#*stealthily wipes drool off my face*

[syneilesis]

He's definitely a sub a do-M boy I don't make the rules

[alice-angel12x]

Dragons in Twisted Wonderland

Part 1

(Heads up, the HTTYD timeline is a bit altered. So Dragons leave humans sometime later after Hiccup and Astrid, and when village moves to their new home. Some of the Hidden world Dragons hang around from a distance on the island)

The new Isle of Berk, after the defeat of Grimmel. The Berkians cheered as the Dragons were know safe. Chief Hiccup served as an amazing chief as the camp eventually turned into a town. But the story isn’t about Hiccup, but a new Berkian. Y/n, she is an odd sort. While other Vikings were bold and fearless axe, sword wielding combatants, Y/n preferred to fight from the distance. Thus became the best marksman in all of Berk.

And while many other young Vikings their age was already paired with a dragon of their own. Y/n while friendly to all dragons, never had that connections most dragon riders had with their dragon. So they could only ever watch the dragon games.

But Hiccup noticed Y/n’s small talents in the blacksmith arts, and decided to take them under his wing. He was greatly impressed when Y/n took his fire blade concept and made something for their marksmanship. A self lighting flaming arrow, and a small throwable pouch of zipplback gas.

And Y/n would prove themselves well with these weapons in combat. When dragon hunters tried to invade, Y/n’s skill proved useful as they would attack from the shadows and out of sight.

—————————————————-

One day as Y/n watched the Dragon Riders zoom across the sky in the Dragon game, Hiccup noticed that they sat alone.

“I think the games would be more fun if you were with friends,” Hiccup said as he sat down next to his apprentices.

“All my friends are currently playing in the games,” Y/n sighed as they sharpened their arrows.

“Have you not found a dragon companion?” Hiccup asked, as Toothless quickly joined him.

“Well. Dragons are really amazing creatures. Though, none of the dragons here, connect with me. I must be the lamest person in Berk who still doesn’t have a dragon of their own,” Y/n sighed sadly as they gave Toothless an affectionate scratch on the chin.

“That’s not true,” Hiccup chuckled as he remembered his father. “ It took a long time for my father to find a dragon that suited him. And he even had one dragon for a time, still he found Skull Crusher.”

“You will find dragon that will connects with you in time,” Hiccup patted Y/n’s shoulder. When Toothless gave Y/n happy lick on the face.

“I hope that is soon,” Y/n smiled as they tried to wipe off the dragon drool, when the Alarm bells went off. An intruder!

Toothless growled as Hiccup quickly hopped onto his friends back. Y/n quickly readied their arrows and turned to search for the trappers.

“Y/n,” chief Hiccup called, causing Y/n to stop and turn to their mentor and chief. “Be careful, alright.”

Toothless made a chuffed sound in agreement. Y/n nodded confidently as Toothless and Hiccup took to the Air. Y/n quickly searched the forest as stealthily as possible. When they heard something!

A bunch of hunters had cornered a light fury mother and her daughter. The daughter seemed injured, while the mother was tangled in a coarse net. The rope cutting into her skin. Y/n glared from her vantage point. The young Viking grabbed their small pouch of Zippleback gas and tossed it over the hunters. Swiftly Y/n pulled out and notched their arrows as the arrowhead suddenly lit in flames. Just as the pouch was about 3 feet above the hunters, Y/n shot their arrow and the flaming arrow hit the pouch. Causing a powerful explosion, sending the hunters flying.

Y/n quickly slide down the tree and slowly squatted down, and slowly approach. Trying to appear as small and unthreatening as possible. The mother light fury growled at the approaching human. Y/n kept their eyes mostly on the ground as they slowly inched closer. The light fury sensing no hostility relaxed a bit, allowing humans to approach. Y/n quickly placed some ointment on the younger night fury's wound and quickly freed the mother.

The mother quickly got up with a limp and called for her daughter to follow. Yet the Younger Light Fury stayed and studied the strange human. Y/n remained still and kept their eyes on the ground, as the younger dragon sniffed them. The mother dragon called again and the daughter slowly followed.

_____________________________________________

From that day on the young Light Fury followed Y/n from the shadow. Though Y/n was very aware of a large dragon trying to hide in the bushes to watch them. She watched them as they worked in the smith, did their daily chores, and tend to the other dragons.

One day as Y/n watched the dragon Games, the light fury slowly and carefully sat down next to the Human. Y/n chuckled and handed the Light fury a fish, which was happily excepted.

"You've been hanging around a lot, following me in the shadows," Y/n smirked.

The light fury raised her head, pretending to not know what Y/n was talking about.

"Well, how should I address you, Light Fury?" Y/n asked. The light fury opened one eye to peek down at Y/n, showing interest in the idea.

"How about... Blare?" Y/n asked, the light fury shook her head and turned her head away from Y/n. After some time and lists of names, they finally settle on one. "Alright, what about... Sky Crest."

Sky Crest's ear twitched at that name, showing she was okay with the name. Y/n and Sky Crest from then on would grow closer as friends, and eventually would become a Dragon and Rider pair. When one day...

Ah, my lovely Lord,

The noble and beautiful flower of evil,

You are the most beautiful, number one in this world.

ーMirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the most…

ーFor thee, guided by the Mirror of Darkness,

Follow thy heart and take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror.

Flames that turn even stars into ashes,

Ice that imprison even time,

Great tree that swallow even the sky,

Don’t be afraid of the power of darkness,

Come now, show your power.

Mine, theirs, and yours,

There’s only little time left for us.

Do not let go of that hand, at all costs.

Y/n and Sky Crest shook their heads as they heard the strange voice in their ears. Suddenly there was an uproar in the village. Black horses attached to a strange glass wagon were dashing through the village wildly.

As the horses ramed and crashed into things, they began to run toward Y/n. Yet as Sky Crest ran to Push Y/n out of the horse's path, everything went dark.

[nagipops]

Hello!Can I request Giyuu x wind hashira reader who is very kind and compassionate to others (even demons).She’s also a doctor who’s amazing at concocting a medicine ( just like Shinobu) and she’s also Giyuu’s best friend ( She always protect him from Shinobu insults).Thank you very much,feel free to write this if you’re comfortable❣️.Also Sanemi and Shinobu are like her real brother and sister💖)Love ya~Have a great day~💕

FEATHERLIGHT

FEATURING: giyuu tomioka!

SUMMARY: in which your reward after a poignant battle becomes your new motivation.

WARNINGS: blood/gore tw, fem!reader

A/N: loved this prompt! my apologies for this being so late; it got buried in my inbox :( thank you for being so patient, this was incredibly fun to write!

"Ara ara, Tomioka-san," your sister's lilting voice sounded from behind you as the familiar scent of flora enveloped your senses. "Having some fun with my little butterfly again, aren't you?"

"Tch." Giyuu's cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink as he swiftly dropped your arm from his grip.

Whirling around to face your sister with a scowl, you cried, "Shinobu! We were just practicing sparring, don't get any ideas!" You could feel your face begin to heat up at your teasing sister.

"Mmm," she raised an eyebrow inquisitively before poking your cheek with a slender finger. "Maybe you should get to work concocting a love potion for a certain someone..."

"That's enough," Giyuu muttered, grabbing a hold of your arm once again. "Come on, let's go practice somewhere with less Shinobu-ing and more room to spar." He cast a murderous glance over your shoulder at your older sister who was innocently waving at the two of you with the sweetest smile on her face.

You gave an exasperated sigh as your best friend dragged you out of earshot from your teasing sister. "Sorry about that, Giyuu, she really is insufferable, isn't she?"

"I'm just lucky you didn't get the same personality as her," he mumbled from up ahead as you navigated through tangled branches and boulders. “Her teasing is relentless.” Although his straightforward words must not have meant much to him, who always says what he truly thinks, they warmed your heart. You made him feel lucky.

“She’s only kidding, you know. She only teases people she really loves.” Taking a deep breath of the cool forest air, you recalled the countless times your older sister had been there for you, training you to create antidotes for all sorts of poisons, fighting off demons for you during perilous missions, and teaching you that the best way to get through a tough situation is to have a smile on your face.

She really did love you, more than anyone you knew. And you returned that love for your only sister.

All of a sudden, the raucous, persistent cawing of a crow circling above interrupted your nostalgic thoughts.

You immediately extended an arm, creating a perch for your Kasugai crow to land on. “What is it, Jiyu?” You soothingly stroked the ebony bird’s soft feathers, receiving grateful beady eyes in return.

“Caw! Sightings of demons reported in the forest in the South! Forest of the South! Wind and Water Hashira, report to the area immediately! Caw!” the crow screeched, tensing its sharp claws on your arm for a second before swiftly darting off into the sky.

You locked eyes with Giyuu, giving him a determined nod before dashing off to the forest in the South.

“There,” Giyuu whispered harshly, directing your gaze to the hulking demon less than ten meters away from you. The two of you were concealed behind a thick tree trunk as you scouted out the clearing, watching as the gigantic monster trundled around the glade.

A bloodcurdling shriek pierced through the air just then, instantaneously cutting off as soon as it sounded. You exchanged a look of horror with your blue-eyed partner, a pool of dread forming in your stomach.

A human life lost...

Heart aching, you sent a quick silent prayer to the gods above.

So many of those screams you have heard, so many lives lost to those demons. Those demons who are forced to live such a cruel, hatred-filled life.

Steeling yourself, you and Giyuu stealthily wove through trees and branches, nearing closer and closer to the demon ahead of you.

Their terror must end here.

The grotesque creature was no more than twelve feet away from you, snarling vilely as it searched the area for any humans. Laying in a bloody heap near its feet was the tiny body of a girl who couldn't have been older than six or seven years old. Stinging tears threatened to spill from your sorrowful eyes as you realized that could have been you many years ago had your siblings not rescued you from that demon.

Demons-- humans, just like you and Giyuu, who were forced to suffer the consequences of heir own unlucky fate. You became a pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps in order to help free these misunderstood creatures from their agony, and reunite them with their lost past. But their sins as demons could not go overlooked.

"Tomioka-san," you whispered to your best friend who was eyeing the drooling monster in front of you, hands wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sheathed sword. "You take care of the demon, I'll retrieve the girl and see if her life can be salvaged. Understood?"

He only nodded curtly in response, swiftly unsheathing his hefty blade with no more than a minute clink before teleporting to a lofty nearby branch. You remained hidden behind the thick tree trunk, watching Giyuu's fingers closely for a sign to commence the operation.

Giyuu tended to strike from behind with the advantage of the element of surprise, so you watched and waited for the demon's back to turn to him, flipping through your various concoctions stored in the tiny bag on your hip.

You waited, and waited, and waited...

Giyuu's thumb straightened out.

Immediately you were on top of the girl, analyzing all of her vitals and arriving at a diagnosis in a split second: she was still alive.

Injecting serum after serum and stitching up open wounds as the metallic clinks and crashes of battle surrounded you, you snuck glances at how your best friend was faring in combat. The demon appeared to be a formidable opponent, as it wasn't decaying into ashes just yet.

You felt trembling movement from underneath your steady hands.

"Gh..." A bubble of blood spurted from the tiny girl's crusted lips. Retrieving a vial of hydration from your pouch, you quickly wiped off her mouth and held it open as you poured in the refreshing liquid.

"Hello there, thank you for being strong." You hovered over your wounded patient, smiling softly. "I am the wind hashira, and we're here to exterminate the demon that hurt you. You're going to recover in no time, alright?"

The child squinted painfully at you, attempting to reorient herself in her unfamiliar surroundings. "Wh... where am I? Where’s my older brother?”

"The forest in the South." The sun was beginning to rise, but it was too dangerous to leave the injured victim out in the open clearing. “Your brother is…”

A wounded cry rung through the air just then, snapping your attention to the fight a few feet away from you. Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach as you saw Giyuu's haori stained in fresh blood, pooling from his chest. He was staggering about, body heaving from the effort to control his breathing as he stared down the demon with venomous eyes. The creature only responded with a warbled cackle as he lunged for your best friend once again.

And you were on top of it in an instant, slicing the wisteria-injected needle-like tip this way and that, targeting the weak points of the demon’s body that Shinobu taught you of which would allow for quicker absorption of the venom. You darted around in such a frenzied blur that the creature could barely even blink before you appeared in front of Giyuu, shielding him from his tormentor.

“(Y/N), I— I was fine…” He clutched a hand to his crimson-stained chest.

“Tomioka-san, you’re bleeding very badly. I couldn’t leave you to get hurt.” You spotted the girl in the middle of the clearing, sitting up and looking around the area with curiosity. Glancing briefly over your shoulder, you assessed what would be the best move for both of them. “Are you able to move?”

“I’ll go help the girl. You— hck… you take care of this.”

A smile formed on your lips as he dashed away at the synchronization the two of you always shared. It was like you could read each other’s thoughts.

A pained howl snapped you back to reality as the demon in front of you seized and whined in pain as the poison began to kick in. One of the only differences between you and your older sister was that you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy at the elongated suffering your fighting technique brought upon your target in their final moments before death.

What did they think of? What were they feeling? Who did they want to cry out for?

The demon thrashed once before every single muscle in their body froze, and their mutated body dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. You stepped closer to them, locking your apologetic eyes with their four frightened ones as they trembled in fear.

Lightly tracing their gnarled neck with the edge of your sword, you whispered, “I’m sorry. Please cross over safely, where your loved ones will await you.” You pressed the blade into their neck, various crimson fluids spilling out—

“Si… ster…”

You stopped.

Flakes of gray skin began to crumble away.

“Where… little sister…”

Your thumping heart froze in your chest.

The body in front of you continued to disintegrate.

“I’m… so sorry…”

It burned and burned and burned, until smell of ash and death was all that remained of the little girl’s older brother.

The glade was enveloped in the warm, glittering glow of dawn as the shimmering rays of sun trickled in through the thinning treetops.

A pair of kakushi had escorted the little girl away, who had been blubbering with tears as she was dragged away from the remnants of her demonized brother.

You knelt before your best friend now, applying an abundance of salves and bandages to his battered chest with a numb buzzing rushing through your veins.

“… Okay?”

You snapped back into reality.

“(Y/N), you’re out of it… are you okay?”

Your eyes latched on to Giyuu’s, who was gazing up at you from your lap with a concerned look.

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“Family.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to keep your tears at bay, nodding softly.

A weight lifted off of your thighs as you wiped at your cheeks, when you suddenly felt arms wrapped tightly around your trembling body.

Eyes snapping open, you realized that Giyuu was hugging you.

“Giyuu—”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt.”

The labored, uneven breathing near your ear disputed that statement.

A single tear slipped down your cheek.

“Giyuu… let me take care of you. Please.”

“No. You need it more than I do.”

Arguing with him was useless, and you were so exhausted.

So you let him hold you.

And then he kissed your cheek.

It was only a soft, featherlight peck.

But it was your new motivation to fight.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[witlessficcer]

Intruder Alert

A/N: This fic is based on an ask by@multi-muse-transect. The ask was for a Peggy/Nat AU in which Natasha is taken in by Wong after he defeats Drykov. While she is studying as his apprentice, Nat sees Peggy working out. I have not seen The Black Widow. I hope this somewhat meets the request. Enjoy.

Natasha Romanoff still burned with the imprint of her former training. Her Master, Drykov was a viscous taskmaster and one whom distributed brutal punishment on those who did not meet his impossible standards. Nat did not fail, but she saw plenty who did, plenty who disappeared and were never seen or spoken of again. When Wong came to Red Room, many of the girls scattered, taking the opportunity to escape, if they had the nerve. Natasha watched. She watched as the General threw everything he had at Wong. But, the peaceful looking Asian was not an ordinary man. By some power that Natasha did not understand, Wong defeated Drykov.

When the battle was over, such as it was, the man looked at her intently. She returned his scrutiny with curiosity of her own. He approached her with open hands and smile with which the young assassin could find no fault. She was looking. Hard.

“Do you want to leave this place?” he asked, like he was order lunch. “I do not think there is anything left here for you.”

“I'm supposed to follow a strange man though a glowing golden portal and hope it all turns out well for me?” Natasha answered, coldly.

“Better than a Russian Gulag or being hunted like a dog for the sake of deniability,” the Asian answered, softly, but directly.

“If we get along,” the redhead offered. “And, I'm not saying we will. I want you to teach me what you were doing. The golden patterns were...beautiful. The power in them is obviously strong.”

“It is possible that this could be done. If we get along. As you know, students get the grunt work. Are you prepared to keep working? I promise that learning form me will be nothing like this place.”

“Let's go,” Natasha said, ready to leave with the clothes on her back. “There is nothing here for me.

She watched as the portly man seemed to spin a web of light, which opened into a larger circle and showed an empty alley on the other side. Without a glance toward her, he walked through.

She stood still; considering he empty alley, the oddly content man, and potential to learning a power beyond her understanding.

“Are you coming?” he asked from the other side of the portal. His hands clasped behind his back. “The window will close momentarily.”

“Who are you?” Natasha asked, her heart rate rising.

“My name is Wong.”

“Who are you, really?” she pressed. “You will find out soon enough. JUMP! NOW!

Natasha jumped as the portal closed around her.

*****

The house in New York was old, but comfortable. Stylish, in a museum kind of way. Nat found its timeless, multicultural decorations relaxing. It was inviting in a way the Red Room complex was spartan and lifeless. Nat was also pleased that she and Wong had worked out a teacher-student relationship that was both challenging and rewarding. His positive reinforcement was a refreshing change from Drykov, but also an initial hurdle as Nat knew she was exhibiting the behavior of an abused child. It took some time for each of them to learn to trust each other. It was coming, slowly, but surely.

After three months of introductory lessons, Wong decided to give her something a little more complex. He handed her a small leather bound book with ornate decoration on the front and back cover. It could not have been more than 20 pages long. Opening the volume, she found child like illustrations and words in a language she could not read. “Study this for this afternoon. Talk to me about what you have discovered at dinner.

Nat was not one to retreat from a challenge. Sitting at table on in the library, she started to 'read'. The words meant nothing, but the pictures...

Two hours later, Nat was knocked from her reverie by the faint sound of grunting an exertion. It wasn't Wong, or anyone else she had met at the House. She could hear the unmistakable sound of fists pounding leather. Kicking too. Rising from her chair she was was surprised to see golden sparks dissipate about her. What the hell? Even the sparks couldn't keep her from following the sounds of someone beating the shit of a hanging bag. Following the exhilarating sounds lead her to a wide, carpeted stairwell leading down. Of course its coming from the gym, dummy.

Making her way down the stairs and through a longer than normal corridor, Nat pulled up short before entering Wong's work out room. Peering into the room, but remaining out of sight, Nat was amazed at what she saw. The person beating on the bag was a woman. A giant woman. She must have been...over six feet tall. Her shoulders, glistening with sweat, were broad and muscled. Her entire body was broad and muscled. In her boxing stance, Nat could see the definition in her calves, thighs, and abs. The skin tight exercise pants left little to the imagination. The woman had a magnificently tight set of glutes. It was a nice ass. Who was she fooling? Despite herself, Nat found her eyes glued to the mystery woman. For the time being she felt that observing would be the best course of action. She wished the woman would turn around so she could get a look at the rest of her, but the Amazon was positioned to only show her back.

“How long are you going to stand there and watch?” the brown haired woman asked.

For the second time in a few short minutes, Nat had been caught off guard. Lost in thought. It was unforgivable. Drykov would have beaten her and thrown her naked into a cell the size of broom closet. That was then, though. This was now. Now, was a beautiful, muscle bound woman calling her out for staring. Natasha turned on the ice.

“I was waiting to get a good look at our intruder,” she said, flatly.

“Well,” the other woman said, turning to face Natasha. “Am I good looking?"

The former Red Room assassin, trained in all manner of self control and deadly precision, blinked. Dark brown eyes, strong jaw, aquiline nose, full, luscious lips, and large breasts, that seemed to strain against her loose grey tank top.

“Passable,” Nat said, without emotion. You thought luscious lips and big boobs, you big liar!Natasha felt like she needed to leave. She wasn't thinking clearly. This woman was affecting her in a way that she couldn't control. At first sight, her training was gone and she was succumbing to baser instincts. She's a hot athlete who started flirting with you immediately.

“Better than I get from the guys on the construction crew,” the larger woman said. “I think they're scared and don't know what to do with someone who could take them in a fight.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Natasha said. “Can't be easy taking shit from guys like that.”

“They are harmless. Literally. None of the them could hurt me.”

“Nasty names can't be easy every day,” Natasha said, moving not so stealthily toward the chair where the woman's bag lay open and white towel hung over the edge. “Plus, I'm not sure sure such names are entirely accurate.”

“Changing your tune that soon?” the other woman challenged. “I didn't come here to to be hit on by little girls. I came to work out.”

“I am not a little girl and I am hardly hitting on you,” piqued by the boxer's audacity.

“That drool at the edge of your mouth says otherwise?” the intruder continued, brazenly.

“I don't drool,” Nat responded, harshly, her self control eroding further. “Who are you? I need a name to give the police.”

“I'm Peggy, and there's no need to call the police. They would come, find you unconscious, and I would be in the wind.”

This woman, Peggy, was instigating her. Why? Perhaps she thinks your cute too. Did she already know who Natasha was? Was she an associate of Wong's? Or, did she simply like pushing buttons?

“If that was a threat, it was lost on me,” Nat said, with confident cool. “I can take care of myself. I'm sure you've heard the phrase: the bigger they are, the harder they fall?”

The larger woman's brown eyes gleamed with mirth. Placing on gloved hand on her hip, she brought the other to her mouth in failed attempt to stifle a laugh.

“Did you really just say that?” Peggy said, rounding out her chuckle. “Trained assassins should be able to make better threats than that. Seriously.”

Another figurative right hook to Natasha's ego sent her reeling. “Do you need a towel? You're sweating?” That's right. Offer to wipe down her sweaty muscles while you try to recover from her owning you from the moment you saw her.

“Sure, Natasha,” Peggy said, taking the offered towel and beginning to wipe herself off. “Since you mentioned it, if I fell, which is unlikely, I would make every effort to fall on top of you so there would be no clear victor.”

Nat was sure she was hypnotized. She was a Red Room assassin and a Sorcerer's apprentice. Who did this Amazonian street thug think she was? This is getting old. You are not hypnotized. You are hot for her at first sight and just won't admit it.

“Who's Victor?” Nat said, emerging form her inner argument. “And, how do you know who I am?”

“Are you okay?” Peggy said, coming toward her. The taller woman, pulled her boxing gloves off and tossed them to the floor. She turned her hand knuckles out and reached toward the assassin's forehead. Nat blocked the strong forearm aside before the hand could touch her.

Raising her hands in surrender, Peggy said. “I'm not going to hurt you. I was trying to check your temperature. You seem out of sorts.”

“How would you know what sort I am?” Nat said, too harshly.

“You're sweating,” Peggy said. “Your face is flush. You offered me a towel. I didn't see that coming.”

“You're sweating!” Nat exclaimed, causing a small burst of golden sparks to shoot from her temples.

“Whoa,” Peggy said, shocked, as the sorcerer's assassin collapsed toward her.

Peggy caught the younger read head and scooped her up into her large arms.

“What has Wong gone and done this time,” Peggy said, as she walked Natasha up the stairs in search of her teacher.

[artificialqueens]

Underneath The Mistletoe, Part 1 (Bianca/???) - Albatross

AN: Bianca wakes up with a hangover and limited memories after kissing someone at Alyssa’s holiday party. Although she doesn’t know who it was, it seems someone else (or rather, multiple someone elses), does…and they’re enjoying the free entertainment as she struggles to put the pieces together and find her mystery partner.

Just pretend I released this before the holidays end. Thank you @VeronicaSanders for beta-ing and brainstorming with me.

What. The. Hell. Happened?

Those were Bianca’s immediate thoughts as she came to one very bright, very noisy morning.

The second she opened her eyes, the sun damn near blinded her as the noise outside the house, dogs barking, cars rushing by and the like, assaulted her ears. Pretty much the first thing she noticed was that she was not in her home. No, it looked like she was in…fucking Laganja’s bedroom.

‘Why?’ was her immediate thought as she looked around, completed baffled and dazed. Her mind struggle for a moment but then she finally remembered, ‘Oh, yeah. Last night was their holiday party.’

Alyssa and Laganja always hosted the party two weeks before Christmas and it was always themed. Last year had been tacky, ABC costumes and this year…ugh.

Alyssa had sent out the invitations weeks ago asking everyone to wear something in traditional Christmas colors…and tacked on a suspicious warning at the end; “And none of y’all better be wearing lipstick when you get here. You can just march yourself right to the bathroom and wipe that shit off if you try sneaking in with any!”

The instant Bianca had read that block of text, a red flag had immediately gone up. Hell, a fucking parade of red flags against a backdrop of fireworks went off in her mind.

But still, it was a chance to see her friends before the holidays swallowed up all of her time…and the offer of free booze didn’t hurt Alyssa’s case either. Besides, Bianca figured, how crazy could Alyssa really get with that request?

Well, as it turned out, she had quite the festive and innovative motive for requesting nude lips.

******

Bianca and Adore made plans to arrive at the party together and maybe even carpool on their way home. One might stay at the other’s house depending on how much they drank but that was a concern for much later, Bianca reasoned.

Even before they had stepped inside the tacky, overly decorated house, the party behind its doors sounded to be in full swing. Laughter and mindless chatter echoed onto the front lawn long before they were halfway up the driveway. They barely made it two feet past the door frame before Alyssa flagged them down and held out two tubes of suspiciously unlabeled lipstick before them.

“Take your pick!” she laughed out in excitement.

Far from amused, Bianca asked sarcastically, “What colors are they? Silver and gold?”

“Red and green, smartass! For Christmas!”

“Right. What about Hanukkah?”

“Cute, Miss Thing,” Alyssa remarked with a roll of her eyes. “Now pick one.”

Glancing between the similar tubes, Bianca had to admit there were absolutely no clues about the color each one held. So rather than leaving it chance, Bianca stated flatly, “Red. Which is red?”

Immediately shaking her head, with a Cheshire grin to boot, Alyssa replied, “Uh-uh. Not how it works, baby girl. You gotta pick one.”

“Oh, really?” Bianca sneered as she crossed her arms and stared down her friend. Those ruby red lips of hers had not gone unnoticed, especially given the hard time she was giving Bianca right now. “And you just happened to pick your favorite shade by random chance?”

A flash of guilt swept across Alyssa’s face for just a moment but by the time Adore had started snickering in the background, it was gone and replaced an annoyed pout.

Feeling rather justified, Bianca made a further jab of, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, bitch. Which one is red?”

Alyssa’s response was only to huff but it was easy to see her beginning to try and think of some counter argument or sarcastic remark. Before things could escalate that far, Adore reached over and plucked one of the tubes from Alyssa’s hands.

Quite calmly, she uncapped it and upon seeing the glaring red, promptly handed it over to Bianca.

A smirk was present on both of the women’s faces, particularly when Alyssa grumbled, “Killjoy,” as she handed Adore the remaining tube.

The contents were a bright green, almost too bright for the holidays, and instantly Bianca had a guess as to where it came from. 

“Steal that from ‘Ganja?”

Full of indignation at the accusation, Alyssa let out a squawk of, “Borrowed.”

“Like you ‘borrowed’ my green halter last year?” Bianca countered with a scoff at the denial.

“I’m gonna return it!” Alyssa argued even as her voice rose in pitch. Her cheeks were beginning to burn with a light as she mumbled, “Just need to find it again.”

A quick roll of the eyes gave away Bianca’s thoughts on the matter but just in case it wasn’t clear enough already, she added in, “Don’t worry about it. I already snatched it from your laundry basket last month.”

Alyssa was the very picture of beauty and composure as she stared with wide eyes darting back and forth between a smirking Adore and vaguely irritated Bianca. Her mouth was gaping open like a fish as she tried to search the recesses of her mind for some kind of excuse for herself. All she could come up with, however, was a very flimsy and rather grating, “It was an accident!”

“Of course it was.”

Whether it was luck or simply overhearing the chatter of her roommate and not wanting to be left out, Laganja found her way to Alyssa’s side to greet their latest arrivals. She took one look at Bianca and the fresh lipstick on her face and pouted, “Mmph. Wanted to see Bianca with green lips for once.”

“Ha,” Bianca snapped back in a deadpanned tone, “Like I’d be caught dead with that shit on my lips.”

******

Ugh, fucking Laganja .

No doubt she had a hand in choosing this year’s theme. Probably had enough of everyone (mostly Bianca) teasing her for wearing that hideous green lipstick year round.

She was usually a pain to deal with under normal circumstances but last night she was something else entirely, certainly she’d been helped along by the ever flowing alcohol at the party. Even when she greeted Bianca and Adore at the entryway she’d been well on her way to buzzed and probably already high as fuck.

It was a wonder sometimes though; for all that stereotyping about pot smokers being lazy and complacent, little of that seemed to apply to Laganja. The girl was energetic and active as anything, even after smoking whatever productive she could at every given chance. Adore was about the opposite when she smoked; becoming contemplative and almost thoughtful (as much as she could be while high off her ass). But most importantly, she was chill … relaxed.

A little rambly, sure, but nothing so loud or annoying as Laganja was. No whiny, high-pitched voice to grate on her nerves. No overly-emotional outbursts or flaring tempers.

But wasn’t important right now. What Bianca was most concerned about was what happened last night after arriving. She knew she must have drank quite a bit, the fact that she chose to sleep in Laganja’s bed rather than in her own bed was evidence of that. She could only hazard a guess as to what state her hair and makeup must be in…Actually…perhaps it’s best not to think about that right now. Maybe just avoid all reflective surfaces anyway. No, what she needed more than anything, except perhaps coffee, was a nice, hot shower to clean off the paint she slept in last night.

Hopefully, after that and giving herself a chance to wake up a little more, her fucking hangover to end all hangovers would disappear and she’d be able to think clearly once again.

So, with a great effort from her still fatigued body, she pushed herself from the bed and stumbled into the main hallway. It was quiet inside the house and a little unsettling given how late in the morning it was, she expected at least Alyssa to be up and wandering around trying to clean up the mess. But it was damn near silent…apart from a soft snoring coming from the living room.

As stealthily as she could manage, Bianca crept towards the living room to take a quick peek at its state after last night. A quick look around the room confirmed that she was not the only one that had slept over. Adore was nestled on the couch, probably face down and drooling onto the cushions as various examples of Laganja’s hideous throw pillows covered her head and protected her from the sun shining in through the bay window. As for Laganja she was curled up on the other end of the couch, using one arm as a pillow as the other hung off the edge of the couch.

But Adore and Laganja weren’t the only ones sleeping off last night’s drunken escapades in here. After a further glance, Bianca found Willam sprawled out over the loveseat with an arm thrown over her eyes and her messy curls falling across the rest of her face. Even the straps of her dress barely seemed to be holding their place on her shoulders and her heels were missing from her feet. Actually, it seems there was a collection of shoes near the loveseat, Willam’s own likely among them. Adore’s platform boots stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the shiny stilettos and wedges of the remaining guests.

Deep in one of the corners, it seems Raja and Manila had managed to find comfort curled into one another in the constricted space of the recliner. From what Bianca could see, both women’s makeup had been somewhat smeared, particularly their lips. She could only imagine what Willam’s usual glittery mess must look like, especially after her arm had undoubtedly smeared any eyeshadow that was left.

After a quick double-checking to ensure everyone was still fast asleep, Bianca crept out of the house to do her walk of shame in as much privacy as could be managed in broad daylight and a Lyft. To her relief she met no one else aside from her driver as she traveled back to her apartment and proceeded to get ready for a much needed shower. While the water heated up, she finally dared to look in a mirror to begin removing last night’s makeup and it was then that she made a disturbing discovery. 

Aside from her own smudged ruby-red lipstick, there was also a very distinct layer of green smeared over top. Not just a small hint of green. No, it was everywhere . It was even fucking extended up her cheek!

Just what the hell happened last night?

Sure, Bianca’s pecked friends on the cheek or lips while drunk before but she’s never made out with anyone!

And who had it been, anyway?

‘Had anyone seen? Taken pictures?’ She wondered.

Oh, god! This is not what she needed to worry about so early in the day. Especially not with a hangover to boot.

‘Okay, just…take a moment,’ she reasoned. ‘Just let everything come back on its own. Don’t force it.’

And of course, what better way to encourage those buried memories to come back than to just let her mind wander in the shower. The warm spray was so relaxing, so calming…It was just what she needed after passing out on a couch.

And sure enough, some of last night’s events did begin to seep into the forefront of her mind. 

She remembered…bickering with Laganja a bit more over that hideous green lipstick…mingling with some of her friends for a few minutes and then…

Oh, right! She made her way to the kitchen to grab a drink!

She finished off the first glass of wine alone and then…she poured another before joining the rest of the party again. There was laughing, joking. She was having a great time catching up…But what else?

A number of guests had been wandering around taking photos and videos for Instagram, Facebook and god knows what else. She’d even posed for a few of those and posted one or two herself…and then…

Suddenly a thought flashed through her mind; Raja! 

She and Raja had gone around looking for another bottle of wine and stumbled upon Alyssa’s secret stash. The good bottles. The expensive bottles. So of course, they eagerly dipped in and shared what they had found. It was then the party really got interesting and Bianca’s memory began to spread thin.

She remembered laughing, so much harder than before. There were little glimpses but she and the others were having a wonderful time. Someone had their feet up in her lap for a minute before she pushed them off. Probably Adore. But what about after that?

It was foggy…she drank so much but it was fun…

Then there was a vague, thin little memory…Her back was pressed against a doorframe, eyes closed, some kind of… smell …and she was kissing someone…but why?

She tried focusing on what she remembered before the drinking, what she noticed soon after arriving and commented on…what was it?

Mistletoe!

Now she remembered! Alyssa and Laganja had hung that shit all over their house. Bianca had dodged nearly every one of them she found, especially if someone were standing near it. Almost certainly there’d been one above her and whoever she kissed…but why did she let them? Was she really drunk enough to be that messy with one of her friends?

And who the fuck was it?

That was what annoyed her the most. She just couldn’t remember!

But maybe she didn’t have to.

An idea struck her and like a flash, she finished her shower and went to grab her phone. By now most of the photos and video from the party should be posted…maybe someone had caught a snapshot of her without realizing it…But as she looked through all of the updates, she realized this was a tougher challenge than she originally anticipated. Aside from just the pictures, there must have been hours worth of video to watch, thanks to a few of the attendees livestreaming, along with whatever else might posted in their stories.

Ugh…what a pain.

But she had to know.

So for nearly an hour, she sat on her bed in just her towel and scrolled through every picture and video that had been posted by her friends. It was when she came to the sixth profile (Tatianna’s) that she finally struck gold. In the background of one of her stories Bianca caught a glimpse of herself with someone’s hand tucked under her chin. They weren’t kissing just yet but she’d have bet anything that would have come next. 

But thanks to whatever stupid filter Tatianna had been using, the background was largely blurry and Bianca could barely make out her own figure, much less someone else’s. Not to mention that annoying habit of Tatianna’s that prevented her from standing still. Her fucking hair blocked out nearly everything that might have made the other woman recognizable. All except that one visible hand. But perhaps the most irritating thing of all was if the story had been just a little longer, Tatianna would have moved just enough to see the other woman’s hair color, something that would be a lot more definitive than just their fucking hand! But no, the universe would have been too kind to allow that.

So frustrating!

Even after playing the story on a loop for five minutes, all Bianca could learn was that the person she kissed had light skin, at least lighter than her own…

‘So Bob’s out,’ she figured.

But…there was something else…She didn’t really remember the person tucking their hand beneath her chin but when she kissed them, she could have sworn they were about her height…she didn’t have to crane her neck too far, she recalled…but also…if her memory could even be trusted, the kiss just felt nice…inviting even. Clearly it was messy judging by the smeared lipstick but there was something just…well, she couldn’t explain it…at least not right now.

But that’s a thought for another time.

‘And when was this posted anyway?’

About 7 hours ago, so…2 AM-ish. Not many people likely to be left at the party by then. She could probably name a few with a little extra effort- Oh!

Alyssa would probably remember. She’d have to text her in a minute. Bianca was certain there was another clue to discover still and sure enough in the next story posted, discounting the one displaying all of the empty glasses and bottles scattered on the kitchen counter, was of Tatianna and Willam . It was still time stamped as 7 hours ago but what caught Bianca’s eye was the heavily smudged green lipstick on Willam’s face…and where certain traces of red could be seen.

‘Oh, god, if it’s her. Fucking Christ, I’ll need to head over to the free clinic.’

But it still wasn’t anything definite. However, it was the best lead Bianca had at the moment until she finds out everyone else who was still at the party. So, as she waited for a response from Alyssa, undoubtedly sleeping in after such a long night, Bianca was going to question Willam on what exactly she remembered of last night’s escapades.

******

Sharon: Biiiitch!

Sharon: You are not gonna believe what I saw last night!

This was the first message Willam saw popping up on her screen after last night’s drunken fiasco; a group text initiated by Sharon including damn near everyone of their mutual friends.

Before anyone could even ask what it was (or why she was texting so early in the goddamn morning), a picture loaded on the screen that undoubtedly had several jaws dropping.

Michelle: Is that BIANCA?!?!

Vanessa: Who’s gonna tell that bitch she got syphilis now?

Jackie: WHORE!

Mariah: When’d she turn into Drinkx?

Jinkx: Fuck you!

Countless messages filled the new chat group, so much that it was almost impossible to read all of them as they came through. Immediately at the sight of the picture, Willam was left doubled over and cackling. 

Saving the picture to her phone, she returned her attention back to the chat and found the other members debating on when to tell the involved parties. Some wanted to tell her right away and begin the mandatory teasing, others wanted to wait and keep it as an in-joke for the time being.

The one thing they could all agree on was that this information was, under no circumstances, to be shared with certain people. Alyssa and Katya, first and foremost; two of some of the biggest loudmouths in the group.

And not that ‘rat-snitch Phi Phi’ came another declaration. Otherwise, Bianca would know within the hour.

Further debate went on for nearly an hour until Willam found a new text message alert appearing at the top of her screen. Her eyes lit up with a devilish glint as she returned to the group chat to inform them that Bianca was inviting herself over and of course argued with them on what she ought to do.

Whatever they decide, Willam was intent on having her fun with this.

******

Despite Bianca’s sense of immediacy with her text, Willam did not seem to feel any rush to respond back right away. During the two hours it took for her to reply, Bianca was left stewing in her apartment sending ever urgent messages in the hopes of getting an actual fucking response. So, once the first indication of a reply flashed across her phone, Bianca was off like a shot and racing towards Willam’s home.

In record time, thanks to quite a bit of speeding, she arrived at Willam’s apartment building and began knocking on her door. Nearly the second it opened and she was face-to-face with her exhausted friend, Bianca blurted out, “What do you remember from last night?”

Smirking, Willam shot back, “What? No ‘hello’? No 'Good morning!’ or ‘How about we get some coffee?’”

“Don’t try me, bitch,” she warned as she stalked inside the apartment and made her way to the living room, “I’m not in the mood. What. Do. You. Remember?”

A sense of coy, teasing overlaid itself in Willam’s voice as she asked, “Depends…What do you want to know?”

“Cut the shit, Willam. Do you remember anything from Alyssa’s party?”

“Well…” Willam mocked as she sat down next to her friend, “I remember there was music and food, dancing and drinking. You and Raja raiding Alyssa’s liquor cabinet. Kameron and Asia ducking out early to-”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!”

Still with a smirk on her lips, Willam taunted her, “Do I?”

The glare shot her way might have intimidated just about anyone else but Willam found it more amusing than anything. It was unusual for Bianca to get so worked up and certainly this wasn’t an opportunity Willam was going to miss, not when it was so enticingly presented before her. But part of her did feel a strange bit of pity for Bianca. Clearly, she must have remembered something about the kiss. Perhaps she was just trying to damage control…for what little good it might do her.

Quickly coming to the end of her patience, Bianca gave a heavy, reluctant sigh before admitted, “I kissed someone last night. I don’t remember who.”

The response, as Bianca expected, was an immediate, loud seal-like laugh that echoed throughout the room. She didn’t think it was meant to be malicious, but it certainly did nothing to relieve the sting of embarrassment she felt following her confession. Nevertheless, a scowl grew across her face as her fingers drummed irritably along the couch’s cushion.

Once she had some control over herself again, minus the snickering that snuck through, Willam asked, “So…you don’t have any idea who was? Seriously?”

Glaring back at her smirking friend, seemingly just for good measure at this point, Bianca replied begrudgingly, “All I know is that they were wearing that stupid green lipstick. It was all over my lips when I woke up this morning…”

With that admission, Willam shrieked with laughter and collapsed onto her side as she threw herself into the couch cushions. A very familiar burn of irritation ran through Bianca’s core and despite herself, she could feel a light blush beginning to rise. 

“Fuck off,” she snapped back, “It might’ve been you, cunt!”

At that the laughter doubled and soon Willam was clutching her arms around her sides to keep herself together. “You-” she gasped out between her broken cackling, “You really think-it might’ve been… me?”

Bianca gave an irritable shrug of shoulders and avoided looking directly at Willam for the time. “Might’ve been…There was a picture of you on Tati’s Instagram with your lipstick smudged with someone else’s. Someone that was wearing red.”

Pushing herself up from the cushions, her body still shaking with hidden fits of giggling and that ever present smirk on her face, Willam turned a bit thoughtful as she replied consideringly, “Well…anything’s possible.” It truly was. Her sobriety last night was probably not much better than Bianca’s but at least she remembered some of the events of the party. She knew she probably kissed someone at the party but based on that picture flying around the group chat, Willam knew it wasn’t with Bianca. Still though, this opportunity was just too good to miss. She just had to keep playing along. 

“I was drunk and high off my ass most of the night,” she conceded, “I probably could’ve kissed Raven and not remembered it.” 

Not exactly the answer Bianca had been hoping for. Ideally, she’d have liked someone to know for sure or at least have evidence. But with Willam and her own shaky memory it seems this might just be left as a mystery. 

The disappoint on Bianca’s face was clear to see and before she could really think twice, Willam found herself offering, “Well, we can try it. If you want, I mean.”

The shrug of her shoulders with the suggestion was nonchalant but just maybe, if Willam were honest with herself, the idea did excite her a little. For as long as she could remember, ever since they first met, Bianca’s never really kissed any of their close friends, or at least none too frequently like Willam herself did. It would be an odd night indeed if Willam was drunk around her girlfriends and didn’t makeout with at least one of them. But Bianca was different. She always seemed to turn her nose up at it, or roll her eyes and walk away. Maybe even adding in a snarky comment here and there. All of this behavior left Willam, and probably a few others in the group chat, slightly curious as to what it would be like to kiss her. But certainly they all loved seeing her getting just as messy as them for once.

And with her suggestion, Bianca actually looked to be considering it, to her surprise…though it was taking a bit more time than Willam would have liked. But after a minute of internal debate, Bianca was nodding her head in confirmation.

Seeing the approval on Bianca’s face, Willam leant in closer until their lips were very nearly touching. She stopped just short in case Bianca was going to change her mind at the last second. Both of the women held their breath for just a moment before Bianca closed the gap and let their lips brush together.

It was soft and hesitant at first as Willam let Bianca take the lead. Something in the back of Bianca’s mind worried about crossing a line but deep down she knew that wouldn’t be the case. Not with Willam at least. The situation was strange, Bianca never thought she’d be kissing one her friends while stone-cold sober, but this was actually nice. It wasn’t breath-taking or life altering but it was enjoyable. Willam was really a good kisser but not as forward or domineering as Bianca would have guessed. Perhaps because this wasn’t an effort to take her to bed…just a little experiment to find some answers…and Bianca had to admit, she did find one of them through this kiss.

Pulling away, she noted almost regretfully, “Not you. The kiss last night was just…different from this.”

And it was. She felt comfortable during this kiss alright but not in the same way as what she remembered from the party. Something about that kiss just let her feel totally relaxed, while kissing Willam today, though admittedly fun, still left her feeling tense.

Willam gave her friend a consoling smile and chirped away brightly, “Well, at least you can cross one name off your list.”

“Yeah…”

“Who is on your list by the way?”

Bianca gave a half-defeated sigh of frustration as she pulled out her phone (no new messages of course) and opened her notepad app. Glancing down the list, she grumbled, “I still need Alyssa to get back to me but I know at least there was you…then Manila and Morgan…Trixie…Adore and Alaska…Dela…and Phi Phi. That’s everyone that I know was still at the party after 2 and had that green lipstick.”

“Don’t forget about Laganja,” Willam was quick to add. Bianca shot her very expressive, WTF glare but she reasoned quite soundly, “Well, she does live there and green lipstick is her trademark.”

Wholly unconvinced and even a bit annoyed at the suggestion, Bianca was firm in rebuking the thought, “It wasn’t Laganja. I’d remember that.”

“Not that you remember much.”

“Neither do you, bitch!” she snapped back, growing even more irritable.

Rolling her eyes and letting that particular subject drop for now, Willam moved on to inquire, “So why them? And what’s so special about 2AM?”

“Tati has a story up,” Bianca began with long-suffering sigh as she pulled out her phone and opened up Instagram. Handing the evidence over to her friend, she added, “I can see me just fine but…”

“Just their hand,” Willam murmured, now seeing her problem and murmuring in agreement, “Not much to go on.”

Deciding to throw in her last possible clue, just for the hell of it, Bianca took her phone back and muttered indecisively, “And I think they might’ve been around my height.”

“Then cross off Alaska,” Willam stated brusquely.

Bianca arched a brow at her but Willam was quick to cover for herself with “…She’s too tall.”

Shrugging her shoulders, Bianca deleted the name from the list and immediately another caught her eye that ought to go for the same reason, “Adore’s off, too.”

“And definitely not Morgan,” Willam added in with a shake of her head, “You’d have woken up with a black eye, not green lips if you kissed her.”

And probably true. Raven likely would have decked her if she ever made a move on her girlfriend.

“So that still leaves…Manila, Trixie, Dela, and Phi Phi.”

“And Laganja,” Willam reiterated with a sing-songy tone to her voice and teasing smirk on her lips.

“Not Laganja.”

Another short fit of laughter erupted from Willam at her stubborn insistence. Rolling her eyes, Bianca held her tongue on the matter. She might’ve said something if not for a notification that Alyssa was finally getting back to her. Took her long enough, but then again, it was a late night and she and Laganja were probably cleaning up the mess their guests had left.

But even if Alyssa isn’t able to give her any new information, that still leaves four potential suspects for Bianca to investigate. On a normal day, that might not be so bad, but around the holidays?

Ugh. Who knows when they’ll all get back to her. It’s not like they’re all the greatest at replying promptly anyways. And what if it doesn’t turn out to be any of them? Or if there’s no way to really confirm it? What would she do then?

But like an angel, or maybe devil, coming to her aid, Willam piped up with a cheerful grin and offered, “Hey, let me ask a couple more people and get back to you, okay? I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks,” Bianca said, feeling a bit more hopeful. Maybe with Willam’s help, she really could figure this out…or maybe it’ll all blow up in her face thanks to Willam’s big mouth.

Well, for now, she’s finally got ahold of Alyssa so she’s off to find out what she knows.

******

The instant Bianca was out of sight, Willam had her phone in hand and was rapidly typing away in the chat.

Willam: Ladies!

Willam: None of you are going to believe what just happened

Within seconds the chat came alive again and Willam basked in the attention as she recalled every little detail of Bianca’s visit for their entertainment and amusement.

[funkymeihem-fiction]

The Halloween Party- Chapter 2 (NSFW)

He’d briefly cursed picking such a high-up place, climbing awkwardly up the ladder with his peg leg hanging to the side, relying mostly on his upper body strength to drag himself along, with breeze whipping at his vampire cloak and dragging uncomfortably at his throat. But at least it was a good spot, out of sight and out of mind of the Halloween party still raging across the base. Here out of the wind, behind the shelter of stacked crates and metal barriers, nobody would find them, or interrupt them again.

She was already waiting for him, and before he could even properly greet her or say something raunchy, she had taken the booze bottle from him and downed two solid swigs from it…and then all of a sudden she was upon him. He’d barely even arrived, but she acted like she’d been waiting for hours, stewing in impatience until she could get her lips back on his. Her clutching hands gripped at his costume, and he would have made some snappy quip about how he was supposed to be the impatient one and how she was stealing his bravado, but she was eating his words and eating his face and he probably wouldn’t remember the quip later on anyway.

Sexual frustration.

Those were the only words he kept coming back to, again and again. Sexual frustration. Not on his part, of course. He was a bloke who had his priorities straight, his ducks in a row. He was never above a good wank when he started having urges. And he had those urges very often. Sometimes multiple times a day. But when he was frustrated, he just wrangled his donger until it cooperated again, and spent his frustrations into his hand or a sock or a tissue, or one time into Roadhog’s favorite hanky, which had earned him such a whomping that he’d been bruised for weeks after.

No, the sexual frustration was not on his part at all.

But that was the only reason he could think of as to why Mei’s hair was tangled in his flesh hand, keeping a grip as her head moved back and forth in an unsteady pace, with him grimacing and grunting along with the wet sucking noises between his thighs. She’d been so eager to remove his pants that she didn’t even notice that one leg was still caught on his peg, inside-out and stuck on the joint. Poor girl, she was so cock-starved that she was all but devouring him, and drove herself so hard that she would occasionally have to cough, or choke down a rapid breath before pushing him right back in. It was almost a little concerning, really- though his concern was dimmed by the simple fact that it felt so fucking good and his constant need to tell her so.

“Fuck, darl, that’s good. You’re so good…Yeah, that’s my good girl, take it all, suck me, just a lil’ more…”

He could feel himself almost down her throat as she took him deep, and he wondered what it would be like to cum down her pretty little gullet. Right past her tongue and into her belly. If she couldn’t taste it, would she even notice he’d done it? Could someone like him cum stealthily? No, he was a bit of a noisy sort and would no doubt forget himself in the process. Probably not. And he couldn’t risk startling her and ruining a good thing, not with someone like her.

There was a soft jingling sound, tinkling in a steady rhythm and for a while he could not figure out from where. It turned out to be Mei’s hair pin, with the little jeweled grinning pumpkin swinging to-and-fro on the end of its beaded chain. It clicked against the metal rod holding her hair in its bun, where strands of hair were starting to escape, mussed from his fingers holding the bun with every downward motion of her sucking lips. His eyes darted to the winning smile of the jack-o-lantern, almost as wide as his own smile, and the way it grinned so cheekily. Junkrat and the pumpkin pin shared a very private and (admittedly) very odd little moment as their eyes met over her moving head. Seemed everyone was enjoying this.

He was distracted again when she finally pulled off him with a wet pop, those big brown eyes peering up at him from between his spread legs. The night air was cold, and her saliva made it colder. He could barely suppress a shudder and wished she’d put it back in the warmth of her mouth again, but she wiped at her lips and smiled a drunken smile as she sat up and started pulling off her belt for the second time that night, staring at him with a little squint. He couldn’t really be sure if it was her lack of glasses, or the alcohol in her system.

“You have...a really cute freckle. On your nose. I like your nose freckle,” she told him, voice still slurred.

“Ah…Heh! Yeah thanks, darl. And the doc says it’s non-cancerous!” he replied proudly.

“Um, okay. And your little curl. What even is it, this curl? So cute.” She reached forward, the plush rim of her sleeve brushing his cheek as she reached out to the little lock of hair where a cowlick might have once been before all the fire and radiation, springing out over his forehead.

“Uh!” He wasn’t used to anyone complimenting him, which was why he complimented himself so much. But he definitely wasn’t used to Mei of all people complimenting him. And now she was telling him he was cute, and for some reason it felt almost as good as when she was sucking his cock, but in a different way? Pinch him, he was dreaming. “What hair I got left, yeh? Hehe. Uh. You’re cute, too. Cuter, I mean. Blimey, you’re cute. But ya know that! And I know that you know! Uh-”

Grabbing the bottle to calm his nerves, he took another drink and then regretted it. The comfortable haze around his senses was nice enough, sure, but what if he got whiskey dick? He’d never had whiskey dick before, but he’d heard it could happen. What if this was his one and only shot with Mei, the only night he’d ever have the chance to be with her, and that weird Chinese booze threw off the angle of his dangle? What if she laughed at his flaccid cock and then told everyone on base about it?

No, that was a stupid thought, wasn’t it? Mei didn’t even want to be seen near him, much less gossip to the whole base about his inability to perform. Plus, she was still sweet-natured enough, even if it didn’t go all the way through her. Like a sugar coating that turned out to be salt. Everyone else might have been fooled by her syrupy nature, but not him. Not with the way she treated h-

“Gghhh!”

His back hit the floor, sprawled out atop his vampire cape. His throat closed up and all suspicions were driven from his mind when he realized he has been pushed there. Mei had one hand splayed across his bony chest, supporting herself as she straddled his lap, her legs clad in nothing but her underwear. When had she taken her pants off? Shit, he’d missed it! Stupid brain, worrying about flaccid performance when his favorite ice queen was taking off her pants right in front of him!

She sighed a little as she sat astride his narrow middle, shrugging off her fluffy coat to reveal the tank top that he’d been shoving his fingers into only minutes earlier. There really was no doubt about it: Mei had the nicest tits of anyone on the whole base. Probably the whole world. They also happened to be pretty much the largest (and he was a man who had an appreciation for large breasts and hips) and the softest, and basically the best things he could ever remember getting his hands on. He wished he still had his other hand, one with the full range of nerve endings and feelings of touch. Then he could grope her with that one too.

Her tank top was peeled away, and they bounced free of her bra a moment later. Instinctively he reached for her, sliding her up so he could began ravaging the pale skin with his kisses, though she pushed his face away when he bit too much at them. Right, he still had to control himself, could only bruise her softly. Capturing one of her nipples between his lips, he suckled at her until they stood to attention, and then pinched a little with his teeth until she squealed. She tasted like sugar and sweat. Perfect, perfect, she was perfect and she was all his at least a little while.

“J-Junkrat! Not where anyone can see!” she reminded him as he tried to leave a similar bruise to her throat.

“Right, forgot! Just…you smell so nice, taste so good. I wish I could-” He muffled anything further in the depths of her tits, burying his face in before he told her what he really wished. How he wished people would see them- the bruises. How he wished he could suck on her throat like the vampire he was dressed as, and mark her up, and leave pretty purple and blue claims all over, so that that fucking cowboy and anyone else knew to step off from what wasn’t theirs.

At least he could stop being concerned about the whiskey dick, it seemed. His donger was standing to full fucking attention, and the flared head was prodding insistently at the noticeably moistened crotch of her panties, right atop the wet spot where the cloth got darker. And it was him making her cunt drool like that, not the cowboy or the archer or the tiny weird bearded man- it was all him. He could feel it, especially when she shyly hunched her shoulders, almost as if she was still sheepish, but then began rubbing herself completely without shame along the length of his cock, until the cloth was positively sodden between them.

His mechanical hand kept its grasp on her hip, pushing her down as she rode his length, but the other slid up along her spine before flattening upon her shoulder blades and pressing her chest down towards him, long tongue dragging across the tops of her breasts and painting her with saliva, lifting up goosebumps as it cooled in his wake. She shivered under his fingertips. So the little ice queen could still feel cold? Interesting. Good thing that he was here to take care of that.

He couldn’t hold back a growl, gripping her around the middle and starting to grind himself up into her. Damn lady panties were in the way or he’d already be inside her, but there was something tantalizing about how she was keeping him at bay. Normally he didn’t bother with teasing. Either there wasn’t enough time or he simply was too impatient to care. But having her- the real Mei, herself- so close and yet being kept from his prize just by one thin layer of fragile wet cotton? It stoked the flames in him, to be sure.

But in the end, he hadn’t come to be teased- he’d come here for a round of booze-fueled fucking. Maybe if they were both sober and they were in a proper bed, maybe with ropes or cuffs or silk ties or things he’d read about, she could tease him until he exploded. But that was unlikely, wasn’t it? She didn’t even want to be seen associating with him, so why waste both their times? They were here for one reason only.

Pressing a hand to flatten her against his chest before it slid down the pale expanse of her back, he craned his neck to look over her, grasping the base of his cock as his other hand pulled her undies aside. She was slick. So slick. So slick that he slipped across instead of in, prodding blindly and inelegantly until he felt it catch. And then, grasping roughly onto her hip, he pulled her down just as he pushed up.

She uttered a noise like she was breaking, and panic flooded through him. Didn’t want to hurt her. He would never hurt her. Or at least, he wouldn’t mean to. He froze mid-thrust, looking at her wide-eyed before he went to withdraw. But to his surprise, her fingers curled into his chest and she looked up at him almost pleadingly, tightening her legs around his hips to keep him there.

“N-no! It feels good. Just…it’s been a little while,” she said haltingly, with the sour scent of báiji�� still on her breath. “Keep going. It feels good.”

He was still unsure, and it must have been written all over his expression. Couldn’t keep a fucking poker face for the life of him.

“Please?” she finally muttered after a few moments, almost a whimper. “Please make me feel good…?”

It made the inside of his ribs hurt, the way she said it. And for some reason it made him a little angry? Not at her, of course. But at…the world? The kind of world that had done such awful things to the both of them, maybe. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just another one of those times where he got mad at nothing. Best not to think about it. And not thinking about it proved a little easier when she eased herself back onto him, trying to shift her hips even at her odd angle, sliding up and down atop his length. Breath hissed from his nose, nostrils flaring, and he put his hands back on her to help her move.

He tried to focus on the wet heat that hugged every inch of him, on the burn of friction as he began short little rabbiting thrusts to open her up and ease himself into the motions. He’d fantasized about this, so many times he’d lost count. Granted, his fantasies never involved pumpkins or vampire costumes or awful Chinese booze or Halloween at all. But he’d take it. He’d take it and he’d take her. Maybe she had a thing for vampires? If she did, maybe he’d make the vampire costume part of his whole…thing? Then again, didn’t that Talon bloke have the whole spooky costume thing already-

Focus. He needed to fucking focus. She needed this and he needed her.

“Fuck, you’re tight, you’re so tight,” he heard himself groaning. “Unngh, cunt’s the tightest lil’ thing I’ve ever felt. Been a good girl, huh? Kept all sweet and tight, waitin’ just for me-” He petered off at the end, hips still thrusting in small quick strokes. Fuck, maybe he shouldn’t say shit like that if she really was a good girl? Which she was. “Uh, I mean…Heh! I’ll shut my yap.”

“No! Keep talking,” she replied, and he thought he heard impatience in her tone. “Your mouth is…it’s dirty? But it’s good? It’s good. Keep talking.”

“Y’sure?”

“Yes! I came out here to…I won’t break, Junkrat. I want this. I want you to be you. Be rough and say strange things like you always do!” she demanded with such vehemence that it surprised the both of them, and she bit her lips inward and quickly mumbled a little, “Um…Please?”

He eyed her for a moment, eyes gleaming yellow in the blue darkness, in the shadow of the tower looming above them. But then his face split into his usual grin, teeth glinting white and gold. “Well! Can’t say no t’that, can I? Guess I’ll be a gentleman, then, since you said please and all.”

“Um…Thank you? I didn’t mean t- Aah!”

Her words were cut off as he suddenly surged upward, lifting her with a heave of both arms as he maneuvered his legs under him to kneel, the scrape of his metal peg kicking up a spark as it crossed the ground. With a few quick yanks, he slid her ruined panties down and tossed them away. Setting her back down atop his cock, she took to the new position and wrapped her legs around him, looking up in a rather shocked manner. But the shock was short-lived, when he spread her thighs wider apart with his own, and promptly began thrusting wildly up into her.

“Yeah, you like that?” He growled into her breasts, pressing her spine so it arched against him. “You wanted somethin’ a little rough so you came t’me, is that it? Heh, said I got a dirty mouth. Who’s the dirty one here, love, throwin’ me in a pantry and kissing me like that? Starting to think you might be more of a dirty girl than you let on.”

“Y-yes!”

Well this sure was a fucking welcome surprise. Sweet and salty little Mei also had a bit of a spicy side. Who knew? Was it just the booze? Nah, booze just made it easier for her to admit. That sort of thing was probably laying dormant for ages. In fact…that might have just been part of why she pretended not to like him so much. And while it might have been a bit sly and low of him, he decided that now -while distracting her by giving her a vigorous pumping- was a good time to ask.

Licking up her neck, he hissed into her ear as she jolted up and down atop him. “S’that why you’re always such a lil’ shit to me, Mei? Because you been wanting this and didn’t wanna say it?”

Her nails raked across his back, leaving red risen skin as they went, her voice uneven. “You’re a t-terrorist! And a bully!”

Nothing he didn’t know already, but he narrowed his eyes and bit down upon her shoulder. “So are half the folks here, you absolute prat. So why me!”

“Because you’re…you!” she snapped back, tightening her legs around his hips and pushing herself more fiercely atop his pounding length. “Why do you have to be you! With your freckle and your curl and- but all the bad things too!”

They were fighting again, and both had realized it. With his blood singing, he pried her legs off him and threw her onto the ground, atop his costume cape serving as their blanket. It probably stung a little, but he wanted it to. Glaring back at him, huffing in that adorably puffy way he loved, she lay back, thighs still spread and shiny with fluid and sweat. Repositioning himself, he dove right back atop her, reckless energy all concentrated in his thrusting…and arguing.

“I ain’t going to apologize!” he snarled, gripping one of her calves and hauling it over one bony shoulder, turning and biting his teeth into the meat of it as she groaned beneath him. “For the way I am! Which works because fuck knows you apologize enough for everybody! F-fuck! Ungh, fuck! Take it!”

“There’s nothing wrong with good manners!- Mmnh!” She gasped aloud, lips hanging open and panting. “Not that you would know!”

“Said the ice princess what came to me to plow her because of my ‘bad manners’!” He continued beating his hips into hers, sweat rolling off him now. The stink of aggression between them was making it far more intense than he’d first meant. “And you seem to be likin’ it, by the by. Clenching me like that…F-feels so good…”

She managed a distracted nod, even as she spat back, “You’re the one who tried flirting with me before you even knew my name, and wanted to give me an omnic skull as a flowerpot! O-oh, right there! Junkrat!”

“I thought you would like flowers! Who wouldn’t like that!” He focused on the spot she’d said, swallowing throatily as she called his name.

“Me! I didn’t like that, and you’re impossible! So why do you have to be so tall and have a cute freckle and that curl and…and all the nice things, too! Why are you like this?”

“I dunno! Why are you the way you are?” He saw how she had pivoted a bit onto her side to talk to him, and took advantage. Slinging one leg over her thigh, he pinned it beneath him as he stretched her other leg further over one shoulder, leaving her spread wide and open as he plunged back within. Bowing his long spine above her, he loomed above her face so they could glare at one another, even if it was getting harder. “I just wanted you to fuckin’…I dunno! Look at me! Talk to me! Give me a bloody chance, darl!”

“You could have just asked politely. Oh! Oh, that feels…so good…”

“You certainly didn’t ask politely before you started shoving your tongue in my mouth earlier tonight. Uh, ya know. Like this,” He sneered before leaning down and kissing her deeply, dragging her tongue out from her mouth and right into his. Grunting, with his breath hissing across her face, he held her legs open with one strong hand as he paused in his rhythm.

That must have displeased her, because she began undulating her lower body, and started thrusting herself onto him instead. And that sent him moaning into her mouth, eyes fluttering stupidly as he rested, and she took over. It wasn’t as deep or fast, but the feeling of her using him to pleasure herself was certainly worth a pause to enjoy. Even when she peeled her lips away just enough to breathe more insults into his open mouth.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have. Because you smell like gasoline.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of petrol odeur, love. Besides, not as overpowerin’ as your damn Chinese booze. Nn- Yeah, yeah! Fuck, keep movin’, just like that...Good girl.”

She kept moving like that, her bangs sticking to her forehead and her eyes somehow even larger and darker than usual. For a while she was silent other than her breath and the little effort noises of sex. But eventually she sniped back at him, because that was just how they were.

“…And you’re too tall. You don’t even need to be that tall.” She smacked her hips up into him more sharply, enough that it knocked the wind out of him a bit.

“Nah, love. S’all these top ‘Straya genes at work, so we can get things down off the top shelves for you. It’s heaps good. Asides, I don’t think you should be complaining about how big I am when you’re currently enjoying it.”

That one got her, and her face lit up pink again. Perfect.

Grinning widely, he retaliated, grabbing her around the middle and hauling her up until he was kneeling again with her legs on either side of him, brutally pounding downward while he held her in place. She lay with only her top half on the ground, and he got a nice eyeful of the way her breasts bounced hard with their motions, her fingers clenched into the cape under her. She was panting loudly now, they both were, and he could feel the telltale pressure starting to build in his nethers. It made fighting with her that much harder.

“Not complainin’ about your size, am I?” he said, hips still smacking steadily and getting more short of breath. “Not when you’re all squeezing tight like that. Fuck, you’re so small and tight in there, chokes the life right out of me. S’perfect. Why haven’t we been doin’ this for ages?”

“I don’t know. J-just keep going! Please, I’m almost-”

She reached up between her legs, rubbing at her little clit where he could not, his hands full just keeping her in place. He focused instead on driving into her all the harder, hitting that spot that made her groan the most. She really was magnificently small and tight, and her core was gripping him so hard and so perfectly that he was ruined. How was anything going to compare after this one? He would need more, eventually. Soon. Extremely soon.

Her voice was singing below him, crying wordlessly aloud as she was tipped over the edge. Ladies first. But he followed soon after. With a few more rough strokes, he snarled and pushed deep into her and stayed there. It was a good one, nice and intense, able to feel every pulse as he flooded her with a particularly nice load. She deserved the best, after all. He waited, an almost pained expression on his face with brows knitted and teeth clenched, until he had emptied every drop.

He made a few more meek attempts at thrusting, but it was useless. Although they did sort of squelch and she made a pretty funny face at the noise. Heh. Unwilling to leave her snug heat, he covered her body with his and went limp, even if it made her oof and support his weight. He’d worked hard, he deserved a rest, and her tits were the perfect pillows. And he could listen to the wild rampage of her heartbeat and the hush of her lungs working inside her chest as they both recovered.

She wiped at her sweaty forehead. “That…That was really…”

“Heh! Yeah.”

Shit. He wished he had more to say than that. He’d finally gotten to root the ice queen herself, but any more snappy comebacks were lost in a wave of content and tired fog, even thicker and softer than the haze of the báijiǔ. He felt like he could just snuggle down into her like a downy comforter and pass out. Maybe he could take a little nap, then wake up and root her yet again, just to start making up for lost time.

So why was there regret in her voice when she said, “I can’t…believe I just did that”?

His eyes opened again. “Huh?”

“That was amazing. But…I can’t believe I…Why?”

“Because…you wanted me to?”

“I guess it was just the báijiǔ. Too much beer and everything else.”

Well so much for the pleasant haze he’d been under. He lifted his head to give her an irked stare. “Really? We still lyin’ about that?”

“I’m not! It’s not a lie!”

“And they say I’m a liar, eh?” he said. “Blaming it on the booze, oldest trick in the book. You utter tit, do you even realize that we could have been doin’ this all along if you’d just admitted-”

“Bì zuǐ! No, it isn’t like that. I didn’t want just…this!”

He paused to squint again, confused, and she shook her head quickly.

“Er,” she said, realizing her mistake. “No, I mean I did want this. I really did want that part.”

“But?”

“But I didn’t mean…I wanted it to be more than this,” she said, voice a little smaller. She was slurring less now. “It wasn’t supposed to happen until you were better. I thought maybe here at Overwatch, you would change! You would get better and stop being…you! And then…and then I could like you and it would be okay…”

Golden eyes stared down at her, pupils still blown from booze and (apparently much-regretted) sex. He felt a rivulet of sweat ooze down his temple, down along the edge of his cheek and off his pointed chin, dripping onto the girl below him. Mei looked up at him, then covered her face with both hands and shrank down.

“I’m sorry! I ruined it! I didn’t mean to! Just forget what I was s-”

He blinked down at her, and his grin warped into a frown. “Huh. Wow…Uh, that’s kinda- Well, it’s a bit shite, isn’t it?”

“I know! I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Fockin’ hell, love, you know how to ruin a mood. ‘If you would just change I could like you’. Yeah nah. Dunno if I can really get back to our little spitefuck, here. Damnit…” He pulled away from her, sitting back and running his metal hand through what was left of his hair.

“Then…Maybe that’s better,” she said, more mournfully. “I don’t want it to just be out of spite. Even if…I’m really sorry I ruined it, because…Um, you’re really, really good at it.”

His ego swelled a little at that, but he was still quite unsure of things. Shit, that wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He shouldn’t have even asked her, he should have plowed her and left, and then gone back to the way things were. He might have had a good thing here. Even if it meant just fighting and fucking her occasionally, it would have been something. Instead she was tossing addled and confused confessions at him while her tongue was loosened by booze and sex, and it turned out she was as big a liar as he was.

She was the one who had initiated everything with that kiss. Sexual frustration. It had been desperation. Desperation and alcohol. That was all. How fucking stupid he’d been, to think it could have been anything else.

He just grunted.

She sat up on both elbows, biting her lip. “But I liked it. I was really liking it, and even if we stop, I don’t want to stop?” She scrunched her face, her words garbled by alcohol, shooting a worried look to where he had withdrawn. “I don’t want to leave things there, or go back to how it was.”

He put his grin back on. “S’alright. Heh, not the first time I been shot down for being a junker. Or for, ya know, being…m’self. No worries! I don’t mind if ya hate me!”

“I don’t hate you. I’m just…I’m still getting to know you. And you are not what I am used to. Everything here has changed since I was…” She trailed off, either in some private thought or hesitation or who the fuck cared.

He looked out across the empty, desolate training yards, and wondered if maybe he should just leave. Maybe there was still time to head back to the party, even if he was in a shite mood now, and his post-orgasmic lull had so rudely been stolen from him. And the booze was still fogging his brains and his tongue was still thick, so maybe he should just scurry back to his room and sleep the rest of this shite evening off, and try to forget it. Even if he’d been so, so close…

He looked around for the rest of his costume, to get dressed. “Enh.”

The warmth of her clammy, naked skin was pressing against him again, holding herself to his back. “Wait. Please wait.”

“Why. Ya made your point, darl. I get it. I’m fucking off.”

“Please just wait for a minute. I know what I said was mean, and awful. And the way I treated you was… Junkrat…Is it okay if I call you Jamison? Your real name?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…because it’s real? And calling someone names like ‘Junkrat’ or ‘Roadhog’ is really strange to me. Those are strange names. Especially to say during dinner. Which leads me to, um, would you like to go out to dinner? Or out for a boba? I’ll pay.”

Her fingers reached up and touched the side of his face where he’d been staring into space, and the yellow glint of his eyes darted back down to her. He’d heard that ladies were more complicated out here, out of the desert. And damned if he wasn’t used to being confused, but Mei was twisting his brain like a washrag.

“Are you askin’ me out on a date? Like right now? After all that?” he asked.

“It doesn’t have to be a date. If you want, it could just be an apology…?”

“Bloody…Mei, you’re chuckin’ mental ueys too fast here. First you hate me, then you like me, then you hate me again, but you’ve always sort of liked me…And then I should change but I should also be me because you like bein’ dirty but not…” He groaned, half collapsing atop her with his face wedging between her breasts again, so much so that his voice was muffled. “You gotta make up your goddamn mind, darl. Also I’d rather it be a date, thankyouverymuch.”

She pursed her lips down at him, reaching into her bosom to drag him out. “Then it’s a date. And it’s also kind of an apology, but it’s a date. And maybe it’ll be less confusing when we’re less drunk? I’m really sorry for tonight. Um. Except for the…you know. I kind of needed that. But I’m sorry for blurting out everything afterward. And some of the things before. And being…a bully.”

“I’m writing this down so I don’t forget it. This is ammo for next time you’re being a snit. You. Being a bully. Hehe!”

“Be serious, please. I really am sorry and I’ll make it up to you.”

He eyed her. He had to make it look like he was thinking it over. Because yeah he was still mad, but there was no way he was turning her down, even after everything.

“Arright. Twisted my arm just enough, love. Although just to warn you, get your wallet ready because I’m going to eat a lot. Like a lot.”

“Deal. And I mean it. I want us to figure things out…I mean, when we’re not drunk.”

It had been a hell of a Halloween. It wasn’t supposed to be this complicated. But she was a complicated lady and maybe he just needed time to sort this shit out. And she needed time to sort her shit out. And maybe they could discuss the rest of it at their next meeting. Their dinner. Their date.

She pressed herself against him once more, wrapping her arms around his narrow frame. And he relented, wrapping her back up in his long arms and crushing her to his ribs, pulling her halfway into his lap. He sat with his nose buried into her hair and his eyes closed, until they shot open a moment later when there was a wet sensation on his thighs. For half a moment he was unsure what it was, until Mei squirmed a little uncomfortably and he realized that she was now sitting upright and it was his semen leaking back out of her.

There was a lot. That really had been a champion load, and it had all been inside her. And even if it was just a bit gross…Fuck, that was hot. That was really, really hot. And if he just had a few more minutes, there was more where that came from. Already he felt a familiar twitch, and Mei glanced down knowingly as there was a sudden pressure starting to prod at her hip.

“Jamison…”

Her voice was low and husky and they could figure out all the rest of this complicated shit afterward. Right now, her fingertip was swirling temptingly around the ridges of his gaunt abdomen, and he could feel himself starting to rise back to the occasion.

He was grinning again. “Arright, so…do you still want toooo…?”

“Yes please.”

She leaned up to kiss him again, and he lay her down and pulled himself back atop her.

[thatwasrealsubtlebentley]

My Savior, My Lifeline - Chapter 7 - Pour Your Heart Out (TWDG)

Summary: Alex was alone when Clementine found her and since then they've been through hell, until an unfortunate incident separates them. When Clementine arrives at Ericson's Boarding School, who would have imagined she would find her long-lost companion here? With the threat of the raiders looming over them, she realizes she has feelings for Alex, but will their reunion be short-lived?

Preview:

I look over to the opposite bed, where Clementine is fast asleep, unresponsive to the world. Her face looks soft and innocent, the usual stress, determination, and exhaustion absent from her delicate features. A few loose strands of hair are dangling over her closed eyes. Her eyebrows have knitted together slightly, as if she is threatening to stir. I hold my breath and wait, but she doesn't wake up. I let out a gentle sigh of relief. I feel a stupid grin stretch on my face as I listen to her gentle snoring and have to stifle a laugh as my eyes land on the dried path of drool out of the corner of her mouth. It's adorable. I yearn to brush to hair out of her face and greet her sleepy smile with a gentle kiss but think better of it. She would probably punch me in the eyes.

I look at the dresser and notice I left all my things behind last night, my book, the photographs... the camera. I feel a devious smirk play on my lips. I signal for AJ to stay quiet while I creep over to the dresser, stealthily scooping up my camera. I crouch down for a better angle, look down the lens and snap the shot, the flash disturbing Clem's slumber. The camera whirs and spits out the photo, which I examine proudly: Sleeping Clementine, in all her oblivious glory. AJ giggles as he peers at it over my shoulder. I glance at him briefly to see an amused expression, the little smile stirring up old memories from when he was a toddler.

I look up from the photograph to find her scowling at me, her head resting on her arm.

"Mornin'," I chirp, a good-humored grin plastered across my face. I feel a cool bead of sweat drip down my forehead.

Come on, Al, play it cool.

Slowly, she raises her other arm, and flips me off in response. I lift my camera up, and ask, "Another for old times' sake?" before snapping the second shot of me being flipped off. I place the photographs and the camera on the dresser.

"You're the worst. Ever." Of course she would say that. It's not the first time I've heard it, and I get a sneaking suspicion that it won't be the last.

"You don't mean that, Clem. I'm a delight and you know it," I joke. Her scowl softens into a sweet smile and I feel my heart flutter slightly. "Anyway, sorry about the photos and all that, I was just having a little fun. The reason I came down here: Marlon and I want to see you."

"About what?" she asks, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"Food," I reply as I stand up, the smirk falling. I nervously scratch my neck with a single forefinger. "Despite the meal we had last night, we're... running pretty short. We'll fill you in on everything soon. Meet in the headmaster's office, upstairs in the admin building, big double doors, you can't miss it. Okay?"

"Sure," Clem says with a nod.

"And, Clem?" I ask, stifling a yawn. I didn't sleep well last night. I couldn't stop thinking about her, the heavy thudding in my chest keeping me awake, just like back in New Frontier... Our lips were inches apart, we were so close. And then that little shitbird came in and spoiled it... I've got to think of a way where we can be alone. I stayed up all night, thinking and rehearsing what I want to say to Clem, to tell her how I feel. I'm not missing another chance, not this time. The first opportunity I get, I'm spilling my heart out to her. I've waited so long for this, and if anyone deserves to know how much I care, it's her.

"Yeah?"

"Drool."

As her face burns bright red, she hastily wipes the collection of dried saliva at the corner of her mouth. I laugh before leaving the room, wondering how the hell she got so damn cute over the last few years. As I close the door behind me, I notice that the fluttering in my chest hardens into something deeper, more powerful. Almost like my throat has started tingling. I yearn to burst back into the room and tell her exactly how I feel right this second, as if this day is my last and I'll never get another chance to do so. I want to rush in and kiss her all day. I want to tell her how beautiful she is every damn minute, because it's true. I want to spend hours listing all my favorite things about her. Her laugh, her smile, the way her hair falls on her face, the disgruntled scowl I receive whenever I've done something annoying, the scar on her left forearm, everything. I want to hold her close. I want to fall asleep beside her, playing with her hair until I drift off.

Read here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13108269/1/My-Savior-My-Lifeline

Peace!

[swyllh]

[soonyoung] in accents soft and mild

title: in accents soft and mild

premise: you’re soonyoung’s soulmate, but your working knowledge of korean is limited, and vice-versa for english AKA the language barrier that nobody mentions in those soulmate aus

pairing: reader x soonyoung

wordcount: 2305

genre: soulmate au, fluff, language fics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

note: quoted italics are spoken in english; anything else is in korean. 

his name is a verdict on your wrist; a fine print of trials and errors. somehow it doesn’t strike you as odd when you realise that your soulmate isn’t just a couple of blocks or accidents away.

it’s an ocean of difference.

to forge on – past conversions of time, language, accents and ideals – mulishly boarding a plane after graduation, is less romantic than it should be. destiny yawns uneasily, stored between your passport’s waxy disuse and a list of hasty google translations. the plane whirls to a start. ready, looming.

you cramp your legs into the tiny cradle of the seat, and wait.

you’re not ignorant; despite your best attempts at mimicry, the nervous slant of your shoulders and wide-eyed nonchalance give you away as a foreigner. a tourist.

besides, the confusing rush of words on billboards and flat screens has you gulping. you pull out your phone, and try to connect to a public wifi spot. it’s still on airplane mode, thumbed down to avoid roaming charges.

a group of students pass by you, chattering and laughing. you pull your bag out of the way, tugging it closer to the warmth of your vulnerable stomach. the stench of cigarettes stings your eyes.

“are you lost?”

a startled jump as you glancing at, and then away from, a pair of plain groggy eyes. as the eyes blink themselves awake, you realise that he’s just spoken in english.

“i’m supposed to be at pledis entertainment,” you whisper.

the curve of his eyes deepen. “you’re standing right in front of it.”

“oh.” you crane your neck, looking behind him.

it’s there, the building.

“are you auditioning?” the man says smoothly, leading you through its lacquered doors.

“no, just looking for someone.”

he looks thoughtful, what little of his face you can see. you wonder if he’s famous, or if this is just another fashion trend you’ve never really got understood.

“who’re you looking for?”

you’ve reached the receptionist, and the man greets her warmly. you do the same, albeit masking your inadequacy at the language with a softer voice. she smiles at the both of you.

“there’s this singer,” you preamble, eyes darting back to the receptionist. “um, i’m looking for kwon soonyoung.”

the telltale signs of polite indifference are blatant in the room – a white nondescript desk, five black chairs and a metal stool, an office clock ticking incessantly at the five minutes they’d promised you. it’s cold, too, so you get up stealthily and tug at the thermostat.

the room is steeped in aloof hospitality, quiet and remote. you wonder if it’s too late to run, or pretend your appointment was never made. it seems wildly probably that they’d forgotten about you, or that this kwon soonyoung is uninterested in meeting you.

three knocks on the door are all the warning you get before it swings open.

he looks exactly like the photographs, you think.

“hello,” he says, bowing.

you nod a little. “hello.”

when he straightens up, you gesture towards the table, suddenly hyperaware of the distance between you. he leaves the door open for a staff member, as well as the man from earlier.

nothing really changes. you’re not looking at the world through some kaleidoscopic rose-tinted glasses, or feeling your heart settle comfortably, blissfully in your chest. from his uneasy look, you figure he must be feeling the same gutted un-satisfaction too.

you roll up your sleeve, showing his name in a meticulous inky sprawl across your wrist. he leans in, awed, casting shadows on your arm.

“wow,” he says, finally, fingers ghosting over your skin. “that’s my name.”

you vaguely understand what he’s saying, but the next exchange that happens between him and the staff member flies right over your head. it’s a sharp, punctuated exchange riddled with the easy-going abbreviations of everyday life. the staff member shakes his head, glancing over at you and then patting soonyoung on the shoulder. soonyoung forces a smile back on his lips and turns to you.

“he’s saying that it’s a miracle,” the man from earlier says, eyes regarding you kindly. “i’m joshua, by the way.”

you nod. “[y/n].”

soonyoung glances between you and joshua, barely scraping the tip of the iceberg of your dilemma. he tugs his wristband off, the velcro unsticking obscenely.

“my name,” you breathe, relieved.

soonyoung grins, an altruistic instinct. you smile back, stiff, forcing your jaw to relax.

in place of silence, you imagine conversations – motivations exchanged in hushed whispers, weaving inside jokes and bad puns into half-hearted chatter, and morbid little arguments leading up to breezy confessions.

none of that happens.

instead, soonyoung’s lounging by your side, face masked and hat pulled low. he’s taken the day off to ‘bond with his soulmate’, and though you do appreciate the company in face of purposeful, confident strangers, you wonder if he’s always so quiet.

“so you’re visiting,” soonyoung tries saying.

“yeah,” and then, “yes, i am.”

“yeah, man,” soonyoung says instinctively, and then slaps a hand over his mouth, laughing.

you grin.

“do you want eat?” he scratches his head. “rice, noodle…? burger?”

you shrug. “what do you like to eat?”

the uncertainty on his face fades away at the sound of your hesitant korean. he beams, rattling off a list of finger foods and possible restaurants nearby. you listen, you really do, but the general mutter of the streets and his muffled slangs have you furrowing your eyebrows.

“come with me!” he exclaims finally, clumsily guiding you by the shoulder.

the afternoon goes by unscathed, trailing lazily between basic conversational korean and cheerful english exclamations. after all, food is a universal language and it’s easy to stuff your face to avoid conversation. you end up pointing at random ingredients and following the slightest inflexions that roll of his tongue when he says their names.

“that one’s ‘namul’,” he says, chopsticks jabbing at the seasoned vegetables before you.

“‘na-mool’,” you repeat, head dipping forward to mimic the flow of his intonation.

he frowns. “‘namul’.”

you pop one in your mouth. “‘nam-ul’?”

“‘namul’,” he says, and then quickly moves on, “this, ‘gochujang’.”

“‘gochujang’?”

“yeah, man!” he says, reaching for a high five.

you press your hand up against his, and pull it back. with your chopsticks, you point at him, and say, “kwon soonyoung.”

he tilts his head, a look of confusion and shock flashing past his face. for a moment, you wonder if you’ve committed some cultural faux pas, accidentally insulting all ten generations of the kwon clan.  

but then the affronted look softens, and he barks out a laugh. “yeah man! kwon soonyoung!”

the rest of the meal passes by in relative silence.

the days following that are overlaid with the same hazy hesitance. soonyoung still has to train, and by extension that means you’re tacked onto his schedule, or given a free pass to roam the building. you’re technically unmonitored, but something like fear has you waiting patiently in the corners of dance studios, dodging cameras and selfie-cams. besides, once everyone’s done treating you like an oddity or childlike attraction, you don’t have to deal with the language barrier.

you’d planned to stay for two weeks or so, giving yourself time and a way out – if there’s any way out of fate. but with his consuming dedication to the group, you find that there isn’t really anything to go on before making your choice.

joshua slumps down next to you during one of the dance breaks.

“must be boring to watch us,” joshua says teasingly.

you turn your phone off. “nah. you’re only doing the same routine for eight hours every day.”

joshua cracks a smile at that. “so how’s it going?”

“it’s going,” you say, tilting your head in soonyoung’s direction; he’s still fervently chasing after the final touches of perfection. “he’s very dedicated, isn’t he?”

“he’s our choreographer,” joshua says, pride eminent in his voice.

an element of jealousy, or some frayed edge of possessiveness latches onto your gaze. you bite back the echoing “well, he’s my soulmate” and settle for twitching uncomfortably in your seat. joshua turns back to you, and takes a swig from his bottle.

“my korean’s pretty bad,” you find yourself saying, turning your phone over in your hands.

“you’ll have to learn,” joshua says. “unless you’re not staying.”

there. you take a deep breath, though it racks your chest for an answer your brain couldn’t provide. “it goes both ways. i don’t even know-”

(if i’m going to stay; if it’s worth the wait; if there’s a space for me; him.)

joshua frowns. he takes another gulp from his bottle, and wipes the sheen off his chin.

“he’s your soulmate. that has to mean something.”

the company’s not strict on dating policies. but after watching soonyoung’s elbow slip from the table(and his head bob unsteadily over his knuckles), you think it’s time to call it a night. he hasn’t eaten more than a couple spoonfuls of rice, but you’re sure it’s his bed that he’s drooling after.

“we go back,” you mutter, shamefully hoping your careless grammar will slip by unnoticed. “you... bed.”

he blinks vigorously, rubbing his cheeks. “nonononono, i’m okay, let’s eat. there’s still so much left!”

you grimace. he makes a show of rolling his sleeves up, picking up his chopsticks with a flourish and pinching at random blobs of colour on the plate.

“here,” he says, offering mushrooms to you.

“thank you,” you say.

dinner fades into a quiet lull again.

“uh,” you say, regretting it the instance it catches his attention. “what’s your favourite colour?”

it’s not the question you were planning to ask, but with his undivided attention (read: compensation), you can’t help but veer into safer territories. soonyoung doesn’t scoff at that, though you think it’s because of the effort required to coordinate an honest look of disdain.

“black and white. yours?”

you press your lips together. right now the names of colours are escaping you. “…white?”

soonyoung hums understandingly. it seems you got that right, at least.

“hey, can i see your,” he mutters something you don’t quite understand, “again?”

you pause. “one more time?”

he repeats himself; the word doesn’t register in your mind. it takes approximately five seconds of awkward staring and soonyoung’s faltering face before he realises that you have no clue what he just said. soonyoung further unfurls his sleeve, tugging it up and placing his forearm flat on the table. your name, matte and resolute, burns up at you.

you do the same, lining your arm against his. you have to lean in a little, tuck your feet under the leg of the chair and scoot closer. it’s quite a sight, you have to say, to watch the two names side by side, promised to each other.

“amazing,” soonyoung says, a little awed.

you keep your eyes locked on your limbs. the distance between them is impossibly small, shadowed in like an endless, breathless gulf.  

it’s all over the news the next day – headlines flaunting scandalously, brazenly stamped across the net; the paparazzi shot of the two of you, heads waning into each other, crescents of light against your cheeks. awed, as you stare down at your matching wrists.

soonyoung isn’t the one to tell you about you.

“[y/n],” joshua says, fingers clutching on the doorframe. “sorry, but there’s a conference about-“

you angle your phone and its incriminating contents at him. “sure.”

joshua leads you out of the lounge and down the other hallways. “it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“wasn’t it bound to?” you say thoughtlessly.

joshua gives you a look. “was it?”

the slip of tongue catches you unaware, and as you stride down the hallways, you realise just how inappropriate it is to be saying this to joshua. that the one beside you should have been soonyoung instead. the thought slows you down.

“joshua,” you say, stomach lurching, “what happens if i -?”

“soonyoung is like a brother,” joshua interrupts, hand poised on a door handle. you can’t see his face, and maybe that’s just as well. “if you hurt him, i will make sure he forgets your name.”

it’s a mild threat. you know that well enough, as does joshua.

he pushes the door open, and soonyoung jumps up, eyes searching for something in your face. you bite back a smile, taking your seat opposite him and next to a staff member. soonyoung settles back down, relieved.

while the meeting goes on, joshua begins translating, whispering short, tense sentences to you. it’s comeback season, there’s pressure, soulmates and dating may cause more drama, the fact that you’re a foreigner doesn’t help.

“should we just come out and say it,” soonyoung says testily.

you look up at him for the first time since entering. he’s irritated, or determined. you don’t understand. but when his gaze falls on you, you think you catch a glimpse of longing and a need for assurance. sitting opposite him, privy to the full force of his intentions, and you’re still not near enough.

“uh,” you manage to stammer.

the team around the table turns to face you. soonyoung’s stare hasn’t left your face.

it’s a little hard to breathe – if your korean is a downcast drizzle, sparse and unpredictable, then your english is an ocean. and that makes all the difference.

clenching fistfuls of fabric, you forge on. “um, what’s ‘honesty is the best policy’ in korean?”

pause.

joshua’s trying his best not to laugh – you can feel the chuckles bubbling in the pit of his chest. in front of you, soonyoung’s eyes taper into thin, black lines. the pink of his cheeks must match yours.

thankfully, joshua comes to your rescue. but with the way soonyoung’s scrunching up his nose, beaming bright and thankful, you think you got your message across.

[blowmiakisscolin]

FF: The Unofficially Official Most Handsome Man in Storybrooke

So, the prompt for this fic came about during a conversation with my dear friend @xemmaloveskillianx​ last night. We were talking football, specifically about how the commentators of the 49ers-Texans game were very openly swooning over the hotness of our new quarterback for the 49ers (former NE Patriot Jimmy Garoppolo). They repeatedly brought it up throughout the game, even going so far as to do a “Handsome-Off” between him and Tom Brady. E-Network-style comparison clips of them running out of their respective tunnels and dreamy-soft-lit-close-ups of their faces included. It was borderline ridiculous and I loved it.

K and I were highly amused by the swooning NFL commentators verbally drooling over Jimmy G. And then she had to go and plant the seed of: “Yo, why did I just picture Leroy and the dwarves staging a Handsome-Off for David and Killian?”

And so this happened. And I regret nothing. (I’m also very proud because I managed to write a SHORT oneshot, instead of one that got way out of hand and ended up owning my ass at 10K words.) (This one is 1.5K. Hurrah!)

P.s. it’s canon-compliant aside from the mention of Henry’s whereabouts. I fixed that to what it should have been. You’re welcome.

Title: The Unofficially Official Most Handsome Man in Storybrooke. Rating: K Genre: Humor; Fluff Pairings: Captain Swan, Snowing, Captain Charming friendship. Words: 1.5K Links: AO3

They should have known Leroy was up to something. It had been conspicuously quiet in town for well over a week, without the usual ruckus he liked to cause. If he wasn’t mouthing off in the Rabbit Hole and instigating a bar fight, he’d probably be found staging some kind of protest over the grocery store charging for plastic bags or the bakery changing its flour supplier. If the town wasn’t in the midst of a curse, Leroy seemed to be more than willing to keep things lively week-to-week.

Which was why a week without any protests or bar fights had warning bells ringing for the current and former Deputy Sheriffs. With Emma now in her third trimester and under strict doctor’s orders not to over-exert herself (by jumping in to break up bar fights or disperse riotous, protesting dwarves, for example), David had stepped up to help Killian man the fort at the station.

The two men would often meet their wives for lunch at Granny’s, and catch them up on all the goings-on in town, but today they’d opted for a mid-morning coffee break as well, seeing as work truly was that slow.

Walking into Granny’s, the two immediately picked up on the sudden beat of silence that descended, all eyes on them, before someone cleared their throat and the low buzz of conversations began again. Leroy, huddled over a piece of paper on the countertop with a gaggle of dwarves around him as they’d entered, was suddenly sat bolt upright and wore a decidedly uneasy expression.

Killian and David exchanged glances and then both approached the counter, causing the dwarves to immediately disperse, leaving their red-faced leader to attempt nonchalance (and fail miserably).

“Leroy,” David greeted him, eyeing him with suspicion, “Everything alright here?”

“Fine! Just fine, y’Highness.”

He replied, much too quickly. But with his focus on David, he had failed to notice David’s pirate companion stealthily approaching on his other side, and before he even had chance to protest, Killian had snatched the piece of paper he’d been attempting to shield from them.

“Hmm. I believe it’s bad form to run a contest such as this without informing the participants, Dwarf.”

David narrowed his eyes in confusion, and Killian passed him the paper, chuckling as he watched a thunderous expression darken David’s features when his eyes scanned the words.

“A ‘Handsome-Off’. It was inevitable, don’t you think, boys?”

Granny piped up, appraising them over her glasses with a smirk on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes. David spluttered with indignation, apparently scandalized at the idea that Granny would be enabling (and even encouraging) such a contest.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grumbled, hands on his hips and the thunderous expression softening at the edges to one of weary bemusement.

“It’s a harmless contest. You’re only pissed because you’re trailing by three points, David.”

Ruby called out, smirking over her shoulder at them as she attempted to fix the eternally-broken coffee machine. Leroy choked on a laugh, but smothered it and tried to pass it off as a cough under David’s withering glare.

“Aye, mate,” Killian chuckled, “It’s harmless. And it would be interesting to see who the residents of Storybrooke deem to be the most dashing enforcer of the law...don’t you think?”

David’s glare was turned on Killian momentarily, until he rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to take any notice of me if I attempt to shut it down. And it’s apparently reducing the number of bar fights and pointless protests we have to break up each week...so fine. Do your silly contest, Leroy.”

The dwarf was clearly about to argue that the town protests were not pointless (though the grocery store was still charging for plastic bags, so the success of that protest was negligible) but he seemed to decide against it and at least had the decency to look chastened at the fact that his underhanded contest had been exposed.

David handed the paper back to him and he scarpered, his gaggle following close behind.

“You’re only letting this charade continue because you intend to win it, don’t you, Dave?”

Killian eyed his father-in-law and best-mate with amusement as he slid into the seat at the counter Leroy had vacated. David took the seat next to him, barely containing his smirk as he met Killian’s gaze.

“Oh, I am going to win it, pirate.”

// CS //

“You can’t use the fact that you saved the lass’ cat from a tree to garner a vote for your face, mate.”

“You would have done exactly the same thing if you’d taken that call, and you know it.”

“At least I don’t have my wife reminding the women at her Mother & Toddler classes to vote for her husband!”

“Oh, don’t you think I didn’t catch Emma bargaining with Regina for her to vote for you!”

The bickering went on and on for well over a week. Emma and Snow took it all in good humor, until they too became quite invested in the contest. Apparently, they all had competitive streaks a mile wide, despite repeatedly reminded one another that they didn’t actually win anything at the end of it all (‘Except bragging rights for the rest of forever,’ Emma had jokingly pointed out).

It was a Friday evening and, as per tradition, the Charming-Swan-Jones-Mills clan had assembled at Granny’s for dinner. It had become a tradition ever since things had quietened down in the town curse-wise, and it was something they all looked forward to each week now. Henry had moved to Boston for college the year before, but he often expressed how much he missed their Friday Family Nights, and in return they assured him his presence was most definitely missed too. But he visited during the holidays and those little family traditions became even more treasured then.

This particular Friday, the ‘Handsome-Off’ was, of course, the main topic of conversation. Regina repeatedly rolled her eyes at the whole debacle, and Granny promptly informed them that Leroy had managed to get every Storybrooke resident to vote now, and he and the dwarves were hard at work counting the votes. Regina rolled her eyes so hard that Emma warned her they’d probably roll right out of her head if she carried on. She rolled her eyes again.

David grinned smugly at Killian (or, as he’d taken to calling him, his arch-rival) across the table as he cut up his young son’s food, and Killian simply shook his head on a chuckle.

“I’ll admit I’ve enjoyed our rivalry this past week, but you should know that the only people I truly care for the opinion of on my dashing good looks is my beautiful wife and this wee pirate princess.”

With an arm around the back of Emma’s chair, Killian reached over and placed his hand on her belly, rubbing with gentle pressure that had their unborn daughter kicking in response. Emma smiled up at him with a small scoff, muttering something that sounded like ‘such a sap’ and he simply grinned, pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

“Oh, please. You’re only saying that because you know I’ve clinched this thing.”

David snorted, and Snow elbowed him none-too-subtly in the ribs.

Their back-and-forth was brought to a halt when Leroy burst through the door of the diner in his trademark manner, voice two decibels above what was required for a small room. Or any room, really.

“The results are in!”

He boomed, waving an envelope above his head with gusto. Regina rolled her eyes.

“Well, come on then, Leroy. Put us all out of our misery.”

Granny called as she came out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron and folding her arms. Expectant eyes were glued on Leroy then as he tore open the envelope with a little more fervor than was strictly necessarily. Emma bit back a laugh and rubbed her bump absently, while David held his breath and Killian leaned back in his chair with a serene expression of mild amusement.

“And the winner is…”

Leroy eyeballed each person in the room, silent seconds ticking by, and Snow covered her mouth to stifle a giggle at the ridiculousness of the build-up.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Give me that.”

Regina snapped, standing and grabbed the envelope from Leroy’s hands as he made an outraged sound of protest. Killian wondered if he’d be picketing outside the diner over this the next day.

“Killian won. There. Can we please go back to being adults again now?”

David’s mouth dropped open and he gawped at Regina as though she’d just told him Granny had run out of lasagna. Emma was beaming, clearly thrilled that her husband was the Unofficially Official Most Handsome Man In Storybrooke. Snow initially clapped, until a scandalized glare from her husband had her smiling sheepishly and shrugging.

“I guess you might want to try and save more cats next time, mate.”

Killian chuckled, grinning smugly and quirking an eyebrow at his (probably former) best mate. David turned, red-faced, to Leroy.

“I want a recount!”

Fin.

[bandori-imagines]

Countdown to Christmas Day 1: Kasumi

I can’t believe it’s December already! Anyway, here’s Kasumi for day one of the winter-themed posts :D If anyone else has some sort of ritual or special thing they do on the first snow of the year, and you want me to write about that for another character, or if you have any other requests, just send me an ask!

ur in bio right now right? theres no windows in that room right?

Your phone buzzed with a text from Kasumi. You stealthily checked it, replying,

yeah, what about it?

You then got spammed with a bunch of smiling emojis, then a bunch of snowflake emojis. You smiled as you understood. It was snowing outside. You pictured Kasumi bouncing in her seat, just wanting to dash out the school and throw herself into the snow like she did that one time last year.

You replied with a few grinning emojis, then put your phone away. You couldn’t seem to focus on the lesson anymore though, you didn’t know how you would make it through the rest of the school day.

After School

“Y/n!! It’s sticking! It’s sticking!” Kasumi ran up to you, hugging you and jumping up and down in joy. You laughed, jumping and then shaking her off, grabbing her hand.

“It’s sticking alright! There’s like three inches already, and my mom says it’s not supposed to stop until tomorrow morning, so there’s no way we’ll have school tomorrow,” she grinned, and you knew what that meant.

“My place or yours?” You asked.

“Yours for sure, my mom would make us shovel the driveway if we stayed at my house, remember last time,” Kasumi groaned, laughing.

“Alright, let’s go then! But we have to stop by the grocery on the way back because I don’t think we have any more hot chocolate mix,” you said, and Kasumi nodded.

After you walked back to your house, stopping to get hot chocolate and a few different snacks, you headed up to your room, Kasumi flopping down on your bed like she owned it, and you sat at your desk. “What movies do you want to watch?” You asked. It was a tradition between you and Kasumi that whenever you had a snow day, you would have a sleepover and watch movies all night and blow off your homework because you had an extra day to do it.

“You pick,” Kasumi said, taking her phone and scrolling through her messages. You grabbed a few of your favorite movies (mostly Disney, Ghibli, and other family movies), and started gathering up blankets and pillows to take downstairs. Kasumi hopped up to help you, and you took everything down to your living room where you started to set up a basic pillow fort over the TV. Kasumi got to work as you went to grab some extra sheets from your closet to make the walls.

You got everything set up, and then you and Kasumi got comfy, pressing play on the first movie.

“Ohh, I love this one,” Kasumi grinned, snuggling up to you and leaning her head on your shoulder. You grabbed the oversized bowl of popcorn and put it on your lap, both of you starting to munch on it as the opening played.

It was about 3AM when you fell asleep, and you woke up around 10 to Kasumi sound asleep on your chest, drooling a bit. You smiled and brushed her bangs out of her face, leaning down to give her a small kiss. You didn’t wake her up, feeling way too comfy and warm to disturb her, but you grabbed your phone, resting it on Kasumi’s back as you sleepily checked various social media.

Soon Kasumi started to stir, and she blinked her eyes open, wiping her mouth off and giggling sheepishly at you, and you smiled and poked her cheek gently, leaning down to give her another kiss.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you said. She smiled and layed her head back down, wrapping her arms around your waist and hugging you, and you hugged her back.

“How much snow?” she muttered.

“I don’t know, I haven’t gotten up to check yet.”

Kasumi, with a sudden burst of energy, jumped up from where she was laying on your chest, and you pouted, playfully grabbing at her to try to get her back, but she was already throwing aside one of the walls to your pillow fort. You squinted, blinded by the sudden brightness of the sunlight reflected off the snow, which there was definitely a lot of. Kasumi hopped up and down excitedly.

“Oh man, I wonder how powdery it is,” she said, eyes wide. “I’m gonna go check!” And she ran off.

“Don’t bring any inside!” You yelled at her, then layed back down, closing your eyes again. Soon Kasumi was back, and she was pulling you up, telling you to get your snow stuff on, because it was the perfect texture for building stuff. You swatted at her arms, resisted getting up as hard as you could. Eventually you two found a compromise by saying that you’ll make breakfast and eat before you go outside.

You spend the rest of the morning playing, making a few small snowmen, then getting too ambitious and trying to make a huge one but not being able to lift the second part onto the first part. Every now and then Kasumi would try to get close to you, saying she wanted a kiss, but you knew better and ran away, and she ran after you, trying to dump snow in your jacket. She was really fast though, and eventually caught up with you by jumping on you, knocking you over into the fluffy snow that broke your fall. You both laughed, and when you settled down a little, out of breath from running, squinting up at Kasumi who was bordered by the bright winter sky, you could only smile. She smiled calmly, leaning down to give you a kiss in the snow.

[winches-ter]

Dagger (part 2)

AU: Mafia

POV: Reader

Rating: PG-13 (For the violence and occasional language)

Pairings: A wee bit of Reader X Seungri, and that subtle GDYB.

Summary: As the sister of the leader of the most dangerous gang in Seoul, you’ve done a pretty amazing job at maintaining a low profile, and not letting anyone know what family you belong to. Your life is normal, despite your brother’s intimidating, yet respected, image. But what the people don’t know, is that you’re Big Bang’s secret weapon, their Trump Card.

Part 1 | Part 2 |  Part 3 | Part 4(end)

“It was about you. He thinks this is too dangerous for you. He asked me to tell you to quit.”

Someone hit me with a bag full of bricks.

No, I thought, that would hurt less.

If I had been told Jiyong and Youngbae were about to get married, adopt three children and name them after different types of pasta, that would be more believable. “I have been with you people since before I could even say my own name. It’s where I belong, oppa. I don’t do anything else. I don’t want to do anything else.” I said, coming to a standstill.

“You need to understand, y/n, none of us wanted this life thrust upon you. All we want to do is keep you safe. And what we do, it is as far from safe as is possible to be. If anything were to happen to you, do you think I would be able to live with myself, knowing that it was all because of me? That it was my fault I could not protect my own baby sister? Even after I was warned so many times, even when I almost saw you die today?”

I could understand. I did understand. But he had to understand I had a choice too. For eighteen years this man had worked tooth and nail, not being able to afford three square meals for himself, but making sure I never went to bed hungry. I was his responsibility. And now that I could, I wanted to repay him. Even if it was with my life. I wanted to watch his back, make sure he returned home every night, and bury anyone who dared to ruin what he created with his blood and sweat.

“Do I not get a say in my own life then? I need to make decisions on my own now. I’m not your six year old in pigtails anymore. Why can’t you see that?” I really did not mean to yell, or sound ungrateful, but that, somehow, was how things turned out.

“I suppose I should. I’m sorry for trying to do the right thing. I’m sorry for trying to protect you.” The pain in his eyes killed me over and over again. He just walked on, without a word, crestfallen.

I wanted to go after him, but something held me back. It took some time to register it was not my feelings, but was indeed a person, holding my arm.

“What the hell? Let go of me.”

The person, who was being referred to as ‘perv’ inside my head, showed no intentions of doing that.

“Right. Now. While I’m still asking nicely.”

“Well I’ll treat you right, love.” He sounded positively drunk. His breath only confirmed the same. “Don’t bother running after that coward of a man anymore, who doesn’t even know what he’s leaving behind. I know what girls like you want. And I’ll make sure you get what you des-” He was cut off by a punch landing square on his nose, causing blood to drip down.

Pulling me behind him, Jiyong growled, “If you so much as breathe within a thousand miles of my sister again, I will slice you into so many pieces, they will have a lot of trouble burying your useless ass.”

“Think you’re so tough, huh?” The guy said, wiping the last of blood from his face, visibly offended. “Hey guys, I think we need to teach this stiff douchebag and his little bitch here some really solid lessons.”

“I’m going to do you a favour and tell you to back the fuck off before you and your peasants have to be scraped off the floor in the aftermath.”

“You son of a bitch-” He cursed and tried to punch Jiyong, who stealthily dodged it, caught a hold of the guy’s hand, stretched it out, so they looked more like a couple doing salsa than two extremely angsty dudes fighting for dominance, and used his elbow to hit the back of the perv’s head repeatedly.

Meanwhile two men, presumably the ‘guys’ ganged up on me, as I backed away from Jiyong. “Well this is hardly fair gentlemen.” I said, sarcastically. “An exhausted girl who is not in the mood for your bullshit, versus two scrawny rodents hell-bent upon making her loose her temper. The odds seem a bit off to me.”

“Shut up, bitch. You’re only making it more difficult for you.” One of them said as both the men lunged at me at the same time.

Ducking out from their reach, I grabbed both their wrists in the process, and exactly as Daesung had taught, turned suddenly, jerking their arms, then folded them against their backs, inviting gasps of pains from both.

“I told you, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit” I say as I kick the first one from behind, then the next making them fall on their knees. Before they had the time to comprehend what their free hands were going to do, I elbowed one of them from the back, with enough force to knock him unconscious, strong enough to send jitters up my arm, and then kicked the other one to the floor and again knocked the living daylights out of him; with the heel of my foot, gently caressing his face.

When I turned around Jiyong was already done with the guy who was bundled up on the ground still mumbling curses at both of us. He still looked extremely hurt from our argument earlier, and something in me broke.

“I’m sorry.” I blurted out, as tears began to well up in my eyes. “All you’ve ever done is risk your own life to keep me safe, and I am so, so grateful for that. I wanted to be with you guys, not for adrenaline kicks to fulfill my wild teenage fantasies of punching assholes into the sunset, but so I could maybe try to do the same for you, as you have done for me. Watch your back, make sure you don’t die doing something stupid like taunting people with grenade launchers aimed at you, maybe also make sure you came back every day. Take care of you, in the only way that I know.”

Jiyong simply walked up to me and wrapped his arms around my whimpering body. In an instant I did the same, as if clinging onto him for dear life. As my head rested on his shoulder, his hands gently played with my hair. There was a comfortable silence, interrupted only when we heard one of the guys that I had knocked down slowly come to his senses. We ran then. Not because we couldn’t take them in a fight again, hell, we would still emerge victorious if they called in multiple reinforcements. But, because none of us wanted to ruin the effects of the moment that had just passed.

As we came to a stop in front of our house, out of breath and pumped on adrenaline, one of the guards opened the door before we even reached in and both of us bowed to thank him. I was about to make my way up the stairs when Jiyong half whispered half yelled, “Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Puzzled, I turned around to see him; he looked like he had committed the most heinous crime in the history of heinous crimes, and was severely regretting it. “What’s wrong? Why do you look like that?”

“I shouldn’t have left you alone like that. That filthy guy and his minions could’ve done anything to you, and again, it would have been my fault. I’m so so sorry, y/n, I promise, I’ll never leave you alone like that again. Never.”

It was my turn to initiate The Hug, and so I did.

“It was mostly my fault, you know. I should have caught up to you. If not that, then at least I should have been the one to punch his nose off his face. I should’ve done something, but I dint. Let’s call it even.”

“You know,” He said, tightening his hold on me, “When I say ‘never’ I also mean the times when I’m out kicking ass. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.”

“So, I’m not being shoved out of your super cool ninja clan then, G Dragon-sama?”

He just laughed and breathed a light no somewhere in between. “Now go to bed, Naruto, you have school tomorrow.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

The next day Jiyong and Youngbae had a very heated discussion about me and what’s best for me and eventually, both of them decided it was best indeed, that I do stay with them, lest I shall be harmed in their prolonged periods of absence.

While they were in there, discussing my future, I was in the kitchen, making a very healthy double cheese chicken lasagna for my hungry self. As I was too busy drooling over the cheese that was bubbling in the oven, my surroundings became void and all that mattered anymore was the wall of time that stood between the food and my esophagus.

Out of nowhere, two fingers pressed down on either side of my waist, making me jump up in surprise. What was more embarrassing was the inhuman sound I made in the said process. Taking the first thing I found on the shelf I turned towards the attacker in a poise of self-defence.

“Whoa, y/n, you’re going to decapitate someone with that lethal spatula, girl.”

“Seungri? Dude, I would actually have decapitated you. Don’t sneak up on me like that. I have killer reflexes, you know.” I smirk.

“I’d love to put that to test someday. Let’s see, next weekend? My place?”

“Did you think that was smooth, Lee Seunghyun?”

“Is that a no?”

“Do you like lasagna?”

“What?”

“Yes. It’s a yes. Now, would you like to have lasagna? It’s almost done.” Talking about relationship stuff made me uncomfortable, and so, in the worst, most weird way that I could, I changed the topic.

“Some other time, princess. I need to go meet your brother first.”

“Cool. More for me then.” Princess? What?

“Watch the calories though.”

“Watch the calories though.” I mimic in a mocking tone as he smirks and walks away.

What a beautiful pain in the ass.

By the time the guys were done, it was evening already, and I did not realize that I had fallen asleep on the kitchen counter. Only managing to eat half the lasagna before my screwed up sleep schedule demanded to be acknowledged.

I woke up to the sound of Jiyong munching down the lasagna, sitting across from me on the counter.

“So Seungri asked you out?” He said, when he realized I had woken up.

“What? How do you know?”

“He called me this morning to ‘confess’ his weird feelings for you. He dint want to do it behind my back.”

“And you agreed?” I ask, visibly taken aback.

“Well, might as well. He knows what’s going to happen if he fucks it up.”

I snorted, and took a bite out of the lasagna as well.

“How did you make this?” He asked, making a disgusted face, “It tastes like damp socks.”

“It definitely does not. It’s better than what that good for nothing girlfriend of yours used to make.”

“Oh but she was good for something...” He says looking up at the ceiling, as if he was nostalgic. A smug smile on his face.

“You’re disgusting Kwon Jiyong.” I say, hitting his shoulder lightly. “Also, let me sleep. Go away.  Shoo. Do whatever deep dark stuff you do locked away in your deep dark room.”

“No, y/n, listen to me. This is important. It’s about that gang that’s after us.” He said, in a serious tone, which indicated we were down to business. “They’re called ‘death stroke’. Almost ten years ago, they were our biggest rivals, when dad’s company was about to go bankrupt and I had just ascended in his place. But, we beat him. After which they went underground. Now, I believe it was because they could not bear being defeated by a sexy eighteen year old, but according to Seunghyun hyung they were just ‘laying low’. Now that they believe it is us who screwed them over, their leader is blinded by revenge to extract vengeance from my majestic self. Even if we tell him it wasn’t us, he won’t believe it because, despite what TOP hyung says, he hates my guts. Now we’ve got to be careful, because who knows how many upgrades he has gone through over the years.”

“Upgrades? Oppa, this isn’t a video game villain.”

“Sister, he is called Midnight.”

“Ok first of all, I want that title. Second, why was this guy such a big rival of dad’s company?”

“Because apparently he had some beef with dad. He’s the reason the company fell in the first place.”

“Then let’s kill this bitch.”

Over the years, I always wanted to know why such a big company had reached such a low within almost no time. Who was the catalyst that favoured this downfall? I never asked my brother, because I was afraid he’d blame himself for it. But now that the son of a bitch had a face, and not to mention a cool ‘stage name’ that I required, I wanted nothing more than to paint his walls in deep, permanent red.

Over the course of the next few days, the guys all did their digging on this ‘Midnight’ and his ‘death stroke’, while I doodled in the back of my notebooks because whatever the teachers were saying in classes, was either never going to help me, or was just plain boring. As it is I was able to maintain good grades and an average image in class, so I could afford to doodle. I had earned the right to doodle. And so, I shamelessly doodled.

Fridays were the worst. Teachers gave extra homework, we had PE as the last period, and the instructor loathed my mere existence. Also, you never knew when the principle would come over and hand you more things to do, because of which, more often than not, we had to stay back after school hours.

This time, we were supposed to make paper cut outs for the first graders’ classrooms because they had a ‘Bring your mother to school’ day. I always hated these days, and anything to do with them.

“Never have I ever seen someone cut up golden stars with that much hatred in their eyes. You ok y/n?” My best friend asked me.

“Yeah well, when you have been personally victimized by your PE Instructor and then have a ‘decorate-a-classroom-for-mothers’ shoved in your face like a big ‘fuck you, you motherless git’, it sort of sucks the fun out of your peachy day.”

“Whoa slow down there sunshine. Here, have some chocolate.” She said, handing me a Hershey’s Kiss.

“Never leave me girl. What would I do without you?”

“Curl up in the fetal position and sob endlessly.” She said indifferently, as she pulled out a chocolate for her own self and ate it.

We finished the work sooner than I expected.

“A hundred starts and a double hundred chocolates later, the salty bitches finally emerge victorious!” I say, stretching my arms and got up.

“Speak for yourself, Cinderella. I happen to be a sweeter bitch.”

Both of us made out way out. Glad, the headache assigned to us was over. There were people in the class who looked at us with envy, and that made leaving even more satisfying.

We were out the school’s gate when it suddenly struck me, “Oh! I almost forgot, Seungri asked me out.”

“WHAT!! And I’m hearing about this NOW?! I feel betrayed. Did you find someone else to tell this to? *gasp* Are you CHEATING ON ME?”

“Calm down, you’re going to go into cardiac arrest. Who else would accept this eternal void of darkness except for you? I’ll tell you about it later, I want to go home right now, and sleep in a tub and hopefully drown in there for a couple of days.”

“Gimme a call when you come back from the dead, or if you die for good, ask Jiyong oppa to do it. We’ll support each other through the tough time. Then get married and name our firstborn after you.”

“Gross. Officially too gross. Oh the mental image. That’s it I’ve been scarred for life. I’m going to leave and pretend this never happened.” With that I turned, and walked away, already dreaming about essential oils soaking away all the torture I valiantly withstood today. And honestly, my body ached from head to toe, fingers about to spasm because of constant use of scissors, legs screaming out in protest, my eyes watering from the dire need for sleep. I was literally a wreck.

The sky was a dull yellow grey, clouds gradually blanketing all the blue and the setting sun not making any attempts to put up a fight either. There was a cool wind sweeping the streets, and weather like this meant a storm was on its way. A gentle breeze hit me, making me uneasy to the core. Ever since I was a little girl, I had noticed, on days like this, something always went wrong. And somewhere inside, that little girl wanted nothing more than to go cuddle up inside Jiyong’s blankets, because she was scared to be left alone.

Without second thoughts, I broke into a run as soon as I saw my house up ahead. I desperately wanted to get away from the rumbling clouds, slowly setting the stage for something more terrible to take over.

As soon I made it through the door, I took out my phone and called my brother.

“Hello?”

“Oppa?” I gasped, too tired to hide the nervousness in my voice, still breathless from the unnecessary running.

“Oppa where-” I was cut off as a large hand blocked my mouth. I wanted to retaliate, to protest, but my body refused to respond. Someone hit me on the back of my head, and I fell, barely conscious. I could feel hot blood drip down my head, as I made out a figure bending down to pick up my phone.

“G-Dragon, It’s been a while. I hope you haven’t forgotten me? Not that it matters right now. You see, I have something you want, and you have something I want. What do you say we discuss it over tea sometime? If not, then forget about seeing this little cheesecake again. I can’t say would mind that. I can imagine a few things I could do with her. When you make up your mind, call me on this number.”

If Jiyong argued, threatened or even yelled at the man, I couldn’t make out. I knew I had to do something to save myself, and I had to do it fast.

I tried to get up from the floor, but my arms betrayed me. And I fell with a thud that bounced off the walls and drew all the attention towards me.

“Knock that bitch out for the love of God. And put her in the car.”

The last thing I heard was Jiyong’s muffled cry, seethed with pain and anger, then it all went dark.

[jesusbukkake-blog]

Grandma Fucker

I was standing above my grandmother’s coffin, looking down at her body. She was quite clearly dead, and had been dead for quite a while. I felt the twinges of arousal. I cracked my knuckles, and jolted upright in bed.

Jesus Christ, I thought. What the fuck is wrong with you? The same twisted desires had been with me for months, ever since Grandma had died. She’d had a stroke, and had spent two years living a life I’d never want to live – lying on a hospital bed, barely moving, groaning incomprehensibly into a nurse’s ear, settling sadly into incontinence and finally succumbing to a dozen different diseases. It was far more tragic when she had the stroke than when she died, I always thought.

And now, she was at the forefront of my mind. Fuck conventional fantasies, I thought, as I took out my penis and started masturbating. A tear of precum rolled from my japseye. “Granny…” I moaned.

Fuck wanking, I thought mid-fantasy. Fuck normality and fuck wanking. I wiped myself up and got dressed. The light of the moon illuminated my room with an eerie pale, casting foreboding shadows everywhere.

Stretching, I stumbled towards the door, grabbing my crowbar and throwing it into my bag. This should come in useful, I thought. I took a switchblade, too, purely for self-defence.

I paced along the road, travelling into the suburbs. I went towards one house, jumping over the garden gate and sneaking in to the back garden.

I scanned around. This was a beautiful garden, but I wasn’t really interested in that – I saw what I was here for. A shovel lay on the lawn, next to some freshly planted flowers. I picked it up and stealthily left, in a cunning display of thievery.

Whistling, I carried on through the suburbs. It was still pitch black – perhaps it was about one o’ clock now, but I had no idea and it could just as easily be three. There was hardly anyone on the streets, as there never is in the night time in this area. I walked along the main road, the shovel over my shoulder. A few cars passed, including a few police cars, but not one stopped – I didn’t even catch anyone looking curiously at me.

I took a left and strolled down a second street. The faint hum of traffic was still omnipresent in the suburbs. It was quite comforting. The shovel was quite lightweight, yet still quite big – it was a worthy find. I thought briefly of the victims of my minor stealing. I’d kept their garden tidy. It was quite a big house, and I live in a flat in the inner city. I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over it, and neither, I’d imagine, were they.

After a desperate final sprint, I entered the graveyard. I knew exactly where her grave was – I’d visited it before, to contemplate what I was about to do, and part of my mind was fixated on this exact spot constantly. Granny doesn’t care, I told myself. Granny is dead – it’s like a rock, or a tree – she won’t notice what you’re doing to her, because she’s fucking dead.

Wielding the shovel in my hand like a weapon, I thrust it into the soft, moist earth, penetrating it with cold, hard steel. I began to dig furiously. Sweat poured from every inch of my skin.

The graveyard is a weird place. It’s funny that some of us feel so passionately about places like this. If I went up to a normal person and said, “I work for the graveyard, we’re running out of space, and we plan to bury a body on top of your dead relative – with your consent, of course,” I would get called ‘sick’. This kind of thinking was lost on me. They were dead. I can understand you wanting to stand over their grave, I can understand you wanting to look at the gravestone and think about your loved one, and I can even understand, perfectly well, why you might want to sit next to the grave and talk to the person dead and buried underneath, giving them letters, leaving them roses – I understand it all. I just don’t understand why you’d be deliberately nice to them. When I die, people can spit, piss, dance, or perform whatever cliché they want, on my grave, and I don’t care, because I’ll be dead. I’d be flattered, more than anything, if someone had sex with my corpse, and I think that any rational human should feel the same. And if they don’t, I don’t care, because they’re dead and so their opinions don’t matter.

Eventually, I reached her coffin. I savoured the victory and anticipation. I looked down at the sealed coffin lid, closed my eyes, and waited a full minute in respect to her. I then took out the crowbar, and ripped the coffin lid off, inviting the light on to her moulding skin for the first time since she’d been sealed up, years ago. The smell of rotten flesh was nauseating. I shuddered.

Imagine getting buried alive. Imagine, waking up in a coffin, frantically trying to scratch your way out until your fingernails broke, until your hands were bloody stumps. You’d go insane with terror – completely mad, screaming desperately into the impenetrable depths of silence surrounding you. And eventually, starve to death, a huddled, pathetic mass, and your mind in completely overbearing madness. The constant pain, and the walls to the coffin crushing you into hopeless claustrophobia – surely that’s the worst way to go.

Fuck that, I thought. Perhaps you’d suffocate. Perhaps you’d overheat. Both would be shitty. I want all my organs taken out, I decided, if only so I’m definitely dead.

I mounted her dead body, and began to French kiss her, passionately. Her motionless mouth was completely dry, and her teeth were coated in a thick layer of fuzz. Her grim stillness sent a surge of blood to my penis. I licked her cracking lips, my lust overbearing. I began to massage her breasts. Her face was a slightly sickly-looking greenish white.

I remember, just before the stroke, which, in my opinion, pretty much killed her, I visited her house with my mum. She was obviously very old, and everyone, including her, knew that she didn’t have long to live. It must have been drastically depressing for her. She called me over to her, from her wheelchair she’d been secluded to for months. Her eye was black and her arm in a sling, after falling over. It had been a bit of a tragedy. She’d been stuck on the floor for hours, unable to get in contact with anyone, struggling to get up; her ancient, historic body defeated by old age.

“Kevin,” she croaked. We were in her living room, in her small bungalow in an estate full of the elderly. She had decorated it like an old person would – embroidered cushions scattered on pink sofas, and floral patterns adorning her walls. The flowers in the middle of her dining table were on a huge doily.

“Yes, grandma?” I replied, looking at her. She was hunched over, wearing a thick cardigan.

“Come over here.”

I stood up and navigated my way around her room, clustered with memories, being careful not to knock anything over. I arrived next to her, and, looking down at the back of her balding head, said, “What is it, grandma?”

“Closer,” she whispered. I leant in closer to her whiskered mouth. She’d always been a very serious woman, but I was startled by the look of sheer openness and honesty beaming from her wrinkled eyes.

“What, grandma?”

“Kevin,” she whispered again. “Die young.”

I shook myself back to the present. She was dressed in a moulding blouse. It looked quite beautiful during her funeral, I thought. I pulled it off, and gazed longingly at her maggot-filled, rotting bosom. Her breasts were thoroughly lacking cleavage, despite my company. A bluebottle flew out from inside her left nipple. Her legs were exposed, her only item of clothing, massive grandma-pants. I put my thumbs inside, and pulled them down. Her pubic hair was grey and falling out, and the stench from her festering vagina hit me like a tonne of shit.

With a smile, I began to eat her out. The gross taste of her, and the lack of movement from her corpse served as a constant and painfully erotic reminder that she was dead. She was dead, she was dead fucking sexy, and I was nibbling her clit. It was slightly green, and tasted of stale urine, shit, and rotten meat. It was like sticking my tongue into a ravine of death, deep into her lifeless corpse.

When I was satisfied with the foreplay, purely for my benefit, I pushed myself into her, squeezing into her coffin, and began to thrust my penis into her dead cunt. “Granny,” I whispered. “Granny, I love you.” I began to sweat, my mind euphoric, swimming with passion and desire, in this damp grave, in this dark graveyard. She felt like paper and cloth, her wrinkly skin and swollen muscle tissue poking out through her veins and into my fingernails.

I bit her nipple, biting it off. I spat it out, looking with a morbid fascination at the lack of blood coming out.

I nibbled her eyelid, accidentally tearing it off. A vacant black hole stared at me, with her eye socket and skull visible through the missing bit of face. I grinned, as a worm slid out from inside her brain.

Shit, I thought. So this is what becomes of us.

I realised I’d brought the fucking switchblade. Whilst grinding into her, her organs in her vagina rotten and bloated, I stabbed it into her neck and began to saw through her head. It slid through almost like a hot knife through butter, until I reached her spine. I tried briefly to cut through it, before removing myself from her and snapping her like a twig, my erect penis drooling on to her shoulders. I then grabbed her by the hair and pulled, hard, separating her from the final decaying bits of spine and rotten skin. Blood leaked out, a dark crimson seeping from her neck.

I sat down in the grave. The Sun was beginning to rise. I picked up her head, grinning at me in an almost macabre fashion, and shoved my throbbing erection into her empty eye socket. I fucked her face until eventually I ejaculated into her skull, filling her brain with my semen.

I tossed the head on to her body and pulled up my pants. I then lifted myself out, looked down, muttered, “I love you, granny,” and walked away, leaving whoever was lucky enough to walk by to come across my mess.