded in pockets of the earth. The sun fought to break through the swift-moving clouds overhead, and as a result, Alex knew that more snow was upon them, especially with the graze of light rain on the roof and on the windows. He shivered and brought his arms closer to his little body from the chilled feeling through the glass.

If anything, he was more tired and hungry than feeling cold. They had left the Bay Area at the first peek of dawn over the eastern side of the Central Valley, and yet, they had managed to reach the hills at after twelve in the afternoon; the fact they had a pregnant woman in the front seat only added more onto the time, not that Florence was to blame however. He was eager to pitch the tent at the campground underneath the sheer vertical drop of El Capitan and then crawl underneath his sleeping bag after a hearty dinner. But then again, he was unsure if that would even happen, given they knew that the road rose high up into the mountains before them once they had cleared the hills and the snow was upon them at the end of it all.

They passed the two Don Pedro Lakes on either side of the road: those glassy black waters sent even more chills down Alex’s spine and down his arms. Though the heater blasted the car with rich warm air, he carried a deep chill inside of him at the mere sight of the water out there. He knew the snow was upon them all from the wisps of steam off of the surfaces of the lakes, as if it beckoned the very beginning of the lake effect.

The road swept through the low foothills all around them like the blackest snake in the thick of the trees. Alex kept his arms knitted close to his body and his knees pressed close together from that deep chill. He divided his attention between the side of Eric’s head and the vast stretches of cold wilderness out there beyond either side of the road. That smooth blanket of black hair down around the curvature of Eric’s shoulder and over his upper arm like a smooth wash of ink. There had been plenty of moments abound in which Alex would run his fingers through that smooth black hair all for a whiff of it at the roots, and he had done the same unto Francine at one point, but he nonetheless always came back to Eric.

Every time that Eric flipped his hair back and he returned his attention to the road before them, Alex kept a close watch on the side of his head as well as that smooth, slightly thick neck of his: where Alex had that fine, slender neck and skin as silken as porcelain, Eric looked as though he worked out hard enough for a fine sculpting of his neck, and Alex often thought of planting the softest of nibbles there, especially on the base.

He was growing hungrier with each and every passing mile, especially since he hadn’t eaten anything since well before they left the Bay Area: Modesto was rationing food and thus, there was no way that he could do anything about that. About a mile before they reached the proverbial dent in the road that was Coulterville, he rested his hands on his stomach. Add to this, not only was he hungry but Florence had made the mistake of packing the water in the cooler in the way back part of the car.

A turn to the left and a straight shot up to the next turn off, which in turn would take them into the northern side of Yosemite Valley. Though this particular part of the mountains remained down low against the actual mountains, Alex shivered even more. The rain picked up once the signs for Yosemite Junction as well as the way up to Sonora entered their view, and thus was their cue to hang that next right to that infamous winding highway to the northern side of the valley: infamous in a sense that it rose higher and higher over on the northeastern side of the park, until it became the highest road in the state of California.

But at the moment, it was nothing more than a series of annoying coils and turns in the road before them. It didn’t help matters that Florence held onto the handle over her head with her right hand and the dashboard before her with her left hand as if she was about to go flying off of the seat. Eric slowed to a crawl at one point and she gritted her teeth and knitted her knees together, even though their unborn child still had plenty of time to go in the meantime.

“Why did we have to go this way?” Florence groaned out as she gripped onto the handle once again with both hands. “We should’ve kept going up the turn off until we reached Yosemite Junction again and then looped around.”

“And go over Sonora Pass?” Eric gaped at her. “I don’t think so.”

“Sonora and then Tioga Pass, too,” Alex added; he flashed on them getting stuck over on the northeastern side of the park, and they would have to huddle to keep warm all the while. “Tioga’s probably not even open, either.”

“I guarantee it’s closed,” Eric said with a clearing of his throat. “It’s high up enough and we got a lot of snow this year.”

Florence let out a low whistle as they rounded another hard curve in the road, one lined with a high and vast rock wall to the left. Alex craned his neck a bit in time to see her set her free hand on her bump as if she was trying to steady herself from the pull of the car against the corner.

“Are you okay?” Eric asked her as the road straightened out again. Another curve around the bend, that time to the left, and she let out a low moan from the pull of the gravity against her.

“I think that was the last one,” Alex told him.

“I hope so, too,” Eric replied as he drummed his fingers on the rim of the steering wheel. Florence groaned from the pain.

“What is it?” Eric asked her out of concern. “Where’s the pain?”

“It’s my back and my hips,” she said. “The baby’s fine, but the car going around the corners is putting so much pressure on my back and my hipbones, though.” She shifted her weight from the pain; Alex nibbled on his bottom lip and he lifted up his arms and rested them onto the back of the seats. Florence breathed harder from the aches and pains in her body; she shifted her weight again, that time to put her back into the actual seat part, and she rested her knee against the inside of the dashboard. She let out a low whistle and hitched herself up into the seat. She tried to lean back in the seat and the car slowed down a bit.

“What are you doing?” Florence asked him with a soft moan and groan from the back of her throat.

“Let’s pull over here,” Eric quipped right then. “I’m worried you’re going to pass out or something.”

They reached the thick stripe of dark dirt on the side of the road, underneath a long line of trees at the base of the next row of rising mountaintops before them. Florence raised her hands up to the ceiling over her head and tilted her head back against the headrest. She closed her eyes and let out a low whistle from the feeling in her body.

“It’s going to be some time before the road reaches the park, too,” Eric told her. “Like it descends down into the valley and then around the base of El Capitan. It's going to be some time before we reach the campground and pitch up the tent.”

Florence groaned from the pain in her back and she relaxed the muscles in her back as well as her legs. She let out a low whistle again. Eric folded his arms over the top of the steering wheel and kept his gaze fixed upon her.

Alex peered out the window to the left, just as the clouds swirled across the sky over them. A thick dark patch over them caught his attention in particular: as soon as he saw it, a few drops of rain fell down over the driver’s side of the car again.

“It’s raining,” Alex decreed.

“What?” Florence asked him, taken aback.

“It’s raining—and it’s starting to feel really cold, too,” he replied with a shiver.

“Oh, no,” she blurted out. “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Eric ensured her.

“No, it’s not. When it starts raining and it’s this cold, it usually means it’s going to snow soon, you guys. We can’t afford snow!”

“Well, we can’t afford you having this baby prematurely when the closest major town from here is Sonora,” Eric pointed out, “and we have to go back down those curves just to get there.”

“I’m not having the baby!” Florence exclaimed. “I’m just in pain because the car was pulling on me whenever we went around a corner back there.” She whistled again and she sat upright that time. She never moved a muscle there in the seat for a whole minute. The rain pattered down on the car rooftop in quiet succession: Alex shivered again and he knew that, through the hormones that ran through her body, there was in fact a bit of truth to what Florence had said right then.

“Are you feeling alright?” Eric asked her.

“Yes,” she replied in a low voice, and she shifted her weight yet again. “Let’s get moving.”

Eric drummed his fingers along the rim of the steering wheel and he brought the car back to the road before them. Alex relaxed there in the backseat, still with his arms over the very tops of the seats on either side of him. He let his hair sprawl down over his shoulders like the fine sides of a lion’s mane and his legs extended out before him as far as they could go there in the backseat. There was a part of him that wanted to come on closer to Eric once they had pitched up their tents underneath the towering monolith of El Capitan: their own little room with the view, as Alex ran his fingers down Eric’s chest all while Florence was sound asleep.

Soon, even with the hard pain which persisted in Florence’s body as they rose higher along the roof of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Alex caught the view of North Dome as well as the sheer drop at the face of Half Dome. The last bit of paradise against a world gone so horribly wrong beyond the border of the highway and the foothills that surrounded Yosemite.

The road led them over the crown of the ridge, and then dropped down towards the valley floor: Eric nodded as the signs for the upcoming Yosemite Village entered their view.

“The campground should be coming up here pretty soon,” he muttered aloud as the highway wound down past El Capitan and down to the floor beneath them. A usual twenty minutes had been elongated out to a whole hour all because of her condition, but it was the only choice that they had on hand. Florence herself, meanwhile, stayed still there in the passenger seat with her hands still rested upon her bump. It was in fact nothing more than the curves in the road that perturbed her, and thus, Eric rested a single hand on the top of her thigh, all to Alex’s chagrin. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and it was right then he could feel the thirst from the very moment they left the Bay Area as it caught up with him.

The literal thirst inside of him, as well as the thirst of flesh against his own, against the pad of his tongue.

The campground resided in a spot of the valley floor near the base of the gigantic monolith surrounded by a series of lush, tall ponderosa pines and evergreens. The first thing that Alex noticed upon their rolling into the grounds was the sign on the side of the driveway that told them to keep everything locked up in the metal boxes right at the edge of their slot on the grounds, otherwise anything aromatic would attract bears.

The rain persisted all around them as the three of them all pitched in to pitching their separate tents, a small one for Alex to have all to himself, and a slightly bigger one for Florence and Eric, right underneath the thickest ponderosa right at the center of the campground.

Once Alex had set up his tent and lay his sleeping bag inside of there, he gazed up at the view of El Capitan as it towered high over their heads, the biggest and thickest monolith that he had ever seen. Indeed, the sheer drop of it as it faced them there sent a shiver down his spine, and yet there was something about the sight of that cold granite before him that made him drop his gaze down to his own waist.

The thirst for flesh against his own as well as the firm feeling between his own legs: he stood there before his tent with his hands pressed to his hips, and he returned his gaze up to the top of El Capitan right as it disappeared into the incoming rain clouds. It was right then that he wished he had brought his camera with him: he knew that with the morning hours, the monolith would be out in the clear, complete with the crisp feeling of the cold having left itself behind, all to accentuate everything. There was also Half Dome and North Dome right behind them, the Three Sisters as well as the town of Wawona off to the southern end of the park, as well as the tall wispy waterfalls that lined the rims of the valley, and the myriad of creatures that roamed throughout the park as well as the valley floor before them.

And yet, more rain was upon them, as he sighed through his nose and he turned back to the entrance of his tent; he bowed inside of there, down on his hands and knees, and his long black curls dangled down to his hands. The hard ground made his kneecaps and his hands ache a bit: a part of him wished to be back in the city, and yet, the aroma of the pine in the rainfall as well as the sight of El Capitan right from the tent doors, as well as the realization that the rain would leave Yosemite refreshed and silent come the morning hours made him question his own thoughts.

He smoothed out the head of his sleeping bag and he set up the bottle of water as well as the little black iron hurricane lantern right next to the pillow, and then he doubled back out of there to help Eric and Florence and to have a round of early dinner given it was already the middle of the afternoon.

“Maybe when the rain clears out tomorrow, we’ll go up to Yosemite Falls and Bridalveil Falls,” Eric was suggesting to her as she unfolded the chairs for all three of them.

“Eric, don’t tell me you’re going to make your wife sleep on the hard ground,” Alex declared, stunned. “I was down on my hands and knees just now and the ground hurt me.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Eric assured him with a shake of his head; his smooth black hair spread down over his shoulder like the actual Yosemite Falls not too far from there. He had this bright twinkle in his brown eyes as well, especially at the mention of Alex being down on his hands and knees. “Remember that blow-up mattress that I asked you to pack?”

“Oh, yeah. Want me to get that?”

“Please. The cooler and the rest of the water, too.” Though it was fleeting, Alex caught yet another little twinkle in Eric’s eye as he walked on over to the car parked right next to the big square brown bear box.

There was something about being on that sprawling valley floor surrounded by the vast stretches of nature and the high stone walls that seemed to extend high up into the darkening sky overhead. The feeling that they were down inside of a hole, and the sheer extent of the monolith and the accompanying rock wall made him feel less than mighty. Francine was also back in the Bay Area and with nothing else to do as well other than the strumming of his own guitar there in the way back part of the car. There wasn’t much to do anyway, not with Florence there with them. He knew that there wasn’t much choice to go about with him as he doubled back to Eric and Florence.

The rain accentuated the pine aroma as well as the feeling that Alex was about to play with fire for the duration of their stay within the campgrounds. He took the blow-up mattress out of the back of the car, still rolled up and with the accompanying pump, and the feeling of it made him think of the feeling of latex against his own skin. Latex to protect from the rain as well as another feeling once he and Eric got alone there, that is if they got alone at any given point.

He was beginning the kindling for a campfire as well as the preparations for dinner. Eric held a long thin campfire match in between his fingers. Though the rain was steady all around them, the small flame rose up over the matchhead.

The dance of fire and water.

He brought the matchhead down to the kindling in the fire pit and the wood smoldered even against the cold of the rain and the cold earth all around them.

Florence nestled down in her folding chair with her windbreaker wrapped around her body and her hands folded over the rise of her bump.

Alex set the mattress down on the ground right next to her.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked her with a slight smile on his face.

“I’m feeling better,” she replied with a wistful sigh. “Hungry, but I'm not in pain so much, though.”

Eric padded over to the picnic table for some more kindling and then Alex leaned in closer to his ex-girlfriend's face.

“You know, if it’s any comfort, I'm in a bit of pain myself,” he whispered into her ear, to which Florence scoffed at him.

“You’re not growing a baby in your belly, big boy,” she taunted him.

“Yeah, but—I'm still in pain, too.” Florence rolled her eyes at that.

“Whatever you say, Alex,” she teased him.

But he told the truth, though: the hard ground underneath his hands and knees left a slight ache in there, plus there was the proverbial pain within him as a result of not having been touched in quite some time. It wasn’t that long of a drive but it had been quite some time since he and Francine had been together, and even more time since he and Eric had had an encounter as well. It was a type of pain, and one that Florence had completely dismissed all on a matter of biology.

Eric returned to them with another small batch of kindling from the little box there under the table, and he added it onto the burgeoning campfire. With a sigh through his nose, Alex doubled back to the car for the cooler full of food: the centerpiece of it all for that night was a box of fried chicken that needed to be heated up through the heat of the fire. As long as it was warm, given the rain picked up all around them: he shivered from the cold wet feeling of the rain upon his hair.

“Make a fire, and you can make life,” Eric declared as the flames began to rise up through the wood down there in the pit.

“Make life as it goes into the pit?” Alex asked him as he set the cooler down on the ground next to him.

“As it goes into the pit, exactly!” Eric burst out laughing at that. He dropped down next to Alex all to fetch the fried chicken and the mashed potatoes out of there and into the open fire. Florence, meanwhile, stayed put as those two young men made dinner for her as the rain came down in droves all around them. Every so often, stray droplets sifted through the branches of the tree overhead, but they were dry for the most part, and the fire helped keep the three of them dry, even if Florence seemed a little less than helpful to them. But Alex sat there at the picnic table right next to Eric, and he watched those spindly hands stick the chicken onto a slender silver skewer for the new round of heat inside: the potatoes would have to be reheated through the base of the small metal pot at the bottom of the cooler, but it was nothing too extreme.

Alex thought of the warmth of Eric’s body against his own, especially as rain water dripped down the sides of his head through the roots of his hair: though he would have the pleasure of a tent all to himself, there was something about the whole thing the more he thought about it.

And it took Alex a second to realize that the rain had completely drenched Florence’s feet, all the way up to her knees. Eric took notice and frowned at the sight of her.

“Babe, you’re soaked,” he declared.

“Yeah, you gotta be freezing,” Alex added. “I’ve been moving around and I'm getting cold.”

“Because you keep moving in and out from under the tree,” Florence told him.

“I’m not that wet, I promise you,” Alex insisted as he nudged a dry lock of hair behind his ear. “Besides, you’re sitting right in front of the fire.” The flames lapped higher inside of the pit there between the two of them.

“But you’re still moving in and out from under the tree,” she pointed out.

“You’re sitting in front of the fire,” he insisted. “Besides, you would think that moving in and out from under the tree would warm me up but I assure you, it isn’t.”

“And I can tell that it isn’t,” she said.

To which Alex frowned at that. Eric even raised an eyebrow at that. An otherwise brilliant woman who worked under the apprenticeship of mechanics and yet her mind was out to lunch from the hormones in her body.

“You can get wet or you can help us out, Florence,” was all Alex could say to that.

“Hey, if you and I were the ones who had gotten married instead, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation right now,” she pointed out with a wag of his finger. Eric gaped at that, but rather than object, he brought the skewers and the potatoes over to the fire pit to cook it under the wash of rain all around them. Alex put his jacket on over his body and then he took his seat in the folding chair across the pit from Florence, all by his lonesome there.

The smell of fried chicken and potatoes swept over them, such that Alex found himself clutching onto his stomach from hunger. Between the bickering between him and Florence and the fact that he hadn’t eaten since that morning, he was eager to eat something and eat something hearty and warming.

His eyes wandered back to the rock wall beyond the campground. He had run into a wall himself, the feeling that nothing he did was good enough or enough to satisfy even himself. His own hunger, his own thirst, plus the thirst that he felt for some more flesh right next to him, all of it left at the top of El Capitan and it came in the form of his ex-girlfriend seated right across of the fire from him. A primarily shy girl who knew a thing or two about fixing cars as well as airships and she seemed to be the Florence whom he used to know through only her name. Maybe it was the change that struck him sideways, but he itched at the feeling of flesh next to him the more time went on, and the more that the smells of the chicken and the potatoes washed over him and left him feeling hungrier and hungrier.

It was driving him insane, until finally Eric reached for a trio of plates on the picnic table. He served Florence first, and she finally shifted her weight there in the chair. She gasped from the cold feeling on her legs, and Alex refrained from saying anything to her.

And then he remembered as to why he and Florence broke up in the first place. Too much ego there, such that it clashed with his own and it resulted in rather heated arguments. He wanted to let it go, especially since she was obviously in a better place with Eric and they were away from the horrors of what was happening to the Bay Area at the moment, but there was so much that she still had to learn and there was so much that he had to learn as well.

And at the same time, he had a tiny sliver of sympathy for Eric, in that he had clicked with her in their meeting together and yet she seemed so nitpicky towards him and the food that he had made up for her. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of the fried chicken.

“Here,” Eric told her with a smile on his face. She rested her hands upon the top of her belly as he brought her a plate full of food.

Alex shifted his weight in the seat as he rested his eyes on the seat of Eric’s pants. All of his desires fusing together to where it all itched at him. Florence was reluctant to take the plate for herself.

“What’s the matter?” Eric asked her.

“Nothing, it’s just—the smell is all,” she replied. Eric sighed through his nose as he turned back to the other side of the fire pit and he reached for the next plate for Alex. Indeed, when he served him two pieces of chicken with those potatoes.

“I’m absolutely starving,” Alex said with a gentle stroke of his stomach. Eric treated him to a warm smile at that. Alex helped himself to the first bite of chicken: though it had been reheated over a campfire, it was juicy and delicious to him. He closed his eyes and cracked a smile at the taste of the salt and the fried part of the chicken.

He paid no attention to Eric and Florence as he delved into it all. If anything, he was the one who had been eating for two rather than her.

Though she finally picked up the fork and she scooped up a bite of potatoes, Alex was eager to help himself to a second helping of chicken and potatoes. He was feeling better almost immediately, especially when Eric took seconds for himself.

Florence picked at her fried chicken, and as a result, Alex and Eric flashed fleeting glimpses at one another. The former showed the latter a little smile, and Eric kept his attention fixed on him. Alex couldn’t say anything about it, especially with Florence right across the lapping flames from them.

But he knew that there had to be a moment later on during their stay in Yosemite. There had to be a moment in which Florence paid no attention to those two guys.

Once Alex and Eric had finished their second helpings, the rain persisted all around them, but the sky darkened with the incoming nightfall. Nightfall came forth, and they were quite a way away from the Village, to boot as well. Unless the rain continued, there was the possibility of bears coming out to graze.

Alex stood up and stretched his arms over his head. Feeling warm and soft inside, he wanted nothing more than to lay down to sleep next to Eric there in that solo tent.

“C’mon, Alex, help me clean up,” Eric advised Alex right then. The two of them picked up their plates to dispose of them; Eric closed the top of the garbage bag and Alex took the rest of the food to the bear box at the edge of their campsite.

Florence, meanwhile, went lay down in the tent closest to the tree once she had barely finished her food. The rain continued over them, although the cold breeze from the sheer drop at the face of El Capitan told them that the snow wasn’t too far away: she was right about one thing, that was for certain.

The fire continued to burn there in the pit before the barren picnic table and Alex and Eric stood before each other. Before he could get a word into him, Eric then rubbed his hands together.

“Shall we turn in for the evening?” he suggested.

“It’s only six o’clock,” Alex pointed out.

“There’s not much we can do, though, Alex,” Eric replied with a shrug. “I could give you the keys and you could drive over to the village, but I don’t know what there is to do over there.” He adjusted the hem of his shirt and he doubled back to the car for his suitcase: after that, he would climb into the tent to be with Florence for the night. Alex watched him take the suitcase out of the trunk of the car, which in turn left him alone there.

He turned his attention to El Capitan far beyond the edge of the campground. The clouds over the crown of the monolith made the stone appear darker than ever.

Maybe he could in fact climb into the car and drive over to the village for a quick walk before the rains iced over and became snow. Maybe he could do something over there to relieve himself in a way. It wasn’t a city but it was a piece of civilization.

He shivered as Eric returned to their campsite, dressed in his pajamas and with his jacket over the top shirt.

“Can you come with me over to the village?” Alex asked him in a hushed voice. Eric raised his eyebrows at that.

“I’m in my pajamas, Alex,” he flatly replied as he put his suitcase back into the trunk.

“That’s... kind of the point,” Alex insisted with a little tilt of his head. Eric hesitated for a second, and then he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Alex, I’m not going to cheat on my seven-and-a-half-month pregnant wife with you,” he scoffed at that.

“But you have, though,” he insisted. “You have in the middle of the night.”

“Yes, we both couldn’t sleep worth shit,” Eric pointed out, and he reached into his jacket pocket for the car keys. Alex then sighed through his nose, but even through the flickering flames off to the left of them, he could see the fire in his own eyes. Only a few feet away from them was Florence, already lain down in the sleeping bag there.

Alex sighed again and Eric handed him the keys.

“I’ll be right back,” the former told him in a low voice; and he swore that Eric flashed him a wink. He went back to the tent and Alex climbed into the driver’s seat.

He headed out of the campground and he followed the signs over to the village.

Indeed, there wasn’t much to go about with the village, rather than some restaurants that all appeared to be closed for the night as well as the incoming snow and upscale rustic houses that made the blue-collar kid in him see stars in his own eyes. He pulled over before the lodge as he spotted the coffee maker in the front window; he bowed in there for a little cup of it as well as some chocolate for himself.

He stood there before the window as he watched the rain fizzle down from the blackened sky: through the light over the top of the window, he noticed the rain beginning to drift.

It was right then he knew that he was a city person.

It was also right then that Alex knew that he had boogie on back to home base and the campground. He thanked the park ranger in there before he headed on out again. Through the winds through the trees beyond the village came the chill of the snow. The northeastern side of the park had already taken the hit of the snow and ice, and more came his way. He bowed into the car again and he returned the way that he came, back to the comfort of Eric and the tent of his own.

Lucky for Alex, he returned to the campground well before the rain became snow. He climbed out of the car with his coffee and his chocolate, and he was quick to take his pajamas out of the suitcase over in the bathrooms and return again for the safety of his tent and a book to read.

He sat upright in his sleeping bag with the door closed, his book in hand, the lantern lit up right behind him, and the coffee and chocolate to his right. Though it wasn’t late, it certainly felt that way as he propped himself up on his pillow and began to read himself to sleep. Blackness crossed the sky overhead. His eyes drooped closed a couple of times and yet it wasn’t in him to fall asleep as of yet, especially when he knew that if he was back home in the Bay Area, he would still be wide awake.

Add to this, he had his flannel pajamas on, but he was still cold. The trees protected the campground from the extra harsh winds from that sheer front of El Capitan, and yet his sleeping bag and the blanket inside only did so much for him.

The coffee was rich and hot, and yet he missed something else right next to him. The feeling of another body next to him. Through the filmy fabric of the tent, he noticed the light of the hurricane lantern emerge from the neighboring tent. There was a slight gasp and he knew that it was Florence. Heavily pregnant, and therefore having to climb out of bed to use the bathroom every couple of hours.

He was surprised that she kept it in this whole trip over from the Bay Area as they had only stopped a couple of, granted, rather prolonged, times on the way.

But as he bit into the chocolate and sipped on the chocolate some more, it dawned on him that that was it.

The chance to be next to Eric out there in the open.

Alex downed the rest of the coffee and then he tucked the bookmark into the pages. He climbed out of the sleeping bag, and he climbed out of the tent. The fire still burned, albeit with smaller, colder flames, but it gave him enough light to work with. He crept over to the tent doors and he knelt down at the base.

“Eric?” Alex called out to him with a clearing of his throat. “Are you awake?”

“I’ve been awake,” Eric flatly replied. “We accidentally pitched the tent over a pine cone, and naturally, I'm lying on top of it. She's also just—in a shitty mood, too. Right after you went over to the village, she and I got into an argument about s’mores. S'mores, Alex. Of all things on Earth right now. We bickered over making s’mores.”

“Well, I can’t sleep,” Alex whispered to him.

“What would you like me to do?” he asked him, also in a whisper.

“I need some relief,” Alex told him.

“What do you mean?”

“No, I mean... I need some relief. I need the feeling of your body against mine, the feeling of everything and nothing against my own skin while we’re out here in the cold.”

A loud zipping noise sliced its way up through the darkness before him: through the dim glow of the fire, Alex was face to face with Eric’s pale round one and those dark brown eyes.

“I need it,” he whispered to him. “I need it. It's good for me. It's good for you, too.”

“Alex, please, I’m married. Plus, she’s literally right over here, dude, and she’s going to be coming back in like a couple of minutes. What if we wake her up?”

“Oh, please,” Alex scoffed, and rolled his eyes. “Have you seen her when she’s kicked back a bunch of food before?”

“I have, yes. And—” Eric sniffled. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Yes, you do,” Alex told him. “I’m all out of whack being over here. It feels so late so I can’t seem to stay awake, but I also can’t fall asleep because it’s still early and now I’ve got a cup of coffee in me. It's like being out on tour in a different time zone but worse because there’s not much to do in the meantime, either. It’s probably the most bizarre gray area ever to be in...” His voice trailed off a bit. “Also, I still have your keys. Here, tell her that you came over to my tent to talk to me about—I dunno, a new album or something. Come over to my tent—come over to my place, I have coffee and chocolate.”

“I do like chocolate,” Eric proclaimed with a shrug of his shoulders. “I was wanting s’mores, too.”

“Hopefully tomorrow we’ll have s’mores,” Alex assured him as he lent him a hand.

“Nah, I’ve got it—” Eric slithered out of the bag sleeping bag pressed up against Florence’s bag, and he closed the doors so no rainwater made its way inside of there. With the light of the fire at their backs, the two of them made their way over to Alex’s tent, and almost immediately, Eric set a hand on the seat of Alex’s flannel pajama bottoms.

“Whoa,” he blurted out.

His grin accentuated by the golden light of the hurricane lantern in the corner of the tent, Eric stooped down through those filmy doors as Alex climbed into his sleeping bag first; he moved the chocolate bar out of the way for Eric to lay down himself right next to him.

Once they were both cuddled up next to each other, Eric slid his hand down the small of Alex’s back and onto the seat of his pajamas once again.

“This is nice,” Eric remarked in a low voice.

“This is quite nice, actually,” Alex added. “I’m a lot warmer, now.”

“Yeah, me, too. I love Flo to death, but the tent over there was so cold, though. I was just thinking about s’mores and how we didn’t pack any of the makings because—” He shrugged his shoulders, albeit in a stunted way because of the snug sleeping bag wrapped around their bodies.

“Oh, right,” Alex replied in a flat tone of voice. “She can’t have chocolate.”

“No. You know, I'm getting a little depressed about her being pregnant.”

“Why?” Alex knitted his eyebrows at that.

“Well, you know her, Alex. You went out with her before she and I got hitched. She used to be really fun and cute and now—she just mopes around all the time now. I have to repeat myself several times to her, too—like the little conversation the two of you had earlier was just one example. I feel terrible saying that because there’s nothing neither of us can do about it.”

“True,” Alex said; his fingers wandered their way down to the waist of Eric’s pajama bottoms.

“I mean, she was genuinely excited to come here to Yosemite for a bit, especially since it’s been a while since it had snowed over here, too.”

“Right, right...” His fingers made their way inside: those fast fingers that played such rapid-fire solos on Testament’s songs, and they managed to slither into Eric’s shorts without his knowing.

“And... well. I don’t—really know, now. You know, I think about that comment she made earlier.”

“What, the ‘if you and I got married instead’ remark?” Alex recalled.

“Yeah, that one. You saw me—she said that as I was standing right there right behind you. So—to be perfectly honest—Alex?”

“Hm?”

Alex’s fingers caressed down the shaft to the head: the warmest skin and the warmest spot in an otherwise cold, wet place. They locked eyes for a moment, Alex’s ocean-blue ones to Eric’s soft earthy brown ones, but it was long enough for them to bring their faces closer to one another for the most passionate kiss yet.

They were outside, in the wilderness, under the foreboding power of El Capitan and Half Dome in the heart of Yosemite Valley, surrounded by nature. The earth took the two of them in her arms and cradled them both as she would the highest point on the northeastern side of the park as well as the little prehistoric rivulets on the valley floor.

Eric ran his hand down Alex’s ass onto the back of his thigh. It took Alex a second to realize that he was helping him take his pants off right there, right inside of the sleeping bag. Alex did the same for Eric, with his pajama bottoms down his legs, too.

“Do not make a sound,” Eric whispered to him.

“What are you guys doing!” Florence declared, and they both froze right inside of the sleeping bag.

Alex cleared his throat. “Chatting,” he quipped.

Florence scoffed and she continued onto the tent. Alex and Eric looked into each other’s eyes again.

“Make this quick?” the former offered him in a hushed whisper.

“May as well,” Eric said with a crestfallen look upon his face. Alex sighed through his nose again.

They were out there in the wilderness, and by the power of the wilderness as well as the impending snow, the slow, glacial passion returned again. He closed his eyes and Eric brought his lips to the side of his neck: Alex curled his toes to the feeling. He gripped harder on Eric’s dick for a better job at handling.

Meanwhile, Eric brought his hand back to the full shape of Alex’s ass for a bit of a tickling there. Next thing that Alex knew, he could feel Eric’s hard dick against his own.

Though they would have to move at the pace of one of the many waterfalls around the valley, not even Florence’s quips could stop the burgeoning fire between them. Skin on skin. Warmth against warmth, away from the cold rain and the incoming snow.

Alex ran his fingers down Eric’s bare thigh and back up to his hip. Eric caressed Alex’s ass and the back of his thigh as if it was the softest thing in the world. Alex parted his lips and treated him to a soft moan: the coffee and the chocolate had done their job in having him jump the gun of arousal, and all he needed was the feeling of Eric’s skin against his own.

Alex could feel something liquid on the front of his thigh.

“Oh, shit,” Eric muttered.

“No, no, it’s okay,” Alex assured him. “I’m more worried about my own getting on the inside here.”

But Eric still opened the sleeping bag so he could ejaculate outside of there. He then returned to Alex, who gasped at the cold feeling against his warm skin.

“Yeah, you like that, big boy?” Eric teased him. Alex pinched his eyes shut as the feeling welled up inside of him. He was rising higher and higher, up the sheer side of El Capitan, all the way to the snow-capped top. The wind picked up outside of the tent, and yet they were safe inside of that little bundle that was the sleeping bag.

He parted his little cherry lips and let out the softest moan, so soft that it may as well have come in on the back of Yosemite Falls. Eric kissed him on the side of the neck.

“This was a good call, baby doll,” he whispered into Alex’s ear.

Maybe it was the illusion that it was so late because once the two of them had come for one another right then, they had fallen asleep in the sleeping bag together. So much for a quick round, as not even a nascent family with Florence in the other tent could put a cap on their passion.

But nevertheless, Alex awoke to a worried look on Eric’s face through the cold darkness.

“Alex,” Eric whispered. “Alex, there’s a bear outside.”

Alex froze in place.

“What,” he declared.

“There—is—a—bear—outside,” Eric repeated. “I really have to go pee, too. And I have to go back to the other tent, too.”

Alex swallowed and he held still. Indeed, a rustling noise outside of the tent caught his attention. It sounded like a bear rummaging through the garbage can. It made no sense, however, especially since Eric closed the garbage bag and Alex had put everything in the bear box after dinner. He then thought about his cup of coffee as well as the chocolate bar underneath the sleeping bag.

But then again, he wondered as to why the bear hadn’t come into the tent if that was the case.

He swallowed and he sat up in the sleeping bag. He reached for the hurricane lantern to the right of his head. Eric lingered right next to him as he switched it back on and, once his eyes adjusted to the light, he very slowly opened the doors. He held his breath as he expected to see a big grizzly bear out there but the golden light spread over the fine white plumage of a barn owl rested upon a little pile of snow on the bear box. Alex peered up to the sky, which had changed from jet-black to a pale pink with snow.

“Is it?” Eric asked as he leaned his head into the doorway.

“Oh, no. Just an owl.” He returned to the sleeping bag. “Where’s that chocolate bar, I’m not taking any chances.”

“You know, chocolate’s an aphrodisiac,” Eric pointed out as he picked up the lantern for himself.

“That was the point.” Alex winked at him, and Eric showed him the tip of his tongue at that.

“How’s the village, by the way?” Eric asked him.

“Cozy,” Alex told him. “It’s what you would expect, too. Maybe in the morning, we can go on over there for some breakfast and then maybe a little more—you know—” He flashed him a wink. “When Florence isn’t looking.”

“A little roll in the snow,” Eric declared with a smirk.

“Exactly!”

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thebeebi · 3 years

Text

your little games pt. 1

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: smut with a story, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 2.7k+ [part 1]

a/n: Finally I got to do a Jungkook fanfic. I am actually happy with this one. So please let me know what you think! Enjooooy! ♥

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

I must run away! You looked around yourself, trying to not notice a dead body on the floor. Still numb from the thing you did to the older man. The fear of being found made you keep going. You took all of your things and kneeled next to the body. Looking away, you patted around his pocket to find the key to unlock the room. The room you were forcefully locked in. You quivered with fear but the possibility of being caught kept you going. Taking off the bloody dress, you put on the new clean one and shoved the old one into the backpack. You hugged the bad and started walking towards the door with the key in the right hand ready to unlock the world of freedom. Hesitating for a bit, you stood still and wondered what is awaiting you out there. You felt fear once again but decided it was better out there than in this hellhole. You run out of the door fast, passing by the kitchen downstairs, stopping in front of the door frame, but instead of the door, there was a heavy curtain. You pushed it a bit to the side and the fear within raised even more. Someone was there. You backed away looking for another exit, but the feeling of someone following you was there. Your breathing was fast and you felt like you could not go on but the freedom was so close. The heartbeat was fast but your steps were faster. You finally found the exit and ran out of the house you were held in. You run, run far away from the place not knowing what direction you were going in. You just wanted to flee from that place. Maybe if I get lost, it would fool the person who is after me? You thought but was confused because you did not hear any footsteps behind you. Is my own heartbeat cause of me not hearing well? You kept on running through the streets of the town, passing by the huge shops, the empty market, around the mansions and the small looking ordinary houses.

People were looking at you but you did not care. You were exhausted and even though you were scared, you stopped for a second to catch a breath. You felt the stinging pain with every breath you took but you were okay with it. As long as you were far away from that place. You noticed how the air changed and the smell of salt and water hit your nostrils. The eyes that were closed before opened widely and you looked up. The heavy fog caused you not to see anything but the fire torch on the side of the house. You weren’t sure where you were, so you slowly started heading towards the only source of the light. Not like you had any other option. You did not want to return to the fog-filled darkness, so you walked towards the fire torch. You could hear the sound of the waves hitting the rocky wall and screeching noise of wooden planks which were presumably used as the floor on the ships, but could not see anything. You did not even know where you were exactly heading to. The sounds were coming from each side and the only source of light disappeared right in front of your eyes.

“I swear to God, it is her! We found her! Come on, Taehyung! Take her.” You turned towards the voices looking surprised at two men approaching your shivering body. They knew. They are coming for me. You were sure they were the people who were following you. You could not move so you stood there waiting for her fate. “Hey there,” said the blonde one of the duo and smiled from ear to ear at his companion. “The captain will like her. What do you think, Taehyung?” The brown-haired man licked his lower lip and simply nodded. “Definitely. This one will work.”

You could feel yourself trembling under the perverted gazes of the men who were too close to your liking but could not say anything. You knew you had no right to do so. The only thing left within is your strong will. The only thing no one can take from you. “Where are you taking me?” you whispered softly. Taehyung laughed and winked at the older man next to him. “She is willing, Jimin. He will love it. Only if I could, I would love to be in his place tonight.” Said Taehyung biting his lower lip once again. “Just a bit further,” said Jimin and tilted his head to the side pointing at the slowly ship that was slowly showing up. “On the board of Bangtan. Let’s go.“ And so you followed him, while the other male was right behind you. There was no chance of running away. You were surprised by the new setting, not understanding why they were taking you on the ship but it did not matter. My life if not mine anymore anyway. You thought as you willing held Jimin’s hand to hop on the wooden plank that connected the docks with the ship. He swiftly let go once you were on board making sure that no one else saw, that he touched the captain’s lady. He pointed towards the direction and asked you to follow him as he led you towards the wooden door hidden at the and of the hallway. In front of them, he halted his steps, took a deep breath and softly knocked three times. Without waiting for the response, Jimin opened the door and made his way inside, into the captain’s cabin. The unfamiliar man stood up from the table. Only if you weren’t so scared, you could have noticed that he was tall, well built and that his eyes were deep brown. The man had brown slim fitted trousers, that were too tight around his waist and the snow-white shirt was unbuttoned down to his hips. It showed his muscular broad chest. He looked a bit like a pirate but also as a demon. His dark hair was up to his chin but the best part was his face. It was like he was made by God’s touch. His nose was straight, but from the profile, you could notice a tiny bump on it. His plump lips were the ones Eve would kiss every day in the Eden but suddenly he was here. And you were well aware of that. He was there and so close to you. If only you weren’t in this situation, you would do anything to get to know that man. When he smiled, your knees went weak. He came closer to you, he measured you from the bottom to the top, not missing any detail on your body.

“I see you did your best today, Jimin. I bet it took you long before you found this gem.“ Said the beautiful man still looking at you. “Not really, captain.” He replied and Taehyung swiftly added: “We found her near the docks, she was very willing.” Taehyung smirked as he looked at your body hungrily. The tall man nodded and slowly started walking around you. He was not touching you by anything than his dark lusty eyes, that were appreciating every curve of your body and your breasts which looked like they were moulded by the goddess of beauty, Aphrodite. The backpack you were holding in you hand went back against your chest, as you were trying to cover from the longing gaze of the captain. The dress you changed into was of thin fabric and you regretted not changing into male clothes back then. The tall man stood still in front of you, smiled, but you weren’t looking at him. You refused to look at him wondering how is your fate going to look like from now on. The two men that brought you there were smirking, satisfied with tonight’s present for their captain.

The tall man moved to the side, so Jimin could whisper something to him. You briefly looked around the cabin, but could not see anything. Even though you looked strong, from the inside you felt like you were about to break down. You were tired, exhausted and confused. You could not imagine the trial on the ship, but because you did not know anything about law and these things, you thought that you would be sent to some colony for killing a man. Or so you tough. Oh God, when I think about all of my childhood dreams… When I think about how I wanted to run away from poverty just to be almost raped by that old man. I wanted to have an easy life. But I will be sent to prison or some unknown colony for the sin I committed. You sighed as you got reminded of the reasons why you ended up in the room with the man who tried to take advantage of you. I killed a man, they caught me and now I have to accept whatever the fate prepared for me. You shut your eyes tightly and bit your lower lip nervously. With the saddening thoughts, you went numb. You were guilty. They caught you and now you have to wait for the trail. You were so deep in the thoughts, you did not hear two men that brought you there left.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the deep chuckle of the man standing in front of you. He bowed. “Welcome. What is your name, little one?” He smiled. “Y/N,” you exhaled but when you saw him tilting his head you added softly “captain.” He nodded and walked towards the table. “That is a very beautiful name, Y/N. My name is Jeon Jungkook, but my friends call me Jungkook. Have you eaten already?” You hesitated to give him an answer but nodded at the end. “Wine, maybe?” Jungkook asked and took the bottle to pour himself and then brought a bottle closer to you. You shook your head to reject a drink and looked down on the floor. Captain laughed silently at your reaction and walked to you until he stopped closely. He took the backpack you were holding eagerly and threw it to the other side of the cabin still keeping his gaze on you. He was addicted to your beauty and dress which provided just a tiny coverage of your curves. Your skin was reflecting the light from the candle placed on the table. The captain saw a beautiful woman sitting in front of him with an exquisite bust that was showing above the cut of the dress. As you were breathing, your breasts were rising and falling down. For Jungkook it was a beautiful sight he could not get enough of.

He came even closer to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up. He covered your lips with his. You could feel a hint of bitter wine, the taste your father liked. You were so surprised and reminded of the past, that you forgot to protest and stood still, letting the man kissing you. You could see yourself out of your body, but when his tongue slipped into your mouth a wave of emotions came crashing down of you. Most of all you felt excitement when this tongue opened your soft lips and entered inside. From somewhere within, you felt a weird feeling which was strangely comforting. You knew if the circumstances were different, you would like the situation you were in. Captain stepped back smiling but you could see his eyes were filled with lust. When he pulled his hand away, you gasped as you felt your dress falling down to the floor. For a moment your eyes met, but you interrupted it by trying to lift the dress back up but his hands held your shoulders and pulled you into his embrace. It was when you realised that the man wanted. What he was doing. You knew you could not do anything. Your body was weak from what happened earlier today and the running just exhausted you so much, you could not do anything. You were trying to push him away. You ran away from the disgusting man who tried to take advantage of you just to run into the man who will do the same. The embrace of Mr Brown this afternoon was strong, but Jungkook’s arms were made of steel. You could not push him away to free yourself. While you were moving your hand on his body, by accident you pushed captain’s shirt down of his shoulders and it made its way down to the floor. The only wall between your bodies was a tiny material of your bra. Your lost your breath whenever he covered your lips with his and then he continued kissing your face and the top of your bust. You could feel how was his hand sliding down your back and suddenly your bra was unclasped and fell down. The exposed breast was covered by his broad chest. When you felt the heat he radiated, you strongly pushed him away and for a second you were freed. He laughed and took that as a cue to take off his shoes and trousers.

He smirked, “You are playing your little games well, but there is no way, that you would win.” He was looking at your naked bust and you could see the passion in his eyes. You were more beautiful and charming than he was wishing for. On the other hand, it was your first time seeing a naked man and it was terrifying. You stood still until the captain walked closer to you once again and when he did, you screamed and turned around ready to run away. You wanted to, but his strong grip on your waist halted any action you tried to do. The grip was strong, but it never hurt you. He did not try to do you any harm. You bowed down to bit into his hand. Captain cursed and pulled his hand back to rub the hurt spot. You took it as your cue to run but tripped and fell down to his bed. In the second he was on top of you, pressing you into the mattress. You felt like every movement you did was just encouraging him. The hair that was in a bun before was now ruffled and you could not breathe. “No!” you screamed. “Stop it! Let me go!” Captain smirked and whispered by your neck. “Oh no, little one. No. Not anymore.”

With that, he moved and for a second you could not feel his body. But soon again, you could feel as his hard member was looking for something in between your thighs until it found something. He entered you a bit and you in fear lifted your back from the bed, trying to escape the pain you started to feel. He could hear something between a scream and groan from your mouth when you felt the strong pain in the lower parts of your body. Jungkook moved back a bit surprised. You were weakly laying on the mattress shaking your head. Jungkook softly touched your cheek and whispered something you could not hear, but your eyes were closed and did not want to look at him. He was moving gently above you, kissing your hair and forehead and kept on caressing every part of your beautiful body. You weren’t moving even when you felt his gentle thrusts becoming more aggressive and soon enough he entered fully because he could not control himself anymore. You could feel that your body was about to break with every trust of his body and soon enough your eyes were filled with tears.

When the storm ended, and everything was calm, he became once again the sweet, gentle man. When he finally pulled out, you turned to the side and let out all the tears you were holding in. With the closest blanket, you covered your face and your now filthy body so he could not look at you any longer. Jungkook was confused. He looked at the beautiful woman laying next to him. Jungkook was adoring the beautiful curves of her hips and soft thighs he was holding just a few minutes ago. He reached in to touch you, while wondering what went wrong – how you were willing to come to him at first and walked into his cabin, then how you were playfully protesting but still thrusted against his length in the bed – and now you were crying in front of him with the blood on the sheet. What made you turn into a prostitute, little one?

Part 2

a/n: I really hope you liked this one, I wrote it today and decided to surprise you all! :)

#bts smut #yandere bts #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jeon jungkook #bts yandere #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #jungkook #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #yandere jungkook #yandere

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