#I hope that comes across I was really tryin ;P

[candycryptids]

Aether, Siren, Empyreum, Ward 4, plot 26 (in Tangy Tangeroo's FC room)

Tangy finally has an FC Room ! It's meant to look like a room in the Rising Stones, converted from Storage to full living space... with some storage still cluttering a corner or two, haha. There's plenty of things to eat and a drizzly view of the Crystal Tower outside! Feel free to stop by and take a look around :> (and at the other FC rooms too! Me and @dustedbooksandreadingnooks have done 6-11 personally ;3)

[joelmillersdumbslut]

Only bought this dress so you could take it off (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

summary: You spend your workdays pining over your favorite customer, Joel Miller, until he finally asks you out on a date. (no outbreak au. no use of y/n)

rating: 18+ explicit (minors do NOT interact)

warnings: age gap (reader is in early 20's, joel is early 40's), dirty talk, hand kink, pet names, reader is inexperienced, oral sex (f! and m! receiving), fingering, handjob, p in v sex, a little fluff at the end, basically smut with the tiniest bit of plot

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i just really wanted to write a smutty oneshot! hope you enjoy it ♡

ao3 link

Normally, when customers hit on you, you’re quick to shut them down.

“No, thanks, I have a boyfriend.”

“Sorry, I have night classes.”

“My parents won’t let me date until I’m 35.”

Or straight up, “No.”

But, when Joel Miller first walked into the coffee shop you work at, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. You had just finished steaming milk for a latte when your coworker rang him up at the register. You fumbled with the steel pitcher as Joel shot a glance your way, his brown eyes burrowing into you. The frothy milk burned the back of your hand, but it didn’t even compare to the burning you felt deep inside your abdomen.

For the next few weeks, Joel would chat you up at the pickup counter while you poured his coffee. He takes it black. No milk, no sugar, no bullshit. He’d ask you questions about the beans. Where they’re grown, how do you get them, what setting you grind them at for the best taste. All you could think about was the way his lips curled into a small smile after the first sip. Or how his fingers brushed against yours as you handed him his coffee. It felt wrong, sometimes immoral, to be so smitten with a man old enough to be your father. You couldn’t help but get doe-eyed every time he walked in through the door. Even your coworkers started teasing you, telling you Joel came in on your day off and asked for you. You’d brush it off and pretend it didn’t happen, but you secretly hoped that it did. You were dying to get to know him better, or at least find out more than just how he takes his coffee.

So, when he came in on a dreary Monday, looking a little pale and feverish, you asked him what was going on. He exhaled sharply through his nose as you let the coffee cascade from the brewer into the paper cup. But, his words were floundering in the sea of coffee shop noises and you couldn’t hear him well. You beckoned him to lean across the counter, cupping your ear. When his mouth grazed against your lobe, your belly ignited once again when you heard the words, “What I’m tryin’ to say is… would you wanna go out on a date with me?”

—

You’d never put out on the first date before. At least not until now. Joel Miller took you to see a movie, but you can’t remember what it was about. Probably because he had a firm grip on your thigh the entire time. His fingers slowly dragging their way up your leg as the movie played on the big screen. It’s a good thing you picked seats in the very back row where no one could see you leaning over to kiss him. It took him by surprise, but he welcomed it nonetheless. You placed your hand on his cheek, turning him towards you as you gently brushed your lips against his. He returned the favor, and soon enough his tongue was poking through your lips to meet your own. Just as you were about to reach for his belt buckle, the overhead lights came on and you both jolted back. You smoothing out your dress, Joel hiding the front of his jeans with a popcorn bucket. He held your hand all the way to the car, and even opened the door for you.

—

It was hard to resist a gentleman like Joel Miller. He walked you to your apartment door, lingering in the hallway while you pulled a set of keys out of your purse. He was about to bid you a good night, when something possessed you to mention, “You know, my roommate’s working the night shift. If you wanna come in.”

A slow smile creeped up on his face, “Whaddya have in mind?”

You could feel your cheeks burn, your eyes dropping to the floor. “I’m not that kind of girl,” your whisper almost inaudible, “I mean. Maybe I am. But, just for you. Because�� I like you.”

Joel lifted your chin, his gaze meeting yours. “I like you too.”

Then he gestured towards the door, “I’ll come in. Stay a while.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you opened the door and his hand rested on the small of your back.

—

Joel Miller is hard to resist. Especially with the way his tongue grazed the inside of your thighs.

You led him to your room, locking the door behind you. A switch flipped, his eyes hungry, his pants tightening around his thighs. You stood together in your dimly lit bedroom, tongues colliding, hands groping in places you’d never let a stranger go before. It wasn’t long before you pulled away abruptly.

“I have to tell you something first,” you looked around nervously, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Joel’s expression softened, sitting down next to you, pulling your hand into his lap.

“I know it may not seem like it. But, I don’t really have much experience. So, you’ll have to… go slow with me. Maybe even teach me how to do certain things, I guess,” you admitted, absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on your dress hem with your free hand.

Joel brushed your hair out of your face, kissing your shoulder, and then your neck. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

A beat. Then he asked, “Have you… done it before?”

You could feel your face turn flush again as you looked at his hand holding yours. It’s so… huge. Calloused. You wondered if he’s a construction worker or some kind of laborer. You couldn’t remember if he’s ever mentioned his occupation. Then you wondered what it would be like to have those fingers inside you. Sliding in and out as he massages your favorite spot. You might soon find out.

You shook those thoughts from the forefront of your mind to answer his question, “I have. But, just a few times. I never really got anything out of it.”

Your words came with a sheepish inflection. But, Joel didn’t make you feel inadequate or insecure. Instead, he gently held your face, those rough hands against your soft skin.

“I’ll show you,” is all he said.

—

Joel Miller clouded your mind as you pulled your dress over your head, suddenly feeling embarrassed that today of all days you had chosen not to wear a bra. You were exposing your breasts to this man you hardly knew. A man old enough to have raised you. But, Joel didn’t seem to mind. He palmed his bulge through his jeans, watching you undress.

“Do you… Want me to take these off?” you asked, thumbing the waistband of your underwear.

He stepped closer to you, still touching himself through his clothes. “Not now. I’ll tell you when to take ‘em off,” he grunted. “Get on the bed.”

Fire began to burn inside your lower stomach. Maybe you were overthinking this, but Joel was definitely not like the guy you’d been with before. And you realized it was turning you on, Joel being so much older and taking control over you. What could you do to keep him that way? Your answer came swiftly, as you climbed onto the bed and laid down for him. All you needed to do was be obedient.

“What should I do now?” you asked, your breath faltering as he began taking off his pants.

A smirk danced across Joel’s face as he ignored your question, “You like watchin’ me?”

“Yes,” you answered quietly, your core burning hotter than a thousand suns.

After stripping down to his boxers, Joel laid down next to you, his hand firmly planted on your thigh.

“You thinkin’ ‘bout me earlier? At the movie theater?”

“Yes,” you began to melt, wondering if it was possible to explode from his touch alone.

“Good girl,” he cooed, his hand moving towards your underwear. He stopped at the fabric, his hand rubbing the outside. Your breath hitched and he chuckled. His fingers dipped inside, rubbing your clit. Then sliding down to your entrance. You gasped for air as he pulled away. It had been so long since you’d been touched like that, you nearly forgot what it felt like. In fact, it almost felt like nothing you’d ever felt before. You decided to allow this brand-new feeling to wash over you, as Joel nipped at your neck, leaving marks for the world to see.

“God, you’re so wet already,” he murmured. “That all for me?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whispered.

The smirk returned to his face as he crawled down the bed, “Take those off.”

You instantly did as you were told. An excitement brewed inside you, curious to see where this would go. Joel spread your legs apart, a whimper involuntarily leaving your throat as he examined you. He smiled again, shaking his head slightly.

“So pretty,” he grinned, looking up at you. “Anyone ever eat your pussy?”

“N-no. My ex wouldn’t do that,” you explained, suddenly ashamed by your lack of experience. That didn’t seem to deter the older man though. If anything, it fueled his ego even more.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll make you feel better than that kid ever did.”

—

And you soon learned Joel Miller kept his word.

He began licking you gently, starting at your clit. It took you by surprise, how something you’ve never experienced could feel so fucking good. His tongue shifted up and down, making you moan. Instinctively, you covered your mouth so your neighbors, or even worse, your soon-to-arrive-home roommate, wouldn’t be able to hear you, but Joel reached up to pull your arm away.

“I want everyone in this building to hear you, baby.” He started sucking on your clit, making you whimper even louder. “That’s it, make some noise for me.”

He picked up the pace, your body tensing up, the pleasure coursing through your veins. You began to wonder if you could cum simply from his mouth alone, but soon his fingertips were tracing your hole.

“Please tell me your boyfriend at least fingered you,” Joel teased, dipping inside of you gingerly. You wanted him so badly, but you forgot how to use your words. This seemed to amuse Joel, as he continued to trace the outline with his fingertips.

“Yes,” you stifled another moan, “B-but, he never got me off.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me, sweetheart, I’m gonna make you cum as hard and as often as I can,” Joel slowly inserted a finger, making you inhale deeply. “That feel okay? Need at least two, maybe three to get you ready for me.”

Hard? Often? Three fingers?! Before you could even begin to process his arrogance, Joel quickly worked his magic, curling his finger inside you. He easily added another one for good measure, your vision going blurry from the satisfaction you were receiving.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed, feeling the wave rising up inside you immediately. You realized it wasn’t arrogance after all. He truly knew what he was doing to you. And he was doing it well. “Joel, I-I think you’re gonna make me cum already.”

“That’s okay, baby, cum all over me,” he murmured and resumed sucking on your clit. And soon enough, your hips convulsed, legs shaking as Joel rode the high with you. He slowed down as you returned to Earth, glancing up at you with a twinkle in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you nervously blurted out, “I don’t usually get off that fast.”

His hand reached for yours as he repositioned himself on the mattress, kneeling at your side. “No need to apologize, darlin’. Besides, you’re so pretty when you cum.” He leaned down to kiss you lightly, and you realized his boxers were still on. His cock straining against the fabric. You looked up at him expectantly, biting your lip.

“Alright, sweetheart. Your turn to make me feel good now,” he brought your hand to his waistband. “Take these off,” he growled, the hunger returning to his brown eyes.

You quickly got to work, helping Joel remove what little was left of his clothing. The sight of his cock made your eyes widen. You could feel the wetness dripping down your thighs at the mere thought of what it’d feel like to have him pumping inside you.

You don’t have to imagine that for long though, as Joel’s southern drawl snapped you back to reality. “Touch me,” he ordered, on his knees again next to you. “Show me what you can do.”

Your hand wrapped around his cock. Starting at the base, you moved upward slowly. You kept glancing at Joel to gauge his enjoyment, or worse, any potential displeasure. But, you didn’t need to worry about that. The room was filled with his grunts and moans. You wanted to impress him, so as your hand travelled back up again and your thumb grazed his slit, gathering precum, making the slide back down his shaft even easier.

“Think you were lyin’ to me, darlin’. You know exactly what you’re doin’,” Joel groaned, a sly smile spreading across his face. “Why don’t you try takin’ me in your mouth?”

A fire roared deep within your belly again as you sat up a little straighter. You leaned over with your mouth agape, beginning to suck the tip of his cock. Joel’s whimper startled you, but the sounds of pleasure encouraged you to take more of him. Or as much as you could. He was bigger than you had imagined. Spit dribbled down your chin as Joel reached the back of your throat. You peered up at him as he took a handful of your hair, guiding you as he gently fucked your mouth.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he sighed, “Are you ready for me, baby?”

You nodded, maybe a little too eagerly. It made Joel chuckle as he pushed you back onto the bed, spreading your legs far apart. Holding his cock, he lined up to your entrance, stroking the tip up and down against your pussy. A guttural moan erupted from inside you at the feeling. The primal feeling of needing him inside you now.

“This might hurt,” he whispered, “But, I know you can take my cock.”

His words rang through your ears, making you lightheaded and dripping wet. You nodded slowly and the fire burned even brighter, your eyes meeting his.

Joel stroked himself again as he propped your legs up, “Gonna go nice and slow for you. Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

His fingers dipped inside you again as his other hand wrapped around his cock. He rubbed against your sweet spot, the pressure beginning to build again already.

“Tell me when you’re ready, baby.”

“I’m ready,” you whispered.

—

You couldn’t believe it. After weeks of pining and longing for your favorite customer, Joel Miller, he was finally inside you.

It hurt at first, your body could only manage to take the tip. Guess he was right about needing three fingers. You initially cried out at the strange mix of pleasure and pain. Joel was quick to kiss you, holding you tenderly until you were ready to try again. The second time was the charm. He penetrated you slowly as he grabbed your hand. He placed it over your clit, helping you move in small circles. The bliss radiated throughout your body as Joel continued to enter you until his length went as far as it could go without hurting you any more.

“Knew you could take my cock,” he purred, “Good girl.”

He pumped slowly and deeply, managing to be careful enough not to hit any areas that might hurt you again. “This good, baby? Wanna hear you.”

Joel could hear you alright. You kept rubbing your clit and with each thrust, he hit your G-spot. It was the perfect combination, something you didn’t know could possibly exist. You just knew your sheets were going to be soaked, if they weren’t already.

“If you keep doing this, I’m gonna cum again,” the whine slipped off your lips.

He chuckled, his pace quickening. “Good. Need to get you there a couple more times before it’s my turn. Cum for me.”

And the pressure inside you released and you exploded all over his cock, your cum streaming down the insides of your thighs.

Joel laughed, slowing down to fix your hair. “How was that, baby?”

Your lips quivered as you nodded frantically, practically begging him for more. The sex with your ex-boyfriend completely paled in comparison to this session with Joel. You were starting to hope maybe it could become a regular thing. Maybe Joel could keep showing you the nooks and crannies you didn’t know existed within your body.

Before you had the chance to ask, Joel pulled you up into a sitting position, laying next to you on his back.

“Ever ride before? Think you’ll like it,” he winked, gesturing for you to get on top of him.

You crawled onto his lap, his cock swaying before you. You stared down at him, your legs on either side of his hips, still shaking from your last orgasm.

“Don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart. You need my help?”

You nodded, feeling a little self-conscious. Despite being prone, Joel lifted you up, guiding his cock back inside you. Your eyes widened as it hit new places you had never discovered before. You began to resent your ex a little for being a shitty lover. But, Joel pulled you back into the real world with his honeyed words.

“You’re the one in control, baby. Move the way that feels good,” he encouraged you, setting his hands on your hips.

You began to experiment, rolling your body back and forth slowly. You quickly found a rhythm that worked best for both of you, your moans bouncing off Joel’s sighs. His hand moved forward, thumbing your clit while you rocked your hips. You could feel another orgasm building inside your core, but you slowed down in an attempt to last longer. Joel, of course, noticed.

“You can cum, baby, I don’t mind.”

“But-“

“But, what?”

“I wanna cum with you.”

His eyes sparkled, and he started rubbing your clit faster.

“Wanna cum with me? Say it.”

“I wanna cum with you,” you repeated, tears welling at the corners of your eyes, the stimulation becoming overpowering.

“Say it again, darlin’.”

You couldn’t take it anymore, you were so desperate to feel your release.

“I wanna cum with you.”

And as soon as your words hit the air, your orgasm toppled over you, screams erupting from your throat. Joel followed suit, muttering incoherent nonsense, but the few words you could catch amidst the chaos were, “good girl.” Your hands rested on the headboard as you leaned over Joel, panting like you just finished a marathon. Well, you supposed you kind of did. Glancing at the clock, it had been three hours since you brought him back to your room. In the past, it was usually three minutes.

You lowered yourself back onto the bed, curling up in the crook of Joel’s arm. His scruff brushed against your cheek as he kissed you.

“How was that, baby? You learn anything?”

You giggled, still mesmerized by his touch. And his cock. “I was hoping maybe you could teach me more,” you admitted, taking his hand in yours.

Joel chuckled before kissing you again. “I’ll teach you everything, baby.”

—

[realcube]

speaking 💗 uwu 💗 to the haikyuu!! boys pt 2

part 1

characters: suna, matsukawa, kyōtani, tendō & akaashi

tw// illness, swearing, sexual references, cwinge   

Rintarō Suna

bitch- he was shocked

he was feeling sick so you were taking care of him while he lay on the couch looking like the cutest lil��� potato you’ve ever seen

so while you were handing him the soup you made him, you said something along the lines of ‘here’s some wuv-filled soup for my poor honey~’ in the uwu voice

that was the best he felt all day lol

like honestly, you expected him to cringe which is kinda why you did it but he was all for it lmao

‘wait- please do that again, (y/n).’ suna groaned, slowly taking the soup from your hands 

you snickered, gently stirring the spoon to cool it down slightly, ‘no. now drink up.’

you picked up the spoon to jab it at his mouth since he was clearly too lazy to drink it himself, but his lips didn’t part no matter how desperately you poked 

he shook his head, keeping his lips together 

you rolled your eyes, dropping the spoon back into the bowl, ‘stop being a baby and drink the soup!’

suna continued to shake his head, ‘not until you do the voice again.’ he said, his voice hoarse and low.

‘bitch.’ you muttered while rubbing your temples, you were way too tired to deal with his clownery today 

‘please, (y/n).’

‘why are you so needy all of a sudden?’ you pouted, trying to think of something to say in the voice that wasn’t too embarrassing

‘i don’t know.’

‘uwu eat your fuckin’ soup, bi--’ you couldn’t even finish your sentence before wheezing at how silly it was to say something like that in ✨the voice✨ 

suna chuckled, immediately pulling his arm out from underneath the blanket to slurp up your delicious soup

the bowl parted from his lips as he let out a refreshed, ‘ah’ then dropped his gaze to meet yours, ‘you’re so cute.’

Issei Matsukawa

he would look you dead in the eye and smirk 

‘what’s wrong with your voice?’

WAIT BUT DON’T TAKE IT THE WRONG WAY BC HE JUST SAID THAT COZ HE PREFERS YOUR NATURAL VOICE LIKE PLEASE DON’T CHANGE IT YOU SOUND SO DIVINE 

‘nothing~’ you hummed, still holding your voice at a higher pitch

matsukawa quirked a brow, wondering if he was missing something

the thought occurred to him that maybe this a prank of some sort and you were waiting for him to give an interesting reaction

well, i mean, he’d hate to disappoint so-

he leaned forward to place a kiss on your cheek and wrap you in hug

‘what are you tryin’ to be all cute for, angel?’  he muttered against the sensitive skin of your neck 

a light blush dusted across your cheeks so you buried your face into the crook of his neck to hide it, ‘i don’t know.’ you replied in an awkward mix of your natural voice and the uwu voice

matsukawa snickered, rubbing up and down your spine with the large palm of his hand, ‘so you’re not gonna tell me, huh?’ he asked, playfully flicking your spine, resulting in a slightly whimper escaping your lips

‘is this a prank?’ he inquired further, holding a tight grip on your waist so you were unable to pull away - not that you wanted to anyway.

‘kinda.’ you snickered at how surprisingly quick he caught on

‘i fucking knew it.’ he chuckled, pushing you away from him to pressed a rough kiss against you lips, ‘but keep your real voice, angel. not to sound like a simp but it’s one the sweetest things i’ve ever heard.’

‘simp.’

‘shut up.’ he smiled and lightly flicked your back once more 

Kentarō Kyōtani 

he thought it was a sex thing-

you were just showing him your new-found talent while he was blushing furiously and just like ‘shut up, (y/n)! we’re in public! 😡😳’

and you just kinda shuffled awkwardly ‘what does that have to do with anything?’

‘you can’t just do stuff like that in front of everyone!’

he’d probably pull you onto his lap and cover your mouth with his hand to silence you

in his mind, the uwu voice = calling your s/o ‘daddy’ or ‘mommy’

like- just a bit too taboo to do in public-

you were so confused

‘kyōtani, get you’re filthy, dry hand off my mouth right now’

he wasn’t exactly sure what you said considering that his hand served the purpose of muffling your speech but he did hear that you called him by his full surname opposed to just ‘kyō’, ‘baby’  or ‘babe’ hence, you were probably angry 

‘i’m going to move my hand but i swear to god if you do that fucking voice again.’ he growled into your ear, that alone probably should’ve made you feel threatened but knowing kyōtani, he’s all bark and no bite; well, at least when it comes to you 

he slowly removed his hand from your mouth and you just shot him the deadliest glare 

he’s never going to recover from that one tbh- your eyes alone just scarred him for life 

without a word, you grabbed your bag from under your desk to search through it for a moment until you pulled out a small bottle of lotion

‘give me your hands.’

‘no.’ kyōtani rolled his eyes; he didn’t like the idea of putting lotion on his hands bc it’d made his hands slippery and if his hands were lubricated how was he supposed to GRIP?

‘i wasn’t a question.’ you scoffed, grabbing his hand and squeezing a dollop of lotion onto it, ‘have you ever moisturized in your life? your hands are so ashy.’

‘right, okay.’ kyōtani murmured, not even bothering to answer your silly question

‘ashy hands~’ you absentmindedly cooed in the uwu voice while spreading the lotion evenly across his palm

after realising what you hand just said, you immediately shifted your gaze onto kyōtani to see if he was livid >:)

but actually, he was painted a deep shade of red with his head turned away from you 

‘you’re going to hell.’ he hissed, not daring to meet your gaze just in case his face erupted in a blush once more

‘i’ll see you there~’

Satori Tendō

he’d look you dead in the eye and try to copy you lmao

like what else was he supposed to do? lmao

plus, he was sure of the fact he could do it better than you ✋

‘uwu-’ he choked on his own spit as that hellish sound left his mouth

‘TENDŌ!!’ you wheezed, covering your mouth to prevent an ungodly noise escaping, ‘sir, your vocal cords-’

‘wait do it again, do it again!’ he encouraged, clasping his hands together to plead

you snickered before raising the pitch of your voice once more, along with throwing up a little peace sign, ‘you’re such a swut!’

now it was tendō’s turn to wheeze

after a while, he was finally able to compose himself and attempt to imitate ✨ the voice ✨

‘you’re a whore!~’

you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth, ‘WAIT, SATORI THAT WAS SO GOOD!’

tendō quirked a brow, shuffling in closer to you, taking your hand in his and placing a kiss upon the tips of each of your fingers absentmindedly, ‘really?’

‘yeah’ you nodded rapidly, not even bothering to hide the blush that was spreading across your cheeks at his random kisses 

‘i love you, baby~’ you hummed, pursing your lips in hoped he’d pick up on what your were asking for

‘i love you way more~’ he cooed, leaning in and connecting his lips with yours

honestly, y’all probably never use the voice again after that 

(other than when you play a prank on ushijima :P)

but it’s a fond memory lol

Keiji Akaashi

you did it as a prank but akaashi thought it was for his attention lol

he was just sitting at his desk, ‘studying’ hard (by ‘studying’, i mean he was blankly staring at his notes while thinking about you) while you were sitting on his bed, taking a well-earned break

then you saw a girl on your fyp try the prank out on her bf and ofc you had to try lmao

i mean, it was harmless :)) unlike some of the other pranks floating around

the only thing that could possibly get hurt during this prank was your pride

so you immediately tried it out

‘angel~’ you cooed, trying your best to keep the voice on and stifle a snicker as you watched him visibly perk up upon hearing you, ‘are you hungwy? do you want me to make you some snacks?’

akaashi turned around his chair to look at you and shoot you a sweet smile

HIS SMILE OEIHNFEVBEI pls it’s so holy 🥺🙏

anyway, he replied in his equally as angelic, mellow voice, ‘i’m fine, love. thank you though, you’re so sweet.’

you nodded in response, thinking that you weren’t going to get much of a reaction out him so you were about to go back to scrolling until he inquired further

‘by the way, what’s with the voice?- don’t get me wrong, it’s cute; i’m just curious.’

you let out a sigh, a smile gracing your lips as you figured that you’d end the prank here- you were too impatient to continue lol

‘it was just for a little prank thing.’

an understanding ‘ah’ fell from akaashi’s lips before he got up from his desk and slowly slinked towards you, cupping your face in his soft hands, caressing your cheek gently with his thumb as his lips teasingly hovered over your own

‘well, i’d be lying if i said i’m not fond of it.’ he hummed, his gaze fixated on your eyes for the most part but every few seconds it’d drop to send brief, longing looks at your lips 

he stole a quick kiss before backing away slightly, his hand staying glued to your cheek for as long as possible 

‘i’ll go fetch us some snacks- i’m suddenly craving popcorn.’

he left you in his room alone, blinking rapidly while trying to process what just happened

you just unlocked suave! akaashi

[himbo-only-zone]

Hey can I request the whole fluff alphabet for shuichi ty in advance <3

shuichi saihara || fluff alphabet

I don't know if I write Shuichi well but uhhh we tryin, I hope you enjoy!! I'm honestly really really really proud of this one. I'm soft for shuichi now?? Holy fuck??

- Mod Anna

a. attractive. what does he find attractive about you? he finds himself admiring your hands. not in a creepy way, he just really likes holding them. he likes holding things and being able to fidget with them, so your hands are definitely something he likes.

b. baby. would he want a family? he would, but it's not a necessity! he would love teaching kids how to be detectives if they wanted to follow in his footsteps. imagine a kid sitting on his lap while watching criminal minds or something like that.

c. cuddle. how does he cuddle? he likes spooning, whether it's him as the big or little spoon. he likes to hold your hand while you're spooning, and having you close is nice. he'll plant little loving kisses on your neck if you're the little spoon.

d. dates. what are dates with him like? he likes escape rooms! he can use his detective skills, and it's time with you. if you're a little slow, he'll help you out. but if you don't want help, he'll sit back and enjoy watching you. he finds you adorable either way. he's the epitome of "you're doing great, sweetie!"

e. everything. what are you to him? (ex. you are my _____) you're his mystery. he wants someone he can learn inside out, and he wants to know every aspect of you. he finds you interesting.

f. feelings. when did he realize that he was in love? he was learning more about more about you, and the more you opened up, the harder he fell. he realized he had a bigger soft spot for you than most. you made him so happy and pulled him in so quickly.

g. gentle. is he gentle with you? very. all of his actions are very gentle, and that doesn't change with his lover. he'd like you to be gentle with him as well, but that's not a necessity.

h. hands. how does he like to hold hands? he likes to have them close with your fingers intertwined. on tables, in coat pockets, anything. he just wants to be able to hold your hand, run his fingers across your knuckles, play around with your rings. anything.

i. impression. what was his first impression of you? he was more focused on analyzing you rather than forming an opinion. you seemed like a nice person to be around, and he put that down as a mental note. everything else was just body language and personally notes.

j. jealousy. how often does he get jealous? not too often, but he'd never say if he did or not. clues on his to pick up on it are: he will not make eye contact with you whatsoever. he built up his courage to look you in the eye more and more, but he completely loses it when someone seems to be a better fit for you than him.

k. kiss. how does he kiss? who initiated the first kiss? his kisses are really soft and gentle, rarely rough. he doesn't want to hurt you, plus he's really nervous you won't like it. he surprisingly initiated it, but it was really cautious, and he asked for consent a million times.

l. who says "i love you" first? you do. you come to work with him while he's investigating a case, hugging him from behind. you mumbled it softly, and he was shocked. he took his fifteen minutes break then and there to just mentally prepare to say it back. the boy loves you so, so much.

m. memory. what's his favorite memory with you? you two were laying down, going to bed, and he had been super stressed from work that day. without having to ask, you just pulled him into his chest and stroked his hair for a little while. he didn't have to worry about the day, he had you. that's all he truly needed.

n. nickel. how much does he spend on you? he would pay for things that you wanted, but if you insisted, he'd let you pay. he's nervous about being too chivalrous, he wants you to be able to be comfortable and independent! so he's really careful with it.

o. orange. what color reminds him of you? rainbow, to be honest. seeing a rainbow reminds him of happiness and joy, which you give him. now with you around, he notices bright colors more often.

p. pet names. what pet names does he use? he's extremely nervous about using pet names, so he'll usually hesitate and/or stutter when using them. he likes darling and my dear the most, though. when he's really courageous, he'll throw in a baby. and then he'll shake his head because that sounded awful coming out of his mouth.

q. quaint. what's his favorite non-modern thing? he likes doing cute things like pulling out your chair and kissing your knuckles. chivalry is not dead with this detective.

r. rainy days. what does he like to do with you on a rainy day? he likes watching documentaries with you in his lap. he'll rest his chin on your shoulder and watch, humming softly when he picks up certain details and begins to solve the case.

s. sad. how does he cheer you up? he's really, really gentle with you. he'll ask what you want, and he'll provide. he'll go to the store if you want ice cream, he'll bring blankets if you want to cuddle. if you want anything, and i mean ANYTHING, he'll do it for you.

t. talking. what does he like to talk about? he likes talking about ... anything, to be honest. he likes hearing about your day more, but he'll talk about himself as well. he's really comfortable with you the more you know each other, so it could be anything.

u. unencumbered. what makes him relax? just being with you. he likes physical affection the most, though. long hugs, playing with his hair, holding his hand. he just wants to close his eyes and enjoy your warmth and affection.

v. vaunt. does he show you off? it's more of you showing him off, to be honest. he likes doing small things, like holding your hand in public, but you've gotta be the one to show the relationship off. he won't object, though, he'll just be very flustered.

w. wedding. when, how, and where does he propose? he would have to take a while to think about it. he would ask kaito for advice constantly, and he'd probably have an ear piece. he would do it at a park, at night where it's really empty. kaito would make kokichi distract you, and then shuichi would drop to one knee behind you. “a-ah, i really ... don't know what to say, i had a lot prepared, b-but it's all kinda gone now ... but i really, really love you, s/o. and it would make me really happy if you would marry me.”

x. xylophone. what song reminds him of you? what's your theme song? nine in the afternoon by panic! at the disco reminds him of you, and your theme song is the only exception by paramore!

y. yes. does he think about proposing to and marrying you? yes!! every time you do something cute, he's mentally screaming about how much he wants to marry you.

z. zebra. if he was able to get a pet, what would he get? he would love to get a cat. like a small, cute kitten. he's like one of those dad's who are like "i don't know..." and then he gets super attatched.

[fandomficsnstuff]

Idiot

(Okay so I’m in the mood for some Bill Williamson stuff, so, buckle up darlings! And hopefully I did him justice)

Warnings: a bit angst I think, but major fluff at the end, and Bill being a cute little thang as always (I adore him and his awkwardness)

You scoffed as you watched Bill warm up his gelders, but you couldn’t help the smirk that pulled on your lips “are you really gonna torture the poor boy?” Bil shrugged, an amused grin on his face that you found adorable “if it’ll make him talk, then it’ll make him talk” you rolled your eyes playfully at his statement, following him back to Dutch, Arthur and the poor boy tied to a tree, his pants down around his ankles, and when he saw you come over as well he turned bright red. “D-Does s-she have to watch? Please I don’t know nothing!” you couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor guy, but then you reminded yourself that he was an O’Driscoll, he didn’t exactly deserve any kind of sympathy.

“Ain’t nothing you got I ain’t seen before kid” you scoffed, and when he realized that you weren’t leaving and you weren’t stopping them he only grew more scared, screaming and yelping out what you’d all been listening to for weeks now. “Dutch he’s really givin’ me a headache” you complained and Bill smirked at you “want me to fix it?” you smiled at him “yes please” Bill laughed and brought his heated gelders closer to the poor boy and he finally snapped “okay!! I know where O’Driscoll’s at, a place called Six Point Cabin! I can show you! Just p-please put those away!” Dutch nodded to Bill who put them away, though not in good spirit “aw don’t worry dear, maybe you can geld him some other time” you whispered, causing Bill’s ears to go bright red as he blushed, glancing at you “well here’s to hopin’” you smiled at him.

When Arthur called Bill to ride with him, along with John and the O’Driscoll, you quickly caught up to Bill, catching his wrist “I don’t like it… the O’Driscoll I mean” you whispered low, making Bill scoff “what, think I can’t take care of myself?” he got rather defensive, making you sigh “that ain’t what I’m sayin’, I’m just trying to tell you to-”

“I know how to stay safe, woman! Ain’t gotta be lectured about it from you!” he snapped, making sure his saddle was ready, he didn’t even look at you “Bill Williamson don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m only saying this because I love you, you idiot! But you’re too busy defending yourself from nothin’ to realise that! I’m asking you to be careful out there cause I want you back in one piece, so help me God! I’m an even bigger idiot than you, but at least I’m aware of it!” you snapped, turning on your heel and walking far out of his sight, leaving a shocked Bill standing frozen by his horse. It wasn’t until Arthur spoke to him that he snapped out of it, seeing both John, Arthur and the O’Driscoll looking at him, making him get flustered “damn woman” he said out loud, though he didn’t really mean it, as he saddled up, going with Arthur.

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You looked to Abigail as she nudged you, Abigail nodding towards the entry to camp, and you followed her look, seeing none other than Bill Williamson with John and the O’Driscoll, but as soon as John and Kieran was dropped off, he rode off again, and you bit your lip, looking down at the washboard in thought. Once again brought back to reality by Abigail, you sighed “I-... maybe I was too hard on him over nothing…” you mumbled, but you knew she heard you, she shook her head “no, you needed to get that off of ya chest, you love him, and you know I know what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t love me back…” she glanced at John and you felt a pang of guilt “I’m sorry, Abigail, at least Bill is with me… John-”

“John is… John, but I know where I stand with him at least, I love him and he doesn’t love me, but he’s still the father of my son. With you and Bill it’s… complicated. You’re together but not an item, it’s confusing, you know?” you sighed at her words, nodding your head slightly, “maybe it was too soon? Sayin’ that I love him, you know?” Abigail shrugged “do you?” you nodded in response, still looking at the washboard in silence “then it wasn't anything but right” she concluded before going back to her chore, making you think for a bit before doing the same.

It had been an hour or so since Bill rode off again, and a part of you worried, and another part of you tried to act indifferent, though that was not going to happen anytime soon. Every time you heard the sound of galloping hooves you turned your head in the direction, hoping it would be him, but it was just Arthur returning, or Charles with a dead deer on his horse. But finally you heard another set of hooves, turning your head to see the familiar horse of Brown Jack and it’s familiar owner on top, Bill Williamson, with a package on his horse. You looked away as he saddled down, hitching Brown Jack and taking the package, you missed the way he scanned the camp, his eyes scanning for you and the quick smile, which faded even quicker, once he saw you, sitting by the girls’ tent, stitching an old shirt that he recognized to be one of his own, his chest filling with warmth at the sight of you stitching up his old shirt.

He approached, thankful that you were alone before clearing his throat, the package, although rather large and not very well hidden, behind his back. You turned to look up at him, narrowing your eyes at him as he had a nervous look to him “if you’re about to tell me somethin’ then just tell me, Bill, I’m not exactly in a good mood today” you mumbled the last part, looking back down you missed the way his look softened and he looked almost guilty “well erhm… I uh-... good thing I got you this then” he showed you the package, making you study it in both curiosity and confusion, he had never brought you any gift, at least not anything else besides a wild flower or two when no one was around to see it, and usually he left before you could even say thank you, so to say that this was a new thing was an understatement “what is it?” he shuffled his feet awkwardly “well… open it up and see” he mumbled, handing you the package and sat down on a box next to you, trying to hide his excitement as you put the old shirt away and began to slowly open the packaging “I uh, felt bad about, you know… so yeah” he muttered awkwardly, clearly an indicator that he thought you took too long to open it, so you sped up a bit.

Pushing the wrapping paper aside, you saw a skirt in your favorite color, it had small patterns of flowers, big and small, woven into it with a black thread. Picking up the skirt, you saw a blouse underneath, pulling that on top to study it as well, it was white, and matched perfectly with the skirt, which was an indicator that Bill himself had not picked it out, the poor guy had no sense of fashion for men, let alone women. You let your hand run across the fabric, a smile making it’s way onto your lips as you looked back at him, pure joy in your eyes. “I-Is it alright? T-the woman at the store said that it would fit, at least I think so…” you scoffed, making him look at you like you had rejected him, but it was only until you chuckled low, now grinning at him “it’s beautiful! Thank you, Bill, I love it” you leaned over and pecked his cheek, causing him to blush like crazy, his ears turning to a whole other shade of red than you had ever seen before “I-I-... well I’m glad you like it a-and I’m sorry, about before” you giggled slightly “it’s alright Bill, you already apolo-”

“No not that… for not sayin’ it back, you know?... c-cause I do, a-a-and when I was in the army I-I remember fellas talkin’ about finding a wife and such when they got outta the army, and a lot joined the army again which I don’t get, but-... what I’m tryin’ to say is that was never me, I ain’t never thought I’d find me a woman, not in the way they were sayin’, marriage and stuff, a-and I still ain’t sure… but-... I-... damn it I ain’t good at talking!” he grew frustrated in the end, huffing annoyed which only made you hide your giggle, though he still heard it and glared slightly at you “I think I understand what you’re sayin’, Bill” you put one of your hands over his, giving it a gentle squeeze, all of his frustration leaving him when he saw the sweet look on your face, now his face was flushed for different reasons, and no longer out of frustration.

“I-.. I really do-... you know… a-and I-I know I ain’t much of a-a-a poet or a romantic but-... I will-... and I just... you know?” you smiled and nodded at him, earning you a relieved huff from the big, tough, army man. You leaned over and pressed a more meaningful peck to his cheek, feeling how hot his cheeks were under his beard, thanks to being so flushed. You looked back at the skirt and blouse, grinning and getting up, Bill looking confused “where are ya goin’?” you shrugged “I want to try out my new clothes” you giggled as he once again flushed. You went into the bushes and changed, coming back out with the new clothes on and the old in your arms, you put your old clothes down on your bedroll, watching as Bill got up, grinning like an idiot as he studied your figure and how the clothes look on you, something that made you blush this time, not him. Bill approached you and carefully, almost afraid of rejection, but his hands on your waist, looking down at you “you look real beautiful” he blushed at his own comment, making you giggle “thank you, Bill” you rested your arms on his shoulders, leaning up and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, when you drew back you saw his eyes were closed, and you decided to kiss him again, only this time he kissed you back, and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. “I love you, you damned idiot” you mumbled into the kiss, feeling him smile slightly in return “I love you too, darlin’”. You loved the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way his beard tickled your skin and lips, how he tasted slightly of whiskey, how he smelt of gunpowder, liquor and something uniquely him, but most of all you loved Bill Williamson, and you’d be damned if you ever let him go.

[earlysunsetsoverambrose]

Carefree Highway (1/2)

Lester Sinclair x f!Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, Mild Violence, Blood, Mean Bo

Description: You accidently let a victim escape and Bo has it out for you. You’re sure that no one can rescue you from his rage. 

You sat trembling on the bottom steps on the front porch of the Sinclair home. The sun set hours ago and all the brothers were still out chasing after a stray tourist. All her friends had been taken care of, but she managed to elude all of you. It was quite possible she made it out of town and it was your fault.

You were washing dishes in the kitchen, hoping to avoid the unpleasant scenes outside. You heard the door crash open and wild footsteps skid to a halt at the entrance to the kitchen. Startled, you turned to find an unfamiliar woman, chest heaving and panic lighting her eyes. Your eyes never left her as your hands fumbled for a small knife to defend yourself. You clutched the blade with both hands in a shaking grip,

“S-stay back!” your voice cracking, conviction breaking as it did.

The woman put her hands up in defense, but she could see right through you. You both knew you weren’t going to use that knife on her. You didn’t have the guts. Whatever killer instinct the others had, you lacked; or she’d already be dead. She took a step toward you and then another. You didn’t move. She looked you right in the eyes neither scared nor angry. You were almost sure what you saw in her eyes was pity. With every step she took, you thought surely you could do this. You had to do it. With just one quick lunge this would be over. It would be quick and easy. But the closer she came, the more you could see the freckles on her cheeks and the brown in her green eyes. You couldn’t do it.

As she was almost past you, another set of booming footsteps approached. Bo crashed into the kitchen to see you holding a laughably small knife to his prey. He paused to see what you would do. He’d told you it was time to start pulling your weight. This was your chance to prove your worth.

“The hell are you waiting for? Gut her!” Bo hissed. Your eyes darted between him and the woman in front of you as air got caught in your throat. Your chest tightened as the blood rushing in your ears drowned out all other sounds and thoughts. Overwhelmed, you suddenly backed yourself against the counter, gasping for breath as the knife fell to the floor. Your hands moved to cover your ears in an effort to silence the chaos in your head. The woman wasted not a single second before bolting past you to the door toward her escape. Bo’s eyes snapped to her as he gave chase.

Bo sprinted after her, but as soon as he was out the door, she was nowhere in sight. He stormed back into the house. He grabbed your arms in a bruising grip.

“Why the hell didn’t you kill her? She was standing right in front of you! You had one job! What good are you if you can’t even do one fuckin’ thing right?” Bo seethed, shaking you back and forth, nails digging deeper into your flesh with every word, “Now we gotta turn the place upside down and hope that bitch doesn’t make it outside the city ‘fore we find her. You better pray Lester’s actually drivin’ ‘round the edge of town like he’s supposed to because if she gets away, it’s gonna be you that’s takin’ her place. You got that?”

Bo finally released his hold and let you sink to the floor in a pile of tears. He scoffed as he rolled his eyes at your pathetic state. He stalked out of the home to begin his search for the woman you let escape.

Now, all you could do was wait to suffer Bo’s wrath. You didn’t mean to let her go and make things difficult. You really tried to help. You sincerely wanted to contribute to the town, but you just couldn’t do it the same way Bo and Vincent did. You weren’t a killer and you knew now that you could never be one. You were sure that Bo knew this. You began to fear that even if they found the woman, he would still kill you. If you ran, he’d catch you. There was no escaping Bo’s rage, not when you were the cause of all his problems. No one could protect you from the hell he was about to rain down on you. Your hands still cradled your head and you rocked back and forth, trying to quell the dread in your stomach.

You were so ashamed as your thoughts moved to Lester, patrolling the edge of town. You didn’t mean to bring him into this. He had become your closest, dearest friend within just days of meeting him. He’d been nothing but kind and considerate to you and you put him in danger. What if he got hurt? What if Bo took his anger out on him too? Your heart sank thinking about how you knew Lester didn’t like partaking in his brothers’ schemes much more than you, even if he didn’t say it. Now, your inaction had likely forced him to take part whether he wanted to or not.

Off in the distance, you could see headlights making their way up toward the house. You held your breath as Bo’s truck came to a violent halt. He threw his door open and slammed it shut behind him. He was alone. She escaped and now you were dead.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself!” Bo hissed as he ripped you up from the stairs and threw you back onto the gravel, “You happy with this fuckin’ mess you made? All of this coulda been avoided if you just did what I said! But you couldn’t even do that, could you? What the hell are we doin’ keepin’ you ‘round if you’re not gonna help ‘round here? Fuckin’ useless waste!” Bo grabbed you by your collar and forced you to look him in his cold, soulless eyes.  

“P-please, Bo! I didn’t mean to do this! I’m sorry!” you pleaded as burning tears rapidly cascaded down your cheeks. “I never meant for this to happen!”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me! You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Couldn’t stand it here, so you let that slut go so she could send someone to rescue you! You wanted this to happen! You want me and my brothers locked up in a cell or dead! Say it!” Bo shouted, suddenly reeling back to hit you. You screwed your eye shut, bracing yourself, but the pain never came. You opened your eyes to see Vincent tugging on Bo’s shoulder, “What? No luck, I take it?”

“No.” Vincent murmured, releasing Bo’s shoulder. Bo lowered his hand, but still kept your shirt in an iron tight grip.

“That’s alright, I got another pretty little thing to take her place. Don’t I?” Bo said menacingly as he stroked your cheek, the poison in his words sending chills down your spine. You sent a pleading look at Vincent, silently begging him not to let Bo do this, but he cast his gaze to the side. There was no standing up to Bo, not now. “Let that bitch tell the pigs if she wants. We ain’t goin’ nowhere. Ain’t no one gonna save you.”

The sound of another truck pulling up the hill stopped Bo from saying anymore. All three of you turned to see Lester’s truck rolling up. Beyond his headlights, you could see the shadow of his head popping out from his window,

“Sorry I took so long!” he called. His cheery drawl cut through the violent atmosphere, allowing you to breathe a small sigh of relief. Lester was here. You always felt safer when he was nearby. “It took a while to get her in the truck and she kicked up fuss when she realized I was bringin’ her back.”

“The hell are ya on about?” Bo snapped, releasing your collar, letting you fall back onto the gravel. He moved towards Lester’s truck. The youngest Sinclair hopped out and opened up the passenger door to reveal the woman who you let escape, unconscious.

“The girl you was lookin’ for! I found her tryin’ to hitch a ride. Told her I was gonna take her to a hospital.” Lester said, “She clocked me pretty good, though. I laid on the brakes a little too hard and she hit her head on the dash.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. Shit-pit boy did somethin’ right, for once.” Bo smirked. Lester’s smile faltered as his shoulders slumped at Bo’s backhanded compliment. Bo began to haul the woman out of the truck, “Vincent come take care of her.” Vincent moved to take the woman from Bo and effortlessly threw her over his shoulder. He made his way back to the basement without another word.

Lester immediately moved to where you were still on the ground and offered you a helping hand. He gently helped you to your feet, your eyes still glued to the ground. Truthfully, he had been worried about you. When Bo told him about what happened, he made it his mission to find the missing woman. He couldn’t let Bo punish you for this. You didn’t deserve it. He drove in endless circles until he finally found her. Even if he hated doing his brother’s bidding, he would do all of it without question if it meant protecting you from Bo’s rage. He dusted you off and rested a hand on your shoulder, concern cutting through his usually carefree exterior,

“Ya alright, Y/N?” Lester asked softly. You nodded ever so slightly as you wiped at your eyes, unable to trust your voice, “Everythin’s okay. Don’t gotta cry anymore.”

“Oh, I’ll give her plenty to cry ‘bout. This is her fault after all.” Bo hollered as he turned to where you were standing, “Christ, look at your fuckin’ face.”

“C’mon, Bo.” Lester said, barely audible. You moved your hands from your eyes to look at Lester for the first time. You gasped at his bloody nose. Before Lester could say anything, Bo snapped his eyes toward you,

“Ya see what that little bitch did! Ya let her get away and she attacks my brother!”

“Bo, don’t…” Lester pleaded, unheard once again.  

“I’m sorry! I just can’t do it, Bo! I’m not like you, I can’t kill anyone! Please don’t make me! I’ll do anything else!” you begged. Bo stalked toward you. With every step he took, you retreated, terrified to take your eyes off of him.

“I don’t wanna hear any fuckin’ excuses. You put my family on the line. ‘Sorry’ ain’t gonna cut it. You’re gonna regret lettin’ that slut go. You got my brother decked across the face so I’m gonna smack you a hell of a lot harder than that.” Bo seethed. He prepared to lunge at you, fists tightening, nostrils flaring like the predator he truly was, “You’re gonna pay, you little-”

“STOP IT, BO!” Lester shouted, forcing himself in front of you, stopping Bo in his tracks. You’d never heard Lester raise his voice before; and from the look on Bo’s face, neither had he. A dangerous silence fell over the scene. Bo could hardly fathom anyone challenging him, much less Lester.

“The hell did you say to me?” Bo hissed. Lester nearly gulped at his brother’s tone, but he took a shaky breath instead. No way was he going to win this fight, but he spoke anyway.

“I said stop.” He nervously reaffirmed, “It ain’t her fault. Let it go. Please.”

“Since when you tell me what to do?” Bo glowered with a snarl.

“I ain’t tryin’ to tell anyone anythin’. Just don’t want no one else gettin’ hurt, is all. ‘Sides, she said she was sorry, Bo. It was an accident. You don’t gotta do this.” Lester said with only the slightest tremor in his voice. You cowered behind him, astounded at his bravery but fearing for his life.

Bo shifted his eyes between you and Lester, trying to decide his next move. He fixed his gaze on Lester as he slowly moved to circle around to get to you. It seemed like more of an attempt to test his brother than to harm you. Lester felt crushed under the weight of Bo’s prolonged glare, but still he matched each of his steps, blocking his brother’s path to you. Bo stopped and smirked, chilling you to your core.

“You’re really gonna protect her after all the trouble she’s caused?” Bo asked, almost amused at Lester’s display. Lester rolled back his shoulders and straightened his spine. He wasn’t going to back down this time, no matter how much Bo scared him. His brow was furrowed for the first time you’d known him. He was serious and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“She ain’t caused any more trouble than any of us cause each other half the time. Ya used to hit me upside the head and give me bloody noses every other week when we was kids. Don’t make like this is anythin’ to get heated over.” Lester argued, “No one escaped, we’re all in one piece, and the cops ain’t any wiser. So, leave her alone.” Lester demanded. He met Bo’s icy glare, shaking like a leaf tossed in front of a locomotive, but standing his ground nonetheless. If Bo wasn’t livid, he might’ve been impressed. He scoffed as he looked over Lester’s shoulder, right at you.

“You better consider yourself real fuckin’ lucky that my brother decided to grow a pair.” Bo warned, “But he won’t always be here to protect you from me. You fuck up again and no one will be able to. Got that?” you silently nodded, frozen in place behind Lester.

Bo shoved his way past Lester and back into the house. Not taking any chances, Lester followed along, herding Bo away from you. Bo glared at the two of you over his shoulder before slamming the door to punctuate his exit.

With that, Lester exhaled the breath he’d been holding the entire time as his shoulders slumped forward in relief. If Bo had started swinging, he had no idea what he was going to do. His smile returned as he sighed once again,

“Whew, that sure was somethin’, wasn’t it?” he said, turning to face you. You didn’t respond. With the tension broken, you broke too. You buried your face in your hands, sobs ripping through your lungs, ugly and raw. Lester fumbled for a way to help you, “C’mon now, shh, it’s alright. Bo ain’t gonna hurt ya, I swear. His bark’s worse than his bite. Mostly.”

“I’m s-sorry…” you managed to force out between desperate gasps for air. Lester looked at you sympathetically. He put a clumsy arm over your shoulders and moved you to sit on the stairs next to him.

“It’s okay, don’t be sorry! I know it was just an accident!” Lester soothed as he rubbed your shoulder. He felt helpless, he just wanted to make you feel better but he didn’t know what to say, “Everyone messes up! Take it from me! Once when me, Bo, and Vincent, was out catchin’ fish for dinner, I tripped and knocked the whole bucket back into the lake! Bo nearly skinned me alive for that! I had to spend the rest of night catchin’ fish by myself in the cold!”  

His anecdote, though appreciated, was left without a response. He knew there was no cheering you up right now. You just had to let it out. He let out a sad sigh as he drew you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your frame in a warm hug, the way he wished someone held him when he cried growing up. As you continued to sob into your hands, Lester comforted you as best as he could, offering little reassurances here and there. He let you cry to your heart’s content, keeping you company through the storm. Eventually, your cries died down into small hiccups, but you still kept your face obstructed by your hands. Lester squeezed your shoulder,

“Ya alright, Y/N?” he asked gently.

“No. I’m so sorry, Lester. I’m a mess and I don’t know what to do.” you whimpered. You’d never been more afraid. If Lester hadn’t stepped in, you weren’t sure you would still be breathing right now. “You’re hurt and Bo’s so angry…”

“Hey, don’t worry ‘bout me none. It looks a lot worse than it feels. And look – the bleedin’ already stopped! Look!” Lester gently coaxed you to look up at him. You dropped your hands from your eyes to see Lester with his classic goofy smile, beaming through the dried blood. You winced at the damage, but couldn’t contain a small smile at Lester’s unrestrained optimism, “I think she did me a favor. Got me a nose job and didn’t even have to pay nothin’.”

“Lester!” you tried to scold him, but you couldn’t stop from laughing. Only Lester could make you laugh when you had been crying your heart out. The icy daggers left by Bo’s unforgiving glower were swiftly melted away by Lester’s sweet brown eyes, radiating warmth like whiskey.

“There’s that smile. Now, don’t that feel better? Suits ya better.” Lester said grinning ear to ear. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a mostly clean bandana. He carefully wiped at your eyes to dry the stray tears still running down your cheeks. Your heart jumped in your chest as he did this. Your eyes closed involuntarily, cherishing his gentleness after being treated so roughly. Even after the signs of your sadness had been scrubbed away, he continued rubbing all over your face to continue teasing some laughter out of you, “Hang on, think I missed a spot!”

“Okay, okay! I’m not sad anymore! I surrender, Lester!” you said through your laughter. Lester smiled as he handed the bandana over to you,

“That’s more like it.” He said “Sorry about the bandana, I’d give ya a tissue, but this is all I got. Ya can hold on to it though, case ya need it again.”

“Thanks, Lester. For everything. You don’t know how much it means.” You said, clutching the piece of fabric in your hands. You glanced up at him, taking in his bloody face you decided to return the favor. You gingerly moved to wipe the dried blood from under his nose, careful not to hurt him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His eyes fixated on your face as you tended to him, awestruck. His pupils were blown looking at you and his heart skipped about fifty beats at your touch. He wanted to say you didn’t have to do this, but he stopped himself. Just once he wanted to be selfish with the care you were offering. When you succeeded in removing most of the blood, you tucked the bandana in your pocket, “I’ll clean this up and get it back to you.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Lester said dreamily. You both sat in contented silence for a moment before Lester spoke up, “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where are we going?” you asked curiously. Lester stood and offered his hand once again.

“You’ll love it, trust me!” He said. You didn’t need any more than that.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

14 (bodyguard AU) and 46 (blind date) sounds fun,,, your choice of ship ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

14. Bodyguard AU || 46. Blind date

Random choice generator got me creativisleep!

~

roman's a semi-popular actor- he's never really been to an awards show, and he's not been in That much, but he had a small but strong role in a real popular film and plenty of leading ones in lesser known movies. he's got enough of a following to be satisfied with himself, even if it isn't That huge of one

because of this, roman didn't take the possible dangers of his fame seriously... until he got jumped by one fan at a play in his hometown. he came out fine (he's always fine ;p) but it made him reconsider his choice to not have some sort of protection

he ends up hiring remy to be his bodyguard, a choice he Slightly starts regretting when he realizes remy, despite having excellent marks out of bodyguard school, is about as professional as a golden retriever

they take roman's food out of his fridge Whenever, borrow Way too many of his shirts (and roman hasn't seen his BMC 'boyf riends' hoodie since they got their hands on it), and is never in typical bodyguard wear (they wore a suit for the interview and never again)

but they also bring roman coffee (when did they get his regular figured out...?), talk to him like he's just a Person and not a celeb, and have yet to try and kill him themself so. roman's alright with them staying

(plus, is it so wrong if roman enjoys how they look? he deserves for a bit of an eye-candy sorta bodyguard, damnit, they're with him all the time after all)

remy's been with roman as his bodyguard for a few months when roman decides he cant just keep Lookin at a pretty person, he deserves to have a pretty person to kiss and cuddle with too!! so he pokes around for a bit, finds a non-homophobic service (he's pan, so he could Technically use a plain ol' straight service, but he refuses on gay principle), and uses it

idk how datin apps work but this one that im makin up is a blind match up app, which takes ur information and uses it to randomly pair u up with random accounts. the app keeps account info privated until After the first date has been gone on, to really maintain the 'blind match' aspect. the matched up people play a mini guessing game through the app about places they can go for a date until location and time is determined

roman likes the idea of the app mostly to keep his own identity secret as long as possible- he doesnt want people pickin his account Just bc he's a celeb, y'know?

the first couple of blind dates dont go well tho... most are nice people who roman just isn't compatible with, one was a straight woman who spent the entire date being Very homophobic despite roman's rainbow heart + pan flag pins, and someone who was clearly Too Much Of A Fan (remy had to physically pull them off of roman and help him escape the park before they could latch back on)

oh, did roman not mention? remy's been coming on all his dates with him

because of course they are! they need to protect roman! whether that's by eating dinner in the booth over or sitting two rows back at the cinema or awkwardly half-stalkin roman and his date while they walk about

so they're always there, to bring roman there and take him home, and listen when he complains about the bad matches and lament the almost-winners, and convince him he is a catch that needs to try again because eventually Someone will realize he really is too good to pass up

(remy always says that line in a weird way)

so he keeps trying... until roman has possibly the worst date ever

because he gets stood up. it's fifteen minutes past the scheduled date time, he's gotten no text explainin where they are, but he's sittin at the restaurant alone and starting to become rather upset by the pitying look the server gives him when he says he's still waitin on someone else before he orders

remy slides into the seat across from him at the 20 minute mark. shoots roman an apologetic smile that an outsider would mistake as a 'sorry im late' one when roman knows it's a 'sorry they didnt show' one

roman appreciates the gesture to save him, but he almost just wants to go home at this point. he's tired and bein stood up feels like Shit, actually, and he's about ready to call off the whole dating thing really, dramatic as that may be (like it's not his middle name)

but remy says smth about this place having really good sandwiches, and it's clear they're tryin so hard to help roman out here, even a little, and roman can't just dismiss that effort, so he picks up his menu again and orders smth and tries to ignore the way his face heats up just the slightest at the relieved smile remy flashes next

lunch with remy is great, actually, better than it would've been with whoever couldnt be bothered to show or apologize or Anything. remy even knows the way to an ice cream shop on the way home, sayin it's for roman's 'broken heart' as they pay for it

except, well... roman's heart isn't feelin so broken anymore

it's actually feeling pretty put together. really functional. functioning really fast. especially when roman's looking at remy. or when remy's lookin at roman. or when they smile. or when they laugh. or when they speak. or when they-

roman doesn't fall asleep until 2am that night, heart still racing a bit, screaming into his pillow a bit as he acknowledges he is wholly and totally head-over-heels for his bodyguard

he tells remy the next day he's done with dating for a bit, saying he's still upset over being stood up. he doesn't mention that it's also bc remy's ruined all other people for him

things try to fall back in routine from there, but it's a bit harder when roman's trying to not be so in love with someone who just works for him. and remy's definitely started pickin up on it too- they had asked him just last if he was okay, that he didn't seem as upset by remy takin his clothes anymore, and that didn't seem like him, was he getting sick?

the opposite, actually, absolutely nothing makes me feel better then seeing you walk around in my shirt or jacket or whatever else, please never stop and also kiss me?

roman just said he was tired

eventually... roman decides this can't keep going on. remy's giving him more weird looks these days, and roman is pretty sure being around remy so much without Any kisses is starting to cause brain decay (it's not, it's really not, remy always bein on his mind is just a side effect of.... pretti........). so, he takes matters into his own hands

admittedly, maybe firing remy wasn't the best way to go, given remy immediately demands to know why, what they did wrong, even asking if roman's being blackmailed into this

"blink once for yes, twice for no" remy asks, lowering the sunglasses they always have on to look directly at roman's eyes

roman doesn't blink for a full minute. he might not be breathing for that minute either. has he ever seen remy's eyes this close? has he ever seen them at all? they're such a brilliant shade of brown. roman could drown in them. he might be already

roman's pretty sure he started this conversation standing up, but maybe not, because when he finally blinks and remembers things outside of remy's eyes exist he's sitting down and remy looks extremely concerned

"okay... what's wrong, hun?" they ask, and oh no, they look so sad, and worried, and that's not good, roman should fix that right now, regardless of whatever he was doing before (he's forgotten)

"im gay" he responds intelligently. this will fix everything

remy, however, just looks confused. "yes?"

"for you" roman adds, helpfully, sure that Now remy will understand they're just really very pretty and nothing's wrong and if they feel bad still they should look in a mirror because then they'll be good again

now it's remy's turn to sit in silence, expression frozen in one of shock. they still havent put their sunglasses back on, so roman doesnt mind, bc this gives him more time to stare at remy's eyes

"you're having a breakdown because you're gay for me???" remy finally asks, expression unfreezing to look incredulous and a little hurt

roman returns a similar look. "im not having a breakdown!"

remy scoffs. "yeah, sure, right, that's why you suddenly froze and completely stopped breathing and minorly collapsed after i... look off my shades to look at you..." they suddenly break out in a smirk. "oh my gods, you're a gay disaster"

roman doesn't try to deny it, especially with the knowledge he apparently did stop breathing to admire remy's eyes. they have a point

"how long?"

"since that date you hijacked after i got stood up" roman admits. he finds it extraordinarily rude when remy starts laughing

...until they're pulling out their phone, hurriedly opening up the exact same dating app roman had been using, showing a log of all the dates they had planned- there's only one marked as having actually been attended

same date time and place of the one where roman had assumed he had been stood up

"you broke my heart!" roman says as remy puts away their phone, over-dramatically, not actually giving a damn, just feeling gay and a bit giddy at the thought remy hadnt gone to any of the other dates, just theirs

no longer worried quite as much about roman for the moment, remy's smirk just grows, smoothly moving from being crouched in front of roman to being set firmly in his lap, lazily brushing hair out of his eyes and wow was remy always this warm? and stunning? and perfect?

"i dunno babe... sounds more like i stole it" remy teases, movin from playing with roman's hair to cuppin his cheek, leaning in close and not even bothering to pretend to be looking at anything other than roman's lips. "which, yeah, bad bodyguard etiquette... i hope you can forgive me..."

roman doesn't need his words to answer that tease

[pumpkinpaix]

anonymous:

I just discovered your mdzs pronunciation stuff and it's super helpful!!! Especially to an english speaker, it's so helpful to hear everything pronounced slowly! Would you ever consider doing more but on Chinese basics? Like tones, or differences between similar sounds? (But please don't feel obligated! Just a suggestion bc I find your pronunciation super helpful :) 

hhhhh the file was too big for tumblr :’) even after I exported it at medium instead of standard quality, so i made a soundcloud after all aha.... it’s downloadable, even!

anyways! chinese school with cyan? :D transcript with helpful links under the cut.

previous chinese pronunciation posts with pinyin if you want to go back review them armed with new knowledge to practice: mdzs names 1, mdzs names 2

rough transcript (brackets indicate things i didn’t say but wanted to add as a note, or laughs lol):

hello everyone! okay, so I’m going to make an attempt to do some basic pinyin, I guess, a basic pinyin post? so the goal is by the end you should be able to hopefully! look at basic pinyin or any pinyin word and get a general sense of how it might sound. this is not comprehensive, and you shouldn’t take it as such,  but i hope you might be able to get a good foundation out of it? I don’t know, just for sort of, a basic general overview.

I’ll use some MDZS words or names or whatever to I guess keep it fun as examples? But the rules should be generally applicable across the board. This is geared towards native English speakers because that’s what I am. I am not a linguist, just a layperson, so I’m going to be explaining like a layperson.

So, this is pinyin with cyan! chinese school with cyan. horrible, I thought i escaped this [laugh] oh, all those horrible saturdays. [all sounds will be read with first tone unless otherwise indicated]

okay, so, I’m going to do the basic vowels first. there are five so it’s: a o e i u ü

so I’ll do that a — oh wait, no there’s six, oh gosh! okay. bad start! so there are SIX basic vowels: a o e i u ü

so i’ll do that one more time: a o e i u ü

so there’s actually a seventh vowel sound, but we can get to that in a minute. it’s not included in the orthography.

so ü is usually the hardest for native english speakers since it doesn’t exist in english, but a friend of mine recently explained it really well. so if you say “ee” just like, “ee” like in creek or something like that, then shape your lips as if you’re saying “oo”.  so if you speak french or german, it might be easier for you, those are just the two languages I’m familiar with. the ü is the same as the ü in german, like in die Tür, in french it’s just like you know, la lune, mur, etc.

basically say “ee” then move your lips until it looks like you’re saying “oo” — eeeeeüüüü or you can do the opposite, you can say “oo” then move your tongue as if it’s saying “ee” so: ooooüüüüüü. ü. and that’s basically it.

so now i’m going to do the initial consonants. that’s all the vowels. but the initial consonants, the consonants, or the consonant sounds that can start words, there are… well there’s not that many, but I’ll go through them really quick. there is an order, and every consonant is associated, every initial consonant is associated with a natural vowel sound and they come in groups. the order that i learned them in is this:

b p m f • d t n l g k h • j q x • z c s zh ch sh r

[repeated slower]

b(o) p(o) m(o) f(o) • d(e) t(e) n(e) l(e) g(e) k(e) h(e) • j(i) q(i) x(i) • z(i) c(i) s(i) zh(i) ch(i) sh(i) r(i)

I think the official one [the official order, i mean] might have the z c s and the zh ch sh r switched, but it doesn’t really matter they’re both in the same group. so you’ll notice that there are only four naturally associated vowels: o e i and ï [not sure if this is technically the right way to write it, but it’s convenient for illustrative purposes here].

so ï is the one that’s with the z c s, zh ch sh r group. I also think this is a pretty hard vowel to pronounce for english speakers, but i don’t really have a handy way of explaining it. i’ll try though!

so for things like the z c s sounds: say “sss” like you would in english. “ssss” then change your lips to the way you say “ee” and then vocalize without moving your tongue. so you can also produce this sound without changing your lip shape, but doing so will kind of force it, or make it easier to find I think. so ssssssi. sssssi. so that was me doing the whole process with saying ssss and then moving my lips and then vocalizing. but i can also do it with my lips rounded. “si”. that’s me with lips rounded, but having the lips wide like that helps i think

[or you can just vocalize “zzzzz” like in “buzz” or “jazz”. that zzzzzz sound gives you the vowel you want. that probably would’ve been an easier way to explain it haha.]

for the zh ch sh r sounds, to get that, you can say “juh” like how you would say j, a j sound in english, so it’s “juh” but dont’ say the “uh” just stick to the “j”. so that’s the zh sound. “zhii” just like hold it. then ch sh r. I don’t know, I think that’s pretty intuitive once you get those.

in terms of the consonants that i think that are difficult, they are d, j q x and z maybe? so i’ll go over them.

so d taps the palate in english, “duh”, “duh”. the d sound, it taps further back on the little bump [on the roof of your mouth] there, but it taps on the teeth in chinese. I think it’s a non-aspirated t sound? so say “tuh” but then instead of having that breath, just take that out. “de”. it’s a non-aspirated t, it taps in the same spot. so that’s the d, the “de” sound.

j q x, it’s the same sort of things, if you stretch your lips, I think i helps to move it into the right space. so instead of “juh” it’s “ji”. “ji”. “ji ji ji ji”. “qi”, “xi”. the q has the “ch” sound, but instead of sitting so far in the front, it sits a little further back [in the mouth]. instead of “ch” which is the ch, it’s “qi”, which is moving further back. and same with “xi”. instead of “sh” it’s “x”. i don’t know if that helps [laugh]. but instead of “sh” it’s “x”. so “xi”.

again, instead of “ch” it’s “q” and instead of “sh” it’s “x” [laugh]

[I forgot to talk about z oops. it’s basically a combination of d and z in english: “dz”. like the end of “hands”. that “dz” sound.]

okay, so, you can start a word with any of the vowels, any of them can be initials, but some of them will change orthography when they’re at the start of a word. so i think it’s pretty intuitive, but a o e all stay the same. but the “i” sound, the i, turns into a y, the “u”, the u, turns into a w, and the “ü”, the ü turns into yu. so “yu”.

okay, so that’s all the initials! that’s it! that’s not too bad.

okay, so now I’m going to start doing the finals, like the ends of words. you can end any word with any of the vowels, but I’m going to include them anyways because it’s in the table. i just copied this table from wikipedia because it’s i think pretty intuitive and clearly stated. they show both how the sound would be written as a full word and how it would be spelled when it was attached to an initial. so basically what i just talked about regarding changing orthography when you start a word with vowels, things like that.

[link to table in wikipedia]

okay starting with the first row, I’m pretty sure this is ï. the i sound that i said was difficult:

[row 1]

so I’m going to do that again. I’m going to do each one twice and then we’re going to move onto the second row.

[row 1 repeated, each sound twice]

okay, now the second row:

[row 2]

so we’re going to do the same thing again, twice each:

[row 2 repeated, each sound twice]

okay, and the third row:

[row 3]

and again, twice each:

[row 3 repeated, each sound twice]

and then the final row:

[row 4]

and then one more time, twice each:

[row 4 repeated, each sound twice]

okay so that’s it, that’s all the finals I think.

so I think -(i)un/yun is probably one of the harder sounds, the -un with the y at the beginning, the -iun? “yun”, with the umlaut. I don’t really know how to explain how to pronounce that one, but you know it’s the… yun [laugh]

okay so a note on u vs ü. when a word begins with j q x or y, and it’s followed by a u, it’s automatically be pronounced as ü even though it will not be marked. so here are some examples.

names like Ā’Yuàn: yuàn. it’s a ü sound automatically, and it’s not marked in the orthography. or Yú Zǐyuān. yú zǐ yuān. same thing. and then with something like in hánguāng-jūn, jūn, the j the “ji” combined with the -un becomes “jun” like the “yun” sound. or Jīn Zixuān. Xuān. Xuān. it’s the ü sound.

so an example of the same final spellings but with different initials. like the yuàn in ā’yuàn — you can see it automatically changes to an ü pronunciation, but spelled the same way the -uan ending, but you have a different starting consonant that’s not one of the exceptions, so “le” — so in luànzàng gǎng. luàn. it’s “u”. luàn. and then for like yú, yú zǐyuān, yú, instead of the ü, in jīn rúlán, rú, rú, it’s the “u” sound, and they’re marked the same way.

okay! yeah that’s pretty much it. that’s like all the basic sounds in chinese, I’m pretty sure. [laugh] it’s not actually that hard. i mean, it’s obviously hard, but there’s not as many sounds as you expect, or it’s less complex than you might think.

so obviously now we have to deal with tones. i know this is the one that everybody finds really scary, but i actually i know it’s easy for me to say because i’m a native speaker, but i actually think they’re very intuitive and easy to hear, as tones go. it’s gonna be fine. anyways, we’re gonna get through it.

here is how i remember tones: I do it with a cadence. and i literally sometimes have to go through this cadence on words when i’m not sure how to identify what tone they are. this is how i learned it, my grandmother taught me this, you know, i mean, it’s very standard, but:

ā á ǎ à

or hummed it’s: ¯ ´ ˇ `

and then I’ll do it again:

ā á ǎ à

¯ ´ ˇ `

so yeah, i really do sing it sometimes when i’m trying to figure out or remember what tone mark goes on something, I go dūh dúh dǔh dùh [laugh] over and over again until i figure it out.

and yeah, that’s it! they’re pretty intuitive, they follow the path of the tone, or the shape of the tone markers. so you can see the ā is flat, the á goes up, the ǎ goes down and then up, ǎ, and then à, the fourth one, just goes down.

so whenever you’re writing a tone mark on a word, they always go on the last vowel UNLESS there’s an a or e present. those always take precedence. I’ll spell out a couple of examples in the text.

[EXAMPLES: hào not haò and méi not meí, but jiù]

[laugh]

so i will go over, um… okay, i think my dad’s having a meeting downstairs, so maybe you’ll hear him in the background, but okay, the last thing i will go over a couple of sandhi rules, just a few! this isn’t all of them, i think there might be five? but i’m just going to do the three that are most relevant or the most commonly seen I think, or the ones that I think about that will trip you up most likely, i think, when you’re pronouncing things.

so the one that everybody knows, or the one that everybody teaches first, i think is the two third tones in a row will cause the first third tone to turn into a second tone. so for example, in Yílíng Lǎozǔ. “Láozǔ”. the two characters by themselves are lǎo and zǔ, but because they’re right next to each other, it becomes láo, second tone, “láozǔ”. [NOTE: the pinyin will still be spelled as lǎozǔ. you will just automatically read it aloud as láozǔ] so instead of “lǎo zǔ”, it’s “láozǔ”.

and then, the second thing that a third tone does is that a third tone that is followed by anything that is not a third tone drops to a thing that is called a low tone, I know i said there are only four, but this is… here’s an example. [there is also the soft tone, which is kind of the absence of tone, but I’m not going to talk about it here haha] in liǎnfāng-zūn, jin guangyao’s title.

liǎnfāng-zūn, you can kinda hear it doesn’t really rise again at the liǎn, liǎn, liǎn, by itself it goes down up, like a valley, but when it’s followed by the rest of the title, liǎnfāng-zūn, it just kinda sits at the bottom and then jumps back up. liǎnfāng-zūn, liǎnfāng-zūn, it just kind of sits at the bottom as opposed to coming back up, so it’s still. it still follows the same curve, it just doesn’t quite come back up i think

i actually had to look that one up, because I was like. oh is that real? i hadn’t noticed it.

but the third tone on its own is just the third tone, so for example, in xuē yáng’s courtesy name, xuē chéngměi, měi, you can hear it there, it comes back up—oh birds!

so xuē chéngměi, měi. dǔh. [laugh]

[LOL I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THE THIRD SANDHI RULE I WAS GONNA TALK ABOUT. you can read about it in the link to sandhi rules i’m going to post at the end of the post.]

so yeah, that’s pretty much it actually! hooray! I’m sure, I mean, chinese is a whole language, so it’s complicated, this won’t really get you to a point where you can read pinyin entirely, but i think those are like the basic rules that i use when i’m reading pinyin, but of course, i’ve been reading pinyin for a really long time, that was the primary way i engaged with chinese text for many many years because i was illiterate! i’m still pretty illiterate, but that’s okay. i’m getting better! but yeah, so like i said, this isn’t comprehensive. if it was horribly confusing, if there was stuff in it that just didn’t make any sense, you can ask me questions! I will try to answer them. my brother’s coming home today, and i’ve been using his desk to record because his room has been empty, so i’ll have to figure out something else. but for now, um, yeah!

okay, bye. :)

/end transcript

okay!! so here are the promised links:

tone sandhi rules

very useful interactive table where you can click on sounds to hear them read aloud! (linked to me by @nerd-bastard​ thank you so much!)

obviously the wikipedia page is very good, though it’s a little dense

@tonyglowheart​ sent me a thread of someone reading out mxtx names on twitter here! the reader has a different accent than i do (they say they sound like they’re from the northern mainland. i would guess my accent is probably closer to something near shanghai? since I learned pronunciation from my grandmother, and then of course tempered by my american upbringing)

I would probably recommend going back to the other pronunciation posts I made to see a variation of sounds written out with different tones? i feel like that would be helpful!

anyways WOO thanks for your patience, it’s been a minute. brain’s doing kinda oomf these days, but we’re gonna make it :’) state of the world is. something.

normally i would just link my ko-fi here, but this time, i’m going to say check out my donations tag or do your own research into someplace more in need to put your money instead. :)

[teruthecreator]

Red Lines, Blue Hearts

hi friends! remember how i keep saying i’m going to write something, and then i do anything but? today’s “anything but” is brought to you by this epic and emotionally laboring art by matt (@accesscodex), as well as his chaos!fitzroy au which injures my soul. i don’t feel like putting this on ao3 but!! my ao3 is always available if you would like to see my other graduation crimes. 

reblogs > likes and i hope y’all enjoy!!! 

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The first thing Fitzroy sees when his body is released from Chaos’ grasp is red. 

Pinkish-red scars litter nearly every inch of his body, permanent reminders of the power he let consume him. Some follow the pathway of his veins, like the ones on his legs. Others are large patches that once revealed the pearlescent skin Chaos manifested underneath, like on his face and back. There are a few that look to be a result from fighting, puncture marks or slashes in odd spots across every plane of skin. Along with the dull pain that persists for weeks after, they leave Fitzroy feeling mangled and ugly. Like a porcelain doll shattered by a rowdy child, glued back together but never looking quite the way it once did. 

His friends have done a good job keeping his mind off the changes. Rainer comes over every week to repaint his nails and catch him up on what’s happening outside the safety of his room. She always extends the offer for him to meet at her place, but he always refuses. The wounds of what he did under the control of Chaos are still too fresh, and he’d rather spend months in solitude than force the people around him to relive through any of the destruction he caused. 

Buckminster and Leon (now restored to his human form) also visit with new cloaks and waistcoats for Fitzroy to try on; the excuse being they accidentally bought a size too small or large, even when the garments look ill-fitting for the pair at a glance. The brothers will then sit on Fitzroy’s bed and demand a fashion show, Leon politely clapping as Buckminster narrates each outfit with overabundant dramatics. They never ask for anything in return, nor will they accept the gold Fitzroy shoves into their hand each time. 

“It’s what friends are for!” Buckminster will say, patting Fitzroy on the back heartily (yet gently, so as to prevent any flare-ups of pain).  

Althea Song stopped by once, meekly peeking into Fitzroy’s room with a large bag in hand. He later found out the bag contained a number of hair and skin products for people with sensitivities. They spent the next hour smelling lotion scents and talking self-care. Admittedly, Fitzroy had pretty much stopped both his hair and skin routine after his faculties returned to him; the thought of even staring at himself in the mirror for that long gave him the shivers. So it was nice to have an excuse to start trying to mend the damages done to his body, even if he had to cover his mirror for the time being. At the end of her visit, Althea nervously extended her arms for a hug, which Fitzroy hesitantly allowed. The moment was a little tense, but overall nice. Althea murmured some encouragement that was lost to Fitzroy, who was too in his head to hear. 

Althea smelled of maple and charcoal. Just like his mother. 

It is a few days after this visit that Fitzroy sees something else, something he lost in all the constant red lines and marks. 

Blue roses, delicately painted along the skin of his left wrist. Marred by two lines of red, crossing out the pristine image permanently. 

The sight broke Fitzroy’s heart in twain. 

The tattoo was, admittedly, a bit of an impulsive decision. After spending nearly every day with the other two Thundermen, the roses on Argo’s right arm became a bit of a focal point for Fitzroy’s dazed stares. There were...quite a few reasons why his gaze always seemed to drift to the genasi, as loathe as Fitzroy was to admit to that, at first. But the roses were different; they were beautiful, matching Argo’s complexion perfectly and complimenting the rest of the art painted up that arm. After a while, the flower became synonymous with Argo. Fitzroy would pass by a rosebush and suddenly images of Argo’s sharp-toothed smile would flash through his head. He would smell rosewater and hear Argo’s boisterous laugh echo through his skull. The two became intertwined--land and sea, beauty and beauty. 

So, when Rhodes invited him to New Hope to touch up one of her forearm tattoos, he felt compelled to get the roses. It was only after the deed was done--artist paid, skin wrapped in a tight plastic, and instructions handed to him on how to care for the new ink--that Fitzroy realized how weird this was. Him and Argo weren’t even an item, yet! 

Not that they would be, or that Fitzroy even wanted them to, but-- 

You know what? Never mind. 

He couldn’t hide the tattoo forever, at the very least. The topic would have to be breached. Would Argo be offended that Fitzroy copied his tattoo without asking? Would he feel weird that they technically have matching tattoos? Would he...like it? Would he find it sweet or endearing that Fitzroy thought of him so much he wanted a tattoo to match?

After two weeks of hiding it and a week of teasing from Rainer (after she saw it during one of their study sessions), Fitzroy randomly showed it to Argo. He attempted to not be weird about it--simply rolling up his sleeves while he did homework with Argo in their common area--but Argo only noticed after a handful of dramatic coughs and awkward arm movements on Fitzroy’s end. Once he saw it, though, his eyes lit up with delight. He immediately reached out to grab Fitzroy’s wrist, leaning across the table to admire the artistry on his skin. The contact lit a fire in the pit of Fitzroy’s gut; a fire that continued to burn for months after.

A fire that doused in the wake of seeing his roses ruined. 

Instinct overrides rational thought as Fitzroy stands up from his bed, maimed wrist planted firmly at his side to hide the truth from his eyes. His legs carry him to Argo’s room, who was in bed studying. Argo’s head shoots up just as Fitzroy’s body leans and collapses into the embrace of the genasi. The tears unconsciously streaming down his face continue to fall as Argo’s arms come to envelop him. 

“F-Fitz? What’s goin’ on?” Argo asks, his voice gentle but concerned. Fitzroy hiccups a few sobs, feeling weak and helpless and utterly broken, as he leans back to show Argo his wrist. It takes a second for Argo to pinpoint the problem, but once he does he lets out a soft, “Oh.” 

“I-It’s broken,” Fitzroy whimpers, leaning his head onto Argo’s right shoulder. “I-I ruin--ruined i-it!” 

“Aw, no, hey,” Argo says, gently carding through Fitzroy’s platinum locks. “This isn’t your fault.” Fitzroy stubbornly shakes his head, face still pressed into Argo’s shoulder. 

“Y-Yes it is because I a-allowed them to do this to m-me.” Fitzroy’s voice warbles with his cries. “I-I wanted p-power, and they knew that, and th-they used me to g-get what they wanted because I didn’t stop them. A-And then they hurt you, and Master Firbolg, a-and Rainer, and the school, and the town, a-and nearly the world if--if you hadn't stopped them.” Every point of contact with the rogue is both a soothing salve and a knife to his skin. He burns with the broken, defeated rage of man with nothing. “A-And they’ve broken me, Argo! I--I can never return to normal, I can never be who I o-once was, I-I’m ruined!” 

“Hey!” Argo’s voice is stern, yet his touch is gentle as he pulls Fitzroy’s head off his shoulder to look him in the eye. It’s then Fitzroy can see the glimmer of tears in Argo’s eyes, along with the scattered lines of light-blue permanently streaked across his face. He moves the hand holding Fitzroy’s head to gently rub along his wrist, the other still firmly wrapped around his waist. Fitzroy’s mind unhelpfully provides only one thought: He’s beautiful. 

“‘M not gonna sit here and let ya kick yourself while yer already down, alright?” he continues. “I know this is all really...really hard for you t’handle. You spent--gods, felt like years, but was really only a couple’a months under Chaos’s control. And, yeah, things did get massively fucked because of that. But...But that wasn’t you!” 

“I-It was, though--” 

“--Will you let me finish?” Argo stares at Fitzroy until he sheepishly nods. “Thank you. What I was sayin’ was that the destruction wasn’t you! It was Chaos--they had most of the control of yer body during that time! And, sure, maybe you did allow them a little access in the beginning because y’wanted power. I-I get that, though! You...You didn’t have the nicest childhood. You’ve been constantly pushed down and made to feel lesser--so have I, if I’ll be honest. It’s a natural reaction to wanna get some power in return, to finally get what’s yours, as the saying goes. B-But you didn’t ask to be hurt like this. You didn’t ask to hurt me! Or anyone else! It just...it just happened. And we gotta just start...tryin’ to move beyond it, I guess. Not really a ‘live and let live’ situation, but more of a… ‘you got hurt and so did I, so let’s just try and move on together’ sorta thing...Y’get what I’m saying to ya, Fitzroy?” He carefully pulls Fitzroy’s wrist up and closer to his face so Fitzroy can see. 

“Yer not broken, Fitz. This,” he gently shakes Fitzroy’s arm to emphasize, “isn’t ruined. It’s just...new! A different take on life! A different take on art! But yer still you, Fitzroy, even with all the new. I still...I-I still think you’re gorgeous, if I’m, uh, bein’ honest. You, uh, always have been...to me…” The genasi’s cheeks flush as he breaks eye contact, bashfully looking towards the floor as the words flood Fitzroy’s head. It seems so silly--the smallest, most asinine fact out of Argo’s whole speech--but hearing Argo call him gorgeous makes the burning rage within turn to a melty, gooey, warm mass of fondness. 

“I...Thank you, Argo.” Fitzroy mutters, feeling his own blush start to climb up his face. “You, uh, you’ve always been...there for me. H-Helping me. And I, uh...truthfully, I do not know where I’d be if it was not for you and your kindness, and humor, and cunning...ness. And...you’re, uh...I-I think you’re handsome, as well.” The last part he’s barely able to get out of his mouth, but Argo still hears it because he looks back to Fitzroy. The half-elf smiles nervously and shrugs. “I...thought I made that obvious on several occasions, but, uh. I’ve always thought you were handsome.” 

Fitzroy and Argo’s relationship has been difficult to understand, to say the least. The two have been dancing intricate circles around the truth of their feelings for so long it feels almost like instinct. Yet, despite their hesitations, the pair have been drawing ever closer in their rotations. Now, in this moment--their bodies pressed close together, their hearts beating in unison--it’s natural what happens next. 

Argo smiles, full and big, and leans down to press a kiss to Fitzroy’s wrist. And Fitzroy, lost in the sensation, makes no move to pull away. 

They spend the rest of the day in this embrace, sharing few words and even fewer kisses. When the Firbolg finds them later that night, he smiles softly at the two wrapped in each other’s arms and quietly heads to his leaf bed. 

And when Fitzroy wakes that next morning, the first thing he sees is blue. Beautiful, beautiful blue. 

[concussed-to-pieces]

To Tell You The Truth Part Three

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Good morning, good evening! I hope you're all doing well. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi

Part One

Part Two

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore and allusions to previous abuse. Stay safe!]

Bakhroma loomed massive and pinkish-tan on the horizon ahead as you bent double, hands on your knees while you struggled for breath. No doubt you had pushed your filter carbon far past its limits with your headlong sprint heats through the Green. A quick look confirmed your suspicions; the indicator blinked sluggishly at the bottom of the red lines.

You bit your lip, barely reining in the panic threatening to engulf you yet again. You had no idea where you were. Damon was the one with the map, and Ezra...he was the only person alive who might be able to help you. Your heart dropped as you realized that all your running had really done was prolong the inevitable. 

You sank to the ground, staring up at the planet that dominated most of the sky in front of you. The hazy atmosphere around it was bright orange, fading into the navy blue of the cosmos backdrop. Checking your watch, you saw that the first cycle had kicked into the second several hours ago, though the light level didn't seem to have changed at all. The cloying, overbearing vegetation around you abruptly made sense. This moon was not only humid, it was also bathed in light for much longer than the standard twenty-four cycle. 

Moving robotically as your legs began to protest, you lumbered stiffly back to the treeline to suss out the spring you had passed by. You would need water. Even if you weren't in the right headspace to be thirsty, dehydration was not something to sneeze at.

You knelt in the mud alongside the spring, the coolness welcome on your overworked knees even through your suit. Pumping and purifying water always took longer than it ought to, and you found yourself staring blankly off into the distance as you filled your first jug.

You were working on the second when your helmet earpiece suddenly crackled to life with a shrill whine of static. 

"-llo...hello to the Green."

Ezra?

You swiveled your head wildly to look around and the static increased with the motion, making you slow to a stop. It was a stationary transmission, then. Your helmet must be picking up a long range somewhere nearby.

You rose to your feet while rushing to stow the jugs of filtered water in your day pack, tilting your head and mentally begging Ezra to keep talking. He did not disappoint, his drawling voice and the bursts of intermittent static your compass through the tangled overgrowth.

"...one or two pearls...that I will be willing to part with for well under the peakest commercial rates. Nothin' funny." 

It sounded like he hadn't managed to get what he needed to fix the drop pod. Your eyes burned with tears. 

"Just a desperate man tryin' to make a bad deal with the right holdout."

Brick red flickered through the Green's lush verdancy and you realized after a moment that it was canvas. A tent solidified out of the thick brush as you advanced, the roof coated in a generous layer of amber-yellow dust. 

"...anyone is out there...don't hesitate to click on." The signal was nearly free of static at this point. This tent was the obvious origin of the broadcast. But now the question was...whether that message was prerecorded or not. 

You hid beside a large, gnarled tree and pondered your next move. Sure, you had the pistol. If it did you any good was an entirely different animal, but you definitely had it. 

It felt sturdy in your hand compared to the flimsy Boscelot thrower rifle. Solid. 

Maybe...maybe you could reason with Ezra at gunpoint. Strike some kind of new bargain. You had nothing to put on the table this time, however. Everything had been in that pack, and you highly doubted the other prospector was interested in your sketchbooks. It would have to be at gunpoint. He had the resources, but you had the gun. 

Just like Damon. 

You hated yourself in that moment, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Then, you darted across the space to the tent, ears straining to catch any noise from inside the structure. You couldn't hear much through your helmet to begin with.

After a quick prayer, you unzipped the tent and cautiously ducked your head to enter, leading with the thrower pistol clutched in your hands.

Someone seized your arm like a steel trap and you were ripped through the doorway, the pistol getting knocked out of your grasp in the process. Your plan effectively destroyed, you succumbed to panic, thrashing and attempting to claw at your assailant even with your gloves on. You twisted your head around to try and catch a glimpse--

And those bloodshot blue eyes seemed to loom up at you from the dimly-lit interior, making you scream out in terror, "No, no, Damon please!" as you struggled to get free. 

He all but wrestled you bodily into one of the tent bunks, grunting in pain when you beat your gloved fists into his ribs. You weren't sure if it was just because of the adrenaline or if it was due to how long you had been separated from him, but you had never fought him this hard in your life! You had always just accepted, given in, bowed to his demands. Where had this tenacity even come from?

"Not again, not again!" You sobbed, futilely kicking your legs to try and throw him off of you. "P-Please, please, please--!"

"Gentle soul, if you do not cease tenderizin' my ribcage in this most belligerent and unneighborly manner," a familiar drawl met your ears through your thick helmet, "I will have no resource but to employ far more drastically militant tactics. Be still."

That voice! You froze, your hands still bunched up to tear at the fabric of his exosuit. Ezra. 

His large form seemed to solidify in the exceedingly-dreary tent lighting now that you weren't fighting for your life, and you realized with a rush of embarrassment that it hadn't been Damon's eyes you saw, but the distorted reflection of the whites of your own in your helmet's dome. That, coupled with your imagination...

Damon was dead. How could you have forgotten? Damon was dead. It was just Ezra.

Does that make it any better?

You released him without a word, scrambling back as far as you could and drawing your knees to your chest in a defensive stance. Ezra stumbled upright, reaching overhead with his left hand to press a few buttons. The tent's air scrubber rattled sluggishly to life. "You can take off the helmet." He muttered.

You did so almost immediately, taking a greedy inhale of the dubiously-clean oxygen. A bit bar hit the threadbare bunk webbing by your feet and you ripped the colorful wrapper open, tearing chunks out of the crunchy substance with your teeth. As you devoured the bar ravenously, you realized that Ezra was utterly silent. 

You dared to flick your eyes up and found him studying you, his expression pensive in the sickly orange twilight of the tent. You gulped down the bite of Calori-paste that now threatened to choke you. "I...I'm sorry." You apologized thickly. "I shouldn't have-"

"Be quiet and finish the bar, gentle soul." Ezra instructed softly. He sounded unsettled, of all things. Like he expected you to turn on him any second. "I believe I have unfortunately deduced the answer to the mystery I had pondered earlier, though I wholeheartedly regret opening that proverbial Pandora's box." He shook his head.

The Calori-paste sat in your stomach like a block of lead. You struggled through the last few bites, washing them down with swigs of plasticky water from your canteen. You held out the other bottle that you had filtered as a sort of silent peace offering and Ezra accepted it without hesitation, the older man proceeding to gulp half the bottle in one go.

"I know you may not be overly inclined towards listenin' to me at the moment," he gasped out, wiping the moisture off his mustache. "But I'm afraid my situation has grown even more dire than previously implied." He raised his eyes to meet your own. "I...I need your help." He confessed.

You took another drink of water to give you the time to collect your thoughts. You were certain your disbelief was plain on your face; you had never been gifted in the art of hiding your turns of expression.

Ezra snorted, lowering his body to sit on the far end of the bunk. "The Saders were not exceptionally keen on barterin' with me once you made your timely departure." He held his arm, wincing and no longer looking at you. "I managed to convince them to swap me some of their ambrosia for supplies, instead of-" He halted, his shoulders going rigid before he carefully continued, "I cannot excise the infection without assistance, and if I do not remove it with an exceedingly low degree of error, I will lose the whole arm."

You swallowed hard, clenching your fist so tight that the handle on the water jug creaked as you asked, "Were you going to give me to them?" 

You knew that all Ezra had to do was say exactly what you wanted to hear. But you could live with the prettier lie if it got you off the Green. You could pretend to trust, pantomime the partnership.

His eyebrows drew together in a dark frown and you watched his jaw work sporadically before he finally exhaled a singular, monosyllabic, "no."

You waited for the rest of the sentence, the emphatic declarations of I would never! or what kind of man do you take me for?, but he remained silent, staring at the tent floor. Weirdly, the lack of long-winded antics made his answer feel more honest somehow. He was obviously a gifted liar, tailoring his technique to his target. 

You sighed heavily through your nose. "Okay." 

You told yourself that the bewildered gratitude in his eyes must have also been part of his ability to tell falsehoods.

Ezra prepared the sparse surgical supplies from your kit with a somber, almost funereal air. He seemed to be already convinced that his arm was a total loss. Maybe he knew better than to put much stock in the abilities of a battered floater. 

You were seized with the uncanny urge to prove him wrong. Your need for validation was what had landed you in this mess with Damon all those stands ago, you reminded yourself, but you couldn't shake the habit so easily. "Did I hurt you? When I...when I hit you?" You asked before you could think better of it. 

"No more than the average lighthearted dig dust-up would, gentle soul. Do not trouble yourself on my behalf." Ezra replied dully. "I offer my most sincere reparations for givin' you a fright."

"I spooked myself. I...I saw the reflection of my own eyes in my helmet and I thought…" you trailed off, nervously sipping your water.

"That man, Damon." Ezra hesitated, struggling to secure the band around his upper arm. "I know it is rude to ask after personal affairs, but did he-"

"Don't." You said softly. 

To his credit Ezra stopped immediately, busying himself with the tourniquet. After he had completed that arduous task, he bit the cap off of one of the porta-surge syrettes, spitting it out to land neatly in the lid of the field kit. He jabbed the needle home in his shoulder with a poorly-muffled gasp of pain, nearly crushing the tube with the force of his motion before dropping that into the kit lid as well. "The lid is for sharps." He informed you. "We lack a tray or a proper sterile environment, so keep your hands clear."

"I'll cap that once I get gloved up." You assured him. "I'm not leaving a sharp in the field kit. Knowing me, I'd forget it was in there and wind up accidentally pricking myself or something." 

Ezra nodded, swallowing convulsively. You took the Ralon scalpel from his slightly-shaky hand. "You ever used one of these?" He asked, his voice gone a bit reedy. His breathing in general seemed poor, off-tempo. He was afraid. The knowledge that he was just as scared as you were made you feel more sure of yourself, for good or ill. 

You shook your head in reply to his question, explaining, "I've never used this model before. The one I have for harvesting is much older."

Ezra reached over, flashing you a disingenuous smile. "It's easy." 

He pressed down on the side of the scalpel battery pack, activating the laser blade. The whole handle buzzed in your grip, feeling uncannily like your handheld stitcher.

"There's five levels of intensity. Use two for flesh. Four for bone." Bone?! You jerked your head up, meeting his terrified gaze. "You got it?" He choked out after a second.

You nodded stiffly. If he wanted you to know the bone setting, then by Kevva, you would.

His eyes softened and for a split-second he looked like he might cry. "Thank you." He rasped, blinking rapidly and then glancing away. 

You rummaged around in the porta-surge for the tiny, standard-issue penlight, immensely thankful that the battery still had enough power to work. The tent was poorly illuminated, outside light barely able to filter through the thick material. "Will this...when I start, is it going to hurt you?" The sterile glove packet made an ungodly amount of noise, crinkling and crackling in your hands as you fought to tear the seal.

Ezra scoffed, demonstrating the sensation that his right arm currently possessed by slapping his limp hand a few times. "I won't feel a thing. Hack away." His breathing was still too fast even as he continued to prattle, "quick, confident strokes are best. Try to go full circuit on the first cut."

You nodded again, one-handedly scooping the syrette and pushing it against the side of the lid to shove the cap back on. Then, you disposed  of it in the trash bag by the door. Holding the penlight between your teeth, you smoothed your gloved hand down his arm to pin it securely in place. You were really going to do this. Well, if he wasn't able to feel it...

You had peeled multitudes of aurelac gems in your mining career. You were exceptionally delicate when it came to skinning the pearls. You couldn't recall the last time you had punctured one of the blisters and ruined a pull. Surely...surely this wouldn't be much different. 

"I've never had to use these syrettes before. Kinda' nice. Tingly." Ezra commented as the scalpel buzzed to life. "Almost like it's…" With something that might have resembled quick confidence, you began your excision. The laser blade whirred through his epidermis with enviable ease, smoking slightly. "Oh shit. Oh shit." The older man muttered over your head, his whole body gone tense.

"What?" You asked around the penlight. Ezra started panting, his chest heaving violently underneath his threadbare waffle thermal layer. "Does it hurt?"

"No. N...h--I-I don't know. Keep goin'." He stammered. "You're doin' great, k-keep goin' until you think you've got it all." His left hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles had gone nearly stark white beneath the layers of ground-in dirt. "Once y...once you finish, dump the juice into the wound and th-then cream it a-all sh-iiit, shut, shut." He continued to instruct you through gritted teeth. 

You nodded, wholly focused on your task. At least it wasn't difficult to spot where the infection had reached. It turned the tissue and muscle it consumed to a sinister purple-black. You tried to keep your brain separated from the fact that this was a human arm you were methodically carving a chunk out of, a human arm attached to a living person who, despite his incredibly convincing big talk, could definitely feel what you were doing. You deliberately narrowed everything down to being as rapid and thorough as possible, like when you had to harvest in a poor environment. Every extra second you spent was a precious resource you could ill-afford to waste, literally. Thank stars that he had the tourniquet wrapped so tightly, even if the blade did it's damnedest to cauterize as you cut.

Once you were as certain as you could conceivably be that you had removed all the infected matter from the wound, you sloshed some of the Sader's juice from Ezra's canteen onto the exposed area. It hissed and steamed like boiling water and Ezra buried his face in the crook of his left elbow, biting down on his sleeve and screaming into the fabric. 

Your hands finally started to tremble as you loaded the patch gun and listened to him dry heave, but you doggedly kept at it. Just a little more to go. It felt like it took an eternity for the stupid cream to expand. The reload was probably years past its expiration date. 

And then it was over. 

You carefully gathered up the grotesque little pieces of your handiwork that had fallen on the floor, balling everything into your fist. The gloves squeaked wetly when you stripped them, turning them inside out as you did to keep the blood and organic matter contained. They dropped into the waste bag by the door, plopping sadly down next to the spent syrette on a bed of bit bar wrappers. 

You shakily switched off your penlight and took a step back, reaching for one of the tiny antiseptic wipe packets. Despite your best efforts, the skin of your wrists was spattered here and there with blood. You scrubbed at the rusty fluid silently. 

Ezra's whole body was shuddering with every groaning retch, saliva hanging in thick strands from the bottom of his slack mouth as he rocked his way through the pain and clearly fought down the urge to vomit. Moved by the admittedly-pitiful sight, you tugged loose your bandanna and wiped off his chin. "It's done." You informed him softly.

He caught your wrist before you could pull away and you were shocked when he pressed a sloppy kiss to your knuckles. "You are Kevva-sent, gentle soul, never let anyone t-tell you otherwise." He grated, "Divinity incarnate; a damn valkyrie in floater's clothing, decidin' my fate on the battlefield."

You squinted at him, down at the grisly mass of expanded foam and then back at his face. "I don't know if I would count this as a battlefield, Ezra." 

"Martyr's malfeasance," he swore, his voice cracking, "you can attempt to dismiss it but I will never forget this kindness, gentle soul. Not even in the next life." 

"Don't...look, let's just hope I did everything right." The insanity of the task you had just performed struck you anew and hysteria bloomed in your chest. At the same time, his heartfelt proclamations of gratitude settled low in your belly, a flickering flame of pride that you wanted to shelter and nurture. You sat down hard on the bunk, pulling your knees up again. The still-smoking scalpel gleamed at you in the dim light of the tent. "I'm probably gonna' be sick." You warned him faintly.

"You are far from alone in that camp, gentle soul." Ezra replied dolefully. "We'll be spewin' in the same trough shortly, I imagine. I have always been a man...afflicted by the trials of sympathetic vomiting." 

"Oh no!" You found yourself caught between laughing and gagging, settling for a retching little snicker. "Come on, don't say stuff like that, you're gonna' make me hurl."

After several queasy moments had passed, he spoke up again, "I know you are just as eager as I to continue on to that mercenary camp, but I must insist on a short reprieve. A burge...burgeoning cloud of exhaustion is relieving me of what little sensibility I possess." He tucked his wounded arm against his chest as he curled up in his bunk. "And I will need time for the syrette to wear off, lest I be rendered an incompetent, staggering buffoon."

"We have to go to them, don't we?" Your voice was tiny.

Ezra sighed. "It would appear so. We will have to throw ourselves upon their proverbial mercies and hope that they are willing to acquiesce in exchange for our harvestin'." He cocked his head to look at you curiously. "Do you actually believe that it's the Queen's Lair they've stumbled upon entirely by chance?"

"Does it matter?" You asked. "Damon thought it was legitimate enough to throw the both of us across the universe in a trashy rental pod. I would say that must count for something, but…" You shrugged, propping yourself up against the end of the bunk.

"I understand. Still though, we will need rest if we are to successfully tackle this conundrum." He drowsily watched you as you dug around in your suit pockets to locate your sketchbook. The current iteration was a beaten memo pad from the pod rental company, each page stamped with the letterhead of Dasha Landcraft Rental. 

This was a familiar ritual to you. Turning your brain off whenever you needed to rest was a difficult thing to manage. In your mid-teens you had begun sketching before lights out and found that for some reason, the activity emptied your thoughts enough to allow you to sleep much easier than you had ever managed without it.

You unwound the twine that kept the pages closed and flipped to a fresh one. Trying to recreate the scenery you had witnessed earlier, sketching Bakhroma hovering imposing on the Green's horizon. 

"An artist, now that I did not anticipate." Ezra commented. You flinched, realizing how close he had leaned in to watch you. "What else have you drawn, gentle soul? Might I peruse your work?" He requested, his hand extended.

"I'm not--!" You floundered, tilting away and clutching the pad protectively to your chest. "I-I'm not...I'm not an artist. I just…I can't sleep without um, doing. Something like this." You tapped the notepad nervously. "It helps me relax." 

Drawing is a waste of time, you should be spending that time cultivating skills relevant to your field.

"No harm in that." Ezra replied agreeably, his words striking a sharp contrast against the echoes of Damon's belittling in your head. His hand remained outstretched, patiently waiting. 

You let out your breath slowly, rooting around in your hip pocket for the previous pad you had filled. That one you had pilfered from the Jata Bhalu processing facility, it had an actual hard cover and a loop for a writing implement. You tugged it free and hesitantly passed it to him, stammering once again that you weren't an artist, this was just something you did.

Ezra was devastatingly silent as he leafed through your tiny sketchbook. For someone that you had come to expect to talk, the stillness that permeated the tent made you unnaturally fearful. Your fingernails dug into your memo pad. What if...what if he was judging you? Some of the sketches were tired and messy, some of them smudged from your environment. Tea and coffee and tears blotted the pages. What if he didn't like them?

This was why you didn't show anyone your drawings, you-

"Have you ever considered acquirin' one of the draw-pads? I am no artist myself, but I know that the digital method saves precious space in pods." Ezra suggested. "And a single rainy day could ruins months of this hard work you have stockpiled."

"I...I want one, of course. It's just...they're so expensive and I could never justify it." You murmured, a little sad as you thought back to standing outside the pawn shop of the last freighter and gazing down at the battered box in the window. Out of date models alone were well removed from your price range. You could only imagine how much a brand new one would set you back.

"Puggart Bench West! I'd recognize that dock anywhere." Ezra exclaimed suddenly, wiping his hand off on his leg before he tapped on the page. "West dock is a real hive, isn't it?"

"Oh, y-yeah." You stuttered. 

"And this one...a deep space miner? Thing looks at least Fringe kestron grade." Ezra continued, squinting. "Not quite Testin, but it'll do in a pinch. I had a few stands on one of those. Food was shit."

"That was...um, it was just a ship that went by the transport freighter that I was on. Out in the Fringe." You shrugged, grimacing. "I didn't know what kind it was." You reached over with your pencil. "How do you spell 'kestron'?"

"K-e-s," Ezra paused, his brow furrowing, "t-r-o-n. If I'm not mistaken. Hell, it might be t-r-e-n." He admitted. "I'm uncertain, gentle soul. It has been so many stands since I've...since I've seen…" he yawned widely, then set off on another tangent. "In the Pug, there was this...vendor, you follow me, in this mercado." He rolled the 'r' in the unfamiliar word, like he was luxuriating in being able to say it. "They had--shit, it was some sort of...treat, the name is eludin' me. Drizzled honey, cinnamon, that fancy sugar dustin'…"

"Little pillowy things?" You supplied. "When the place made them fresh you could smell them all the way down the block?"

"Kevva, yes, now you got my stomach beggin'." Ezra groaned. "What were they called though?"

"It started with an 's', so...pa-"

"Sopaipillas!" He erupted, his eyes lighting up. "I swear, gentle soul, my heart just skipped a beat." He chuckled dreamily, "As much as I bemoaned the drudgery of it when I was there, I'd love to be back on the Pug right about now. Bench was a eternal shit hole, but at least I could breathe." He lolled his head to the side, looking at you once more. "When you and I escape this Green hell, I insist that you give me the pleasure of your gracious company on an expedition to that hallowed mercado." The older man slurred, his eyes sliding closed. "We will devour countless treats in safety and stroll the docks. A heavenly concept, you must admit."

"That does sound nice." You replied wistfully.

"It is settled, then." He held out his left hand to shake yours and you obliged, feeling childishly hopeful about the whole thing. "Now, set the alarm on that platinum chronometer of yours. Maybe...four hours or so? Kevva knows I'd love longer, but if we hope to arrive with adequate harvest time, we'll need to manage ourselves with caution." Ezra squeezed your hand, his smile weary. "Rest well, gentle soul."

Part Four

[post-itpenny]

Magnetic

Decided to do some slasher writing. Continuing on with Chloe’s introduction and her first ever round of The Ringmaster’s carnival games. Poem excerpts from Christina Rossetti’s The Goblin Market. 

Goblin Games

“Morning and evening

Maids heard the goblins cry:

“Come buy our orchard fruits,

Come buy, come buy.”

A foolish, young couple wandered in like flies to fresh cut melon, swatted at just as quick too.

Pulled from each other’s fingertips tossed in cages. The Ringmaster was almost disappointed how short this round of the game was, but at least the tigers would be well fed tonight.

The rest that would follow were just as quickly disposed of, blindly lured in by some unknown temptation. They were all given the rules, though most didn’t listen. The Ringmaster valued a fair game though, so the rules were given the same.

The screams that filled the air after- delicious.

But here now was the last one, The Ringmaster mused her to be much like the injured child who could not keep up with the others so blindly following the pied piper.

But this one was aware of the danger, she was afraid. It was a curious thing when she entered anyway.

She stepped past the ticket booth, the Ringmaster gently ushering her inside.

“We must not look at goblin men,

We must not buy their fruits:

Who knows upon what soil they fed

Their hungry thirsty roots?”

There was a snap, the midway lighting up. “Welcome! Welcome my dear! How glorious you could join us here at the greatest show on Earth!”

A scream cut through the air, the girl flinched, but did not run.

How curious indeed.

“I do believe you’re the last guest of the evening. Allow me to introduce myself as Mr. Blair P. Gheist. May I say I am utterly delighted to have you joining us.” The Ringmaster greeted as he took the girl’s hand with a light peck to her knuckles.

“C-Chloe.”

He arched an eyebrow, most didn’t introduce themselves. “It’s wonderful of you to pay my humble circus a visit Miss Chloe. Tell me, what is it you most wish to experience tonight Hmm? The acrobatics? Perhaps our fine collection of some of the most exotic animals here on Earth?”

The girl pulled her hand away, her breathing rapid as she looked off in the distance towards the screams.

The Ringmaster watched her intently, gently hooking his finger under her chin and turning her head to face him.

“Perhaps a game?”

The girl- Chloe- slowly nodded. Stepping just out of his reach. The Ringmaster did not pursue, merely leaning on his cane with a devilish grin. “Do you enjoy games then? Normally I place the rule that winners are allowed to leave. But perhaps we could switch things up? If you win I will let them go, all of them.”

“Alive.”

Blair blinked, then smiled again. “But of course. Now my dear, allow me to explain the rules.”

She listened, she actually listened to everything that was explained. She asked questions to clarify, timidly of course but she still asked. She was without a doubt most deserving of a favorite game here at the circus-

Hide and Seek.

“Remember now,” The Ringmaster prompted, “all you have to do is not get caught for thirty minutes.” He glanced at her leg, “of course you get a head start-“

“I don’t need it, I’m fast enough.”

“I would hope you are Miss Chloe,” he responded, “you’re going to need it.” But I do need a chance to count so-“

He grinned, a hand curling over his eyes as he began to count out loud.

She took off running, navigating stalls and tents as The Ringmaster’s voice rang across the circus grounds. Chloe turned a corner. Around her now shadows loomed from the booths and stalls. Clowns with homicidal grins, acrobatics whose joints didn’t look quite right. She nearly crashed into a stagehand who took a casual swing at her with a sledgehammer.

Chloe backpedaled and ran another direction. Ducking into a tent.

She climbed around storage boxes and into a small nook away from the tent sides.

It had grown quiet.

Chloe forced her breathing to steady. Listening intently to the sound of approaching footsteps. They stopped outside the tent, only a moment before moving on.

She breathed a sigh of relief-

There was a loud “bang!” As Chloe was surrounded by an explosion of light.

She shrieked and covered her head, hearing an insane laugh as she pulled herself together and ran out of the tent.

Down the isles for the Midway Chloe ran. Never far behind her was The Ringmaster who always seemed to know what she would go.

She was interesting to watch run, despite the given limp from her prosthetic leg the girl was athletic. Blair casually jogging behind, normally he would just walk but this one didn’t just run blindly. She truly was doing everything in her power to win.

She skidded around a corner and misjudged her speed. Stumbling into a booth with a terrible crash.

The Ringmaster giggled, reaching out with a hand. “Terrific job so far my dear, but you could stand to practice the landing.”

Chloe panicked, backing into the debre, trapped as he grinned down at her. “You’ve done very well, there’s no need to panic my dear Chloe.”

“Stay away!”

“Shh, hush now. The game is almost over, and you have been splendid. Take a deep breath my dear, rest a moment.”

Without thinking Chloe did as she was told. Breath slowing down but still watching a The Ringmaster inched closer. “Most don’t make it this far, it’s admirable really.”

She gripped the strap of her guitar, calming down but still weary.

Blair offered an encouraging smile and inched closer. “Let me help you up, no strings attached.”

“The rules were Mr. Gheist, if you tag me game over. That counts right?”

Oh.

Oh this one was-

Blair grinned. “You paid attention!”

“So it’s an out yes?”

“An exception just this once, trust me. The game is almost over anyways”

She was tired, he could tell. But she couldn’t tell there was still twenty minutes on the clock.

He held out his and again, delighted as she raised her own, fingertips just inches away. She was tired and oblivious. Perhaps he cou-“

WHAM!

If all the things that The Ringmaster had experienced in his carnival games over the years, being hit in the face with a guitar had never been one of them. She stumbled back as he stuttered between curses of pain and a sick laughter. She ran away as fast as she could.

It was delightful.

“One may lead a horse to water,

Twenty cannot make him drink.”

A fighter- a clever and resourceful thing, a fighter. He needed something like that, and if she wasn’t too broken by the end then perhaps he would add her to the troup.

Tossing his top hat aside, he ran after her.

The spectators were whipped into a frenzy. No longer silent watchers, they screamed and laughed. Shoving Chloe if she got too close. Applauding when their boss sprinted by. Her movement was a strange loping one, her speed hindered by the leg. But she did not stop running no matter how much it hurt.

Chloe turned a corner, not realizing her mistake as she entered a building.

The Funhouse.

The entry room was dark, a relief from the bright lights of the Midway, a place to actually hide.

The lights flashed on, she blinked away the spots from her eyes at the sudden light. Screaming at the sight of a corpse flayed and pinned to the wall.

She turned around, The Ringmaster grinning wickedly at her with his hand on the switch, around them whirled to life the sounds of gears turning and music picking up.

He waited, she still had fourteen minutes on the clock. Would she try to dodge around him, or go in?

Would she simply fall to the floor and beg like some of her friends did earlier?

Chloe turned, diving through the small door underneath the Corpse.

Stumbling through dimly lit and tilting hallways, trying doors that led to nowhere. The music was loud and lights would flash. Walls damp with blood as she entered one room that could only be described as an explosion of gore. The smell hit her and she had to stop and vomit twice.

Chloe kept going.

He followed her, shimmying through tight hallways and climbing over obstacles. He pulled something from his pocket, tossing it over her head and down the hall. Covering his own eyes before it hit the ground.

She screeched at the small explosion. Blinded by the sudden light and running without any idea where she was going.

SMACK

She screamed again at the feeling of The Ringmaster’s cane slamming into her back, to her credit she did not falter however. She kept running.

She regained her eyesight to find herself surrounded by herself. A hall of mirrors that twisted and distorted the world. Everywhere she turned was a dead end. Slamming into mirrors as trying desperately to get through. It was so loud here, and their air had changed; now sweet smelling but heavy. Lights an array of colors. She struggled to think, she struggled to breathe.

He found her there, collapsed and hyperventilating.

Blair eyed her before pulling out his pocket watch.

Five minutes.

He sighed, readying his cane much like a club.

Chloe glanced over her shoulder, crawling away best she could. Her prosthetic refusing to cooperate.

He chuckled and hooked the fake leg. Pulling her back towards him.

Four minutes.

“Color me surprised Miss Chloe but most don’t last this long. I would tip my hat to you but I left it quite a ways back.”

Using his cane he flipped her over by the leg. She looked up at him, eyes wide and lungs struggling for air.

“G-g-game?”

Blair grinned, “not over yet I’m afraid. But you’ve been such a sport, I’ll allow your little friends to live if you give up.”

“B-b-b-” she paused and took a massive gulp of air, she was sobbing now.

“But you? Well you lose, you don’t leave.”

Three minutes.

“It’s time to close out the show dear, don’t you think?”

She was in hysterics, her body exhausted and her mind losing to the assault brought on by the hall of mirrors. Chloe flipped herself over and dragged herself across the floor.

Two minutes

The Ringmaster cackled as he hooked her leg again with his cane and dragged her back. He winced, the room was getting louder, it wasn’t supposed to do that.

She kicked out at him, trying to scramble to her feet, hands clamped over her ears and eyes screwed shut.

One Minute.

It would dawn on him later that the volume was due to the loud whispers that had joined the cacophony of music and random sound he had intended for room to hold. But at this moment even the Ringmaster struggled as his ears were assaulted.

Later on her would argue that he had been cheated.

Underneath the racket came the soft chime of The Ringmaster’s pocket watch.

The sounds stopped.

[strangerthancamusx]

Scotch, A HTGAWM fanfiction.

(A Flaurel ficlet, because they should’ve been endgame and now I’m shipping way too hard...)

Frank was jolted awake by a harsh ringing sound. It took him a few moments to realize that it was his cellphone— someone was calling him. Groaning, he reached out for it on his nightstand to find a woman’s beautiful face smiling at him. But not just any woman.

Laurel.

It was 4 o’clock in the morning. She was supposed to be asleep, like he was a few minutes ago. Worried, he answered the call.

“Laurel?” He asked tentatively, voice husky from sleep. “S’wrong?”

There was a pause. “Hellooo, Frankie D,” Laurel giggled. Frank lets out an annoyed sigh. “Is this a voicemail? I don’t know, I don’t care. I just want to say that I really... really hate... how much you make me think.”

Frank swears he forgot how to breathe as he listened to her rambling. She’s obviously drunk. Too drunk, in his opinion. And that’s saying something.

“...I hate that I can’t stop thinking... about you. You’re so damn sexy that it hurts me.” Laurel’s voice cracked and Frank remained silent. “I want to know you, but why won’t you let me do that? You don’t have to protect me, you know. I’m a big girl girl now, I’m tough.” He could hear her sniffling in the background, and the sound of something liquid being poured. It was then Frank made up his mind.

“Laurel? Are you still there?”

“Hmm? Oh,” she giggled again. “I poured too much scotch, Frank. I guess I better not let it go to waste.”

“You in your apartment?”

“Yeah... why?” Laurel slurred.

“I’m coming over. You’re too drunk.”

“You’ll let me... let me get to know you better? Like, better, better?” She snorts out a watery laugh. “‘Cause I wanna do that. I wanna see you, maybe naked, on my be—“

“Alright, princess. I’m not your gigolo. Keep your panties on, be there in ten.”

“Oookay, Frankie D. I’ll be here with my scotch, waiting for ya,” Laurel pauses for a bit, and says something in a small voice that made Frank freeze. “Y’know, I think I love you...”

Frank got dressed faster, if that was even possible. He shrugged on his jacket and picked up his keys, where a spare to Laurel’s was hanging. She didn’t even know that he still had it, after that one time Laurel had slipped it to him discreetly at work. It was an invitation for a fun night, one that Frank had not been able to forget.

He had arrived on her doorstep in record time. Not even bothering to knock, Frank stepped into Laurel’s cluttered apartment.

“I swear to God,” Frank huffs. Despite his ruggedness and overly-manly appearance, he is nothing but a neat freak. “Maybe I can sneak in here one time just to clean.”

He walked into the living and kitchen area only to find it empty. Frank furrowed his eyebrows.

“Laurel?” Frank called out, but was met with silence. He then noticed her bedroom door, which was left ajar. He peeked inside to find Laurel, laid on her back on the floor with her phone still glued to her left ear. She met his eyes and looked at her phone confusedly.

“How are you here already? I was just talkin’ to ya!”

Frank sighed impatiently. “That was ten minutes ago, Laurel. I ended the call before I got ready to go here.”

“Nope, I was talking to you. You were saying something funny. Like, leave a message or somethin’. And that was what I was doing, leavin’ you a message.”

He looked at her, amused now. Frank looked forward to listening to those messages, but right now he has to get Laurel to bed. “Yeah, I bet you were. Come on now, princess, you gotta sleep. Annalise will kill you if you don’t show your pretty face later at the office.”

“M’pretty, huh? You think I’m pretty? But not pretty enough to screw? Not enough to be your girl.”

“Laurel...” Frank half-heartedly threatened. It’s not the time to talk about that, especially since he’s almost certain that Laurel won’t remember any of her words by the time she wakes up.

“No, really, tell me the truth. I just can’t be enough for you, can I?” Laurel asked quietly.

Frank sighed again. Persistent little princess. He cleaned her a bit and hauled her to bed. He was just about to get up and leave when she reached out to him.

“Stay.”

Frank didn’t know if that was a good idea, but caved in when he saw the look in her eyes. He proceeded to prop up some pillows between the two of them to act as a barrier. Laurel shifted on her side to look at him, expecting an answer to her earlier question. Frank settled on the other side of the bed and brushed her hair away from her face. He looks at her decidedly.

“Okay, y’know what... I don’t think you’ll remember this when you wake up, so I gotta say this. You are more than enough for me, Laurel,” he took a deep breath to still the emotions in his heart. Chuckling softly at his current state, he continued. “You make my heart beat everyday, even if I didn’t think t’was possible. I may not be the most religious guy out there, Laurel, but I will always think that maybe there is someone watching over us. I’m the last person to deserve something good in life, but I have you. And I can’t bear it – hell, I know I won’t be able to – if I’d lose you. So don’t say you ain’t enough for me, princess. Maybe I’m the one who isn’t. But you’re it for me. Will always be.”

Laurel stared at him for a beat and gives him a smile. He swears that that was the most beautiful one he has ever seen. Before he could continue or she could say anything, Laurel closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep. Frank laughed quietly. So much for having this conversation.

“Sleep tight, princess. Love you.”

Frank kissed Laurel’s forehead, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. He was comforted by Laurel’s warmth and even breathing.

———

When Laurel woke up three hours later, she was confused. She remembered opening the bottle of scotch she bought on her way home, and settling down on the floor by her bed. Before opening her eyes, she snuggled deeper on her body pillow that was keeping her warm and comfy even in the middle of a really bad hangover. She loved waking up to— wait a minute. She doesn’t own a body pillow. Her eyes snapped open, only to find her arms wrapped around a muscular torso. But not just any muscular torso.

Frank.

And then everything came back to her. The amount of scotch she consumed, the call she made, the voicemails she left in his inbox... and the tender look in his eyes before she fell asleep.

“You’re it for me,” he had said. Was that true? Or was it just a scotch-induced dream that was produced by her fantasies of Frank confessing his love for her?

Laurel reached up and ran her finger through his silky hair, which made him shift in his sleep. He had always been a light sleeper, but she figured that taking care of her last night wore him down. Looking around the room, she noticed his phone resting on her nightstand, but she had to reach across him in order to get it. She had to delete her voicemails, it was embarrassing enough that he took care of Drunk Laurel last night, having him listen to her confessing her love for him might just be too much.

She was lying on top of him and had almost reached the phone when she was suddenly flipped on her back. Frank was awakened by her attempt to reach the nightstand, and was looking down at her with an amused smirk.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing. And stop yelling, my head hurts,” Laurel said, almost whining.

“Mm, looks like you’re trying to reach my phone, princess. You tryin’ to erase something?”

Laurel huffs, annoyed that her plan was ruined.

“What’re in those voicemails, anyway?” Frank asked, grinning. “You confessed to a murder or somethin’?”

Laurel hit his chest. “What do I have to do for you to delete them?”

“Nothin’, ‘cause I wanna hear it.”

“Please, Frank?”

“Nope,” Frank replied, popping the ‘p’. “Get your lazy ass up, princess. Annalise won’t take you being hungover as an excuse for being late, even if she knows the feeling all too well.”

Laurel groans as Frank removes himself above her and snatches his phone before she can even get the chance to reach it.

“Now, can I leave you by yourself to get ready? No more calling while drunk?”

“Just... stop yelling and get out of here.”

“Okay, okay,” he smirked. “See ya later!”

Frank walked out Laurel’s apartment, whistling. He had only slept for three more hours, but he swears that was the best sleep he’s ever had. Waking up next to Laurel is something he wants to do for as long as he’ll have her.

———

Later that day, Laurel and Frank found themselves alone in the kitchen of the Keating House, making coffee. Both were quiet, with questions perched on the tips of their tongues. After they finished, they spoke simultaneously.

“So—“

“Was it—“

They looked at each other and both let out a chuckle.

“Ladies first,” said Frank.

Laurel took a deep breath. “Was it true? What you said last night, I mean.”

Frank, who was about to take a sip from his coffee, froze. “Which part?” He asked slowly.

“That I’m... it... for you. Yeah, that one.”

“You think I was kidding?”

“I don’t know, Frank. I thought I was dreaming. Maybe I was scared that it was just a dream. Maybe you said that just because you want me to go to sleep, or something. Maybe—“

Frank then cut her off with a kiss. For both of them, it felt different from any other kiss they shared. His hands did not automatically rest on her behind, but were cupping her cheeks. Her hands weren’t busy undoing the buttons on his three-piece suit, but were tangled on his hair and pulling him down closer to her. It was a kiss that signified a new start for both of them. A recognition that they were something more, something they both wanted from the start but were too scared to acknowledge. When they broke the kiss, they were breathless.

“You think I was kidding?” Frank repeated after a beat.

Laurel smiled at him. “You love me, huh?”

“Yeah, I do. I hope you got no problem with that, ‘cause I wanna let you know that every day of our lives.”

“I’d like that.”

“Hmm? Sounds nice, no? You my girlfriend now, then?”

Laurel smiled that radiant smile that Frank loved to see. And they kissed again, both filled with passion and love. They only broke away when they heard the front door open.

“The rat pack’s back.”

“I’ll miss you,” Laurel said. She never thought she would end up a clingy girlfriend (girlfriend!) but with Frank, she thinks she’s in for a lot of surprises.

“I bet you will. What d’you say I go to your place later, cook some dinner? Let’s finish up that bottle of scotch you had last night. We’ll just... talk.”

“Sounds good, babe.” Laurel gives him a final kiss and saunters to the doorway, coffee completely forgotten.

Frank then remembered something. “Laurel?”

“Yeah?”

“So... maybe we’ll test your new bed?” Laurel’s eyes widen. The voicemails! “You told me you bought it specifically for—“

“Shut it, Frank!” Laurel warns him, eyes still wide. She hurriedly goes back to the sitting area, face red. Frank was left in the kitchen, guffawing.

He can’t express how happy and light he felt at that moment. Frank never thought he would be capable of loving someone as much he loves Laurel, let alone be loved in return. He was annoyed that he was awoken at 4 o’clock, yes. But Laurel is worth it. Will always be.

[vintagevalentinex]

Fever

So here is another Benny/Reader story (because I have no chill).  This fic is inspired by the song Fever by Peggy Lee.  I strongly recommend that you listen to the song before and/or while you read the story!  Anyway…I hope you like it! :)

@icecream-and-winchesters​ @bovaria​ @abaddonwithyall​ @aprofoundbondwithdean​ @maraisabellegrey​ @bkwrm523​ @kittenofdoomage​ @ohfora67impala​ @theerinpage​

Title: Fever Author: vintagevalentinex Words: ~2425 Pairing: (Benny x Reader) Warnings: Smut, smut, smut.

You hated the summer.  It was bad enough that you hated the way your legs looked in shorts (that’s another story for a different day.).  It was way too hot, and sweating was definitely not on your list of favorite things to do.  As much as you hated regular summer, you hated the summers down south exponentially more.  The summers in Louisiana were awful.  To begin with, the heat was nearly unbearable.  That combined with the ungodly humidity and you were a soupy mess.  

One would think that would be reason enough to completely avoid that god-forsaken state.  But no.  There happened to be a very handsome vampire that saved your tail from time to time.  You know it sounds crazy…a seasoned hunter having the hots for a vampire.  It wasn’t the way things were supped to go.  It wasn’t natural.  But god damn did it feel so good.  The tension between the two of you was electric—and you certainly weren’t the only one to notice.  The Winchester brothers would tease you mercilessly whenever you met up. So when are you and Benny hooking up?  He was a pirate, you know?  Pirates are sexy, right?  C’mon (Y/N) the two of you need to get together already.

You had had enough of their teasing.  Didn’t they have their own business to attend to?  You rolled your eyes as you drove down the familiar highways, sighing as you turned on the AC.  Word had it that there were some werewolves causing trouble down in this neck of the woods.  You thought it might be a good idea to swing by Benny’s diner to see if he could be any help.

You remember the last time the both of you worked together.

“C’mon (Y/N) I’m not that bad!”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling a little.

“Alright, alright fine.  You’re not completely awful.”

Benny held his hands to his heart dramatically.  “Oh darlin’ you wound me so!”  His eyes twinkled mirthfully as he continued to look at you.

You couldn’t help but mirror the smile he wore as you cleaned off your blade, completely tuckered out after wiping out an entire vampire nest, even with Benny’s help.  You found yourself nursing a cup of coffee at the counter of his diner, Benny drying off dishes behind the counter.

“So…you got anywhere ta stay tonight, shug?”

You shrugged your shoulders, letting out a breathy sigh.  “Didn’t really think about it yet, to be honest.  I was too focused on clearing out the nest.”

“Yer such a vigilant ‘lil hunter.”

“Shut up.”

Benny chuckled, throwing his rag over his shoulder.  “Well…if ya’d like…I got a room in the back…ain’t nothin’ much…but it’s somewhere to lay yer head…”

You furrowed your eyebrows.  “I’m guessing you only have one bed.”

He smiled sheepishly.  “Well…was assumin’ ya wouldn’t mind sharin’…”

You rolled your eyes, a smile forming on your lips as you shook your head.

“Not going to happen.  I’ve got to hit the road anyway.”

He smiled fondly at you, almost in a way that made you uncomfortable, not because it was creepy, but because it was like he was trying to figure you out, trying to see what made you tick.  You chewed on your lip nervously, all of the sudden feeling awkward as he continued to stare unabashedly a grin forming on his lips.

“Well cher, the offer still stands…any time…if ya ever need a place ta crash…”

You nod, your eyes finally able to look at him instead of anywhere else that wasn’t him.

“Thanks, Benny.  For that…and the hunt.  That would have been a big mess without you.”

He returned your nod, half-smiling, his eyes still boring into you.  “Ain’t no thing.  M’always happy to help…especially you, (Y/N).  You’re always welcome, darlin’.”

You finally rounded the corner, the diner coming into your line of sight.  You couldn’t help but smile as your tires crunched in the gravel as you pulled up to the front.  You quietly made your way inside, sitting at the same place at the counter that you did last time you rolled through town.  You heard Benny yell that he’d be right out, the smile on your lips growing as you heard him walking quickly from the kitchen to the front.  He stopped as he realized that you were sitting there.

“Well, well, well.  Look who’s blown on in.  And jus’ what can I do for ya, Miss (Y/N)? What are ya doin’ in my neck of tha woods, hmm?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, the smile still planted firmly on your mouth.

“Hello to you too, Benny.  I’ve been hearing that there have been some werewolves causing trouble…know anything about that?”

Benny shrugged his shoulders.  “Nope.”  He popped the ‘p’ as he spoke, walking around to the front of the room, locking the door and flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed.’  He leaned against the doorframe as you swiveled your stool around to face him, wiping the sweat from your forehead.  You winced, scrunching your face up.

“How the hell do you survive in this place, Benny?!  It’s so damn hot here!”  You pouted, only to receive a hearty chuckle from him.  He stepped closer to you, closing the distance.  You still had to look up at him from where you were sitting, huffing a little as he laughed at your antics.

“S’not that bad, shug.”  He stepped closer, leaning down, placing one of his hands on the counter, half trapping you in.  You could feel him breathing in.  Was he smelling you?  Why did you think this was kind of sexy?

“Maybe it’s the heat talkin’ or maybe I jus’ can’t take it anymore but…and you can tell me if I’m outta line, and we can pretend I never asked…”

You found yourself blushing, becoming very aware of the heat rolling off of his body, your own forming a thin layer of sweat from the sweltering heat.  You swallowed hard as he bent down even further, his other arm trapping you in completely, his mouth so very close to yours, his voice low and rough.

“…do you want me?”

Never know how much I love you Never know how much I care When you put your arms around me I get a fever that’s so hard to bear You give me fever when you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever in the mornin’ A fever all through the night

“Yes.”

Benny grabbed your hand, pulling you off the stool, dragging you into the back.  He opened a door, taking you into his living space.

“Make yerself comfortable, cher.  I’ll be right back.  Jus’ hafta close up the kitchen.”

You looked around the room, taking in the dimly lit space, nearly jumping for joy when you spotted a fan.  Well…at least it will blow hot air.  You turned it on, then making your way over to his bed, your heart already racing.  Was this really finally happening?!

Sun lights up the day time Moon lights up the night I light up when you call my name And you know I’m gonna treat you right You give me fever when you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever in the mornin’ A fever all through the night

You fiddled with the hem of your tanktop, the fan providing only a miniscule amount of relief as Benny padded back into the room, a pitcher of ice water and two glasses in hand.  He placed them on the shabby, makeshift nightstand as he sat down next to you, his gaze unnerving as you hoped that he would break the silence.

“…you done gone all shy on me now, shug…”

“I, uh…I never thought this would be happening, to be honest.”

“We don’ hafta do anythin’ ya don’t wanna, (Y/N)…”

“Oh trust me…I want to.”

You clamped your hands over your mouth, instantly turning red at your admission.  Benny just chuckled, standing up, pouring water and ice into both of the glasses.  He stared at you thoughtfully, bringing one of the glasses to your lips, his other hand running up and down your arm as you take large gulps of water.

“Ya know…we’d be much cooler in here if we took our clothes off…”

You laughed, the tension and apprehension dissipating as you stood up, Benny following suit as you turned away from him, facing the bed, your fingers again at the hem of your tanktop, this time more sure of their destination.  Benny moved to stand behind you, tutting, clicking his tongue.

“Oh no, darlin’…please…allow me.”

His fingers felt cold from the glass he was holding as he made for the hem of your tanktop, peeling it slowly up your body as he pressed his lower half to your ass, nearly grinding into you as he flung your top across the room.  His lips pressed to the back of your neck as you jumped, not realizing that he has an ice cube in his mouth.  You could feel your nipples hardening from the sensation.

“Didn’t mean ta startle ya, cher.  Jus’ tryin’ ta cool ya down…”

“Somehow…I don’t think that is what you intended.”

He chuckled as you could hear him pulling his own shirt over his head, his heated skin now pressed against your back, his arms surrounding you, hands reaching to cup your bra-clad breasts.

Everybody’s got the fever That is somethin’ you all know Fever isn’t such a new thing Fever started long time ago

Romeo loved Juliet Juliet she felt the same When he put his arms around her He said, “Julie baby you’re my flame” Thou giveth fever, when we kisseth Fever with thy flaming youth Fever I’m on fire Fever yeah I burn forsooth

Benny turned you around, facing him as he drew you in for a searing kiss, nearly knocking you back onto the bed as you scrambled up into a sitting position, your hands working to get your shorts off while Benny was taking care of his own clothing.  You were about to help him when he shook his head at you, his smile predatory as he lowered you back to the bed.  You laid there, your thighs parted and bent slightly at the knees as you watched Benny lean back over to the nightstand, plucking an ice cube out of the pitcher.  You groaned as he straddled your hips, his thick cock pressed against your stomach as he rubbed the ice cube against your lips, shivering a little under his touch as he dragged the ice lower, his lips following the wet trail in its wake.

You let out a hiss as he grabbed another ice cube, dragging it along your nipples, your back arching off of the bed as you felt his lips at the valley between your breasts, pressing cold, wet kisses to your heated flesh.  Benny popped the ice cube into his mouth, his tongue swirling into your belly button as you shivered.  His eyes darted up to meet yours as his face went lower.

“I think ya need some coolin’ off down here too, darlin’.”

You groaned, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you felt the ice pressed against your heated pussy, the muscles in your thighs tensing and twitching as he sucked your clit into his mouth, pressing the melting ice cube against the sensitive bundle of nerves.  Your eyes popped open, hands grabbing at his head as you tried to push him off of you.

“Enough!…Benny, please!!…I need…”

“Shhh, easy does it ‘lil baby…I know what ya need…”

Captain Smith and Pocahontas Had a very mad affair When her daddy tried to kill him She said “daddy oh don’t you dare” “He gives me fever with his kisses” “Fever when he holds me tight” “Fever, I’m his misses” “Daddy won’t you treat him right?”

Benny gave your pussy one last kiss before getting up on his knees, grabbing at your thighs and wrapping them around his waist, his erection grinding into your pussy.  You gasped at the pillows above your head as you watched him lean down; careful to not let your torsos touch (It was too damn hot for that.).  He grasped your hands into his larger ones tightly, pinning you down into the bed as he eased himself into you, the both of you groaning in unison as he was finally seated inside of you.  You dug your heels into his muscled ass, encouraging him to move any way you could.

“Please….Benny, please…”

“M’always happy to help.”

He snapped his hips, his pace immediately changing as he thrust himself into you, rocking the entire bed as you could do nothing but take what he wanted to give you.  You could feel sweat dripping off of his skin to mingle with yours.  While normally this would probably gross you out, you couldn’t care less right now as long as he kept pounding into you.  

You could feel your build up reaching its peak and you could tell that Benny would soon be following you.  You clenched around him tightly, trying to urge him to cum with you as your vision started to blur, seeing stars as you convulsed beneath him, knowing that he was following you over the edge.  He collapsed next to you, just as worn out as you were.

Now you’ve listened to my story Here’s the point that I have made Chicks were born to give you fever Be it Fahrenheit or centigrade They give you fever when you kiss them Fever if you live and learn Fever till you sizzle What a lovely way to burn What a lovely way to burn What a lovely way to burn What a lovely way to burn

Despite the heat, he dragged you over to his side, humming happily when he brought the ice cold glass to yours lips, the feeling of the ice water was pleasurable as it hit the back of your throat.  After putting down the glass his hands found your hair, surprisingly plaiting it back for you.  Was there anything he couldn’t do?! “So…tell me ‘bout them werewolves you were goin’ on ‘bout before…”

“Hmm…?”

Benny chuckled, turning on his side to get a good look at you, sleepy and sated.  He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Mmm darlin’, you’re burnin’ up again…might need ta cool ya down som’more.”

You giggled sleepily as he rolled back over on top of you.

What a lovely way to burn.

[itsafanficthing]

The Paper Boy - Chapter Three

This has maybe two of my favourite exchanges that I think I've ever written in this chapter. I hope that it comes off as funny as I think it is, and I hope that you continue to enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. Your comments/likes/reblogs inspire me to continue, so thank you so much for that.

As always - Un-beta'd, spellchecked and delivered.

And on A03 if that is more your style: Here

Chapter Two

Jamie exited his room with his heart still pounding heavily in his chest. Claire didn't hate him after all. Friends- it was a good starting point. They could be friends.

Jamie shuddered to think of what his mates would say when they saw her. They often didn’t have the self control that Jamie did and would say whatever was on their minds. If they catcalled her even once, Jamie was sure that he would knock them to the ground. Defend her honour and all that. Though he was sure that Claire could stand up for herself- and maybe she wouldn’t want him standing up for her. Maybe she wanted to fight her own battles… the hypothetical battles that Jamie was imagining for her anyway. But Jamie knew what both Angus and Rupert would say when they saw her. No doubt there would be some comment about the way that she spoke, or the shape of her arse. Christ- if any of the lads at school made a comment about the shape of Claire's arse to Jamie, he wasn’t sure he would be able to hold back hitting them, even if Claire wanted to defend her own honour.

Jamie could hear his father’s deep voice as he moved through the house, no doubt giving Lamb a tour. Jamie moved quietly trying to find where Claire had gone when he heard Jenny’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“We lost our Ma a few years ago and our younger brother, Robert, a year before that,” Jenny said matter-a-factly. Jamie stopped and hid out of sight behind the wall, listening.

“I’m so sorry.” Claire’s voice wobbled as if she was holding back tears. Jamie swallowed heavily, surprised as how she could be so caring for a family she barely knew.

“It was difficult at the time, but you learn to keep living,” Jenny answered. She sounded so detached from the emotion of it and Jamie knew it was because she needed to be.

Jenny had picked up the mantle of mother in the household when Brian been unable to be a father. So overcome with grief over the loss of his son and then his wife, he didn’t move from the couch for almost a month. When Rob died, Brian at least had Ellen to help him and they made it through the grief together. When Ellen passed, Jenny and Jamie were ill-equipped to deal with the heaviness of grief that clouded Brian. Eventually, after weeks of Brian almost comatose on their living room couch, something changed and he started going through the motions again. But Jenny and Jamie knew that something had changed. Brian had lost a part of himself.

Jamie knew that his parents loved each other. He was particularly grossed out by it when he was younger, but he never doubted how much they loved each other. In fact, the kind of love that Ellen and Brian Fraser had terrified Jamie. To love someone so much and then to lose them- was it really worth it? Jamie didn’t know if he would be able to stomach loving someone so much, only to lose them.

Speaking of- Jamie’s stomach clenched at the thought of not seeing Claire again. He’d only known her for two days and he was already attached. Bound to her. Bound to protect her. Bound to- dare he say it- love her. But perhaps it was only a crush. Maybe it would pass the more friendly they became with each other. At least, that’s what Jamie told himself anyway.

“She taught me to cook, so ye can thank my Ma for the roast. Taught me all her secrets, ye ken,” Jenny continued jovially, as Claire laughed in response.

“I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook at all. I can boil and egg and or make beans on toast, but that’s about it.”

“It just takes practise and a wee bit of experimenting,” Jenny answered kindly. “The best way to learn is to make mistakes, that’s what Mam always said. Ye should come 'round and I’ll teach ye some of the things she taught me. Is yer Ma a good cook or does yer Da do most of it? My Da could’na cook to save his life when he first met Ma, or at least that what he tells Jamie and me. She said to him “Brian Fraser, I am’na yer mother, I’m yer wife and ye’ll learn to cook or ye’ll be findin’ yerself with a verra cold and lonely bed.” He says it was the best decision he ever made, short of marrying' her. Still Mam did most of the cooking' anyway. I remember one night, Mam had to work late or somethin’ or other, she wrote down recipe- some rice dish. Da says that he followed the recipe word for word, though Mam had hand written the instructions and Da saw the ‘T-S-P’, ye ken- teaspoon, for salt as short-hand for tablespoon. Dinna ken how, but he served it up to Jamie and I, and it was like tryin’ to eat solid grains of sea water.” Jenny snorted with laughter at the memory and Jamie heard Claire chuckle in return. The sound brought a smile to his face while the memory made him shake his head at his clueless father.

“Weel, Jamie and I refused to eat another bite and he threw such a stramash. Tellin’ us we were spoilt and that we would eat what he provided for us, then he took a bite. I’ll never forget the look on his face. Christ. Still bring tears to my eyes to think about.” Both Jenny and Claire’s laughter echoed around the kitchen and Jamie felt his body warm further at the sound.

“Still, he’s always been good to us, and he learnt to cook his own meals and no’ have to rely on Ma’s recipes. But she made sure that as soon as I could, I’d be in the kitchen helpin’ her out. Jamie too. He’ll never admit it, but he’s quite a good cook.”

Jamie felt his cheeks and his ears heat up at the compliment from his sister.

“But that was special between my Ma and me, as I’m sure ye ken. Just time between us, we did’na even need to chat most of the time. Jus' happy to be doin' something' together.”

There was silence in the kitchen for a moment as Jenny continued her meal preparation, before she turned back to Claire.

“Christ- Claire, are ye alright?” Jenny asked in alarm and Jamie nearly ran into the kitchen to see what was wrong. “Did ye hurt yerself? No? Did I say something?”

Claire was crying. Jamie was sure of it as he heard a sniffle and Jenny saying words of comfort. He was about to leave his spot behind the wall to go and comfort her himself when a large hand clapped him on the shoulder making him flinch in surprise.

“What are ye doin’, lad?” His godfather asked steering him toward the living room.

“I was just goin’ to see if Jen needed any help,” Jamie lied as Murtagh led him further away from the kitchen.

“Aye, sure ye were. Let them be for a moment,” Murtagh said carefully.

“When did ye get here?” Jamie asked curiously.

“‘Bout half an hour ago. Been chatting with Quentin,” Murtagh answered gruffly.

“Who’s Quentin?” Jamie asked. Was someone else coming to dinner? Were they already here?

“Claire’s uncle.”

“Who?”

“Quentin,” Murtagh repeated gruffly.

“Quentin who? Why is Claire’s uncle here?”

“Ye invited him to dinner,” Murtagh replied, rolling his eyes.

“No I did’na.”

“Aye ye did,” Murtagh answered stubbornly. “Else who is sitting in the living room, talking with yer Da?”

“Claire’s father.”

“Uncle.” Murtagh corrected.

“Who’s uncle?”

“Claire’s uncle, ye dafty.”

“Claire’s uncle?” Jamie repeated. “Since when?”

“Since she was born I would think,” Murtagh said curtly.

“But then… where’s her Da?”

“How should I ken?” Murtagh replied with exasperation. “Perhaps ye should ask the lass.”

Jamie nodded, not really listening to what Murtagh was saying as his mind tried to catch up with the knowledge that Claire lived with her uncle (whose name was apparently Quentin and not Lamb) and not, as he had assumed, with her father.

“Why do ye keep calling him Quentin?” Jamie asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he slowly connected the dots.

“That’s his name, numpty.”

“No, his name is Lamb,” Jamie replied cautiously.

“Lamb?” Murtagh asked in disbelief, “Ye really think a grown man is called ‘Lamb’?”

“That’s what Claire calls him,” Jamie defended. “That’s how she introduced me.”

“And ye dinna think that it could just be a name between the two of them?”

“Aye, but I dinna introduce my Da and ‘Da’, I call him Brian,” Jamie reasoned.

“Well, I dinna know what to tell ye. The man’s name is Quentin,” Murtagh said abruptly ending the argument.

Murtagh left Jamie standing confused in the hallway until Jenny’s voice called loudly from the dining room that dinner was ready.

--

Jamie stood awkwardly at the doorway as people took their seats. Lam- Quentin sat next to Jamie’s father at the head of the table with Murtagh on the other side of Brian. Claire looked quickly between the spot next to her Uncle and Murtagh (with his permanent scowl) and hurried to sit next to her Uncle. Jamie was about to take the seat next to Claire when Jenny blocked him and sat down. His shoulders dropped in disappointment at not being able to sit next to Claire as he had planned, although, by sitting across from her, he did get to look at her all night, so really it wasn’t all bad.

“Shall we say a prayer?” Brian asked and Jamie looked up in surprise at his father. They hadn’t said anything of the sort since Jamie’s mother had died.

“Of course,” Lam- Quentin said excitedly, clapping his hands together.

Eccentric. That was the word to describe Claire’s uncle. The man sounded like he could get excited about just about anything.

“Jamie, would ye mind?” Brian directed his gaze at his son, who felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, though he wasn’t sure why.

“Aye- Yes, Da.” Jamie bowed his head and closed his eyes, feeling his heart beating rapidly in his chest and his palms start to sweat. It had been years since he’d said a prayer over his food. How religious was Claire and her Uncle? Would something short and simple be better? What if they expected a well rehearsed blessing over their food, as if the Frasers prayed over every meal? Or worse- what if they expected something completely original. Jamie was unprepared to say the least.

Clearing his throat, he began, “Dear-” Jamie’s voice broke with a terrible sound, somewhere between a crack and a screech and his cheeks flooded with embarrassment. Clearing his throat a second time, with his eyes firmly squeezed shut so as to not look at his guests or the grins that his own family would undoubtedly be throwing him, he began again.

“Dear Lord,” his voice remained in tact, no breaking to be found and Jamie was flooded with relief, now he just had to get through the rest of it. “We thank ye for the meal that we are about to…. Eat. Thank ye to Jen… thank ye for Jen- who cooked it. Thank ye for the… opportunity to welcome Claire-,” Jamie felt his voice waver over Claire’s name and he plowed on, hoping that it wouldn’t break again. “And Lam- Quen… Mr Beauchamp to our neighbourhood. Erm. Thank ye for Murtagh being able to join us for dinner. We ask that ye bless this food, that we are about to eat, that Jen made, and that ye… continue to… bless our lives and this meal that we are about to eat. Amen.” Jamie finished the last bit quickly feeling that he had probably rambled on long enough. He opened his eyes to see Claire staring at him with a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

“Thank ye, Jamie,” Brian said, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Yes, thank you Jamie. That was very… thorough,” Quentin said, openly grinning at Jamie. “Though, please, call me Lamb.”

“Lamb?” Murtagh grunted as Jenny started to dish out the food. “I thought yer name was Quentin.”

“It is,” Quen-Lam-Mr Beacham- Claire’s Uncle replied simply. “Quentin Lambert Beauchamp. Although Quentin is such a god-awful name, that I can never thank my parents enough for, that I have always gone by Lambert. However, when Claire was born, she couldn’t quite get the “Bert” of “Lambert”, could you Bumblebee?” He paused to look at Claire who blushed prettily and shook her head. “So I’ve been Lamb every since.”

Jamie looked at Murtagh with a pointed look that said not to subtly “See I told you”.

“So ye prefer Lamb?” Brian asked as Jenny handed the now overflowing with food plates around the table.

Lamb nodded in response before he looked down at the mountain of food that Jenny had placed in front of him. “Jesus. H. Roosevelt. Christ!” He exclaimed making Jamie snort into his roast potato and everyone else at the table jump in their seats. “Jenny, my dear, you could feed an army with this amount of food. It looks sensational.”

“Uh, thank you Mr Beauchamp,” Jenny answered nervously, obviously unaware of how to handle Lambert’s enthusiasm for anything and everything.

“Lamb, please,” he said kindly before they all started to eat.

—

The rest of dinner was rather uneventful. Jamie’s father and Murtagh discussed the neighbouring farms, Lamb listening with rapt attention (forgetting about his dinner almost entirely as he asked question after question about farm life and the locals), Jenny and Claire became fast friends and Jamie… well Jamie watched Claire.

She seemed happier than she was before. Perhaps it was finding another friend in Jenny- a female friend or maybe she was starting to relax and enjoy herself.

She had a sharp tongue and quick wit to match Jenny’s no nonsense demeanour- one that Jenny had adopted since their mother had passed away. It was nice for Jamie to see his sister laughing again and talking about things that weren’t so adult, like the bills or groceries.

Jamie and Jenny had both grown up much faster than either of them expected when their mother had died. Brian and Ellen had protected them both as much as they could through the death of their younger brother, Robert, but the death of parent was something for which they were all unprepared.

For a while it felt like a death of both parents as Brian Fraser started to waste away on the couch. Jenny took the responsibility of becoming a second parent to Jamie and he was ashamed to admit that sometimes he resented her for it. She was his sister, not his mother.

He was, of course at the end of the day, thankful to Jenny for being there and for taking care of him. She made sure he got to school on time, ate properly and got a good night's sleep. But he hated when she tried to discipline him. She was not his mother, as much as she tried to be.

It was nice to see her drop some of the parental bravado that she had adopted and simply act like herself again.

Claire.

Claire was the difference in Jenny. Maybe it was just that she was someone new that didn’t know every single detail of their grief, but Jamie could see Jenny relax around her.

Claire glanced across the table at Jamie, smiling as Jenny continued to talk about something- Jamie wasn’t listening. Jamie couldn’t help smiling back at her. She was addictive. It was as if their own conversation was happening between them as they smiled at each other.

“Sorry for my family.”

“No need to apologise.”

“She’s talking yer ear off.”

“I’m happy to make a new friend.”

“I’ll rescue you after dinner.”

“Thank you.”

Of course, that was just what Jamie had imagined was happening between them. In reality Claire smiled at Jamie and looked back to Jenny, nodding along to whatever she was saying. But when she looked back to Jamie a moment later, she smiled again and he was pleased to see a faint blush on her cheeks.

—

After dinner the men (Brian, Murtagh and Lamb) decided to take a tour around the house and then the stables. Jenny had shut herself in the kitchen, waving away Jamie and Claire as they tried to help her clean up and so it was just Jamie and Claire standing awkwardly in the living room together.

“I’m sorry about my family,” Jamie began, carrying on from his earlier imagined conversation with her. “I ken they can be a wee bit overwhelming.”

“It’s fine,” Claire replied smiling and shaking her head. Jamie watched the curly brown locks jump about and she moved, like they had a life of their own. “It was nice to make another friend.”

“Aye- yeah, but, I dunno,” Jamie shrugged, “they can be a bit full on sometimes.”

“You’ve met Lamb right? He doesn’t half-ass anything. It’s full ass, or nothing,” Claire laughed lightly. “So really, there’s no need to apologise.” Claire smiled up at him shyly and Jamie was sure that his heart actually skipped a beat. Christ. She was so lovely.

“So, err, what did ye want to do?” Jamie asked with another shrug. “I can show ye ‘round the house, or… it’s a wee bit dark to see any of the farm, or we could watch the telly?”

“Whatever you like,” Claire answered with a shrug of her own. “What would you usually be doing if I wasn’t here?”

“Erm, maybe reading,” Jamie blushed as he looked down at his feet. “Or, ye ken, watching a game or something. Sometimes both at the same time.”

“What are you reading?” Claire asked brightly.

“At the moment?” Jamie clarified as he ran his hand through his hair with nerves. “Harry Potter. Well. I’m rereading it. I like the movies. But the books are better.”

Claire looked at him blankly. “Henry Porter? Never heard of it. Is it good?”

Jamie’s jaw fell open in shock. “Harry- Yer jokin’ right? Ye dinna ken Harry Potter? Harry Potter?” He repeated in disbelief.

There was a second when Jamie was sure a pin drop could have been heard, even on the carpeted floors they were standing on before Claire burst out laughing.

“Of course I’ve heard of Harry Potter. I haven’t been living under a rock. You should have seen your face though.” Claire took a deep breath and fanned her face as she continued to chuckle at the face Jamie was making. “Never heard of Harry Potter. What do you take me for?”

“Aye- ye got me. Good one. I was beginnin’ to think that we could’na be friends after all.”

“Really? That’s all it would take?” Claire asked as Jamie led them from the sitting room towards his bedroom.

“Well I dinna ken ye all that well yet,” Jamie explained sarcastically as Claire followed him.

“I see, and not knowing a popular book is all it would take to end it?” She asked with amusement as Jamie pushed open his bedroom door, glad that he had thought to clean it up when he was getting dressed.

“Aye- Yes,” Jamie nodded seriously.

“Well. I’d better be on my best behaviour then, hadn’t I?”

“Aye Sassenach. Yer on thin ice,” Jamie grinned at her as she smiled back at him once more before jumping and landing on his bed.

—

“Which one are you reading?” Claire sat cross legged on Jamie’s bed and watched him with wide eyes. To have her alone in his room, Christ, she had no idea the effect that she had on him. He glanced back to the doorway, making sure it was wide open so that they couldn’t be accused of any “funny business”. Not that they would partake in that kind of thing- they had only just met after all.

“I’m up to Order of the Phoenix,” Jamie answered turning back to Claire, who had well and truly made herself at home on his bed. “I read the books once a year if I can. I remember,” Jamie huffed a laugh at the memory, “the first time I ever read them, a wee lad, it took me weeks to get through the books. Well, maybe not weeks, but a few days and some allnighters.”

Claire smiled back at him, her own grin widening as he spoke.

“Now, I can read Sorcerer's Stone and Chamber of Secrets in one sitting.” Jamie shook his head. “Order of the Phoenix though, jesus, I always forget how much I hate Umbridge until I read it again. What about ye? What do you read?” Jamie tentatively joined Claire on his bed as she shuffled over for him.

“A bit of anything really. I love Harry Potter obviously, but I don’t read it every year like some people.” Claire shrugged casually. “I’m reading a lot of Scottish history books at the moment. Trying to prepare for school.”

“Prepare for school? Ye think that their goin’ to quiz ye on Bonnie Prince Charlie on yer first day?” Jamie snorted.

“No.” Claire answered pointedly as she rolled her eyes at him. “I just like to be prepared. I don’t like to be on the back foot of things and this helps me feel at least a little bit more prepared for a brand new school that I know nothing about.”

“What do ye want to know? I’ve lived here all my life. I can answer anything ye need.” Jamie day up a little straighter.

“Well… nothing in particular,” Claire answered slightly taken aback by Jamie’s excitement. “And I guess everything,” she continued with a defeated sigh. “I don’t know… what I’m supposed to know..”

“Isn’t that everyone’s struggle, Sassenach?” Jamie said with a chuckle. “We’re meant to know everything but know nothing at all?”

Claire shrugged half heartedly at him.

“That’s what my Da’s always telling me. ‘Jamie ye should know better than that’, ‘Jamie ye canna be talkin’ like that, yer only 15’.” Jamie lowered his voice to mimic his fathers and Claire snorted in laughter.

“Well, one thing you can clear up…” Claire said as she shook her head at him as Jamie nodded for her to go. “Sass-en-ack? What does that mean?”

“Oh,” Jamie felt his cheeks and his ears heat up with embarrassment. “It’s only… well yer English.” He tried to explain.

“It means I’m English?”

“Well no. Not really. But aye- yes to a point.” Jamie stumbled over his explanation. How on earth he was going to tell (what he thought was the love of his life) Claire that it was derogatory term for an English person, but that he meant it as a term of endearment?

“It doesn’t mean I’m English?” Claire asked in confusion.

“Nay- ye are English. It’s just… it’s a Gaelic word for English,” Jamie finished somewhat poorly.

“Oh, is it an insult?” Claire asked, trying to figure out Jamie’s hesitancies.

“Well, aye, some would use it as an insult. But no’ me-” Jamie said quickly seeing Claire open her mouth to reply. “-I mean it as a… it’s a good thing. Yer… Sassenach. I dinna mean offence by it. I’ll stop callin’ ye it. Sorry. I did’na mean to upset ye.”

“No… it’s erm… it’s alright. I… I sort of like it.” Claire said as her cheeks flushed with colour. “I mean… I like the way that it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” Jamie felt his own cheeks heat up. “Well, then… Sassenach it is.”

--

“I play rugby, football, I swim- when it’s warm enough, I do the long distance run at the carnival and….” Jamie paused as he tried to think of the other sports he played at school. “I ride the horses, but that’s not for school or anything.”

“You do all of that, and run a farm?” Claire asked in disbelief.

“Help run a farm. I dinna do it all myself,” Jamie corrected as Claire laid back on his pillows, well and truly making herself comfortable. “What about ye? What’d yer school like look like a’fore ye moved?” Jamie stayed sitting up. The temptation to lie next to her and simply pull her towards him to kiss her was far too strong.

“I studied a lot. Played tennis for a while, but I’m… more of an academic I suppose.” Claire scrunched up her face as she thought about her previous school. “My father wanted me to play the piano, but I couldn’t quite… He loved it a lot and I think it was something that he wanted us to share, but I suppose I didn’t have the discipline… or the patience… or the passion to do it…. And now.... Now I feel like it’s too late and I’m just going to keep letting him down somehow.” Claire paused and Jamie swallowed heavily.

Claire hadn’t spoken about her parents before to Jamie and until dinner that night, he had assumed that Lamb was her father. He was curious about where her parents were, but after the death of his own mother and brother he knew better than to simply blurt it out and ask.

“Which I know is silly,” Claire continued, unaware of Jamie looking at her intently. “I couldn’t let him down if I tried- he always said that. But it just seems like it was something that we were meant to do together, and so now I shouldn’t do it at all.”

“That does’na sound silly, Sassenach. I think we all… I think we always want to live up to some kind of expectation that our parents have for us, and it makes it harder when they aren’t there to ask them just how ye go about doing that. Ye just have to take comfort in knowing that yer doin’ the best that ye can. Even on the days when simply gettin’ out of bed is yer best.”

“Your mum?” Claire’s voice was soft and she reached out and squeezed Jamie’s forearm softly.

“Aye, Jenny told ye?”

Claire nodded in response and Jamie continued. Maybe if he could talk to her about his parents, she might want to open up about her own.

“My Mam was an artist. She loved paintin’. She also loved sculptin’, ye ken- wi’ clay, but she was rubbish at it. But paintin’- she was brilliant. Jen got that from her. She can paint just as well. Mam always was tryin’ to get me into her studio, get me to pick up a paintbrush to see if I was any good. But I just did’na have time for it. I wanted to be with the horses, be with my Da on the tractor- anything that was outdoors.” Jamie paused as he felt an unexpected wave of grief wash over him and he had to swallow a few times to get his voice back. “When she died I would’na go near her studio, fearin’ that she’d be disappointed in me and … I dinna ken, her ghost would saddle me with some unresolved guilt that I should’ha’ spent more time wi’ her when she was alive.” Jamie had never told anyone this- not even Jenny and yet here he was sitting on his bed, next to a lass that he’d known for less than two days, telling her all the secrets of his soul. Secrets he had sworn to himself that he would take to the grave.

He was expecting Claire to laugh at him or roll her eyes. It was a stupid thought- the ghost of his mother, haunting her art studio to make him feel guilty for not wanting to paint. Rather, Claire was looking at him with a soft kindness and there were tears in her whisky eyes, which only made them shine like gold after she blinked away the salty water.

“Anyway,” Jamie said gruffly, feeling his shoulder twitch uncomfortably, “as it turns out, I canna draw or paint to save my life, so maybe it was just my own intuition stopping me from wasting both of our time.” He tried to make a joke of it, tried to laugh it off, but Claire wasn’t laughing.

She sat up from the bed quickly and put her arm around his shoulders and pulled him against her. She was hugging him and Jamie felt the tension in his body leave in a huff. It felt good to be in her arms. Not in the way of male anatomy betrayal on the horizon (though surely that wouldn’t be far off), it was comforting, it was warm- it was something that he had missed since his mother had died.

“Thank you for telling me that Jamie. Really. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Yer welcome, Sassenach. After all, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

[starman-trashcan]

Finally finished my gift exchange piece 😅

It’s for @8-fracturetea !!!

Here you are!!!

~~~~~~~~~

It had been too long since they’d had a nice day like this. The drive out was relaxing and they hadn’t come across any problems. The sun was shining, like pretty much every day, but it wasn’t nearly as sweltering as usual. Winter was Ghoul’s favourite time of year out in the zones, mostly because of the more bearable weather, but really, it was when there were better things to steal from the city because there was so much excess. The holidays meant more food and less time spent on business, which in turn meant chances at actually edible things in supply runs, and of course - what was probably the best thing - the patrols came out a lot less because exterminators had time off.

It looked like it was going to be the perfect day; the four had decided to go to the market to trade, everyone was in a good mood, and Ghoul actually had some things ready that should get them some pretty good stuff. So of course, Show Pony had to be there, ruining everything.

Ghoul was clinging to Kobra, and it looked like nobody else has noticed Pony yet. He hoped it would stay that way, but as soon as they turned around and saw their datemate and crush, it would all be over. He did what anybody would do, and distracted everyone, quickening his pace to walk at the front of the group and making conversation, despite how little he wanted to, so that nobody would turn around.

“Oh, hey there darlings!” Great. They’d seen the group.

He watched in objection as Party smiled and turned, and Jet, who had been chiming in to respond to Ghoul’s pointless conversation topic, stopped mid-sentence when Party’s index finger pressed against his mouth, shutting him up.

“Shhh… Look, Pony’s here too!”

“Huh? Really?”

Ghoul failed at restraining an eyeroll at how dumb the three of them were. Party and Show Pony had been obnoxious together for as long as he could remember since the two had met, and that, combined with Pony’s general dislike for him, was already too much to deal with, but recently, Pony had started flirting with Jet, and that was just a rotten cherry on top of the garbage sundae. At least he and Kobra were subtle and kept their love strictly to themselves. They didn’t ceaselessly bother others with it. Maybe it was just that he hated Pony though. Pony was annoying.

“Hey, Ghoul…” Kobra spoke quietly to him, catching up to lean up against him. “Let’s go see how much stuff we can get for our tech, huh? They’ll catch up with us later.”

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good.”

“You made a couple ‘a pretty nice bombs recently, right?”

“Yeah. I bet Burst is gonna be all over these! We’re gonna get such a nice haul!”

The two of them walked off smiling, close to each other because their arms were too full to hold hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, babes, what are you all here for?” Pony sidled up next to Party and peered into the box that Jet was holding next to them.

“Well, I’ve got whole buncha paint that I made recently, and that’s bound to draw in all the artists, ‘cause I was able ta get some real nice vibrant colours.”

“And how about you, Jetty?”

“Oh, uh, I… I’ve got uh… p-plants…”

“Pardon me if I’m not understanding, but can’t anybody get plants for free?”

“W-well I mean yes, I guess, but… uh…” he trailed off, looking embarrassed, and Party spoke up to help explain.

“He’s been working on medicines and herbal remedies. They’re all of his own creation based on his own knowledge, but he hasn’t had much chance to really show them off, so he’s nervous. You know how joys can be sometimes. We’ve got our traditions, and new things don’t always sit right.”

Pony nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, you have nothing to worry about, hon. We’ve got your back, and we ain’t gonna leave your side.”

“We aren’t? But… I need to trade my paints…”

“Fine. Then I’ll have his back, while you completely abandon him,” they teased.

“What? No, that wasn’t-”

“You’re fine, babe. Now, go on and do your thing, and I’ll take care of Starman.”

They hesitantly gathered their paints from the box Jet was holding and wandered off for the right stalls.

Pony turned to Jet and gave him their familiar smirk.

“You ready to go sell your wares?”

“It’s… it’s trading. Not selling.”

“Yeah yeah, no capitalism and all that, I know. I’m tryin’ to be funny, honey.”

“Oh.”

~~~~~~~

Kobra was enjoying himself a lot more than he thought he would. At first, the group getting separated seemed like it completely defeated the purpose of the trip, and that it would ruin everything. But getting to spend the time alone with his boyfriend was the best thing he could’ve hoped for. Both of them were so excited about their tech and they were getting an amazing about of useful stuff for it. It was almost perfect.

It wasn’t quite perfect though, because he could tell that the crowds and noise were getting to Ghoul. He knew better than to mention it directly, so he needed to help him feel better without drawing attention to it.

“Hey, do you wanna take a break for a bit, maybe get some food, find a nice quiet place to sit down and eat alone? It’ll be like a nice little lunch date.”

“What? Oh, uh, yeah, sounds good, I guess.”

He frowned to himself slightly. Ghoul was worse than he had first thought. Oh well, that could be fixed through peace and quiet and cuddles.

He led Ghoul away from the crowds, back to the car to grab some food, and then toward the main marketplace again, but with a bit of a change in route.

“Uhh… where are we going, Kobra?”

“It’s a secret.”

He smiled as Ghoul just shrugged, and led them to the back of everything, behind all the covered stalls and tents. It was noticeably quieter back there, but not so much that it was uncomfortable, just a constant low buzz of meaningless noise from the other side of sheets of fabric and panels of wood.

“Oh. This is nice,” he smiled. “I never would’ve thought of this. Are we even allowed to be back here?”

“Who cares?”

“Good question.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sorry y’all, but I know when I’m being cheated.”

“Excuse me? My dear darling Jet here is no cheat. His trades are completely fair, and I am appalled that you would even consider him a liar!”

“This is just a bunch of plants. That’s not worth more than maybe a handful of batteries.”

“Forgive me for disagreeing, but you wouldn’t know something of value if it was right under your nose. Which it is! We will just take our business somewhere else!”

Show Pony started to lead Jet away but he whispered to them nervously.

“She’s the only one who has the parts I need though…”

“I know, just roll with it hon.”

“Hey!” The vendor called to the two of them angrily. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but you don’t get to try conning me and then walk away! And I most certainly will take no insults.”

“Maybe you should get out of that holier-than-thou attitude and hear us out then.”

“It’d be a lot easier to believe that your stuff is worth anything if that coward would speak for himself instead of hiding behind you without sayin’ nothing like some kinda city flocker.”

“What did you call him?” Party growled, having been coming over to join them at just the right time to hear.

“You heard me. He’s just following the crowd, not doing anything worthwhile except pretending that bein’ out here now is some justification for how loyal he prob’ly used to be to the city.”

“You don’t know nothin’ about him. He’s desert-born, you freakin’ neutral. Yeah, don’t think I can’t tell. You don’t get to judge true ‘joys you got barely no right even sharin’ the desert with.”

Jet finally spoke up. “Party, hey, it’s not worth it… Don’t start anything. I just want to trade, and if I can’t do that here, I don’t want any trouble for it.”

“Nonsense, darlin’,” Pony drawled, wrapping an arm around him. “Nobody gets to insult you like that. Or any of y’all for that matter. Not even Ghoul.”

Party cleared their throat and looked at the vendor with a fire in their eyes. “Now, miss… Would you like to apologize, or keep diggin’ yourself a bigger hole?”

“I ain’t apologizin’, even if he is a snowstorm.”

“Have it your way.” They cracked their knuckles.

~~~~~~~~~

Ghoul felt much better after getting something to eat and getting out of the crowd. Kobra always knew how to read him and help make sure he didn’t get too anxious, just like he always made sure Kobra didn’t get too lost in his own head or too carried away in a project.

He looked at his boyfriend with adoration, and curled up against him. Kobra smiled down at him and ruffled his hair in that gentle but silly way he always would, and planted a kiss against his now messier scalp.

“Thank you for being you, Kobes.”

“Can’t be anything else, Ghoulie.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He curled up tighter and practically crawled onto his lap.

“Hey, calm down, you don’t need to climb all over me just to cuddle.”

He laughed softly and the two of them cuddled in companionable silence, just getting some time to themselves. Then Ghoul has an idea.

“Climb all over you, you said? Stand up, I wanna get on your back!”

“Ghoul…”

“Stand uuuupp…!”

Kobra relented with a sigh and kissed Ghouls cheek before standing up. Immediately he was practically tackled by his boyfriend trying to climb up and get on his back. Ghoul struggled a bit, but finally got a good hold. He pumped a fist up in celebration before realizing he had to keep a good hold and quickly moved to be more stable, but that much movement couldn’t be good. T was too late, the two of them were toppling over together and- *Rrriiiip*

Suddenly Ghoul was pinned beneath Kobra, and they were both lying face up inside a market stall.

“Ghoul? Kobra?” That was Party’s voice. He wriggled out from under Kobra as his boyfriend got up too, and looked up to see Party, Pony, Jet, and some vendor he didn’t recognize, who spoke up, sounding mad.

“You know these two?! That’s it, all of you, get out!”

He didn’t think that it was such a big deal, but as he studied the situation further, Pony had their confrontational smirk on, Jet looked nervous like he only did when somebody started yelling, and Party looked like they had been just about to throw a punch.

Pony nodded and reached to help Ghoul up, for some reason.

“Yeah, she’s right, let’s get outta here and head home. Now!”

They pushed Ghoul and Kobra out of the tent, following close behind, and all five of them ran to the car.

“That certainly was an exciting day,” Kobra laughed, eliciting a bubbling giggle from Party.

“You have no idea, bro.”

They were all smiling despite being kicked out of the market for today, except Jet, who seemed downcast. Ghoul laid a tentative hand on his shoulder, which was tense.

“You alright?”

“Guess so. Didn’t get to trade any of my stuff, so I didn’t get anything I needed, either.”

Ghoul frowned. He knew how hard Jet had been working, but he didn’t really know what to say, so he went back over to Kobra, who wrapped an arm around him in a nice, tight, half-hug.

“Oh, that’s just what you think, babe. But looks can be… deceiving.” They were holding up a basket of just the supplies he’d been trying to get.

“H-how…?”

“Snagged em as she was distracted with chasin’ us outta there.”

“You stole them?!”

“Hey, you should’ve rightfully owned them. She was just too thick to see that. I’m just givin’ you whatcha deserve.” They grinned and leaned close to him. “And you also deserve… this!” Pony kissed Jet’s cheek, right near his lips and watched in delight and mischief as he blushed and stammered, more flustered than he usually got around them.

What an interesting day indeed. He climbed into the passenger seat, holding Kobra’s hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel, and he shot an apologetic look to Jet as he was dragged into the backseat, squished between the two datemates, both of whom were looking at each other with matching smirks.

A very interesting day indeed. And he could tell it was only going to get more interesting.

[anthracenes]

Rivers | Chapter 9

Tags/Trigger Warnings: Non-Con/Rape, Self-Harm, Abuse of Authority, Anxiety, Childhood Trauma, Abduction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Victim Blaming, Dissociation, Forced Orgasm, Creampie, Kidnapping, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Humiliation, Crying, Angst, Dark, Psychological Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Grooming, Fucked Up, Slut Shaming, Asphyxiation, Spitroasting

[read on AO3 here]

The light switches on. A single lightbulb flickers dimly from one end of the room, casting odd, terrifying shadows across the faces of his two predators.

“Oh? Why, just look at that face,” Robertson coos, climbing onto the bed with them. “He really did fall for it. Just like you said he would.”

Richard shakes his head. Trembling. He can’t process any of the events unfolding before him as anything but a dream: some horrible figment born of his subconscious mind. How else can evil like this exist otherwise? How else can he rationalize to himself ever deserving of such a thing?

Yet—in all of his time here, and with all of his nightmares—he knows none were so cruel as to torment him like this before. There is something beyond vile at play here, something that surpasses even the extent of Richard’s wildest imagination.

He understands even then, deep down, that this is one nightmare he’ll never wake up from.

“Cute little thing you have there, Andrew. You should’ve seen him. The kid was practically melting in my arms—all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, thinking he would finally get to run away from you.”

“Is that so..?” Rivers croons, running his fingers in Richard’s hair. “What a pity. And here I thought you’ve promised to be good for me from now on.”

Rivers sighs—a hint of eagerness in his expression that does not go unnoticed. His gray eyes lock with the pair of fearful ones looking up at him.

“You’ve disappointed me again, Dick. You do know what has to happen now, don’t you? Let’s find out what happens to naughty little boys who go on breakin’ their promises, tryin’ to sneak away...”

The dam bursts, upon hearing this imminent threat. The tears Richard worked so hard to hold back comes streaming down his face, all at once. It’s not the first Rivers has levied against him in all this time, but Richard knows him far too well to doubt the validity of his intent—or the severity of his actions.

“... Mr. R-Rivers… p… please! I… I d-didn’t mean to…! I’ll be… good… please….”

Both Robertson and Rivers only chuckle at his outburst.

“You hear that? Poor thing didn’t mean it,” he insists, pinching his tear-stained cheeks. The officer licks away at Richard’s tears, wearing a smile on his face that betrays just how much he’s savoring this moment. “Did you, Richie? You were just trying so hard to be good. You didn’t mean to break your promise, did you?”

Richard shakes his head, sniffling. Between the men surrounding him, he can’t be sure yet who was the more sadistic of the two. Still, Richard can’t help but to gravitate towards the saccharine poison, clinging to any bit of softness he can get.

He certainly can’t afford to get on the other’s bad side now—not after having upset Rivers this badly.

“He’ll get the wrong idea if you keep spoilin’ him like that, Paul. Wouldn’t want the boy thinkin’ he can get away with anything now, just by battin’ his eyes and utterin’ a little apology.”

“You may be right there…” Robertson hums, considering the possibilities in his head. “... but I have a feeling that a bit of tenderness will work better to teach this one.”

“What do you think, Andrew? Should we…?”

After a few seconds of silence between them, Robertson and Rivers both break into laughter. Watching their eerie grins, illuminated by the faint lighting, it’s as if their lighthearted banter were only part of some coordinated performance Richard has no script for. He’s left to let his imagination run wild, guessing at what they could have in store for him as both men take their time undressing.

“Why, you bring up a good point,” Rivers says, chuckling. He lifts him off his lap, propping Richard’s head atop a few pillows before sliding off his own trousers. “I think we should. After all, I should know just how much my little star student here craves love and tenderness more than anything in the world.”

Rivers grabs a bottle of lube from the nightstand. He dribbles a generous amount onto himself, palming his own cock to hardness.

“Alright, Dick. We’ll give you one more chance to do right by us. Why don’t you show us a good time, to demonstrate how sorry you are for tryin’ to run away?”

“All you’d have to do is have us finish,” Robertson chimes in. “Put that mouth and hole of yours to good use, while you reflect on what you’ve done. If you do a good enough job, we’ll forgive you. That should be easy enough, for a star pupil like you?”

Before Richard could think to respond, however, Rivers cuts him off.

“Not so fast, Dick. There’s just one more thing…”

Rivers brushes a lubed finger against Richard’s flaccid dick, running it across the tip and drawing a shiver from him.

“See this? This right here?” He leans in close, whispering into his ear. “I want you to keep it just like this until we’re all finished. No having fun yet until we’re done with you. We all know how much of a cockslut you are, but this is us givin’ you another chance.

“Consider this your only warnin’, Dick. If you come before either of us, I’m personally doublin’ your punishment from before. Understand?”

Richard swallows. Knowing Rivers, there’s no way he’d make something like this easy—but he can’t help feeling a little hopeful despite himself. It’s not like he wants any of this, anyways. The thought of either of them makes him ill. And even if his traitorous body decides it has other plans, lasting longer than two middle-aged men shouldn’t be that difficult either. If this is what it takes to avoid another one of Rivers’ punishments, it’s certainly not the worst situation he could possibly find himself in.

He nods slowly, throat going dry.

“Now there’s a good boy…” Robertson murmurs, stroking his face. “I can see why you’re still Andrew’s favorite student, after all these years.”

The officer grabs his black uniform from the discarded pile of clothes on the bed. Before Richard could tell what he was planning to do, Robertson had rolled up the shirt and placed it over his eyes—fastening it into a makeshift blindfold.

With how securely the cloth is tied around his head now, Richard could no longer see a thing.

“Wha—”

“Shh… It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over, Richie.”

He feels a finger gently placed onto his lips.

“You want to show us how sorry you are, don’t you? Why don’t you start right here then, with that lovely mouth of yours?”

The finger works its way in. Richard does his best, licking and suckling on the digit, turning it over and under around his tongue. One finger becomes two, which eventually becomes three and four in his mouth. With his vision gone, it was hard not to get lost in the sensation of it—sucking blindly for some time like that, as if these fingers were Richard’s only connection to the world outside his blindfold.

“There you go… Just like that. Doesn’t this feel good? It’s so much better when you let go and obey…”

He’s almost lulled into a sense of complacency this way, because the feeling of rough hands on his hips catches him by surprise. His legs are hoisted atop what he thinks is Rivers’ shoulders and, before he could think to react, Richard suddenly feels the twitching, wet head of the man’s prick pressed against his entrance.

“Wait no, not y—”

His next words are lost to him as Richard cries out, throwing his head back as the head of his cock pops past the tight ring of muscle. He’s panting, breathing heavily through his open mouth as he feels himself stretching and stretching impossibly around Rivers, who slides inside him in one slick thrust.

Within seconds, he’s become so unbelievably full.  

Richard moans, feverish and sick. It’s so much. It’s so much. The feeling of Rivers’ cock against his walls, the way his hole flutters and tenses around the wide girth—he’s forced to feel every bit of it, in far more detail and clarity than the night he’s lost his innocence. He rolls his eyes back behind the blindfold as he feels Rivers slowly pressing in, further and further until the man eventually bottoms out. Somehow, without being able to see for himself, Richard could picture the older man now: balls deep inside of him, jutting obscenely out of his stomach as he fills it to the brim.

In all the times he had been taken by Rivers, never once had he felt anything remotely like the way he feels now, blindfolded and stretched wide around his prick. It fills him so much, so completely, that it leaves him speechless—no room for words, thoughts, or anything else. By the time he realizes it’s only his lack of sight playing tricks on his senses, it’s much too late for him.

Richard is already hard, cock swelling and twitching to life in between his legs.

“Oh? What’s this now?” Rivers drawls. He wraps his fingers around his shaft, rubbing his thumb mercilessly against the head. “We’ve only just started, and you’re already gaggin’ for it here. Little slut. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re just beggin’ to be punished.”

Next to him, Robertson chuckles. The man pulls his fingers out from within his mouth, using them instead to pry his jaw open. Holding his head steady in his hands, he slides his length inside of Richard’s mouth nice and slow.

“I suppose you were right after all, Andrew. The kid cries and protests around you, but slips into his role just fine at the end of the day. No need for foreplay at all with this one; eager little thing. I’m even willing to bet he’d done it just for the punishment all along.”

Richard’s a mess; inside and out. Tears stream down his cheeks as he sucks and rocks his hips back and forth, doing his best to keep pace and pleasure both men while desperately holding his own at bay. Between the perpetual darkness and the mind-numbing assault on both his holes, however, it’s getting harder to even remember why.

He can hear voices around him talking, but none of the words make any sense in his ears.

He keeps trying to remember something, but it slips away from his mind with each hit to his prostate.

Every thrust, every drag against his tongue, his insides, is only made that much more in this overwhelming darkness—magnified tenfold until he feels little more than simply a mouth and a hole to fuck.

Everything feels hazy.

His mind’s in pieces.

Before long, there’s nothing left of him but his basest responses. His tongue laps up the salty, musky taste of the officer inside his mouth. His hips grind against the older man, mindlessly chasing his own orgasm. He groans, delirious, as he feels his own cock heavy and leaking with precum—ready to burst at a moment’s notice.

“Are you going to come, Dick? Do you want to be a naughty boy and come before us?”

Richard nods, head lolling back and forth on the bed.

He moans as hands roam freely about his body, stroking at his nipples, his cock, and every erogenous zone in between. There’s no place they touched that hadn’t felt electrifying on his skin, burning his nerves raw with sheer bliss. He’s gasping with each stab of pleasure thrust into him, each little drag closer to throwing him off the edge. By the time the blindfold is pulled off of him, his eyes are rolled back to his head—little strips of white on his otherwise blank expression.

The shock of spilling his brains out is the last thing he feels.