#Sugar beach resort

[mauioceanfrontvacationrentals]

Is Hawaii Expensive for Vacation? Tips for Budget-Friendly Hawaii Vacation Rentals

Hawaii, often called the "Paradise of the Pacific," is a dream destination for many travelers. Its breathtaking beaches, lush landscapes, and unique culture make it a sought-after vacation spot. However, one common concern when planning a trip to Hawaii is the potential expense. We'll explore the cost factors associated with a Hawaiian vacation, focusing on budget-friendly options like Hawaii vacation rentals and Hawaii vacation rentals by owner.

Accommodation: Opt for Hawaii Vacation Rentals

Accommodation costs in Hawaii can vary significantly based on your preferences and the island you choose to visit. If you want to save money while enjoying comfort and convenience, consider Hawaii vacation rentals. These rentals, often managed by owners, can offer more affordable alternatives to traditional hotels and resorts. You can find many options, from cozy beachfront cottages to spacious condos and villas.

Advantages of Hawaii Vacation Rentals by Owner:

Cost Savings: One of the primary benefits of booking directly with an owner is cost savings. You can often secure better rates for your Hawaii vacation rental by eliminating middlemen or management fees.

Personalized Experience: Dealing with the owner directly can result in a more personalized experience. You can ask questions, discuss your needs, and get insider tips on the best local attractions and dining options.

Variety of Choices: Hawaii vacation rentals by owner come in various sizes and styles, catering to different group sizes and preferences. You can choose a rental that suits your budget and desired amenities.

Transportation:

Getting to Hawaii can be a significant expense, especially if you're traveling from a distant location. To save on airfare, be flexible with your travel dates, use fare comparison websites, and book your flights well in advance. Once in Hawaii, consider renting a car if you plan to explore multiple locations, as this can be cost-effective compared to relying solely on taxis or tours.

Food and Dining:

While dining in Hawaii can be pricey at upscale restaurants, you can still savor the local cuisine on a budget. Look for local plate lunch spots, food trucks, and farmers' markets for affordable yet delicious meals. If your vacation rental includes a kitchen, take advantage of it by buying groceries and cooking some of your meals.

Activities and Attractions:

Hawaii offers numerous activities and attractions that won't break the bank. Enjoy the stunning beaches, hiking trails, and scenic viewpoints, many of which are free or have a minimal entrance fee. Consider booking discounted activity packages or exploring the islands independently to save on costs.

It can be, but with careful planning and by choosing budget-friendly options like Hawaii vacation rentals and Hawaii vacation rentals by owner, you can enjoy the beauty and culture of the islands without overspending. So, start planning your affordable Hawaiian getaway today and experience the magic of Hawaii without the hefty price tag. Aloha!

[holidaysforus]

Indulge in Tropical Luxury at Sugar Beach Resort Hotel

Experience the ultimate tropical getaway at Sugar beach resort hotel. Located on the pristine shores of a sun-kissed beach, this exquisite resort offers luxurious accommodations, exceptional amenities, and stunning ocean views. Perfect for couples, families, and solo travelers, Sugar Beach Resort Hotel provides a serene escape with gourmet dining, a world-class spa, and a variety of water sports and recreational activities. Immerse yourself in the beauty and tranquility of this beachfront paradise. Book your stay at Sugar beach resort hotel today and create unforgettable memories in a tropical haven.

[writersdrug]

I fully believe that Simon "Ghost" Riley wouldn't want an expensive, lavish honeymoon after your wedding. Of course, if that's what you dream of, he'll do it for you. He'd do anything for the person who loved him enough to marry him, scars and all. You want a beach-front, warm getaway in Costa Rica, filled with sunsets and quiet time by the waves? Say no more, he's looking for first class tickets already. You like the sound of a ski resort, surrounded by snowy alpines and hot chocolates, holding hands on the ski lifts and racing down the hills (you'd beat him every time, he's not one for winter sports)? He's asking if you'd prefer Smuggler's Notch in Vermont, or Vail Ski in Colorado. He'll do it if it's with you. He'll do anything for you.

But ask Simon what he wants, and he'll give you such a domestic answer: two or three weeks, somewhere in the United Kingdom, in a cottage backed up against the woods - preferably in autumn, when the leaves will be orange, the air will be misty, and the soft rain will be just enough to drown out his anxieties. Sure, he'd love to go hiking with you in Lake District, finding a good spot under the cover of the dense trees, listening to the sound of the babbling river and showing off his camping skills - harmlessly bickering with you about how it's not considered camping if you're in a cabin with electricity and running water. He rents an SUV and folds the seats down, throwing a mattress, blankets, and pillows in the back so the both of you can cuddle together while watching the stars.

But really, he just wants to exist with you for a while - as a married couple. He wants to wake up next to you without having anywhere to be at the ass crack of dawn, taking his time to watch the way you breathe so softly, the way you're always holding onto some part of him while you sleep, whether that's your arm wrapped around his bicep, your hand fisting his shirt, or your being wrapped tightly around his soul. He wants to cook meals with you, watch as you sway to whatever music you put on the telly, butt-bumping him as you chop vegetables and he stirs the pot on the stove. He wants to be next to you as you drag him around the rainy streets of Manchester, stepping into every bookstore or plant nursery you pass, eventually landing in a coffee shop and sitting close to each other, talking over a vanilla latte and a black coffee about how wainscoting is a gorgeous addition to homes, and how it's a crime that people tend to tear it down in modern decor. He promises to install some himself just for you, wherever you want it.

He wants to spend quiet nights at home, curled under the blanket on the couch, some random movie playing on the telly and the space heater blowing warm air on the both of you - he's too mesmerized at the way you're twirling the golden wedding band around your ring finger, biting back a smile every time you glance down at it (he has a wedding band too - but he'd never take it on missions. Instead, he has a simple line tattooed around his ring finger for when he has to leave the ring behind). He wants to make love to you, leaving soft kisses and nips along your skin, rolling his hips into you slowly and sensually, losing himself in the quiet moans, whispered I love you's, and the feeling of your nails carving the memory into the skin of his back. He wants to rest with himself inside of you, cradling you to his chest as he mumbles sleepily, "I love you, want to marry you every day of my life..." his rough hand tracing your skin, committing every bump, every curve, every vein to his memory. He wants to fall asleep there, letting go of his anxieties, any thoughts of doubt rolling off of his shoulders when he presses kisses to the back of your neck, his fingers slowly fiddling with the ring on your finger.

You're his quiet. His peace. You're soft sweaters, the sugar cube he drops into a warm mug of tea in his hands, the raindrops gently landing on his face, the smell of earth and pine at the edge of the woods, the sound of wood crackling in a warm fire. You're gentle, even when you're excited and bouncy, smothering him in kisses or forcing him to dance with you on the back patio. He knows you'll both have to leave this solace soon, returning to work like the wedding had never happened, forced to be cogs in the machine of society. But to Simon, each day after this will be a day he's married to you - each day will be a blessing, a reason to thank the universe, a reason to smile as he crosses the threshold of your shared home, a reason to crack his dad jokes outside of missions, a reason to join you on your weekly grocery runs, a reason to buy flowers once a week to replace the previous ones.

You're his peace.

[after-witch]

Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]

Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up. 

Word count: 17,510

Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse

Thursday

Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you don’t realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before it’s too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away. 

A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your mother’s purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs. 

They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life. 

It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but you’d never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didn’t want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.

Did it matter? You weren’t getting out anytime soon, anyway.

Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season. 

The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.

The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.

The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town you’ve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dad’s test results came back) it gets wearisome.

Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, you’d be stupid to deny that it’s more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner. 

That’s why you’ve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because it’s the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but they’re not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There aren’t gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because they’re parents didn’t understand the necessity of sunscreen; there aren’t groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.

It’s mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.

Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.

Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes. 

And over there--the early birds. They’ve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New  York. They’re attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and you’ve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more “authentic.’ 

Sure, there’s the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. He’s balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. They’ll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.

It’s time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably won’t ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip they’ll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and they’re spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago… he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.

It would have been terribly romantic. 

Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces. 

Maybe that’s why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.

With people watching in mind,  you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running. 

Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldn’t be replicated during the day.

You don’t notice the stranger at first. It’s dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. What’s one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?

But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as… odd. He’s just standing there.

Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?

He’s wearing all black, and there’s some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but there’s something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.

What a creep. 

It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldn’t be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if they’d be drinking. 

Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild. 

So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but it’s not fair to waste a night of good weather.

Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.

Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists don’t bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isn’t lit-up and there’s no particular reason to head out this way. 

But you’d been to this beach in the evening before; you weren’t scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.

Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?

Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.

“I’m sorry,” a voice calls out, penitent. “Did I scare you? I’m trying to get reception.” The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.

After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket. 

He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. “Are you all right? I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. “Um, yeah.” You laugh, an empty sound. “I guess I’m just a little jumpy tonight.”

The moonlight doesn’t give you a clear view of the man’s features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. “Jumpy?”

The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.

“Someone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.” You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. “He was staring at me, but I couldn’t see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.”

The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, weren’t you? Maybe the guy wasn’t even looking at you in the first place.

“Can I walk you back to the carnival? It doesn’t feel right to leave you here alone.” 

Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.

“No, that’s okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. I’m going home soon, anyway.” Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right? 

The man doesn’t turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.

“You want me to walk you back to the carnival,” he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman. 

Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway. 

You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.

Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, he’s not really a stranger, is he? 

And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. He’s cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark. 

Even if you weren’t familiar with most of the town’s residents in one way or another,  you’d know he was an outsider from the way he’s dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans… not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.

As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--”around.” He admits that he’s only in town for the carnival week. 

“I figured,” you say lightly enough.

He raises his eyebrows. “Is it that easy to tell?”

You put your hands into your pockets and look around you. 

“I mean, it’s a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.”

His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how it’s so charming in the first place.  “That makes sense.” He considers you for a moment. “You like to watch the tourists, then?”

You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.

“I like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,” and as you’re saying it, you don’t know why you’re telling him this so openly. “Sometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where they’re from or what they do or a backstory like they’re from a movie or whatever.” 

Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? You’ve got to get out of this town more.

But he doesn’t seem like he’s judging you. If anything, he looks interested. 

“And what would you imagine for me?”

The question is unexpected. 

“I think…” You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? He’d be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe? 

“I think you’re some sort of… librarian. Or a curator. A collector?” You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. “The point is, you’re traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought you’d take in some local culture.” You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. “But walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,” you add, with a cheeky grin. “To come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.” 

He doesn’t smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way. 

“My name is Chrollo,” he says. “May I have yours?”

Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story. 

Maybe you shouldn’t give your name. But there’s a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.

I mean… a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? You’d be stupid to say no. 

So you give it. 

At that, he finally smiles again.

“Well, then,” he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope he’ll say it again in the future, “I hope I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

--

“Help! Someone help me! For God’s sake!”

Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasn’t loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.

He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes. 

His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness. 

Jake Jensen died screaming.

--

Friday

You tell yourself that you’re only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didn’t come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night. 

The sun has just set, and it’s a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner… Jake Jensen isn’t in his usual spot at the games, but maybe he’s sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.

“Hello again.”

Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.

“Hey,” you say, coolly, like you didn’t just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesn’t last long, but you fill it anyway. “You um, want some popcorn?”

But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like he’s never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?

Better to fill the silence again.

“Well, what do you think?” You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. “It’s my favorite because it’s fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.”

Chrollo hums in agreement. “I see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.” 

You decide on the spot that you’re going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. “No biggie. Buuut… you will owe me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh? And what will I owe you?”

It’s your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. “A ride on the Ferris wheel once it’s properly dark would be nice.”

A snort, though his nose. “I think I can manage that.”

He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.

Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. He’s great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse. 

You learn other things, too. Like, he’s a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesn’t interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear he’s not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows he’s actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere “private” like some other guys.

It’s nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town who’s so thoughtful.

The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and you’re one of the last rides of the night. 

When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. It’s a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.

But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.

“Are you scared?” Chrollo’s voice is low--you could swear he’s teasing, but there’s something else in there, too. 

“Yeah,” you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. “Of course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?”

Chrollo tilts his head. “You’d be dead.” 

You can’t help but grin. He’s so to-the-point sometimes. It’s charming in its own way, although you can’t exactly describe what “its own way” means with Chrollo. It’s like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.

“And I don’t want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.” 

Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. “No? How long do you want to live, then?”

The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe it’s not so bad. He’s good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place. 

Maybe it’s the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe it’s the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like you’re in some wonderful haze of a dream. 

Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.

“Long enough to achieve my dreams,” you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. “Whatever they might be. I haven’t figured them out yet.”

Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them. 

Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. He’s looking right at you, and it’s no mistake or figment of your imagination.

Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger. 

“There--look! Look!” 

Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.

But now--there’s no one there.

“What do you see?” He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.

“The man… the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.” Your chest hurts; fear hurts. 

Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.

“You’re all right. I’m here.” 

He holds your chin in his fingers. “You’re safe, do you understand?”

The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesn’t even seem strange that he’s touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand. 

Chrollo smiles. 

“Let me kiss you,” he says simply.

And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do? 

But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.

“Wait.” You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. “Would you like to kiss me?”

Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and he’s been so thoughtful all day, and now he’s here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.

A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all. 

“Yes,” you answer, simply. “I would.”

Chrollo’s finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind. 

--

The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.

Well, to the dying woman’s credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.

No one did.

Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me? 

The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.

This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth. 

Her husband didn’t seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--”Don’t fucking waste it, Uvo”--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.

The husband, like the wife, would be shared.

Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.

There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.

There would be enough to gorge.

--

Saturday:

Three people are dead. 

You didn’t know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.

Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--”Due to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,” said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the diner’s singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.

People die all the time. Sure. But…  dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd. 

Yet now, in one morning, there are three. 

Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.

And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.

“Mighta been a bear,” says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.

“I heard they were drained of blood!” Your head--and others’ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. It’s not a local. Someone who’s far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your diner’s less than stellar fruit salad option. He’s oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. “Two puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.”

Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.

Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.

If they were murdered--and it’s an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just don’t happen in your town--then… could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one who’s been following you around the carnival?

Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.

It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.

And you’d be seeing him again tonight.

They weren’t canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. It’s sad. But life is sad. 

You don’t want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasn’t the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that you’d flirted with back. He was the first one that you’d ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.

So.

You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight. 

And you can’t do that if you’re thinking about Jake Jensen’s body washing up on the beach or if there’s a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--

What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?

--

You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days. 

There’s no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, there’s room--your stomach growls--but you can’t imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrollo’s lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).

You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But that’s not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didn’t really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you can’t even focus on a hot date. 

Fuck. 

“Daydreaming again?” 

The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his mother’s hand on the first day of school. 

He’s holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar he’s holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.

Perhaps there’s bitterness in it, because as soon as you’re standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.

“Are you all right?” 

Well. You don’t want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldn’t it? It’s better to get it out of the way. 

“Sorry, it’s… I don’t know if you saw the news?” He says nothing, and you continue. “Those people that they found dead this morning.” Your lips press together. “I mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasn’t a jerk about it.”

Chrollo hums.

“I can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.” 

Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. “For you too though, right? I mean, it’s not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news. 

“Shit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?” A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.

“Something like that,” he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. “It’s alright. I’m not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.” He looks at you a little curiously. “But I can see how it would rattle you.”

You open your mouth, but you don’t know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.

“Come on.” Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. “I know what might take your mind off things.”

For once, you’re glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game. 

You’re even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isn’t so much “glory” as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.

Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadn’t been replaced in the many years you’d been coming here in the summer.

You tug on Chrollo’s arm and point the man out. “What do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thing…”

“I don’t doubt it.” Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesn’t linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival. 

The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes. 

You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and won’t go in.

“Are you scared?” You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.

But Chrollo doesn’t smile or laugh. “They make me dizzy,” he says, quietly. There’s something behind his words, but you don’t know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, you’re not sure. “Think nothing of it, dear.”

Dear.

You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again. 

This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him? 

It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose. 

He’s standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.

And he’s staring straight up at you.

You don’t think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: “There! He’s there! Look, look--look!” 

And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.

Your goosebumps remain.

“We should talk to the police,” you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.

Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The “Do you really think the police will do anything about this?” sort of look. 

“I’ve been thinking…” You squeeze Chrollo’s hand and he squeezes back and that’s all you need to keep going. “That maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?”

Chrollo’s eyes widen just a little. It’s both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if it’s only a bit. 

“I heard…” You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldn’t feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasn’t given you a reason to feel like you can’t tell him things. “Someone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe… like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I don’t know. But maybe they were killed.”

“Perhaps he’s a vampire,” Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. “Well. He wouldn’t be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?”

At least he didn’t say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.

He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“I’ll inform the police,” he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing--to be watched and protected.

You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guy’s a killer, they’ll catch him. If he’s not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer.

Things will be normal soon.

When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.

“I was thinking,” he says, “that we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you don’t mind, that is.”

You don’t mind at all. 

“Do you like trails?” You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. “It’d be a bit more private. As long as you’re not scared of the dark.”

Chrollo chuckles. It’s a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you. 

“I’m not if you aren’t,” is all he says, and that’s enough for you to point out the way.

Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights. 

“I’m surprised to see these,” Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since you’d been up here more times than you could count.

“Mm,” you murmur. “Locals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.” Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you don’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to know about your high school escapades. “They added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.”

“Clever,” he says. 

--

The waterfall is loud when you’re this close; so loud you can’t hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that it’s lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though you’ve never been certain if it was a true story or not.

Regardless, you’re not sure you want to stay. No--you know you don’t want to stay. 

This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you don’t really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.

Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where there’s more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, you’re just being smart!) he won’t mind. 

“I think we should go back,” you say, but Chrollo can’t hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. “I think we should go back!”

You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, you’d rather wait until you’re back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.

“It’s all right,” he says, and it’s the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. “You know that you’re safe with me. You don’t want to go back yet.”

How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didn’t even show him the best part yet.

“Come on!” It’s your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes. 

“Is there a cave?” Chrollo asks--and again, you’re struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you. 

“You sure know your way around local watering holes,” you jest. 

He merely smiles. “I travel a lot.”

With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.

The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less. 

“Do you like it?” You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadn’t been in for ages? The same reason why you’d spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didn’t brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.

Chrollo was so different from the others you’ve met at the summer carnival. 

Maybe that’s why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.

It’s just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.

It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening. 

But… it didn’t have to be the end of the evening, did it? 

You ask him, this time. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” 

“I do,” he says. “Very much so.”

This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.

--

Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags. 

Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.

Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monsters’ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water. 

“This is a lovely spot,” said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it.  “The waterfall adds a nice touch.” 

The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess. 

The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled. 

“It came highly recommended.” 

--

Sunday: The Final Day

Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought he’d be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.

Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex. 

You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.

But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room. 

Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didn’t he? Just like the others, just like--

But just when you’re about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.

Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand. 

Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in  your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note. 

Dear--

Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.

I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, won’t you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.

Of course he didn’t fuck and run. He wouldn’t do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.

The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didn’t tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.

It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.

But he didn’t, so you’re left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, that’s wrong.  That’s not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parent’s house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.

But… was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didn’t want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.

It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.

Although you don’t really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.

Somehow, you don’t believe that.  You just know. 

Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--

And if it was that same man… the one who was staring at you, stalking you… how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?

Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all. 

--

You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, it’s hard to feel too enthused. 

Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, he’ll see how nice it is here (it’s not) and maybe he’ll want to settle down (he won’t). 

Oh, how stupid. It’s like when you’d meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and you’d beg their parents together to extend their vacation.

It wasn’t going to happen. You’ll never see him again after tonight, and you’ll go your separate ways, and that’s that. 

Reality sucks sometimes.

You’re still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrollo’s now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of “your” plural. 

You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.

Chrollo, to your surprise, doesn’t smile back.

Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like they’re something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.

“You seem a bit sad,” he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. It’s not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and you’ll never see him again.

Perhaps it’s the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.

“I’m just sad that you’ll be leaving.” He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. “That we won’t see each other after tonight,” you clarify. 

You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, “We’ll just make the most of it.” 

Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.

“We don’t have to part, you know.”

It’s your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. “You could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?”

Chrollo finally smiles at you. 

“My life is flexible. But,” and now he pulls you up so that you’re standing. It’s a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--he’s stronger than he looks. “I was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.”

The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.

But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments. 

“What? You’re not serious.” You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like it’s plastered on and cracking underneath. There’s a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know that’s not what he’s talking about.

This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue. 

Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that you’re keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and he’s smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.

Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game. 

Chrollo’s voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming. 

“We can talk about it later, if you’d like. Let’s go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.” 

That would be nice.

“I’d like that.” 

And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesn’t take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.

If you weren’t so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.

--

The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. It’s nice, this extra time with him--it’ll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all. 

What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?

The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you can’t see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.

All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.

Chrollo’s grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” he says softly.

Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable “we’ll never see each other again but it was a blast” speech. You knew it was coming. Doesn’t make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?

“Me too,” you say, and it’s not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was… well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didn’t even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.

He was good in bed, too, wasn’t he? You blink and realize you don’t actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasn’t there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--

It’s all fuzzy. But you weren’t drunk. So why--

“Have you thought about what I said?” He asks, and once again you’re pulled away from your thoughts, although this time you’d like to focus on them. Why couldn’t you fully remember last night?

When you don’t answer, he raises his eyebrows.

“About coming with me,” he says, a bit louder, as if you can’t hear him over the carnival din.

You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.

“You’re serious?” You don’t mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. “Sorry. I just--I didn’t know if you really meant it.”

“I am,” is all he says.

You didn’t like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because there’s some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.

“Chrollo, I can’t do that. I have a job here. A life.”

Chrollo doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense. 

“A job at a local diner slinging hash browns,” he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You can’t tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.

“Don’t you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?” One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. “You could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.” 

An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--

“My family,” you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that you’ve spoken. 

His lips press thinner. “You could write to them, call them. No matter at all.”

Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as he’s done every time.

You wait until he’s escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him. 

“Chrollo, I can’t--” You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. “I don’t know you. Not… really. Not enough to give up my life here.”

Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because you’ve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway.  You wish he hadn’t asked again before the night was over, but there’s no way to fix it now.

You’re ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears don’t come. You’re prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--

“Come along,” is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?

But you take his hand anyway. 

“It would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.” 

His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe you’re imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.

This doesn’t feel right, suddenly. He’s upset, that’s why he’s holding you so tightly. Or maybe you’re upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesn’t feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that it’s better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach. 

“Maybe I should just go home,” you yell over the crowd. 

Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust. 

“And miss the grand finale?”

You should insist on going home. Everything’s gone shitty. It’s too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--

“Come to the concert,” he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, you’ll go to the concert. What else would you do? 

He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving. 

--

Booze, sweat, and popcorn. That’s all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band you’ve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.

Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although he’s not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.

You feel bad. That must be why there’s a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course he’d ask you to come with him--if he’s the type to live so freely, he wouldn’t think twice about making the offer. He just doesn’t understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.

You can’t hold something like that against him, so you don’t. 

Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one last…

All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. He’s standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms. 

And he’s looking right at you.

“Chrollo--” There’s no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.

But he’s gone. He’s just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.

“What is it, love?” 

The nickname doesn’t even register.

“That--the man--the guy from before--he was there.” Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. “Can we leave? Please?” 

Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesn’t tell you that of course, we’ll leave, of course, I’ll get you somewhere safe, of course, let’s talk to the police. 

“Hush.” One hand begins to pet your hair. “Not much longer now. It’ll be over soon.” 

“What do you…”

Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--he’s standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. He’s not looking at you, but that doesn’t make it any less unnerving. 

Your eyes dart over the crowd.

There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you can’t describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.

And then in a few blinks, they’re all gone. Like they were never there.

Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, it’s just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic. 

“Chrollo,” you manage, voice shaky. “Something’s wrong. There’s people, they seem--it’s---I don’t know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--”

Chrollo doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.

“You’ll miss the concert,” he whispers in your ear.

Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why he’s not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.

The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.

“Dude, what the fuck, we’re playing up here, you can’t just--”

Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singer’s head off with a single punch. 

The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage. 

There’s a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.

And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until it’s gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.

It’s that moment when people finally begin to scream.

Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and she’s there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someone’s neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve. 

You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someone’s arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood. 

That’s not all he hit.  The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.

You’re not entirely sure if you said Chrollo’s name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, he’s simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.

Like people aren’t screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isn’t flying. Like you aren’t seeing things that you’ve only seen in shitty horror movies. 

He’s in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.

“Chrollo! We have to go! Now!” 

He doesn’t move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you. 

He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.

“You’ve had time to think about it, haven’t you? Will you stay with me?” 

Oh, he’s definitely in shock. That doesn’t stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach. 

“You’ve lost your fucking mind. Let’s go!” 

You don’t register what’s happened until you’ve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.

There’s a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when you’re on your own two feet, he’s not there anymore.

You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if he’s nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.

There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and you’re not sure of anything in the world because he’s there. 

Standing in front of you.

Close enough to touch. 

Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and it’s not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what you’re seeing.

He’s got fangs.

Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck. 

They’re vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires. 

There’s a brief, panicked thought--where’s Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and you’re scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.

If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.

But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.

You didn’t dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldn’t work: you couldn’t run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and he’d catch up with you even if you weren’t panicked and in pain.

You had to hide.  But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.

Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.

It’s this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.

The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. It’s hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.

You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which you’d forgotten about; but it wasn’t your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadn’t actually been inside a fun house in years. 

The glass maze. All-see through panels that you’d smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it… something, behind you. 

No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away. 

You can’t tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:

He’s there--he’s here--he’s going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.

You scream, at some point, and it’s dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.

Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe you’re just good at completing mazes when you’re in fear for your life; whatever the reason,  you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until you’re at the end of the hallway. 

A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope. 

You don’t try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.

The second floor isn’t entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and there’s a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.

It’s not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. It’s what’s down below. 

They’re all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like they’ve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways. 

All of them have blood around their mouths. 

Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up. 

You don’t wake up.

Instead, you hear a metal clang.

Then another.

And another.

Someone is coming up the stairs.

Thoughts dart here and there, but there’s nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. There’s a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. There’s still a monster waiting to kill you.

The metal clangs again, and again, and again.

He’s coming up the stairs and he’s going to kill you. You’re going to die. Today. Now. 

Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--

It’s not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs. 

It’s Chrollo.

It’s like you blink and you’re in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesn’t look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises. 

“Thank God you’re here. Thank God you’re okay,” you say, reflexively. “Thank God, thank God, thank God.”

Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, “God? An interesting choice, my dear, considering…”

You aren’t even really listening. You’re just happy. Delirious, even. Chrollo’s here. He’ll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow. 

There’s an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.

You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrollo’s arm. 

“We have to get out of here. Somehow. I don’t--maybe we can distract them?” Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if he’s too far away for you to properly make them out.

Chrollo doesn’t move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you won’t make it a step off the slide before being attacked.

The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.

Your hand tightens on Chrollo’s arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I won’t die alone.

Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man who’s been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.

Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man. 

“Wait a moment, will you, Feitan?”

There were many things you might have said in this moment.  Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is: 

“Huh?”

And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you don’t think you’ll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers. 

Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. You’re stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material. 

In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all. 

When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, he’s no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while. 

He’s a vampire. 

“I advise you not to run,” he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically. 

You do, because you aren’t a fucking moron. Though you don’t make it far, as it doesn’t do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.

He’s faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain don’t care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.

In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.

He doesn’t. It doesn’t. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.

When you’re aware of the world again, there’s still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.

Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy. 

“I know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you don’t listen to my orders. Do you understand?” 

The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrollo’s expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and you’re having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.

And you have. You’ve learned that he’s a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that he’s not even a person.

“I understand,” you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, “that you’re a fucking monster.” You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin. 

At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.

“You didn’t speak so crudely to me earlier this week.” A little smile. “Last night notwithstanding.” 

Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--

“I didn’t know you were a… a… fucking vampire earlier this week.” 

Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts. 

Chrollo doesn’t look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.

“Regardless,” Chrollo says, “respect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?” There’s still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest. 

“Fuck you.” This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.

The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.

Feitan’s hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--

He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole. 

You cry out, you shriek, but he doesn’t let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. You’re shoved towards Chrollo, who doesn’t grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.

When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a shark’s. 

“I’d like you to stay put this time,” he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. “And not run away from me. I’d like you to listen, and refrain from being… impulsive.” 

He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. “I could make you do it, you know. I don’t have to ask.”

Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times he’d told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him? 

And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.

“Like hell,” you mutter.

Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.

“I don’t believe I heard you, dear.”

You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper. 

“Like. Hell.” 

The slap you give him is weak. You’re surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered. 

But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.

You don’t have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, you’ll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe you’ll get away, someway, somehow.

You don’t get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldn’t be there, something taught and thin. A wire? 

You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldn’t be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground. 

Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but it’s hard to tell, over the pain.

Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not. 

Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and you’re left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this. 

Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; it’s like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--he’s looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.

It’s Chrollo who speaks.

“I would like an apology for your behavior.”

If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.

And he wants an apology?

You want him to go away. To not be real.

You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.

So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.

Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once. 

When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping. 

“F…fuck you.” 

Stupid words, you know. But you’d rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood. 

Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:

“Want me to do it, boss?”

Your eyes dart around, but you can’t see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.

Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.

“No,” he says, finally. “Feitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.”

Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesn’t disagree.

The words reach you, but you don’t take them in for a slow moment. 

Break… break… what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--

There’s a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. It’s Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.

When he pulls back, you see him move, but don’t know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitan’s boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.

Time itself is hot and painful. You’re not sure how long it goes. You’re only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they don’t move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up. 

It’s not like you could run, anyway.

At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? There’s no hope in your chest, no thought that they’ll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them. 

Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like they’re being spoken through water. 

“Take care of them, will you? We’ll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.” A question from someone. A pause. “Yes, I’ll handle her.” 

The voices fade away. Either because they’ve walked away, or you’re finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.

Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish you’d let them kill you quick. 

Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. He’s a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.

He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper. 

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.

“Kill you? Of course not.” He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. “I do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.” An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.

“She’s still in there, no doubt.” His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. “Buried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.” He smiles nostalgically. “But those can be remedied with time.”

He’s crazy. I mean, you know he’s a vampire, sure. But he’s also fucking crazy.

“I want to go home,” you croak. Even though you can’t reason with crazy.  “Please. Please.”

His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous. 

He doesn’t mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.” There’s some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. “And from now on, you’ll do what I say, won’t you?”

Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You don’t have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you won’t say yes, either. You can’t. 

“Well. I can make you obedient, if you’d rather be stubborn.”

You’re about to ask--”What?”--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely. 

You’re afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes. 

And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand.  Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.

You’re dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you can’t really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but there’s a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?

There are more screams now--from the beach. You don’t know how you know, but you do. It’s like you can see it in your mind although you’re flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood. 

The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while you’re dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too? 

Chrollo’s mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. He’s blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. It’s cold, vile.

A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.

But what did you know about vampires, anyway? 

You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.

At least, you think, this is finally over. 

--

You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.

You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open. 

The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, he’s not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but he’s still around. His fingers twitch  and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.

You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think. 

The world seems to come into more focus then.

You are, as far as you can tell, alive. You’re propped up against a tree. It’s night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize you’re awake, but no one says anything.

Strangely enough, you’re not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but there’s no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.

How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?

Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. It’s heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood. 

You jerk like you’ve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.

Someone nearby laughs. “Picky princess, huh?” You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a man’s head off at the beach.

Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.

“You’re finally awake, I see.”

You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run? 

Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isn’t horrifying or unusual at all. “Don’t be ridiculous, dear. There’s nowhere to go.”

Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.

“Where… are we?”

If you’re close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help. 

“Far away from that little town, I assure you.” Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. “We won’t stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.”

Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find? 

You could ask all of these things, but you’re not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry. 

“I want to go home.” You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry. 

“None of that,” he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. “Don’t waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. You’re not going anywhere I don’t want you to go.”

“You said you didn’t know me well enough to leave with me,” he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. “You said you hadn’t had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. We’ll have eternity, after all.” 

Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.

Eternity.

“Did you… am I… did you make me--” 

Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But there’s nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film. 

He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort. 

“No.” A pause. “Not yet, not quite.” He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isn’t trying to make fun. “That may come later, if you behave. For now, I’ve made you…” Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. “… let’s say, mine.”

You shiver. From fear, and from cold.

Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.

“You must be cold. I don’t want you catching a chill so soon. Why don’t you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?” 

You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.

He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness. 

“Go sit in front of the fire,” he tells you. 

And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down. 

It’s like before, at the carnival, but different now. There’s no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and that’s that. When you try to push yourself up,  you find that you simply can’t make your body do it.  You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.

“I’d prefer you to do things willingly,” Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. “But I don’t mind giving orders either, love.”

Love.

You’re not sure he knows the meaning of the word.

But neither do you.

Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s everything that the monsters around you aren’t; and you aren’t one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this. 

The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down. 

It’s lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasn’t a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world. 

Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference. 

[cameronspecial]

Really, Rafe?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Couple Arguments and Angst

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Summary: What is supposed to be a romantic getaway starts to feel like something else when Y/N realizes the type of activities the resort has.

A/N: Inspired by this post (Totally not because Tom Holland liked the post).

Masterlist

One rule in their relationship is that Y/N and Rafe take turns planning dates. Everything from small picnic dates to large vacation dates. This time, it is his turn to plan a vacation. When it comes to holiday trips, it doesn’t have to be far or grand. It could be a small thing, as long as it is a getaway from their normal life for at least two days. The last one they went on was when they both went to a small beach house in Myrtle Beach. Y/N was lucky enough to have found a private rental away from most of the city’s commotion. It was just the ocean, cocktails and the two of them for a week. It was absolute Heaven. As she watches the scenery pass by, Y/N can’t help her excitement as to where they are going. “Can’t you tell me where we are going?” she pleads. Her eyes are as big as dinner plates. He gently squeezes her thigh and throws her a smile, “That’s a secret for me to know and for you to find out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. “That is such a cliche saying.” He shrugs, “So? It still doesn’t mean I am going to tell you.” She gives him a playful pout and continues to look out of the window. 

Ten minutes later, the dense forest turns to equally placed decorative trees and the paved road turns to decorative stones. He parks the car and steps out to open the door for her. She takes in the castle-like resort. The golden trimming and fascia remind the girl of Versailles. She imagines all sorts of things they can do together. Sit by the pool with a drink in hand. Relax thanks to the hands of a masseuse. Dine in fairytale-like restaurants. It takes her breath away, but only for a second because she finally spots the real reason why they are here. To the right of the building are expansive green plains with people of various ages swinging back a club to send the ball flying through the air. Y/N notices Rafe isn’t by her side and turns to find him unloading his golf clubs from the trunk. He packed the trunk, so she didn’t notice it. Disappointment falls over her as it all clicks into place. 

“Really, Rafe?” she disgruntled. Her arms cross over each other and her right hip juts out. He looks at her with a tight-lipped smile, “What? This place has a great high tea evening, which I know you’ve been dying to try. And they have an indoor and outdoor pool that you could take advantage of. Plus, a great spa package for you to try.” This man is really digging his own grave. She lets out a bitter laugh. “You do realize through your whole little spiel, you always said you. Never we, like you expect me to do all those things by myself while you go off and spend all your time with your golf clubs,” she argues. Rafe’s eyes widen, “No, Sugar, you got it all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course, I planned on doing all those things with you. I promise I just brought my clubs in case you got sick of me and I need to give you some space.” She didn’t believe him. Not when a previous experience told her otherwise. It may have been four years ago when they started dating, yet a girl never forgets. Rafe had planned a date at a football bar. It would’ve been fine if his sole reasoning wasn’t to be surrounded by TVs to watch the game. Halfway through the date, other football fans joined their table to watch the event with him. She felt so ignored and unimportant during that hour. She left the date without so much as a goodbye.

She wouldn’t have seen him again if it wasn’t for how apologetic he was. He expressed remorse through his words and then flowers. She eventually forgave him, agreeing to another date. However, she never forgot the way that she felt in that bar. The humiliation of walking away from a man who paid her no attention. Up until today, she never regretted the decision to give him a second chance. Now, she feels the same way. She worries he didn’t listen to her concern about them not being able to spend a lot of quality time with each other because of how busy they have been with work. It’s the reason why they decided to go on this two-week getaway. To reconnect with each other and they couldn’t do that if he planned to spend all his time on the course. “Sure, that’s totally why you did it. If you didn’t want to spend time with me, Rafe, you could’ve told me. I would’ve given you the space and you wouldn’t have had to drag me with you here,” she criticizes, storming into the hotel to calm down.

———

For the past five minutes, she has been cooling herself down in the resort lobby. Rafe has been at the front desk, probably checking into their room. She doesn’t know if she should stay or just call a cab to take her to the nearest train station. She watches as he points in her direction and the receptionist gives him a nod. The woman removes herself from behind the counter, walking over to Y/N with a smile. “Excuse me, Ms. Y/L/N? Could you please follow me to the front desk?” the receptionist, named Kate according to her name tag, asks. Y/N hesitates to nod, yet still obeys the request. Once at the front desk, Y/N keeps her distance from Rafe. Kate types into her computer and turns it toward the female guest, “Mr. Cameron requested I show you all the bookings he made for stay here.” Rafe’s girlfriend stares at him with narrow eyes and he leans in to whisper in her ear. “I didn’t tell her what happened. I just asked her to show you what I booked.” She gives him a small nod, turning her attention toward the screen.  

The list is long, but it is easy to recognize a pattern. Everything is reserved for a couple and not a single one is a tee-time reservation. She couldn’t argue that he had Kate remove his tee times because literally every single minute between nine in the morning and seven in the evening had something planned. She made a horrible mistake and accused Rafe of not caring about her. She turns to him with teary eyes. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Rafe,” she apologizes, wrapping her arms around him. He lets her snuggle into his neck and wraps his arms around her waist. His lips rest on her forehead, “It’s okay, Sugar, I know I was really an ass on that date so long ago. I mean I can’t say I’m not hurt that you still think I could still be that idiot, but I am grateful every day that you chose to forgive me. Which means that I have it in my heart to forgive you too. I love you.” She presses her lips against his. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you too.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

[moody-alcoholic]

Shopping

Next part is a monster of a chapter, so enjoy the fluff while it lasts ;)

Also 100% had this image in my head when I was writing the wedding part.

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.3k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe.

CW: Implied bad family dynamic/ relationship (not reader).

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

The next morning over breakfast Simon insists Johnny go with you while you run errands. You don’t complain it’s nice to spend some time with him, you invite Simon along but he said he has some work to catch up with. You take a taxi back to your place and Johnny hangs out in the living room as you take a shower and change. 

“What errands do you need to do?” Johnny calls as you throw some clothes and pyjamas  into a backpack. You need to remember to take this to their place. 

“I need to get keys cut, and I need to go to Lush.” You pause trying to think of the other things, maybe you should have written it down. 

“Oh I need new bedding.” You walk out throwing the bag by the door.

“You okay with us having keys to your place?” He asks.

“Yeah I don’t mind, besides if I’m being honest your place is way nicer then mine.” You say. “But hey if you ever get stuck on the other side of London you’ve got a place to crash.” Johnny chuckles as you leave the flat to get a taxi. You find a key cutters first expecting it to take a few hours but it was done in a few minutes. 

“There you go.” You say passing one of the copies to Johnny.

“Thanks.” He says attaching to his keys.

“Oh I usually rent my place out while I’m working, it’s good for the extra income.” You explain.

“The army really paying you that little?” He asks, you chuckle.

“Not like that, I put all the money in savings, for a mortgage one day or a nice big holiday.” You explain.

“Where would you go?” Johnny asks as you make your way across the shopping centre. 

“I don’t know, I’d love to go to Asia, Japan, Korea, China. Or travel round Europe. I’d love to go to Iceland.” You stop yourself before you mention every country on the planet. You look up at him he’s smiling you grab his hand lacing your fingers with his. 

“Where would you go?” You ask him. 

“Simon’s always talked about taking one of those super luxurious resorts in the Caribbean.” Johnny said. 

“Oh the ones with the crystal blue waters and white sand beaches?” You say. 

“Those are the ones.” He says chuckling. Somehow you couldn't imagine Simon laid out on a sun lounger relaxing, you expected him to be somewhere cold where he could wrap up and be inside all day. You walk into Lush letting go of Johnny so you get the list up on your phone. When you look back up he’s gone. You look around, you took your eyes off him for two seconds, you walk round the display and see him talking to one of the employs, who’s showing him a bottle of something.  

“Look for your muscles.” He says holding up a pot. You smile at him walking over. The woman explains more about it as Johnny listens, he seems invested so you leave him to go grab the few things you need meeting him at the till. 

“What’s that?” He asks picking up a bottle after the lady had scanned it. 

“Moisturiser.” you say looking at it, you hear the car reader beep. 

“Would you like a receipt?” The lady asks. 

“Johnny.” You protest turning to look at him chuckling, he wraps his arm round your shoulder. You nod at the woman taking the receipt. You’ll have to pay him back later.

“Sorry, I’m under strict orders.” He says leading you out the store. God damn it Simon. You head to get some lunch which you insist on paying for since he pulled that stunt, you don’t even let him near the counter. You bring the food over sitting down.

“When did you and Simon get married?” You ask, Johnny smiles. 

“I’d been trying to convince Simon for months, he kept pushing it, there was always a mission always something going on.” Johnny stops for a second pouring a sugar packet in his coffee. “I got shot, woke up in hospital 3 days later the first thing Simon asked was when could we get married. I’m pretty sure if I had left it up to him he would have wheeled me to the hospital chapel to get married right there and then.” You chuckle opening the wrapping round the sandwich.

“Anyway I insisted we get married in Scotland, there’s this beautiful little church my grandparents got married in. Simon planned the whole thing, flowers, suits even rented a house in the highlands for the honeymoon. He may not seem like it on the surface but he’s really a hopeless romantic.” You smile at him. 

“That’s really sweet. Sorry about you getting shot though.” You say. 

“Don’t worry about it I’m still here that’s all that matters.” He says biting into his sandwich. You try to picture it in your mind Johnny and Simon getting married, you would have to remind yourself to ask to see a picture, if they had any. You’re about to ask Johnny about the honeymoon when you hear someone call your name. You turn to look. It’s Chloe walking over to you with a baby in a stroller. 

“Oh thank God it is you.” She says stopping the stroller next to you, you look down wide eyed at the baby sucking on its dummy. 

“Congratulations?” You say shaking your head at her. 

“My sisters visiting, she’s wondered off somewhere and I need to pee so bad can you just watch her for a second?” Chloe asks dropping bags by the stroller. 

“Babies hate me.” You reply. 

“Two seconds I’ll be back,” Chloe says running off. You look over at Johnny then back down to the baby who’s just blinking at you. 

“She’s cute.” Johnny says. 

“Chloe or the baby?” You ask looking at him. 

“The baby.” Johnny chuckles. You reach out with your finger letting her grip it with her hand, she is cute. You’re cooing at her when Chloe comes back moving the stroller to sit in the empty chair next to you. 

“Christ, you have no idea how stressed out I am. She didn’t even warn us she was coming just showed up yesterday. Now my mum is insisting on throwing this massive party for her and Jack and the other boys. You have to come by the way please I cannot be around that many American generals and stay sane. At least if you’re there my mum will go easy on me you know she likes you.” Chloe is talking at a million miles an hour as she reaches over picking up your tea taking a sip. 

“Your mum only likes me cos I joined the army. And Jacks not a general he’s a lieutenant at best.” You remind her. “Anyway, Chloe this is Johnny.” You say introducing him. Chloe looks up at him smiling and putting her hand out so he can shake it. 

“Holy shit you are hot. Are you army too?” She says. Johnny goes to open his mouth but Chloe cuts him off.

“Anyway he’s been promoted so he’s a big-shot now mum want’s to celebrate had dad dig out all his old contacts, now it’s a whole thing, she’s already hired the waitstaff and the musicians. And Jack inviting all these really important marine guys so now it's all a big promotion gala.” She says shaking her head. 

“You don’t go from lieutenant to general he’s probably just a captain.” You say.

“See you know this stuff so much better then me please come I’m begging you.” She says gripping your hands, you go to reply when her phone starts ringing, she picks it up. 

“Yeah, where did you go?” She asks as you look at Johnny. You mouth ‘sorry’ at him he just chuckles and goes back to his sandwich. 

“Look I’ll meet you outside Primark.” Chloe says standing up and hanging up the phone.      

“Sorry got to go it was nice to meet you Johnny, I’ll send you an invite you can bring Johnny too.” She says winking at him as she picks up her bags and leaves. 

“I am so sorry she’s a handful I know.” Your cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

“It’s okay, is she the one who filmed that lovely video?” Johnny asked chuckling. Oh God. You nod your cheeks burning. 

“Well I commend her photography skills.” He says.

“Thanks, I’ll let her know.” You say sipping on the tea trying to quell your nerves. You tell Johnny about how you met in med school and worked together until you left to join the military. Her sister married this American marine and they rarely visit so it’s always a big thing. Chloe is the only one in the family who has never shown any interest in the military and her mum resents her for that. 

“Maybe we should go to the party?” Johnny says. You scoff.

“Trust me you do not want to go, her parents are so posh, like own a mansion in Hampstead and Mayfair posh, like spend the summers in the Riviera and the winters in Switzerland.” You explain. Johnny just laughs. 

“I think it would be fun.” He says. You shake your head. 

“Her mum only likes me cos I’m in the military, it’s like a right of passage in that house, she’d have a field day with you and Simon.” You think back to the time’s you’ve been to their other party's it almost felt like you were attending a work do. 

“We’re not going.” You say wrapping the rest of your sandwich to take home. You’d lost your appetite.

You finish up the rest of your tea deciding to get the bedding another time. You get a taxi back to your flat to grab your bag and drop stuff off. When you walk in there is an invite on the floor. Johnny picks it up before you get a chance. 

“I thought you were holding the taxi?” You say trying to grab it out his hand, he’s too quick pulling it away from your grip. 

“Dear sergeant, very posh.” He teases. 

“Johnny.” You protest trying to grab it again as he opens it. 

“You are cordially invited to attend a soirée on the 14th of June.” Johnny is doing his best posh British accent as he keeps the card just out your reach. 

“Look at this part, Black tie, officer formals. Ooo auction in aid of the Royal British Legion.” He says, you sigh folding your arms as he closes the invite. 

“We’re not going.” You say. Johnny laughs picking your bag up. 

“I think we’re going.” He says walking out the door. You follow after him.   

 —————————— 

When you get back to their flat you see Simon still sat at the table with a stack of paperwork by his side. 

“Christ Si did Price send more over?” Johnny says.

“Nope, this is all last months.” He says closing whatever he was working on. 

“Guess what happened to us today?” Johnny says all excited as he puts the invite down for Simon to see. 

“We’re not going.” You say coming over to try and grab it. This time it’s Simon that’s too quick for you. Simon looks over it then passes it to you and rubs his forehead.

“We’re going.” He says.

“Simon!” You say annoyed, Johnny starts laughing. 

“We’re going because Price has been invited which mean I’ve been invited, which means Johnny gets to suffer along with us.” Simon says, he sounds even less enthusiastic about it.

“What about Gaz?” Johnny asks. 

“Training, gets a free pass.” 

“Well you boys have fun, I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back.” You say putting the invite down and going over to the sofa. 

“Hey, you’re invited too.” Johnny says. 

“Oh yes but I will politely decline on this occasion, maybe next time.” You turn to look over at them. 

“What you’re not even going to go for Chloe?” Johnny asks. Oof, there’s that pang of guilt. Like a hot rod straight through the chest. You sigh.

“Fine! But I’m going for Chloe.” You say frustrated.  

“Who’s Chloe?” Simon asks. 

“The one who sent us the lovely video and pictures.” Johnny says. You lie back on the sofa trying to ignore the fact Johnny bought it up again.

“She’s the daughter of the host.” You say. Johnny comes over to the sofa sitting next to you. You cross your arms pulling your legs away from him. 

“What?” He says chuckling. 

“I have to buy a new dress now.” You say huffing. 

“Oh yeah, need help picking one out?” Johnny winks. 

“Simon can help.” You say back. Johnny pouts at you. 

“I bet I could find a pretty blue dress to go with my pretty blue suit.” Johnny says leaning closer to you. 

“Maybe I want to wear a red dress.” You say smiling at him. 

“Even better.” Johnny says his hands working their way up your legs. Before you can reply he’s scooped you up on his lap. 

“Johnny!” You protest, but you don’t fight him instead wrapping your hands round his neck looking down at his face. Why does he always have such a cheeky grin. You lean down and kiss him, his hand finding it’s way up your top. 

“If you two are going to have sex can you go in the bedroom, I have to get all this finished by 5.” Simon says, you pull way from Johnny, smiling. 

“Too bad, later.” You promise. Johnny pouts again, you get off his knee leaning up against him as he reaches for the TV remote.

“Do you really have a blue suit?” You ask. 

“Yeah, a red one too.” He says, winking.

“You should wear a kilt, Chloe would get a kick out of that.” 

“Maybe I will.” He says as he kisses the top of your head.

I could not for the life of me find a good ending for this.

Next part

[starry-eyes-love]

Joel Miller Masterlist

Headcanon- Wedding Anniversary

Summary: Joel Miller is on a tropical vacation with you celebrating your wedding anniversary where he takes control and has you go down on him on your private secluded beach.

18+, Minors DNI. NSFW, oral with dirty talk, language, daddy reference, marriage.

"That's it, fuck baby, you're such a good little girl letting daddy fuck her mouth like this. Come on sweet thing, let daddy in deeper."

-Joel and you are staying at a tropical resort with private beach access, celebrating your wedding anniversary.

-Life has been difficult with work, both of you have been stressed to the point where you've been snapping at each other. You both agreed to a much needed vacation celebrating your wedding anniversary.

-Joel decides to have a few drinks and as he starts to unwind he slowly starts dancing with you to the tropical music he has playing. Stress finally begins to melt away for the both of you.

- You approach your husband and whisper in his ear, "God Joel, you're so sexy like this when you're relaxed. You're giving me butterflies."

- Joel smiles at your admission and then kisses his wife (you) passionately.

-Joel, hungry for affection from his wife, grabs your head and tilts it back, deepening the kiss and massaging his tongue against yours.

-After you let out a little whimper, pleasure running through your body, Joel looks down at you and whispers, "kneel baby girl, and suck daddy's cock."

-As you finally take Joel into your mouth, he talks dirty to you and praises you for being his good girl. "You're so good for me. Such a good little girl sucking daddy's cock. God baby, that fucking mouth of yours is perfect."

-After a few teasing licks, and a firm suck on his head, Joel immediately becomes unhinged where he grabs your head and begins to fuck your mouth hard. "That's it, fuck baby, you're such a good little girl letting daddy fuck her mouth like this. Come on sweet thing, let daddy in deeper. That's it sugar, now suck it baby. Suck your daddy's cock, harder."

-Your eyes water and your thighs clench. You are practically dripping wet as you let your husband become unhinged and fuck your throat hard.

-Joel finishes in your mouth, while you swallow him down. When his heartbeat returns to normal he takes you back into your rental house and eats your pussy until you lose all track of time.

-A week later when you head back home, Joel whispers in your ear "that was the best vacation baby, thank you. I know I'll definitely want a taste of paradise like this again. So you're gonna let me eat that little pussy of yours anytime I need a reminder of paradise, ok?"

-End Headcanon-

[frogchiro]

Graves taking us on a super fancy beach resort as a vacation?

New anon!! Is 💗 taken?

Edit: ofc you can be 💗!

He definitely would!! Besides being your proud boyfriend he's also very much your sugar daddy; he'll ensure that you'll be as comfortable and happy as you can be at all times, be it by taking you out on lunch, fancy dates, quiet nights in where you two cook and spend quality time together, mindblowing sex or sweet n slow lovemaking under the sheets, and of course that includes taking his girl out on fancy vacation!!

He'll take you somewhere nice and expensive, preferably warm but he'll gladly adjust to your preferences. But in the case it's a fancy beach resort? Sweet girl be prepared for the trip of your life!

Has reserved the best room with full service, but before that he's taking you out on a nice little shopping trip to buy some 'vacay' clothes like cute sun dresses and bikinis <3 Ofc it wouldn't be a shopping trip if Philip didn't try to sneak into your changing room to sneak a little grope or a quickie <3

When you finally arrive at the resort you can now officially relax and do anything you like or nothing at all! If it were up to Phil he'd have you naked with him in bed all the two weeks you're staying here, doing nothing but eating good food, cuddling and nuzzling against each other and making love all day long as the white, silky canopy flutters on the wind through the open french door to the balcony letting in fresh ocean air <3

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 16

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Warnings: Y'all, this one is just SMUT. Seriously a little fluff, but mostly smut. Oral (M&F receiving), fingering, squirting, P in V intercourse, shower sex, innuendos, language, playing around in public, rough sex, Captain kink (🥵)

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 15

Our plane is finally descending to the tropical Ocho Rios, Jamaica. I found an adult only all-inclusive five-star resort that was offering slight discounts for customers who booked trips within the month so they could fill any unreserved rooms. I look over at Emma who is captivated by the book she brought and smile. She was so excited that she had gotten the doctor to remove the hard cast a week earlier than planned and only had to use a removable brace for the next month. I felt she wasn’t wearing it enough, but I wasn’t about to bring down her excitement. I just tried to subtly convince her to wear it for short amounts of time. She was good for me today and wore it the entire plane ride but I was sure she was going to fight me on it while on vacation. I want this whole trip and proposal to be perfect for her, so I splurged a little but she doesn’t know it yet. We’ll be spending a week in paradise with endless drinks and food being served to us. I told Emma where we were going but didn’t tell her anything about the resort so that she would hopefully be surprised. The best part is, we wouldn’t have to leave the resort if we didn’t want too. It had several bars and restaurants onsite so there was never any concern about us getting back to our rooms safely. Everything we would need or want was in walking distance enclosed within the resort. From a safety aspect, that was a huge selling point to me as well.

When we arrived at the resort, we were immediately served champagne and then escorted to lunch at the beach restaurant next to the ocean while they took our bags to our room.

“Austin, oh my god!” Emma squealed as soon as the server walked back to place our orders.

“Did I do good, Sugar?” I smirk knowing just by her wide-eyed expression and her bouncing in her seat that she was happy.

“I’ve never been anywhere like this! Look at the water, baby! It’s so clear and blue! You did better than good, you did absolutely amazing! How did you find this place?”

“I just started searching ‘tropical beach vacations’ online and I could picture you out here in a bikini so I booked it.” I joke.

“Well, I’ll have to reward you for your efforts.” She says sultrily before our waiter returned with the food that was absolutely decadent. I was starving after traveling all day and their food didn’t disappoint.

We were shown to our room after lunch, and I was pleased that it was everything I had expected it to be. The large king bed covered in fluffy pristine linens adorned with local flowers from their garden sprinkled on top, a rain fall shower that could easily fit both of us, a massive tub with a view of the ocean, mini fridge stocked with snacks and alcohol, and a balcony that overlooked the side garden with the ocean off in the distance. To be honest, this was my first fancy vacation as well. I grew up going to local beaches and mountains for camping with friends and family. I spent plenty of time in airports and military planes being shipped off to the less desirable destinations of the world to fight for my country. This was the first trip that I had booked to just relax and be with the woman I love and I’m glad Walt suggested it. Before I could even suggest anything, Emma was pulling swimsuits from our bag and itching to get to the sand. I’d do anything she wanted so I followed her until she found some beach loungers that she was happy with and sat down. I watched her pull her swimsuit coverup off her body and audibly groaned. Emma had brought a tiny hot pink string bikini that clung to her curves in all of the right places. The bottoms left my favorite part of her ass cheeks on display, and I could feel myself growing in my trunks as she bent over to stow her coverup in the bag she brought. Emma’s hair was up in a high ponytail with she had her sunglasses perched on her nose and I swear I almost burst in my pants when she crawled up the length of the sun lounger to get settled.

“Fuck, darlin’. Trying to kill me on the first day of vacation?” I ask and she giggles.  “I was told to get some bikinis so I tried to find ones that my Bear would like.” 

“Mission accomplished” I say as I motion toward the tent in my trunks before adjusting myself as discreetly as possible.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you later, baby.”

I physically bit my lip as she started rubbing sunscreen on her body before I took the bottle from her and took over. I needed to sit up to hide my erection anyway, so why not get my hands on her in every way I can. 

I rubbed the lotion all over her body, appreciating the uniqueness of her body. I swear I loved every freckle, mole, cellulite, and scar on her body. Even her imperfections were perfect. I watched the sunlight glimmer on the metal of her little belly ring and stifled a groan. She is the epitome of divine. I had her roll over and quickly untied her top when she was on her tummy.

“Austin…”

“It’s just so I can get your back, Sugar. Trust me, I won’t let anyone else see what’s for my eyes only.” I started applying the lotion all over her and when I got to her ass, I really made sure it was rubbed in. She giggled and swatted me away when she felt I spent too much time and attention there, but damn she was my own personal paradise. 

“Tie me up.” She said and fought the automatic response that popped into my brain about bondage and I retied her top for her. The thought of her tied up to the bed posts and completely open to me was not going to help my erection become less noticeable.

“Your turn.” 

“Wanting to rub all over your man?” I ask.

“Yes, but I also want to protect you from skin cancer.”

“Hate to break it to ya, Sugar, but the military wasn’t actually handing out sunscreen in the desert. I’m probably already fucked.”

“Well, I’ll be scheduling you a dermatologist visit when we get back. Now sit.” I arch my eyebrow at her. Bossy little thing. Why does that turn me on?

Emma covers me in sunscreen and I have to admit that it felt nice having her rubbing it all over me so I wasn’t going to complain. In fact, I’d probably be taking better care of my skin this trip then I have my entire life if this is how it goes.

We laid back and talked for a while about the amenities offered at the resort and what all she might want to do while we are here. I told her that I had planned dinner for tomorrow for us, but the rest of the trip could go however we wanted. We could be lazy and not make reservations for anything or we could go on excursions and explore. We decided to swim for a little bit, which ended up with Emma wrapped around me like a koala in the ocean because she wasn’t tall enough to reach where I was standing. I had my hands firmly on each ass cheek and would gladly hold her in the water as long as she wanted. I certainly didn’t mind as her breasts pushed up against me. 

“Lemme’ see those perfect tits.” I whisper against her ear and she feigns shock.

“Austin! There are people out here.” 

“I won’t let anyone see. I just need a peek. I’m dying here.” I say as I push my erection against her core that’s against me.

“Fine, but just a quick one.” 

She leans back and quickly pulls the fabric of her top down to expose her tits to me, now shiny from the water and I thrust against her again.

“You’re fucking perfect.” I tell her as I lean forward and kiss her passionately. I don’t give a shit who sees at this point. The water’s so clear though, if I fucked her out here in the daytime it would be obvious.

“Mmmm, baby.” She kisses me back and I know I’m affecting her too.

“How much longer til I can get you in our room?” I ask.

“Now?” She bites her lip and I have to take a deep breath.

“If I get out of the water right now with this massive hard on, everyone out here will see it. I’m gonna need a minute to calm down.” I tell her. I walk her towards shallower water so I can set her down and what does this woman do? She grabs my dick and rubs it. 

“Don’t take too long. Think about Nana having sex with PawPaw or something.” She says and the look on my face must be purely hilarious. Emma starts laughing so hard, if she couldn’t stand up I’d worry she would drown.

“Don’t put images like that in my head, woman! For fuck’s sake! That’s nasty.” Emma is still cackling so hard she’s drawing attention from other vacationers.

“Well, that should help you ease your little problem.” She mutters between giggles.

“Ain’t nothing little about it, Sugar. You know that.” 

“I certainly do.”

After a few minutes of thinking about different military protocol, I’m able to get out of the water with just a semi. Emma is sporting a shit eating grin from her seat on the lounging chairs and I can’t help but shake my head at her. I towel off and grab my shoes and shirt, opting to carry them.

“Ready?” She asks sweetly while standing up and grabbing her bag and towel.

“More than you are.” I swat her ass before grabbing her hand and we head back to our room. 

As soon as I get the door closed, I’ve got Emma pressed up against it. Our belongings are dropped on the floor and I pull her coverup and throw it across the room. I pick her up and she instinctively wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her to the shower. Through our rushed and messy kisses, I’m pulling all of the strings on her swimsuit and ripping it away from my prized possessions. Emma screeches when I flip the water on and cold water starts pouring from the rain shower head in the ceiling directly over us. I watch her nipples pebble under the stream of chilly water and suck one in my mouth. Emma moans and begins to frantically suck at my neck but even though I’m now painfully hard, I plan to make her work for it a little more.

I set Emma down on her feet before pushing her to her knees as I untie my trunks and drop them to the shower floor.

“Suck.” I command using my Captain voice and Emma immediately shoves my cock in her mouth, her small hand pumping what’s left.

She begins to suck me and cups my balls lightly with the hand of her previously injured arm. Emma whines and attempts to rub her thighs together to ease the friction.

“You teased me, Sugar. I’m going to come down your throat and then I’ll fuck that sweet peach so good that you’re begging me to stop. Understand?” I speak authoritatively and Emma attempts to nod around my length.

I make use of Emma’s now sodden ponytail to pull her on and off my cock as she sucks me off.

“Fucking shit, babygirl, you’ve got the most perfect mouth in the world. That’s right, gag on me.” I tell her and she forces herself down further than I expected and gags and that’s all it takes for me meet my climax.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming!” I tell her and seconds later she is swallowing my load like a champ. I pull out of her mouth so she can catch her breath. I’m leaning back against the tile trying to recover from the best blowjob I’ve ever had before I spread a little bit of my cum that’s left on the head across her lips like it’s lipstick. Emma licks my remnants from her lips and then bites her bottom lip while looking up at me with those perfect blue eyes. 

Emma scrapes her nails gently across my oversensitive skin as she makes her way back up to standing.

“Sugar, that was incredible.” I tell her before kissing her sweetly. “Was I too rough?” I start thinking maybe that was too much for her and I took it too far. 

“No, that was hot as hell.” She says with a smile and I kiss her again. “I’ll be ready to do that again this week.”

“Now, I owe you at least 3 orgasms before dinner.” I whisper as I pull her body against mine.

“Bed. I want you in that gorgeous big bed.” She murmurs against my lips. We quickly wash the sunscreen off of us, before toweling off just enough to not be dripping across the tiled floors. I grab her up in a fireman carry and throw her across the bed on top of the flowers.

“You’re going to cum once on my mouth, another time on my fingers, and then the third time on my cock. That sound like a plan, Darlin’?” I ask as I rip the towel off over her and start kissing down her body, spending a few moments on each of her breasts before making my way to her glistening folds.

Emma whimpers as I spread her legs and kiss all around her pearl.

“Baby, don’t tease me.” She begs.

Without hesitation, I dive right on in to my favorite dessert. I’m sucking on her clit and licking slowly between her folds which immediately has her squirming. I wrap my arms around her hips and hold her in place as she begins to grind on my beard. Fuck, I love the way she tastes and sounds. Her little mewls sneak out as her hands attempt to find purchase on my head and the bed linens. I look up at her and take in the perfect sight in front of me. Her breasts are heaving up and down as her breath races and when I can tell she is getting close, I focus even more on her little button. 

“Bear! Ah fuck! I’m cumming!” She shouts louder than she probably intended as her body arches off the bed and I work her through her orgasm. When her body is relaxed, I crawl up the bed and pull her on top of me, my chest to her back. I wrap my arms around her breasts and start tickling and kissing her neck with my beard.

“Sugar, we’re just getting started.” I grunt against her ear as I place kisses all over her neck while pulling her taut nipples in my hands.

“I dream about these titties when you aren’t with me, Darlin. So perfect. Fit just right in my big hands.” I massage and knead at her breasts until I’ve decided that she’s had enough recovery time and my hands find their way to her legs. I pull them apart and can’t help but press my hard cock against her back as I see her open up to me, completely pliant for whatever I choose.

“You feel how hard you got me, Sugar? That’s all for you, babygirl.”  My hands start to spread her folds and after pressing against her already sensitive clit, I slide my middle finger into her core. 

“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” Emma moans and reaches behind her to wrap an arm around my neck. My other hand is alternating between squeezing on her perfect tits and pressing against her clit to heighten her pleasure.

“More Sy. I need you.” Emma whines and I quickly slide a second finger in and start pumping them in and out. Spurred on by the sensation, Emma begins riding my fingers and gently thrusting against my hand. I spit on my other hand and start pinching on her clit again and without warning Emma arches into a blinding release. I’m thrilled as I keep pumping my fingers, that my girl is soaking my hand and arm, her juices squirting out of her with each wave of bliss that crashes over her. 

“Fuck yes, Sugar. Look at you getting all messy for me. Perfect little peach sucking my fingers in and coating them in your sweet peach juice.” I grunt as Emma once again becomes pliant jello in my arms. I slide my fingers out and stick them into her mouth which causes her eyes to fly open as she tastes her own arousal on my hands, sucking instinctively.

“Isn’t that the sweetest peach you’ve ever tasted? And it’s all mine.” I say as she watches me remove my fingers from her mouth, slide them through her pussy lips again before sliding them back into my own mouth.

“Fuck, Austin. You’re so naughty.” She says almost with a desperate laugh.

“Yeah? You like that?” 

“Mmhmm. So fucking sexy, but I need your cock.” She says as she wiggles against my obvious erection. 

“What you need me to do with my cock, Sugar? Tell me what you need.” I smirk, knowing she has a hard time finding the words when she’s so fucked out. 

“I need you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk to dinner tonight, baby. Ruin my pussy.” I instantaneously thrust against her ass cheeks just hearing those words out of her mouth. Well, fuck me sideways. Looks like she did have the words after all.

“You want it rough, Darlin?”

“Yes, Captain Syverson.” She says and bites her lip and within seconds I’ve got her flipped on all fours in front of me with that glorious ass and weeping pussy front and center. 

“You need to tell me if you want me to stop or if I’m hurting you, understand?” I command.

She nods and wiggles her ass in front of me. I slap her right ass cheek hard and she gasps.

“Words.”

“Yes. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

“Yes, what? Is that how you address your Captain?”

“Yes Sir, Captain Syverson.” She corrects and I’m so hard that pre-cum is dripping down my shaft. Not for long.

I rub my cock through her folds and collect her arousal all over me. I spread her ass cheeks and just watch my cock in one of my favorite places making a mental picture of it before I slide all the way in.

Emma’s moans ricochet around the room and mine are just as lewd.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” I grunt as I force myself to stay perfectly still and allow her a moment to adjust. 

“Ah! I need you to move.” She whines while wiggling a bit and I pull out before slamming back into her core.

“Fuck, Captain. Your cock is so big. It’s all up in my tummy.” Her speech somewhat broken as I slam into her repeatedly. 

“Yeah? You like that your superior has a big fucking cock all the way up in your guts? Railing you so hard that my ball sac is hitting that sweet little button?” I rumble against her.

“Mmm you feel so good!” She grunts as I’m slamming her so hard, I don’t know how she isn’t breaking. I rub on her ass cheeks and likely bruise her hips with my fingertips as my pace puts me so close to releasing.

“I need you to cum. Right now.” I command and slide a hand down to pinch her clit as I continue pumping into her hard and groan as her orgasm overtakes her and she begins clenching all around me. Her arms no longer able to hold her body up as she’s overcome with her release, she crumples to her face on the bed and I groan as I allow myself to let go as well, painting her walls with my spend. My orgasm hits me so hard that I can’t help but drape across Emma’s petite back as I try and figure out which way is up again. I slowly slide out of her before flopping to my back and pulling Emma’s limp body on top of mine. We are silent, the only sounds in the room are of the hum from the air conditioner working overtime in the Jamaican humidity and our ragged breath from exertion. 

“Mission accomplished.” Emma whispers against my chest, quoting my own words from only hours before.

“What mission is that?” 

“The mission to ruin my pussy and fuck me so hard that I can’t walk to dinner tonight.” She says with a giggle and the room now fills with my loud, exuberant laugh.

 “Room service then?” I ask and she nods.

The rest of the night is spent laying in each other’s arms, snacking on anything and everything we wanted from room service and even a warm bath by the windows overlooking the ocean.

Emma is draped across my chest as soak in the bubbles with candles and champagne.

“So, what should the next mission be?” I wonder aloud. Our “missions” now simply meaning all of the ways we plan to be intimate on this vacation.

“I know, but I might have to wait a day or so.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that.”

“So my pussy doesn’t fall off from abuse.” I smirk at her. 

“You asked and I provided. Well then, at least tell me the mission.”

“To fuck on the balcony.” Emma suggests with an arched eyebrow and all of the blood goes rushing back to my dick like it hasn’t been there all afternoon. I throw my head back in exasperation that now I have to wait and it’s all I’m going to be able to think about, other than the proposal she doesn’t know about.

“Unless you’re not interested?” Emma plays on, clearly knowing my head is filled with indecent thoughts as she wiggles against my erection and I playfully thrust against her. 

“Better hope this bath heals that sweet peach up, because that balcony fuck is definitely going to happen.” I inform her as I wrap my arms around her. 

I don’t know what I’ve done in my life to deserve this, but here with this woman right now is my version of heaven. 

Part 17

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar, @wetzilly

A/N: I was going to focus only on the proposal, but my smutty self took over and that became the focus of this chapter. Sorry not sorry 😜 The proposal is coming, I promise! I just got too distracted by the thought of Syverson shirtless on a tropical vacation.

[mauioceanfrontvacationrentals]

Hawaii Vacation Rentals and Maui Rentals Vacation by Owner with Maui Oceanfront Vacation Rentals

Hawaii is a dream destination for travellers seeking sun, sand, and relaxation. And what better way to experience the beauty of these islands than through vacation rentals that offer both comfort and the stunning beauty of nature? In this blog, we'll dive into the enchanting world of Hawaii vacation rentals, focusing on the captivating Sugar Beach Resort 530 and the alluring Maui Oceanfront Vacation Rentals.

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This beautifully appointed condo offers more than just a place to rest your head – it provides an experience. You can create your paradise with spacious living areas, modern amenities, and a fully equipped kitchen. Step out onto your private balcony and soak in the panoramic views, or take a relaxing stroll along the sugary sands that Maui is renowned for. Whether you're a solo traveller, a couple seeking a romantic getaway, or a family searching for adventure, Sugar Beach Resort 530 caters to all.

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[comfortedhomes]

Mauioceanfrontvacationrentals offers all of the amenities and attractions you are looking for in your Maui Vacation Rental. View all of our Sugar Beach Resort Maui condo rentals we offer and book direct today!

[wannab-urs]

Outtakes - Dad's Best Friend/Best Friend's Dad/Boyfriend's Dad Vol 1

AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist | Vol 2

Hi friends!!

I searched my spreadsheet for dad's best friend, best friend's dad, and boyfriend’s dad fics that I love. Most of these are Joel, but there are some others sprinkled in!

Summaries and tags are, in most cases, provided by the author - please be sure to read them as some of these fics may have content you do not wish to read.

Updated 5/24/2024

Boyfriend's Dad

a hungry dog on a very short leash - @iamasaddie

Joel

Summary: one time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is obviously the time his dad catches you Tags: DDDNE dub-con; no-outbreak; PWP (for real, no plot at all); manipulation; infidelity; explicit sexual content; oral sex (m receiving); degradation/praise; unsafe PinV; face slapping (barely); dirty talk; mention of anal; pain kink; no use of y/n

bfd!joel - @joelscruff

Joel

Summary: moments between you and your boyfriend's father, joel miller, who you have a secret relationship with. Tags: no outbreak, no use of y/n.age difference (reader is early 20s, joel is mid 40s), daddy!kink, praise kink (use of babygirl), dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex, oral (both f and m receiving), facials, creampies, cheating

karma is my boyfriend's dad - @proxima-writes

Joel

Summary: Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him? His dad, Joel Miller. And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida. Tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, alternate universe - boyfriend’s dad, age difference (21F and 56M), power imbalance dynamics, infidelity, asshole boyfriend, alcohol use, sunscreen as a flirting mechanism, reader wearing a bathing suit, touching in public, dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, sex against a door.

Oblivion - @thesummerpetrichor

Joel

Summary: Explicit pictures of you taken by a man you cheated with find their way to your boyfriend's father's desk. He isn't too impressed with the artistry. Good thing he can make it right. He’s a photographer after all. Tags: Smut, alternate universe, no outbreak, noncon/dubcon, dark themes, coercion, blackmail, manipulation, power imbalance, revenge porn, infidelity, age gap, explicit photographs, pet names, praise kink, daddy kink, size kink, soft dom!Joel, sub!reader, Dom/sub dynamics, vaginal fingering, edging, cumplay, just the tip, creampie, cumplay, unprotected penetrative vaginal sex

Dad's Best Friend

Your Summer Dream - @swiftispunk

Joel

Summary: fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents. Tags: NO OUTBREAK, we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), alcohol, food, smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, anxiety, some angst, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, jet skis????, secret relationship, until it's not. no use of y/n.

Stay here, honey - @swiftispunk

Joel

Summary: porn no plot. you sit on dbf!joel's lap at a party, it's a whole thing Tags: smut, fingering, big ol' age gap (reader in their 20s, joel is 56), dry humping, dirty talk, daddy kink, praise kink (joel says good girl), exhibitionism, pet names (babygirl, sweetheart, baby, darlin', sugar, sweet girl, pretty girl - just all of ‘em sorry). NO USE OF Y/N.

In My Hometown - @swiftispunk

Joel

Summary: You've had a crush on Joel for what seems like forever. There are only two problems there: one, Joel is ten years your senior. Two, you move to Los Angeles in the morning. Tags: Smut, set in 2002-2003, pre-outbreak, DBF!Joel, neighbor!Joel, actor!reader, age gap (ten years), fluff, angst, exhibitionism, familial emotional abuse, mentions of divorce, oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected penetrative vaginal sex, masturbation (male and female), pet names, alcohol, food, Christmas, drug use, long distance relationship

Left in Lincoln - @toxicanonymity

Joel

Summary: After you were orphaned by the outbreak, Bill and Frank raised you, sheltered in their closed community. Now 21+, you're still inexperienced. They leave to get treatment for Frank and ask Joel to look in on you while they're gone. The town begins to creep you out, but Joel is glad to provide comfort and protection. Tags: Big, girthy age gap. Joel is very dark and toxic but acts sweet with reader. Angst. Loss of virginity. Manipulation. Slow-burn horror: no gore, no violence toward reader, but this story has given people nightmares. NO USE OF Y/N.

Silence Can Never Be Bought - @toxicanonymity

Joel

Summary: You come home from campus unannounced one weekend and catch your rich family friend Joel in a compromising position. You're going to hold it over him somehow, but before you figure out how, he shows up on campus in San Antonio. As you spend time together, you realize what you really, really want. But there's something going on with his mysterious job and your dad. Tags: slow escalation sexually, major age gap (reader in early 20s), softdom!reader, various sexual activity, blackmail themes, criminal themes.

dark but just a game - devilmademewriteit on AO3

Joel

Summary: After that first taste, you and Joel Miller can't seem to get enough of each other. Will your forbidden affair ever become more than just sex? Tags: Afab fem reader, pre-Ellie!Joel, Mildly Dubious Consent, Vaginal Fingering, Smut, dads best friend!Joel, dom!Joel Miller, jealous Joel Miller, age gap, Some Plot, Rough Sex, bratty!reader

illicit affairs - @chaotic-mystery

Joel

Summary: it's my take on what illicit affairs means. Every time I listened to it I imagined Joel, specifically dbf Joel. I hope the swifties go *easy* on me and pls don’t say anything if you didn’t like it. tags: angst. And more angst. Swearing, forbidden relationship, arguing, fwb, alluded age gap but not specified. Use of nicknames (kid, baby……don’t look at me ok I didn’t do IT), reader is not physically described, no use of y/n.

Blessing in Disguise - @pedgito

Lucien Flores

Summary: you're his best-friend's daughter and he's at a party he can't be bothered to care about, luckily you're the one thing that catches his attention. Tags: no use of y/n, age gap (not specified, but it's girthy) smoking, semi-public sex, daddy kink, f!oral, unprotected piv, light choking, mentions of reader having hair that can be grabbed (to some degree), lucien is a major dilf and divorced

Room 77 - @chaotic-mystery

Joel

Summary: It was a great plan at first to carpool with Joel & have him drive to your dad’s vacation house, until it wasn’t. Tags: one bed trope!, age gap (readers like mid 20s Joel’s like early 50s idk) mean Joel at first, sloppy sleepy sex, reader be havin those daydreams about Joel, spitting, choking, unprotected sex, slight fingering, cream pie, cockwarming, dirty talkkk, slight use of the name daddy, pet names.

you can never keep a soul - @chronically-ghosted

Dieter

Summary: A storm and a dead phone leaves you at the front door of your uncle’s mansion in LA. Tags: Smut, age gap, cum eating, drug usage, stepcest, bad family dynamics, reader is at least 18, oral sex (female receiving), handjobs, vaginal fingering, penetrative vaginal sex, overstimulation, guilt, feelings, bi!Dieter

Playing with fire - @beskarandblasters

Joel

Summary: You and your dad go over to his best friend's (and also your secret boyfriend) Joel's house to watch the University of Texas Longhorns game. Whenever your dad isn't looking you tease Joel relentlessly. But when your dad passes out on the couch drunk that's when Joel decides to punish you. Tags: canon divergent, no outbreak, established secret relationship, drinking, age gap (unspecified), groping, teasing, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie

The Saint, the sinner, and the devil - @joelsgirl

Joel (+Javi)

Summary: Joel and Javier are two sides of the same coin, the dark and supposed light of an unrelenting war - but in this room, they were predators and you, their prey. Tags: Mafia alternate universe, Narcos and TLOU crossover, mafia DBF!Joel Miller, corrupt Javier Peña, smut, age gap, size difference, dirty talk, threesome, name-calling

Eat - @notjustjavierpena

Joel

Summary: You tell Joel that you cannot come from getting eaten out, but he isn’t convinced. Tags: dad’s best friend joel miller, daddy kink, soft soft soft and patient joel, nipple play, pussy eating, dirty talk, intense orgasm, pet names , bit of praise kink and body worship

Video Games - @thesummerpetrichor

Javier Peña

Summary: For years he’d lived in your head like a distant memory. Something too good, too far away to attain. You shouldn’t be so hurt he’d left his old life behind, but how could you not be, when you had been such a big part of it? But you can’t hold a grudge. Not when he’s standing in front of you– doing everything to prove he’s not a stranger. Tags: Smut, dad's best friend, mentions of the DEA, morally questionable relationship, angst, age gap, banter, language, fluff, couch sex, pet names (baby, babygirl, cariño), dirty talk, praise kink, grinding, dryhumping, vaginal fingering, unprotected penetrative vaginal sex

Best Friend's Dad

New in Town - @justagalwhowrites

Joel

Summary: When you move to Austin for work, your best friend Sarah recommends that you hang out with her dad, Joel, to get to know the area. Sarah just never mentioned the fact that her dad is just your type. Tags: Contractor Joel, No outbreak, Joel is reader's best friend's dad, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Condoms, Age Gap

Carnal - @pascalsbby

Joel

Summary: You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another, and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth. When he turned from the nude woman painted on the wall, a version of you in oil, to the warm, guts and roaring blood of you- the gash completely tore itself open in the moments it took for his eyes to eat you in. Every nerve ending in his forty-plus years heeding, 7 trillion of them. Tags: SMUT, age gap (24/50s), best friends dad, dad’s best friend, stalking, conversation around trauma (not graphic or specified as SA), sex work, dark, overall pervy Joel & pure filth + more.

Breakout - @the-ginger-hedge-witch

Joel

Summary: When former boxer turned trainer Joel Miller reluctantly agrees to take on this year's favorited newcomer, he expects the bad-tempered rookie to bring him plenty of headaches. What he doesn't expect is that he'll also bring him you. Tags: Alternate Universe - No Outbreak, Explicit Smut, Age Gap, Secret Relationship, Workplace Shenanigans, Jealous Ex, Risk of Getting Caught, Fighting (Obv), Teacher/Student Dynamic, Best Friend's Dad

In the Dark - @frannyzooey

Ezra

Summary: You meet a friend at grad school, hitting it off immediately. You wouldn't do anything to disrupt that —until you meet her guardian, Ezra. Immediately drawn to each other, you both know it would be wrong to get involved...but you just can’t help it. Tags: Smut, age gap, best friend's guardian, fordbidden relationship, mentions of drinking, sexual tension, reader has a nickname, oral sex (female receiving) and facefucking, swallowing, protected penetrative vaginal sex, praise kink

Between Blurred Lines - @livingemkayde

Joel

Summary: joel miller has always been...there. never different, always sporting a brooding scowl etched into his handsome face. he's your best friend sarah miller's dad, arguably worse, your dad's long time buddy. things are never different. not until this summer. not until now. Tags: smut, unprotected pinv, fingering f! receiving, cockwarming (!?!?!?) uhh dom!joel, significant age gap, dad's best friend mixed with some best friends dad (?!!?!?!?)

Handsome, Dirty, Rich - @pedgito

Joel

summary: the rich father of your best friend, sarah — joel miller, was a mystery to you until one day he isn't and you quickly find that your interest in him isn't one-sided. tags: no use of y/n, au/no outbreak, bfd!joel, ceo!joel, mentions of reader growing up poor/absent parents (joel is ridiculously loaded, it's fic y'all let me live lol), sneaking around, age gap (not explicitly specified, but reader is in final year of college and joel is probs late 40s/50s), vacations, gift-giving, unprotected piv, come swallowing, daddy issues if you squint, one (1) pussy slap, oral (f receiving), semi-public fucking

----------

Happy Reading!

[inklore]

—🍊. 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐔'𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓

this is not a writing challenge, this is just a list of summer au's that have been collecting dust in my google docs that i'm both sick of looking at, and also feel like for those who also really enjoy writing summery fics, could always use more inspiration or ideas for au's or scenario's (even if it's just smutty or fluffy blurbs).

please make note that anyone can use these for any fandom or character. it's literally for everyone, for whatever ship, gender, or verse. no one owns au's and everyone makes them their own and writes differently. so please do with the content below as you wish!!

you don't gotta tag me if you use one but would i love to read your beautiful work? hell yeah so feel free to if ya feel like it.

i separated each into categories + some might have added context or prompts because i have zero self control and like to be extra and add ideas onto things lmao.

hopefully someone finds these fun and helpful, happy writing my loves <3

LOCATION.

beach

ocean

ice cream parlor

lake town

ranch

summer camp

summer school

island

boat

fishing town

resort

the woods

national park

public pool

destination wedding

renaissance fair

lake house

bar

theme park

capecod

italy

winery / vinyards

country club

cruise ship

concert

RELATIONSHIP BASED.

brothers best friend ('unfortunately' spending the summer with your family)

neighbors au

exes back for the summer

bodyguard au (character a has to follow around reader whose some princess/rich girl on a vacation, bonus points if she's supposed to be on lockdown but refuses to stay at the hotel, even more bonus points if her parents sent her on this vacation as a rehabilitation for her bad habits)

best friends dad (you're spending the summer with your bestie and god her dads hot as hell)

mermaid x human

frat boy x good girl (last minute studying together before summer break, or maybe the frat is throwing a big grad party and reader decides to let loose for the first time in forever)

frat boy x sorority girl (it's giving rich hoes who can't stand each other who get caught doing something and have to do community service with each other alllll summerrrrr long, can you think of anything worse?!)

sitcom stars (they're both on some summer love show but fall for each other instead, or you're two celebs supposed to be fake dating on some mtv drama show in palm springs but you actually fall for each other)

park ranger x someone who thought going camping alone would be fun but oh shit i know nothing about the wilderness au

ex-best friends ex (a summer love but put revenge and 'we're only fucking because this friend screwed me over and it'll really show them' au anyone??)

lifeguard x parent au (or you saved my life let me repay you wink wink)

dads best friend

house sitter x house owner (or neighbor, or family member who came home early and wtf are you doing here and who are you?? or even the old i asked the neighbor to watch our house but also my wife wink wink)

babysitter who tags along on vacation with the family au

fake dating (for the summer)

friends to lovers was made for summer au's!!!

superhero x vigilante (nightly meet ups to keep the streets safe)

friends with benefits but only for the summer au

painter x muse

body found on beach x person who found them (+ the added bonus of the two of them working together to figure out wtf happened and how they got there)

sugar baby x sugar whathaveyou (free vacation? hell yeah)

roommates (renting a room for summer what could go wrong)

tour guide / local x tourist

camp counselor x parent of camper

friend group on a drama filled vacay au

the only single people at this resort for couples au

sad housewife x pool boy

DARK THEMED.

cult au

slasher au

hitchhiking gone wrong (or right)

monster au (summer is the perfect time to go exploring for the monster in the woods or the lake, ocean even, obviously)

haunted house au

ghost hunting au

hunter x prey (bonus points if they don't know they're being hunted until it's too late)

safe house au (gone wrong)

kidnapping au (it's giving 365 days but less shitty ok)

stranded au (on an island, in a creepy town, etc)

bestie's trip gone wrong au (the innocent looking guys at the pool who are gorgeous are actually super shitty and deadly omg, or the couple in the hotel room next to us are insane wow, or someone is killing us off...but it's someone within the friend group)

stuck in an abandoned amusement park au

INSPIRED BY.

grease au

dirty dancing au

x au (70s-80s pornstars au + added slasher element if ya wanna make it dark)

daisy jones & the six / rocker au (summer tour anyone?)

the white lotus (cheating au?? a couple hoping a vacation will fix their marriage, maybe even the whole shitty husband leaves you there and you fall for one of the resort workers)

50 first dates au (but make it 'i bet i can make you fall in love with me by the end of summer)

jurassic park au

i know what you did last summer au

friday the 13th au

the final girls au (aka you end up in your favorite movie and have to find your way out with a side of 'oh shit there's my fav character what if i stayed and made them fall in love with me instead', or go full final girls au and you're stuck in a cult horror movie and have to survive the night to get out of it)

outer banks / goonies au

schitt's creek au

romeo and juliet (1996) au

mama mia au (the prequeal tho aka boning a bunch of people and omg i'm pregnant who is the baby daddy tho??)

overboard au

OCCUPATIONS.

naturalist

farmers market vender

dog walker / dog sitter

dive bar singer

surfer

swim instructor

vet

journalist

camp counselor

author

cowboy

undercover pi

contractor

car wash attendant

lifeguard

gardener / landscaper

summer intern

tour guide

tutor

nanny

theme park owner

bartender

house sitter

summer farmhand

golf course caddy

sign-holder

movie theatre worker

uber driver

wedding photographer

hotel receptionist

RANDOM.

heatwave (how ever will we stay cool?)

shipwreck / stranded on an island au

rainstorm / hurricane au (stuck inside oh no what will we do??)

love triangle that shit

matchmaking au

love letters in a bottle au

drunken karaoke

kissing in the rain is top tier

workaholic letting loose au

(illegal) car racing au

road trip au

[ellethespaceunicorn-masterlist]

Chris Evans Masterlist

Here you will find all of my Chris Evans works, arranged by character and type of work.

Series

Don’t Take My Sunshine Away (possibly on hiatus)

Bright Like The Moon (ongoing) - Lloyd is a minor character.

Challenges

Pretty As A Picture - Explicit - Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader - What started as a hobby day in the park turns into Lloyd Hansen showing you why taking photos of strangers is a bad idea.

Requests

Power Play: After Hours - Explicit - Lloyd Hansen x Assistant!Black!Reader - What happens when Lloyd sees you, his assistant, in something other than what you usually wear? Well, you should be worried about what he does when he sees you.

A Duke and His Duchess - Explicit - Soft!Dark!Lloyd Hansen x Chubby!Black!Fem!Reader - The night takes a dark turn when you are harassed at the club, but Lloyd comes to your rescue.

Headcanons

Family, Quirks/Hobbies, Sleep

What happens when the reader starts dressing to match Lloyd?

Interesting quirk (an ask I submitted to stargazingfangirl18)

Events

Daddy Dearest | Lloyd Hansen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “Can you feel how much I want you?” + Darkfic (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

One-Shots

Oxytocin - Explicit - Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC - At a New Year’s Eve party, Ransom Drysdale’s life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington.

One-Shots

Don’t Take Your Eyes Off It - Explicit - Sugar Daddy!Steve Rogers x Black!Fem!Reader - It’s Valentine’s Day, and you have a surprise for Steve!

Requests

No Good Deeds - Explicit - Landlord!Ari Levinson x Reader - Moving out on your own is challenging, but your landlord, Mr. Levinson is kind and helpful. But he may want more from you than your tenancy.

Events

Do It For Daddy | Jake Jensen + Female Reader + Daddy kink + “I told you, you would eventually start begging.” + Smut (Sweet Treats Events 2024)

One-Shots

Sweet Redemption - Explicit - Dennis Baker x Female!Reader - You move into the neighborhood and meet Dennis Baker, a man in the middle of a divorce. Trying to keep yourself honest, you keep him at a distance. But you’re drawn together after a mishap online. Will it end sweetly or on a sour note?

Headcanons

“Don’t run from me” Dennis x Wifey (facesitting)

Brunch with the family (slice of life)

Late night on the beach with Wifey

Ass worship

Nicknames and height

Panty sniffing?

Running into the ex-wife in the grocery store

Dennis comforting Wifey after a long, stressful day

how Dennis finds out that Wifey is pregnant

Dennis' zodiac sign

Does Dennis' wife like to be spanked during sex?

Is Dennis a horndog?

What are Dennis and Wifey's love languages?

Do Dennis and Wifey share nudes?

Drabbles

Dennis tells you about his and his ex-wife's fight on the day you met

Dennis comforts Wifey after her day doesn't go as planned (slice of life)

Dennis being the most capable father and husband (slice of life)

Lloyd Hansen (The Gray Man)

Andy Barber (Defending Jacob)

Ransom Drysdale (Knives Out)

Steve Rogers (Avengers films)

Curtis Everett (Snowpiercer)

Ari Levinson (The Red Sea Diving Resort)

Nick Gant (PUSH)

Jake Jensen (The Losers)

Frank Adler (Gifted)

Dennis Baker (DENNIS)

I DO NOT WRITE RPF FOR CHRIS

FULL MASTERLIST IS HERE.

[aikuse]

chapter 2: umbrella beach

❝ home will always be here, unseen, out of sight, where I disappear and hide. I think dreamy things as I'm waving goodbye, so I'll spread out my wings and fly. ❞

word count: 2,904 content: gn!reader (no pronouns used), alcohol usage (kakucho drinks two rum punches which is his right), south cameo, beaching it jokes about being dead (izana's humor sucks), big tiddy bartender time. a/n: chapter two is here! this is relatively uneventful, mostly just kakucho traveling and being hit on by one of the beach bartenders lol. all the inspo for the room and the resort itself is from this villa in the philippines don't look too hard at that price tag i almost vomited when i saw it lmfao. and reader finally appears! i'm keeping them pretty gender neutral for this go around, but next chapter should be a lil spicy ;) did i mention south cameo??? he's gonna be ooc as hell and i don't care LOL. enjoy!! tags: @qichun @bajisdarling @kenpachisbrat @highpri3stess @fengxun @benkeibear @suyacho @bleach-your-panties @reiners-milkbiddies @honeybleed @mitsuwuyaa

-> navigation: [ series masterlist ] | [ previous chapter ]

-> song link: [x]

Kakucho barely recalls the night he left, and in addition, the entirety of the transport that led him here.

He did remember a plane, sitting next to a window with an empty seat beside him, which Izana happily took. A flight attendant had given him something fruity with rum in it, placed in front of him in a shock of red slush and a yellow umbrella on top. She’d said something close to enjoy your drink, but he hadn’t paid much attention to her response, simply nodding and taking a sip. His lips turned. It was all sugar and sweetness; but it felt good. Refreshing.

Izana smiles at him. Don’t like sweet drinks?

“No,” Kakucho says softly, taking another sip and quickly betraying his statement. He takes a moment for the slush to melt on his tongue before shrugging. “Well, alright, it’s pretty damn good.” He was never one for sweet drinks; he preferred whiskey, when he did drink, which was not often due to his past negligence. But hell, he’s on a plane on vacation. He’s allowed a few slip-ups. And one rum punch isn’t going to send him spiraling; this wasn’t a drinking binge under pressure. He was actually enjoying himself.

He’d turned his phone off, purchasing a burner on his way out of Tokyo. As the plane lifted off into the air, he could almost feel the claws of Bonten releasing from him, even just momentarily; he wondered if Rindou had told everyone, breaking his promise (although Rindou’s promises do tend to be pretty shitty in the first place) and stoking a fire. He can almost see it; Ran’s look of fake surprise, Koko’s look of real surprise, Mikey’s indifference as he wastes away at the top of a crime syndicate he never truly cared about in the first place.

He fears when he’ll have to come back. He may be dragged back, or not; either way, he’s hoping that it won’t be brutal. He can handle punishments at the hands of most of the Bonten members; hell, he could probably take many of them on himself. But he did fear them in some capacity; mostly because of how well some of them fit into the lifestyle they’d curated. It was a little terrifying seeing how easily they excused murder, or drug abuse, or using women for nothing more than pleasure. Kakucho wasn’t a prude by any means; but the way he’d seen some of them, especially Takeomi, treat some of the women they’d had at clubs put a horrible taste into his mouth.

Izana’s face comes into his frame of sight. You’re thinking too hard. They can function without you for as long as you need. Stop worrying about it.

Kakucho scoffs, blinking as he drags himself out of the spiral he’d certainly have fallen into if Izana hadn’t said something. “Probably. They’ll be at each other’s throats, I’d bet. That’s a sight I’ll miss seeing.” Thinking of Rindou with his shocking purple hair and glasses, easily a foot shorter than everyone else present, glaring up at Ran and Takeomi, Koko attempting to barter for a better sentencing, was both terrifying and hilarious. Him and Rindou had never been close, but he did happen to be the lesser of two evils. Although that wasn’t saying much, anyway.

The plane touches down so gently that Kakucho barely registers they’ve landed until he looks out the window.

He fully expects the concrete jungle of Tokyo, but instead, there’s appearances of green with the ocean spreading out to the horizon in front of him. The salty sea air stings his nostrils as he leaves the plane, Izana right next to him as he bounds down the stairs. Kakucho knows he didn’t grow up here, but he definitely feels a sense of home here nonetheless. Like how ghosts who didn’t live in one place but were culturally from somewhere else get their ashes spread there…something like that.

He breezes through baggage claim and getting to the resort is blurry; something about the driver knowing him with a wink, tinted windows making sure the glare of the sun doesn’t bother him so much, the receptionist smiling at him as he checks in, and finally, he stands in front of the door to his room. He has an extended stay for three months; Izana made sure that he booked for longer than his original two weeks. Two weeks wouldn’t be nearly enough to make him feel better.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth at the view.

Everywhere he looks, there’s a view of the sparkling blue ocean. Tropical birds perch on the windowsill, and fly off with sweet chirps as he enters, placing his bags on the floor. The smell of the sea is strong, but it smells cleaner than Tokyo; his mind is already more at ease. Izana follows him closely, flopping onto the bed. It doesn’t indent beneath him; another reminder that he’s not really here.

It’s so pretty here.

Kakucho hums, wandering out onto the porch as he lights a cigarette. The receptionist had stated this was a smoke-free resort, but Kakucho didn’t care. He was in his room, and he’s sure there’s a note on that reservation detailing who he is. Even so, he’ll pay the fee if he needs to as he takes a long drag, leaning on the window. Izana wanders over to him after leaving the bedroom, taking up residence on the chair next to him, settling in nicely as his eyes slide shut.

The sun hits his face, warm and cozy, just like the day where he’d last spoken to Koko.

For the first time in months, Kakucho smiles.

Kakucho’s sleep that night is nothing notable.

He awakens early, as he usually does, wandering down to the café for a pastry in his slides and board shorts, a Hawaiian shirt hanging off of his frame. He doesn’t bother buttoning it up; he’ll be on the beach soon enough, anyway. The pastries lined up on the table are light, tasting like sugar and cream and air as he bites into one. Izana watches him longingly, and Kakucho can’t help but chuckle.

“Missing real food, huh?”

Izana rolls his eyes.

Shut up. It’s one of the shitty things about being dead, you know. You’ll find out when you finally decide to die.

Kakucho laughs out loud at that, with Izana’s eyes glittering with humor at the jest. “Yeah, if I decide to die,” he says, gathering his things and walking towards the door to the beach, “and that’s an if. What if I just decide to live forever? Who’s gonna stop me?”

Izana doesn’t miss a beat. Rindou. Or Koko.

“Really? Rindou, my ‘good friend’? Sounds about right.”

The shorter man hums, but doesn’t comment on it. He knows better, Kakucho thinks; Rindou would sell him for a nice piece of paper if he had the means. And Koko? If he got a good enough deal…Kakucho was expendable, he knows that, even if the boys made it strongly known that he wasn’t. Their obsession into the topic only gave it away.

The sand is hot underneath Kakucho’s feet as he precariously ventures out; white sand being hot was a new one for him, but he acclimates to it quickly as he approaches one of the many lawn chairs strewn out. Sunscreen stings his nose as he removes his shirt, spraying it all over himself. Izana takes his place in the seat next to him, smirking at Kakucho’s effort of reaching the small of his back to rub in the sunscreen.

See, there’s a perk. I don’t have to wear sunscreen because I can’t get burnt.

“Wow,” Kakucho says, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “what a great perk of being dead. I’ll definitely enjoy not being burnt by the sun when I’m gone.”

The morning goes by quickly, the beach filling up with more people as the day drags on. Kakucho manages to get some sleep on the chair, before watching a group set up a volleyball net and draw out a field in front of him. They seem around his age, definitely here on their parents’ dime with the tans and expensive sunglasses and bikinis on some of the girls. One guy has a sprawling black tattoo, not unlike Rindou’s now that he thinks about it, spiraling up the side of his face and head.

After a while of watching them try and fail to successfully do a serve, Kakucho gets up to venture to the bar. Sweat makes his shirt stick to his back, so he removes it, leaving it behind. “Don’t go anywhere,” he jokes at Izana, who rolls his eyes again. Fuck off.

At the bar, the pretty bartender bats her eyelashes at him as he slides into a seat. She’s pretty, long black hair sticking to her skin from the heat, a sheen of sweat glistening along her body. Her blue bikini is working overtime to restrain her breasts that are threatening to spill out from the small cups, the bottom’s strings peeking out above her jean shorts.

“What’ll ya have, gorgeous?” she asks, her lip gloss shining in the sunlight as Kakucho’s gaze travels along the liquor bottles, “Can get ya a simple rum punch if ya want. It’s all the rage at the beach, of course.”

Kakucho nods, humming. “Sure. I’ll take two.”

She scrunches her eyebrows, as if looking around to see if he’s here with somebody. “For you and…?”

“Me and me. I deserve two of these, trust me.”

She giggles to herself as she grabs the rum. “You got a point there, pretty boy. What are ya doing here? Vacationing?”

Kakucho sighs. “Something like that. Just needed to get away.”

A hum. “Yeah, that’s what most of these people are doing. That, and using their trust fund parents’ money. Oh well, it keeps me in a job, even if they’re all a pain in the ass.”

She serves up the two rum punches with little umbrellas in them, before giving him another flashing smile. “Drink up! Feel free to come back for more.” With a wink, she wanders off to the other side of the bar, where a few middle-aged men are yelling for what’s on draft. She swings her hips as she does so, her thighs jiggling as she walks; Kakucho knows that tactic, he’s not stupid. He scoffs, grabbing his drinks, and leaving the bar. Little does she know that he’s not here for that; although her calling him pretty boy did make his chest twinge. Just a little bit.

The sand is hot underneath his feet again, having been in the shade for a few moments to lose the acclimation, and he tiptoes back to the chairs where Izana is waiting. He lifts up the drinks, smiling to himself, and—

“FUCK!”

Something hits him smack in the face, and he stumbles back, blinking in shock. His vision is blurry, but as he grips the drinks in his hands, he’s managed to not spill any of it. Thank God, because that would require another trip to the slutty bartender, and he’s really not ready to be objectified again. As he blinks rapidly for his vision to return, a figure swims in his vision, rapidly approaching him.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” a voice says. It’s feminine, middle pitch, and as his vision focuses…

He almost drops the drinks from that alone.

He barely has time to process the person in front of him before they’re yapping again, apologizing profusely as their hand grabs onto his arm, leading him back to where his chair is, sitting on the chair next to him. Kakucho’s vision finally comes back fully, and he takes in the sight in front of him. Izana has moved from the chair to stand behind him, red rage radiating off of him in waves.

All he can think of is pretty.

You’re gorgeous, hair tied up in a bun, baby hairs flying away, cheeks flushed from exertion and sweat covering your skin. Your bikini is a nice cerulean blue, matching well with your tan, gym shorts low on your hips. You’re saying something about how you suck at volleyball and you really should have noticed Kakucho was right there before you’d served, and—

He places the drinks down and grabs your hands. Your eyes go wide.

“It’s fine…uh—”

You say your name with a smile, sheepishly.

He smiles back. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kakucho. Probably not the best way to introduce yourself to someone, yeah? If you wanted to say hi, you could’ve found a…less violent way.”

You throw your head back in a laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Although it did get your attention, I guess, right?” you shoot back, one of your eyebrows high on your forehead. He doesn’t respond at once, and you look back down at his hands wrapped around your wrists. “You gonna let go or do you do this to all the girls you meet?”

Kakucho’s face goes bright red, he can feel the burning as he rips his hands away, like he’s been stung. “Right, yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, and you laugh again. Your laugh is so pretty; like a wind chime. “No worries, I probably just gave you a concussion anyway. I can imagine you feel a little shaken up.”

There’s a beat of silence after you’re done speaking, and you take up the silence again. It’s clear you like to talk as you start again. “I’m gonna sit here with you if that’s alright. Feels like I should since I injured you and all that, and again, I’m no good at volleyball.”

“I’ll say,” Kakucho says, taking a sip of the rum punch, humming as the chill hits the back of his throat, “what are you guys here for, by the way? Vacation?”

You nod. “Yeah, South’s dad got us a few months here to hang out during the summer. It was either this or Rio, and South wasn’t very keen on going back. So, we decided on here.”

Kakucho nods again. “Rio de Janeiro, I assume? Who’s South?”

You point to the guy with the massive tattoo, who serves the ball and smashes it right into one of the other guys, who doubles over with a howl. South’s face splits into a massive smile as he grabs the girl next to him, pressing a messy kiss to her forehead as she giggles, attempting to push him away. He seems alright. Kind of like someone I know…

You two chat for a little longer, finding out what your backgrounds are. He thinks it’s part of a concussion test; if he can recall what he does and who he is, that’s probably a good sign there’s no brain damage. Turns out, you’re a student at one of the universities in Tokyo, studying some fancy subject that Kakucho didn’t really understand.

The sun is well past its zenith when Kakucho hears South calling for you, and he’s almost finished his rum punch when he nods at him. “Looks like your group’s leaving.”

You look over and wave, before looking back at Kakucho, smiling. “Yeah. See you around?” you ask, gathering yourself as you stand up. Kakucho nods, giving you his room number. “In case you get bored. I do have a cool patio bath thing I’ve been meaning to try out,” he says, and at your raised eyebrows, he swallows, “but no rush. Don’t want to seem weird. You just…feel like a breath of fresh air. Sorry if that’s a little weird.”

Your eyes shine as you smile at him. He wishes he could take a picture of you like that, frozen in time, happy.

You run off, joining South and the others as they wander off the beach, their things in tow. He watches you until your group is specks on the horizon, wandering back to the other side of the resort from him. He’s not sure you’ll come see him later, but the thought of you doing so makes him feel a little giddy.

In all honesty, Kakucho isn’t sure what he’s feeling, but it’s not just a friendly stranger feeling of meeting someone new. No, there’s something else. his chest feels tight, unusually tight as he sips his second rum punch, the alcohol loosening him up. Izana says nothing, taking up the spot you’d left on the chair again, staring off into the ocean.

Something fated, something that feels meant to be about all of this. Stars aligning and whatnot.

Whatever it is, he is certainly not ready for what is to come.

divider credit: @/benkeibear for the mdni banner and the gradient dividers!

disclaimer: please do not copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© kakuchari 2024

[yuseongboard]

YUSEONG BAY'S ANNUAL SKY-VIEWING PARTY!

on saturday, may 18, 2024, visibility of the eta aquariids meteor shower will be at its peak in yuseong bay. this is a phenomena experienced by the town every year, but this year, it happens to line up perfectly with the pink moon—a full moon named in honor of springtime & the blossoming rosebay fields. the city of yuseong bay will be hosting an evening/nighttime viewing party in which everyone is invited to attend. the first 20 to RSVP will receive a complimentary commemorative t-shirt courtesy of eclectique 33.

WHAT TO EXPECT:

the viewing party will be taking place on the grassy cliff that overlooks the beach, which also happens to be where the "haunted" lighthouse is located. attendees are kindly asked to refrain from approaching or attempting to enter the lighthouse.

this is a byob (bring your own blanket) event. those who wish to sit in the grass or bring their own lawn chair instead are, of course, welcome to. seating/ground coverings will not be provided.

various food trucks and market stalls will be set up on the beach and along the pier, most of which will be tailoring their products to fit the theme of the meteor shower and pink moon. attendees can expect to indulge in complimentary pink moon shakes and shooting star sugar cookies provided by andante cafe.

a large boat will be docked at the end of the pier, courtesy of one of the annual viewing party's long-standing sponsors. a stage is set up on the boat where a talent show will be carried out throughout the evening for those who wish to watch or participate. the top 3 voted participants will receive various prizes.

of course, it's worth noting that hanwha resort will be temporarily opening its doors to locals for an afterparty which is set to begin at 10:00pm. the afterparty will take place on the resort's private section of the beach and attendees will have full access to an outdoor bar, "endless appetizers" and open-mic karaoke. it's presumed that the afterparty is an attempt by the resort to make peace with the locals, but it's safe to assume that the reputation of those seen (or heard) in attendance might take a hit.

OOC INFORMATION:

this event takes places the evening of may 18th in-character, but threads can be started anytime from may 5th to may 25th. please tag all threads/in-character posts related posts with yshqs:event1.

if you're interested in having your character host a market stall, please fill out and submit the event stall form. we will be keeping this page updated with all canon and player-submitted stalls. if there's a stall that you would like your character to work at, just submit an ask letting us know the character name and applicable stall. the deadline to submit a form is sunday, may 19th at 11:59pm est.

if you're interested in having your character participate in the talent show, please fill out and submit the talent show form. all participants and their acts will be listed on this page. the deadline to submit a form is sunday, may 19th at 11:59pm est.

and finally, please like this post once you've read through it!